I’m relieved that Ella doesn’t pull away from me. Instead I feel her spine stiffen, but her voice is warm and happy when she replies.
“Hi, Mr. Thompson, this is Marcus. He’s just visiting the island, so I’m showing him around.”
“Humph. Looking mighty cozy for a visitor,” comes his suspicious reply. I know I need to win over the locals, so I stick out my hand.
“Marcus Ryder, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I must say, I’m charmed by the island and it’s inhabitants.” I glance down at Ella with a smile, as the older man slowly accepts my handshake.
“George Thompson. Pleasure to meet you as well, Marcus Ryder. What brings you to Westmount?”
Looks like the old guy is still suspicious. Or maybe just protective of Ella. Either way, I understand. But when I tell Ella my real reason for being here, I want to do so when it’s just the two of us. So, thinking quickly, I come up with a response that isn’t quite a lie, but definitely isn’t the whole truth.
“A friend of mine told me it was a beautiful place to visit and suggested I come to check it out, so here I am.”
“I see. And just how do you know our Ella?”
“Well, Mr. Thompson, it was lovely to run into you, but I think we need to be going. Bye!” Ella interrupts, tugging me along the sidewalk. I give Mr. Thompson a quick wave goodbye and let her pull me along.
“Well, that was interesting. Is everyone going to be so concerned about my intentions with you?” I tease.
She flashes me a smile that’s half grimace.
“Yeah, probably.”
I smile back, trying to appear as if that isn’t a problem. And really, it isn’t. I have no intention of doing anything to hurt Ella, so no matter what it takes, I’ll win over her friends and family.
I do love a challenge.
Chapter five
Ella
Dang it, I’m so embarrassed. I cannot BELIEVE old Mr. Thompson started grilling Marcus like that. He seemed to take it in stride, but I’m flustered by the interaction. It dawns on me that we’ll have a lot of people asking the same question if they see Marcus with his arm around me. After all, my neighbors are used to ‘single’ Ella, not…‘it’s complicated’ Ella.
Thankfully the rest of our walk down Wharf Street is uninterrupted, but I certainly don’t miss the curious stares that are thrown our way like confetti. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of questions to answer the next time I’m out alone.
As we meander through the side streets, I fill the silence with some more random facts about Westmount Island. Marcus seems oddly interested in the vacant plot of land on the northern tip, and I agree to go with him tomorrow to take a look at it.
“Tell me something you would change about the island if you could.”
I’m slightly taken aback by his question; it’s not something I’ve ever been asked before. But my answer is an easy one.
“A library. I would build a library.”
Marcus chuckles at my response, but his next question has me even more curious about his reasons for coming to Westmount Island.
“What about stores, a movie theater, cafés. Don’t you wish there were more of those?”
I consider that for a moment, before answering carefully.
“Sure, I mean, a little bit. We’re a small town with everything we need. But do I wish there were more choices, of course. But the mainland isn’t that far away, and whatever we can’t get here, we get there.” I shrug. “If anything, better ferry service would be nice.”
Marcus nods slowly.
“Why are you asking me this?” I say quietly. He doesn’t answer right away, and my suspicion that he’s part of the potential development team grows. But I’m not brave enough to ask him that outright, so when he avoids the question, I let it go. For now.
“Just curious, that’s all.”
Eventually we find ourselves on the road heading back to the inn. The sun is slowly beginning its descent, but with it being the end of summer there’s still plenty of light. The glow on Marcus’s face is incredible; he looks as if he’s lit up from within and it takes my breath away. There’s still a part of me that feels this entire day has been a dream, and I’ll wake up soon. Oh, how I hope that isn’t true. I don’t ever want to wake up from this, it’s more than a dream. A handsome man, captivating and confident, and completely focused on me. It’s a fantasy I never let myself indulge in. I’m filled with a deep longing to see that focus redirected to the bedroom, but don’t want to appear too forward. Not that I can’t tell he wants the same thing, but it feels fast. Oh, who am I kidding? This whole dang day has felt fast! It’s crazy to think it was a mere few hours ago that Marcus offered me the rubber band for my wild hair on the ferry. Now here we are, unable to stop touching and holding onto each other. And here I am, already envisioning him naked and in my bed.Am I a hussy? Is this what being a hussy feels like? Overheated, aroused, and desperate? Because I think I like it…
