“Will you tell Alex you ended things with Donna?” Doc cut into his thoughts.
Mason shook his head. “Despite our pact, she might think I did it ’cause of her, and it won’t matter what I say after that. She’ll convince herself she should see this as a sign I’m reconsidering her offer. Which I’mnot.”
He wasn’t, was he?
No, he wasnot. But hehadallowed himself to fantasize about it. About taking her out to the secluded beach at the back of Wayfarer Island, laying her down on a soft blanket, and teaching her all the things she was so eager to learn.
Afraid Doc might read in his face what was in his head, he turned toward the window and stared out at the endless turquoise waters below. Every now and then, they were interrupted by a speck of brown and green.
Oh, to be an island, he thought.
So simple. So serene. Soquiet. No one judged them. No one wanted things from them they couldn’t give. No one washurtby them.
“I think it’s high time you and I sat crooked and talked straight,” Doc said, cutting into his thoughts again. “You say Alex deserves someone who’ll appreciate the gift she’s offering, and in return, that man should give her a piece of his heart.I’msaying that man isyou.”
Mason opened his mouth, but Doc pressed on before he could get a word out. “I don’t have time to play the fiddle to your excuses dance. We’ll be landing in five minutes, and I’ll need every second of that to say what I have to say. Now, here’s the way I see it. Sarah burned you. And you’ve decided you never want to dance close to those flames again. I get it. Love hurts, and who the hell needs that?”
Doc pointed in Alex’s direction. “But she’s not asking you to jump in the fire with her. She’s asking you for one night. You wouldn’t be giving her yourwholeheart, you’d just be giving her apieceof it. And if you’re worried you won’t know where to stop, where friendship and lust and affection will end and where love will begin, then lay down some damned ground rules.”
Doc made an it’s-so-easy gesture with his hands. “Limit it to one time, or two times, or ten times. Then stick with it. She’ll get rid of her virginity, and you’ll have some fun with a woman you admire and respect andwant. Maybe it’ll be enough to wipe away the hangdog expression you’ve been wearing for the last five years.”
The mere notion had all the oxygen leaving Mason’s lungs.
“Fate’s hand has been pushing at your back since the moment Alexandra Merriweather set foot on Wayfarer Island,” Doc continued. “It’s been fun watching you fight it. But for all our sakes, it’s time you gave in.”
Chapter 18
10:26 a.m.
Chrissy loved Wayfarer Island.
Loved the peaceful waters of the lagoon. The crash of the waves against the reef. The rambling old beach house that, despite its lack of modern amenities like Wi-Fi, reliable electricity, and hot water for showers, still felt like a home.
She even loved how Uncle John blasted music from his boom box at a volume that threatened hearing loss. And how Li’l Bastard, the island’s resident rooster, crowed his head off at the slightest provocation.
Case in point: When she cast her line and lure into the water, Li’l Bastard, who’d been strutting around her feet, let loose with a throatycock-a-doodle-do.
“Shoo!” she scolded him, stomping her bare toes in the sand. He squawked in offense before running into the bushes. Off to pillage and plunder the island’s insect population, no doubt.
Back at the house, Meat answered the rooster’s call with two barks, and Chrissy smiled. She’d known that was coming.
If Meat barked, Li’l Bastard crowed. And vice versa. It was like the animals were caught in a never-ending conversation. And the oddity of their friendship made it all the more adorable, especially come midafternoon when the two of them curled up together to nap in the shade of the porch.
Humming to the sound of Bob Marley crooning about “three little birds” she reeled in her lure, the muscles in her arms attuned to the gentle tug of the current. If something other than the current took her bait, those same muscles would automatically react.
Fishing was her solace.
Her mother’s second husband, Doug, had taught her how on her eighth birthday. Two months later, her mother had found Doug in bed with the local manicurist. Doug had disappeared from their lives soon after that, but Chrissy would always be grateful to him for giving her a hobby to last a lifetime.
There was something soothing about the repetitive motion of casting and reeling. It put her body in a meditative state while allowing her mind to float free. In that freeness, she found comfort, satisfaction, even enlightenment.
Her mother used to shake her head and say,I’ll never understand how you can spend so much time alone.
Chrissy had tried to explain that she couldn’t begin to reckon with herself, with her achievements and mistakes, with her strengths and weaknesses, with the knowledge of who she was and who she might become until she found some quiet. Some solitude. And fishing allowed her both.
Josephine had simply thrown her hands in the air and muttered,My daughter, the philosopher. And that had been the end of that.
After landing on Wayfarer Island and unloading the plane, the Deep Six Salvage guys had decreed that, given the chaos of the last couple of days, everyone could use some time to decompress. Tomorrow, they would relocate their search grids to the reef circling the lagoon. Today, they would get a little R & R.
