Eversea A Love Story by Natasha Boyd Page A

“That is not how I think of you.” His voice was a low growl.
    I tilted my jaw up at him defiantly.
    His eyes dropped to my mouth again, both of us breathing hard in our frustration. He acted like he was about to say something more, but stopped, and his face came even closer.
    “Just ... just leave, Jack.” Part of me couldn’t believe I was turning him down. I mean, if I was honest with myself it was going to kill me when he left regardless of whether we kissed or not. I was inexplicably drawn to him, to something inside him I had glimpsed at fleeting moments. Something vulnerable. Something similar to me.
    God, I wished I could ask Jazz for advice. But I knew she would say kiss him—I mean it wasn’t everyday you got to kiss a Hollywood superstar.
    He looked at me a few more moments, an unreadable expression on his face, and then he pulled away, turned, and walked back to the kitchen.
    I heard the screen door bang shut a few seconds after that. Sliding down the wall, I buried my face in my hands. Oh my God! What was I going to do? How did I get here? I was just minding my own business and someone lobbed a grenade into my life—in the form of Jack Eversea.
     

 
    T W E L V E
    I was up at the crack of dawn despite how late I had finally gone to sleep. I was tired, but wired. I grabbed my rubber-soled water shoes and dragged my beat-up kayak and life vest into the back of the truck and headed over to Broad Landing on the mainland side of the island.
    The marsh grasses were getting a little browner as fall went on, and low tide saw the craggy brown and grey oyster beds poking out of the soupy water. To some, whose idea of seaside towns included the blue water of Caribbean or the clear emerald green of the Florida Panhandle, the colors of the Lowcountry could be a little dull. But to me, they were beautiful. Soothing. It was real. The murky water meant an abundance of marine life from crabs, shrimp, and oysters to bottlenose dolphins, stingrays, and visiting Atlantic whales.
    Out on the water, I could breathe and think. There were huge rains forecasted for the next few days from the tropical storm, so this was the last time I could kayak for a while.
    I plugged my ear buds into my phone and put Keane on shuffle. Those boys always knew how to speak to my mood. I paddled out toward the sound against the tide that had just started its six hour journey back in. It was hard on my arms and back. Panting with the exertion, I reveled in the fact my mind stayed clear and focused.
    Music belted through me, spurring me on. There were a couple of shrimpers out, hauling their large nets into boats. They were surrounded by a flurry of swooping gulls, pelicans, and the churning waters of dolphins all trying to get a free breakfast. It was a sight I loved.
    On a whim, I fished my phone out of my life vest and snapped a picture. My mouth made a grim line as I remembered the dream of Jack and I kayaking. Even more annoying, I wanted to send him the picture. It was so quintessentially Lowcountry. I knew he would enjoy it. Instead, I sent it to Joey with a caption: When are you coming home?
    The music was instantly replaced with the shrill beep of an incoming call.
    “That was fast.” I smiled.
    “You’re up.” Joey’s voice was a welcome balm. “I was going to wait and call you in an hour or so, but then your text came in. Didn’t you work last night?”
    It was good to hear his voice. “Yeah, I did, but I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d take advantage of the time out here.”
    “It’s always the best time on the water.” Joey was an avid paddler, like me, and coupled with being an early riser, I knew he missed it. “Why couldn’t you sleep? Is everything ok?”
    “What? Oh, yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.” I wondered if I should tell Joey. I knew he was trustworthy, but I had no idea if he would freak out. I tucked the phone back into the top of my life-vest and clicked on the hands-free microphone. Sticking the