Eversea A Love Story

now. “Anymore of that coffee?”
    “Sure.” He looked me up and down as he stood and walked round to the coffee maker. It was amazing how comfortable he looked in my house. “Where’ve you been?”
    I was instantly self-conscious of my barely-there Lycra athletic shorts and tank. “Uh, kayaking.”
    “Did you manage not to side swipe any bikers on your way home?” He handed me a cup of coffee with cream.
    Self-conscious turned into unbelievably embarrassed at his mention of our near miss. I was kind of hoping he hadn’t put the whole thing together. “Um ... ” I managed, flustered.
    He winked. “Kidding. So was it fun?”
    I exhaled and tried to smile. “Yeah. It wasn’t long though, I ended up chatting with Joey and also Jazz came and found me.” I realized I should tell him sooner rather than later. “Mrs. Weaton isn’t the only Butler Cove resident who knows of your existence, I told Joey and Jazz,” I admitted, wincing.
    He stilled in the act of pouring himself another cup. Then he put it down and braced his forearms against the counter, his back to me and his head hanging down. The action brought his shoulder blades into sharp focus beneath the same dark green tee he’d been wearing last night.
    He sighed. “Then it’s just a matter of time isn’t it?” He went back to pouring his coffee.
    “Until what?”
    “Until someone calls in the story for a small fortune.”
    “They wouldn’t do that.”
    “People will do anything for money, Keri Ann.” He turned to me with an expression that said I should have known better.
    “These people won’t.”
    “Why don’t you do it?” he asked, pushing off the counter and coming toward me.
    “Do what?”
    “Call it in. You could renovate this kitchen with the money. Heck, probably the whole house.” He raised his eyebrows.
    “I wouldn’t ever do that!” I was outraged. How could he say he trusted me one day, although I’d obviously broken that trust by telling two, no, make that three people, including Hector, and then ask me if I’d sell him out the next?
    He stopped in front of me but looked into the distance. “I know you wouldn’t.”
    “How?” I asked.
    “How do I know you wouldn’t sell me out?”
    “Yeah. Especially since I admitted to outing you to two people just this morning.”
    He lifted a hand and ran it through his unruly hair. It caused my eyes to drop to his broad chest. “Well, here’s the thing, it seems to me you have a lot of people around here who care very deeply for you, and I doubt they would jeopardize you by selling me out, so I guess that makes me lucky to know you.”
    I shrugged, warmed by his observation, and took a sip of coffee to cover my nerves at his nearness. I was relieved neither of us felt we had to mention our awkward almost kiss the night before. We could just move on as friends, as if the moment never occurred. As if just remembering my tongue touching his thumb by accident, and the sound he made when it happened, didn’t have my insides flipping over again. But sure, if he could forget so could I.
    Yeah, right.
    “Do you need to stay at the house today?” he asked.
    I looked around. The walls were bare and washed and ready for paint. The floors needed to be sanded, cleaned, and stained, but that would require renting equipment, and I needed funds for that. The roofers would be busy all day, and I didn’t have to work until tomorrow. But there were always things I could be doing like cleaning, finishing the front porch, picking a paint color, working on some of my sea-glass and driftwood projects.
    “I guess not, but—”
    “Great,” Jack interjected. “Grab your swimsuit and whatever else you need for a day on the water. You are going to teach me to paddleboard. There’s some equipment under the beach house and we may as well take advantage of this good weather before the storm gets any closer.”
    Swimsuit? My only swimsuit was a white string bikini Jazz had persuaded me to buy two summers ago. My black one piece had recently given up the ghost, and by that I meant it had become almost completely see-through. I could probably swim in the lycra shorts and tank I was wearing or I could just bite the bullet and try and be normal and unselfconscious.
    “Uh ... sure. Let me just run upstairs and grab some stuff.”
    * * *
    The water was a little choppier than it had been that morning, but still calm enough to learn to paddleboard. We dragged the oversized surf-looking board out