Chapter 3
Three
Quincy
With a fresh travel mug of coffee and a thick bridal magazine, I prop my bare legs on the weathered dock and gaze out at the scenery.
Yesterday was my first day at the marina, and I didn’t get much time outside.
So today, I’ve arrived early to take in the scenery before the speedboats take over the lake.
Work was slow as soon as Reef stuck me inside the Minnow Bucket.
A few phone calls, a few emails. Maybe twenty or so day renters for the boat slips.
Sold some beer and bait, restocked the beer and the bait.
When Reef came to check on me at lunchtime, he acted really strange.
Well, not that much stranger than before, but he looked over everything I did.
Checked the register tape, counted the money, eyeballed the inventory and checked the logs against the boats in the slips.
I teased him for counting the money, asking him if he suspected me of stealing, but he said it was just procedure.
He may say he does everything by the book, but I’m pretty sure it’s not procedure to flash one’s stomach at one’s employee for like ten whole seconds.
It was right in my face, with its whorl of black hair and tanned skin and hard ridges.
Thick. I wonder if he’s thick everywhere, I remember thinking.
And then, alas, it was gone. The rest of my day went much the same, except I minded the store with the memory of that flash of stomach, the shine of sweat on his upper chest, and how his arms felt when he jerked me back from Pete’s boat.
I know I’m not right in the head when instead of thinking about what I did wrong, I’m wondering what else I can do to make Reef pounce at me like that again.
Who knows? It might be fun to have a summer fling to go with my summer job. Imagine going back to my high school US history classroom, appearing as square and uptight as can be, none of my students knowing what I got up to.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Way ahead.
After all, it is entirely possible that I’m reading into Reef’s body language. He could be oblivious to the chemistry between us. I’ve misread situations before.
Today is Friday, so hopefully today’s tasks will make the day go much faster than yesterday. A lot of boats in North Carolina take Friday afternoons off if they can swing it. In Songbird Ridge, nobody’s working on Fridays in the spring and summer. Or in the fall, to be honest.
At 7 a.m. on Merlin Lake, there’s still a pretty mist on the water. I sip my coffee as a heron takes off from the rushes at the shoreline. That insane wingspan of those things always gives me the chills.
I wiggle my toes, waiting to catch the first rays of the sun as I turn to the magazine, gathering ideas.
Now that I have the green light from my best friend Becca to take charge of her wedding planning for next year, I have a lot to do.
Pinterest is fine, and so are the various websites dedicated to the subject.
But man, a great big thick bridal magazine is so grounding.
“Quincy!”
A shadow falls across the water. A tall, broad, and grumpy shadow. Yes, even his shadow is grumpy.
I jump at the sound of my name and turn around to see Reef standing behind me. “Hey,” I say, smiling up at him.
“You on break already?” Reef’s arms are crossed, making his arms bulge.
I can’t help myself from looking him up and down.
He looks more crisp today—white shorts pressed sharp.
Today’s dry-fit uniform polo is sky-blue and tucked in neatly, and the faint scent of aftershave wafts over with the breeze.
He’s clean-shaven, too, which I notice with a pang. I prefer the scruff.
“Technically, I’m…monitoring the wildlife,” I reply, holding the magazine up to block the sun.
He moves to block the sun from hitting my eyes.
“Monitoring wildlife? With a…” He cocks his head to see what’s in my hands. “…a wedding magazine?”
“Oh, it’s not me…not mine. Not my wedding, I mean. Weddings? Yuck!”
Am I having a stroke? Why am I so flustered?
Reef patiently waits for me to finish. Or he’s staring just to stare. Hard to tell. After wishing and failing to summon a sea creature to rise up and swallow me whole, he finally extends a hand. “Come on. Pump-out station.”
“Awesome,” I huff, coming to my feet and tucking the magazine under my arm.
Reef doesn’t do much to fill the silence as he guides me down to the dock to what has to be the most disgusting task at the marina.
I don’t bother reminding him that Susan already showed me more or less how to do this, because I know he’s just going to show me everything anyway.
And I don’t actually mind that. At the stainless-steel contraption by the water’s edge, Reef runs me through the procedure, his voice all business.
“You stand here. Always. Safe distance. I’ll do the initial setup. ”
“Is the hose going to wrestle me into the lake?”
He gives me a side-eye. “It might.” He crouches to connect the hose to the deck fitting on the back of one of the bigger boats at the marina, a double-engine vessel with upper and lower cabins. “Now watch. Valves open in this order…gauge here…always check for leaks.”
After instructions and a couple of safety lectures, he finally says, “Your turn.”
My fingers curl around the pump handle as Reef steps in behind me, his large hands briefly guiding mine.
The heat from him and the faint scent of aftershave make my heart skip.
Isn’t this every girl’s dream, to swoon at the touch of a man while you operate a sewage machine? Good god, what’s wrong with me?
Horny. That’s what. It’s been so long since I had sex that I’m not even turned off by the idea of filth.
“Not like that,” Reef says, leaning close, adjusting my grip. “Smooth, steady. Don’t yank.”
“I never yank,” I say suggestively.
I need to seek professional help.
I can’t hear much over the sound of the machine, but I swear I hear him let out a growly sound behind me. Nah. Probably just the machine.
I manage to operate the pump under Reef’s judgy gaze, with him hovering as if I might set off a geyser at any moment.
When the tank finally empties, Reef nods, satisfied. “Not terrible.”
“You did most of the work,” I say, wishing I could run away and wash my perfectly clean hands.
He moves away from me to coil the hose, seemingly shying away from the banter in the moment. I stand back, secretly enjoying the view of Reef’s back muscles bunching under that shirt.
He’ll be barking orders at me soon enough. So as long as he keeps quiet and doesn’t mind me looking, I’ll look.