“Yeah, all thanks to you and the turtles.”
“You don’t have to flex with me. Honestly, tonight was the perfect date. I don’t care for fine dining, or how much money you have or how big your yacht is. That stuff doesn’t impress me. Which, by the way, your fancy yacht is polluting our planet. Did you know yachts emit tonnes of carbon every year?”
He tucks his free hand inside his pocket and slows his walking as we approach the campsite. “It’s a sailboat.” Hegrins. “I can harness the power of the wind. I won’t use the motor unless I have to.”
“Okay.”
“But we don’t have to do that. Honestly, I just want to spend more time with you.”
“Sailing sounds good.” We reach my van and I turn to face him, hoping he’ll kiss me. I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering if it’s too soon to invite him in. I could offer him a drink, but he might get the wrong idea. If he tried something, I couldn’t refuse, which frightens me. I barely know this man, and yet I’m willing to sail away with him.
“Thank you for today, Shell.” He gazes into my eyes, fixed to the spot as if waiting for me to make a move.
Screw it. “You can kiss me now.” I close my eyes and lift my head slightly, waiting for the warmth of his lips against mine.
Rough hands grip my cheeks, and my heart beats faster. Lips press against my forehead. “Goodnight, turtle girl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My eyes flick open to a smug grin. He’s tormenting me. He walks away, looking back over his shoulder with a satisfied expression on his face as he leaves me standing here outside my van, simmering with anticipation.
Chapter Twelve
FINN
“You’re late,” Dad says as I enter his office.
“I had a late night.” I scratch the stubble on my jaw, not having had time to shave this morning.
Dad gives me a disapproving glare. He thinks I was out partying. He doesn’t know I was up watching the equivalent of a real-life David Attenborough documentary. But right now, I’ve more important things to discuss than my whereabouts last night.
“Please tell me you had nothing to do with the land grab at the Oceanside Oasis.” I stare at my father over his desk, the landscape of this quaint little town behind him through the large glass office window.
“Land grab?” His brow furrows, making his wrinkles deeper.
I drop into the leather chair opposite him and exhale with relief. Dad’s confusion at least tells me he wasn’tinvolved. “You worked on that development. Someone burned down the house that was there before.”
“They approved the planning and sold the land before I joined the development project. But the Kilmore family are ruthless. I wouldn’t put anything past them.”
“And you want to do business with them?” I straighten my spine, my whole body on fire, wanting to ruin anyone who’s ever hurt my turtle girl.
“The father’s on the planning committee, that's all. He sold the land to the Oceanside developers, which is who I worked for before I set up my development business.” Dad straightens his tie. “It was twenty years ago. What’s all this about?”
No wonder Shelly hates Chad Kilmore and his cousin Bentley. I run my thumb under my suspenders, wondering about the best approach here. “You can’t develop on the beach.”
Dad bursts out laughing. This isn’t the reaction I expected. “I’m not putting off a multi-million-dollar development so you can get your leg over with that sea life enthusiast.”
“You know about Shelly?”
“Son, the whole town knows about you and Miss Myrtle. It made the front page of theMagnolia Gazette.” He slides the paper to me. His laughter subsides.
“Kiss & Shell” is the headline on the front page. I read the article aloud. “Local girl, Shelly Myrtle, raises over $30,000 at her annual Save Our Seas fundraiser, beating last year’s total of $18,000. The turtle conservation team’s hosting of a kissing auction for International Kissing Day led to the increase in funds raised. The event captivated Finnegan Jones, a British tourist and son of British MP, Merryssa Jones. Finnegan bid an astounding $10,000 forone kiss from our conservationist, Shelly Myrtle, who has caught Finn hook, line and sinker.”
Dad leans over the large wooden desk. “You realise that money will take us to court over planning permission? If you wanted to pay forit, there are plenty of girls in the city who’re much cheaper and prettier.”
“Is that where you found Cordelia?”
He slams his fist against the table. “I won’t have you disrespecting Delia like that.”
I drag a hand over my tired face. “I’m sorry. I’ve nothing against her. She’s like the sister I never had.”
