Beckoning Spirit (A Romantic Paranormal Short Story) by Stacey Coverstone Page A

truly sorry.” With that, the man placed a Closed sign on the counter and shuttered the window.
    Devin sighed. “Darn Maine weather.”
    “I could take ya,” came a deep voice from behind her.
    She whirled and found herself face to face with a suntanned man wearing a tee shirt, jeans, and tall rubber fishing boots. He was about six feet in height with a shock of black hair and eyes of the most unusual color. They were so dark they appeared purple. The man was so handsome, he almost looked unworldly. Something immediate and profound stirred within the depths of Devin’s soul. The feeling was like a fist punch to the stomach.
    She gazed at him, mesmerized.
    Where have I seen this man before? He looks so familiar. Those eyes…it would be impossible to forget such fascinating eyes. Maybe we went to school together, or perhaps he’s a customer at the Ebb Tide.
    “Hello?” he said, waving a hand in front of her face.
    His voice jarred her from her musings. “Beg your pardon? Did you say something?”
    “I overheard ya tell the man at the window that ya need to get to the island. My boat’s available for chartering. I’d think you’d know better than to head out on the water when a storm is approaching, but that’s not my business. I’ll take ya if it’s so important. Be warned, however, it’s going to cost a pretty penny. I won’t risk my own life and the welfare of my boat for my regular fee.”
    The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. His rugged good looks could melt ice, but his bedside manner left something to be desired. “Excuse me, mister…?”
    “The name’s Kipp Sullivan.” As if he’d just noticed something unusual about her, his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s, and his brows furrowed. “Say…do we know each other? I didn’t think I ever forgot a pretty face. Have we met before?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    He thrust his hand out to shake, and his dark eyes sparked like aubergine diamonds. “Are ya sure we’re not acquainted?”
    “I’m sure.” She was fibbing again. The truth was, she did sense something familiar about him. Time and space blurred for a moment, and a heart string vibrated in her chest. Despite the warm feeling, and the desire to touch him, Devin refrained from accepting his hand just then. He smelled of fish. “Are you in the habit of eavesdropping on people’s conversations, Mr. Sullivan?”
    He grinned and shook his head, unbelieving. “Try to help a lady out and this is what I get.” He turned and began to walk away.
    The sky quaked with another clap of thunder. “Wait!” she exclaimed.
    He swung around and took several steps forward until his lean frame towered over her. His unusual purple eyes flashed. “Well, do ya want me to take ya to the island, or don’t ya? My price is seventy-five dollars. Make up your mind before the Heavens unleash a mighty torrent.”
    “Seventy-five dollars!” she cried. “That’s twice the amount the ferry charges.”
    “I’m doing ya a favor, in case you’ve forgotten.”
    Her own eyes narrowed. “You call that a favor?”
    His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s up to you. Take it or leave it. I don’t have all day to argue with a hard-headed woman, no matter how pretty you are.” His gaze flicked away from her and shifted to the sky. He winced. “If we’re going, we’ve got to get on the water now. This storm won’t wait for procrastinators.”
    Devin hadn’t missed that comment about her being pretty. Still, flattery would get him nowhere. Her mouth drew into a tight line. Seventy-five dollars was highway robbery. “I get the distinct feeling I’m being bushwhacked, Mr. Sullivan. But I suppose I have no option. I need to get to Monhegan today.” Luckily, she’d gone to the bank yesterday and withdrawn one hundred dollars. She nodded acceptance of his offer.
    “Okay, then. Let’s go. And it’s Kipp, not Mr. Sullivan.” He turned and trod down the boardwalk. She followed, trotting