May Moreira
Depoe Bay, Oregon
Current mood: Wet. Cold. And currently arguing with a very annoyed seal pup and a man who looks like he walked off a firefighter calendar.
The rain isn’t just falling. It’s sheets. Horizontal. The kind that soaks you to the bone, even if you’re wearing two jackets and waterproof boots that lied to you.
And still—I’m here. Kneeling on the wet rocks. Whispering to a stranded seal pup like I’m the Dr. Dolittle of the Pacific Northwest.
“You’re okay,”
I murmur, blinking through water dripping from my eyelashes.
“You’re gonna be okay pup. Just stay with me until help gets here, okay?”
That’s when I hear it.
A deep, masculine “HEEEEY!”
cutting through the sound of crashing waves.
I look up.
Oh. Oh no.
There’s a man making his way down the rocks—no, charging toward me like he’s on some kind of mission.
He’s tall, broad, soaked, and absolutely wearing a firefighter uniform.
There’s a logo on his chest and concern in his expression.
Also? His jaw could probably cut glass.
“You can’t be here,”
he yells over the wind.
“The storm’s rolling in too fast. It’s not safe.”
“I’m not leaving this pup,”
I snap, pulling the towel tighter.
“It’s very young, and its hurt. If the tide reaches him, he won’t survive.”
He strides toward me, rain dripping off his jacket, face hard.
“Lady, I get it. I really do. But this is an active rescue zone, and I’m asking you—”
Another voice cuts in, smoother, teasing.
“Whoa, whoa, play nice, Hero.”
We both turn.
And there he is. Walking up like he owns the beach. Brown hair messy from the wind, smug smile in place, a Coast Guard patch on his jacket, and confidence radiating off him like heat. It’s the guy from the gas station, Finn.
“I mean,”
he continues, eyeing me with interest.
“if she wants to risk life and limb for a baby seal, I say we let her. That’s a ballsy move. I respect it.”
The fireman groans.
“Finn, not now.”
Finn shrugs.
“What? I’m just saying—if I were a lost baby seal, I’d want her in my corner.”
I blink at him.
“Thanks… I think.”
He grins wider, crouching beside me without hesitation.
“Name’s Finn, by the way. And you are?”
“May.”
“May,”
he repeats, like he’s trying it out on his tongue.
“Pretty name for a woman with fire in her eyes.”
The fireman mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot lik.
“unbelievable.”
I glare at him.
“Do either of you want to help, or are we just here to mansplain coastal rescue to a marine biologist?”
Finn chuckles.
“I like her.”
The fireman doesn’t smile. But his eyes—those serious, stormy eyes—lock onto mine for a beat too long making me feel nervous in a way, I can't truly explain, specially not right now.
Just like that, I’m caught between two men. One is already under my skin, and the other? He might be dangerous in a whole different way…