***
TheCalypso’s dock lines squeaked and creaked as the sea breeze kissed the back of their necks. Normally the peacefulness of the waves was calming and comforting, but not tonight.
“Can I pour you another?” Rhett glanced at the bottle of wine.
“I’m good.” Pepper raised her still full glass.
“Great.” He leaned against the side of the boat. This was going terribly. He hadn’t been on a first date in a long time. The air was thick with pressure, filled his lungs like concrete.
Pepper set aside her fork and knife, steak half eaten next to the baked potato and salad. He’d grilled for her on the small barbecue attached off the back. “I like you.”
He frowned. “There’s abutcoming next, isn’t there?”
The corner of her lip turned up. “But, what’s with this music? I’ve never heard you listen to saxophones. And the meal is wonderful, but I have never seen you drink wine. Do you even like it?”
“No,” he admitted. Wine never tasted like blackberries, clove or yellow apple to his taste buds. More like bitter acid that left behind an unpleasant film.
She set down her plate. “Permission to speak freely, Captain.”
His mouth twitched in the corner. “Go ahead.”
“Good, I was going to anyway.” She glanced at his speakers. “Is this what you listen to out here?”
“It’s a playlist that I found online.” It was called “Romantic Dinner,” and the tunes sounded as bland and uninspired as the name.
“What are you into?”
“I like music, all kinds, lots of country, folk. The blues. But on the boat, I prefer quiet.”
She picked up the remote and clicked off the music.
“Hear that?” Rhett asked. A stout offshore breeze batted the rigging against the mast. Water lapped at the hull. In the distance, waves broke against the harbor mouth. A bird gave a mournful cry. “Oystercatcher.”
She closed her eyes, going completely still. “In New York, the city sounds became my white noise, helped me think. In a crowd I could become anonymous. Cities are great for introverts. I never had to be the center of attention, but never felt isolated.”
“I never thought of it that way.” He hooked his arm around her narrow shoulders, drawing her closer as they propped up their feet on a cooler. Venus appeared in the west.
“I haven’t ever had even the remotest desire to go to New York. Seeing the ball drop on New Year’s in Times Square? No thank you.”
“Times Square?” She shuddered. “No way would I take you there, avoid it like the plague. Although, want to know a piece of trivia?”
He grinned. “By all means.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “It was the eastern end point for the Lincoln Highway. The first road to span the United States, and one of the earliest transcontinental highways after the invention of cars. It was nicknamed the “Main Street Across America” and crosses thirteen states before ending in San Francisco. It still exists, but the function’s been replaced by I-80. Takes you from San Fran to New Jersey, but it’s not the same. I wish I could do a road trip along an old highway, visit all the towns dotting the way. It’s not the same whizzing along the interstate with the fast food franchises and billboards.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because I don’t have time.”
“We all have the same twenty-four hours in the day.”
“But not everyone has the same obligations or is willing to assume the same responsibilities.”
He brushed the side of her cheek, over her small white scar. “I’ve never asked. What happened here? Chicken pox?”
She grimaced, her shoulders turning inward. “Gideon’s love bite. He was our neighbor’s guard dog.”
Along the shore an oystercatcher called again, a keening cry that sent a shiver down his spine.
