Chapter 9
Early the next morning—so early it was still dark out—the rhythmic whirring and shushing of a motor pulled me out of a deep sleep. It took my groggy brain a little while to identify the noise. Then, suddenly, I knew: It was the hot tub.
I sat bolt upright. Had Xander already gotten the hot tub working?
At the foot of my bed, Casey lifted his head to look at me briefly. Then, he sighed and went back to sleep.
But not me. Despite the ungodly hour, I was wide awake.
I pushed off the covers, hopped out of bed, and padded over to the window that overlooked the Sunny Side’s outdoor deck.
I peeked through the slats of my blinds and, sure enough, the hot tub was humming away.
Its tarp was removed, and through the veil of steam rising and gathering in the cold air above it, I could see Xander from the waist up, relaxing in the spa.
His long, muscular arms were stretched out across the top of the Jacuzzi, his head thrown back, his eyes closed.
His sculpted chest glistened in the soft predawn light, expanding and contracting as he breathed in and out.
I stared longer than was probably appropriate. Jesus. I was getting like Joey D with this crush. I really needed to pull it together before I started likening my handyman to “flamin’ hot” snack food.
Besides, there was something else to be excited about, wasn’t there? The hot tub was working again!
Moving fast, I threw a chunky sweater on over the T-shirt and sweats I’d been sleeping in.
I slid my feet into my shearling-lined moccasins.
And as I tore out of my bedroom and through the kitchen, I imagined the conversation I was going to have with Drew the next time I saw him.
See, I’d tell him. You were sooo worried about my barter with Xander.
But not even twenty-four hours into our arrangement, he’s already completed a major repair project. So there!
Feeling very pleased with myself, I opened the back door that led out to the deck. Even as close as we were to the beach, the marine odor in the air was unusually strong. It must have been extra-low tide.
“Xander!” I called from the doorway, hugging myself against the early-morning chill. “You’re amazing! You fixed the hot tub!”
Xander’s eyes flew open. He sat up straighter and looked at me with something like…surprise? Horror? Fear? All of the above?
Well, that didn’t make any sense.
Maybe he thought I was angry he was using the spa?
“It’s all good,” I said quickly. “You’ve earned a soak. And breakfast! Come on in, and I’ll make us something to celebrate.”
Xander didn’t answer me. Didn’t even blink. He just squirmed in his seat on the hot tub bench, plainly uncomfortable.
His strange behavior was making me uncomfortable too.
But after a few awkward beats of silence, I realized what the problem must be.
From where I stood, I couldn’t see into the Jacuzzi.
But if I could, I’d probably get quite an eyeful.
Last night, although I’d given Xander my father’s old work boots and some additional clothing, I hadn’t thought to dig up a swimsuit for him.
Obviously, he was naked.
And sure, he’d been pretty nonchalant about his nudity. But now that we were working together, perhaps he was also trying to maintain some boundaries.
“Stay right there,” I said. “Let me get you a towel.”
In record time, I scurried through the B and B to the housekeeping closet, grabbed a clean, fluffy white bath towel, and hurried out to the deck and over to the hot tub.
And yes, okay, maybe I glanced down briefly.
I was only human. But it was still dark, and the bubbles gathered on the water’s surface provided a layer of coverage as I held the towel out to him.
“Here you go,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said, taking what I offered. Only, I still felt like something wasn’t right. His words were clipped, and there was a tension in the air between us that hadn’t ever been there before.
He stayed seated, so I figured he was waiting for me to give him his privacy.
“Okay then,” I said. “I’ll go in and start breakfast.”
* * *
I got the coffee brewing, then I peered into the fridge. Eggs, I thought. Now was the time for eggs.
I pulled out the carton, along with a package of bacon, and placed it on the counter. But before I began cooking, I figured I should ask Xander whether he preferred scrambled, sunny-side up, or over easy.
Speaking of… Where was Xander, anyway? I’d heard him switch the hot tub motor off a couple of minutes ago. How long did it take for a guy to dry off and wrap a towel around his butt?
Once again, I couldn’t help feeling like something weird was going on.
But that was silly. What the hell could be going on?
Shaking off my nagging sense of foreboding, I headed back out to the deck. “Hey, Xander,” I said as I opened the door. “How do you like your—”
I froze.
So did Xander. He gaped at me.
I gaped back.
My jaw hung slack, and my eyes practically popped out of their sockets.
Having grown up at the Jersey Shore, I knew the local folklore.
As a teen, I’d spent countless summer nights with my friends, sitting around a bonfire, swapping stories about the Jersey Devil.
The Sandy Hook Sea Serpent. The Tom’s River Mermaid.
The legends always seemed to scare me the most. What could I say?
On certain nights—when the moon was full, and the ocean was roaring, and the storyteller was especially convincing—I was a true believer.
Right now, I felt like that girl at the bonfire.
Xander was sitting on the ledge of the hot tub, toweling off his lower body. Only, the well-toned legs I’d glimpsed when I’d found him on the beach were gone. Oh, he still had that same swimmer’s build from the waist up. But from the waist down, he was, well…
He was different.
The lower half of his body was long. And sleek. And, um…fishlike. He was all iridescent green scales and powerful-looking fins.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t…anything.
I felt numb—and not from the cold weather.
I forced my eyes closed. Told myself I must be seeing things. Then, slowly, I opened my eyes again, hoping everything would be back to normal.
But it wasn’t. And something told me it never would be again.
As incredible as it was, my new handyman had a huge fish tail where his legs used to be.
Xander was a merman.