Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Full of Steve, and choices, and diner food,” I replied, crossing my legs under me and sitting next to Finley. “You?”
“Work and urchin-chasing,” he said, digging containers out of the cooler and tossing a wink at Finley. “Maybe I could introduce you to Christina. She’s Hastings’s wife. Super level-headed, nice, all that. Owns a shop in town, since you’re stuck there for another week or so.”
“I have friends,” I said defensively.
“Here?” he questioned, handing me a plastic container.
“Well, no. I have Mia and Joey up in Nags Head, and Sam will be back in a couple of weeks to spend the summer with me. She had to fly home to Colorado so she could take care of a couple things and grab more clothes. The rest of my friends are, well, a lot of other places.”
“Well, it never hurts to have more friends, and I’m happy to hook you up.”
I thanked him, and we devoured our snacks while Finley regaled me with tales of her week. She’d baked cookies with her grandmother, then visited the aquarium and the ship museum, and taken a kiteboarding lesson.
“On the ocean?” I asked, letting my mouth hang open in overexaggeration.
“Yep! I had a vest on. No biggie.” She brushed a handful of red curls behind her ear, revealing a smattering of freckles that hadn’t been there last week. “Can I go search now?” she asked Jackson, already bouncing on her knees.
“Stay close,” he instructed, and she was off, racing toward the water.
I helped Jackson pack up our picnic, secured the bag to a large rock, and then we headed toward where Finley walked along the waterline.
“Okay, see where the sandbar has a little break in the middle?” We paused where a shallow rivulet of water ran through the bar.
“This is the riptide?” My eyes narrowed as I studied the water running from the pool in the sandbar back to the ocean. “It’s so small.”
“Sure, right now. Bring in the tide, and the amount of water it’s sucking back out grows exponentially.”
“Seems right.” I scanned the sand on the bank, hoping to find another piece of glass to add to my collection. “I mean, it’s always the things that look harmless that end up wrecking you, right?”
He studied my face for a handful of seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I guess you could say that, if you’re the kind of person always looking for the riptide.”
“I’m actually the opposite, if you can’t tell, just standing in the middle of it, thinking it’s harmless, surprised when it knocks my feet from under me.” I looked down the beach, where Finley was doing some searching of her own. “So what’s she looking for?”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching Finley pick something up. “She wants a perfect conch shell. We come out a lot at low tide so she can search.”
We passed a family building a sandcastle, and I offered them a smile.
“What’s she going to do once she gets the perfect conch?”
Jackson grinned. “Decide she wants something else and start that search.”
I chuckled. “Typical girl. We want what we want until we have it, and then it’s on to the next thing.”
“That’s most guys, too,” he countered.
“You?”
He shook his head. “Not really. At least not since Finley was born. Kids have a way of changing the way you look at the world and your role in it.” He paused, bending down to grab something. He brushed his thumb over it and then grinned, handing it to me. “Here you go. It’s pink. That color’s really rare.”
He dropped a piece of sea glass in my hand. Its peachy pink color caught the sun as I flipped it over in my palm.
“Thank you!” I crossed behind him and dipped it into the water, letting the next wave wash away the sand. “It’s beautiful. I didn’t realize there were rare colors.”
“Oh yeah, there’s classifications and everything. Christina makes jewelry with it. Her shop’s down by the bakery. I bet she’d be happy to teach you all about the different colors.” He raised his eyebrows in an obvious way.
“What are you? The matchmaker for friends?” I teased. It wasn’t a half-bad idea to acquaint myself with the local shops, or to make a friend. “Okay. Give me the address, and I’ll go visit the shop.”
“Good. That’s good,” he said with a nod. “Hey, slow down!”
Finley turned and nodded, slowing from her run to examine the ground more carefully.
We walked a fair distance in companionable silence, and I let the waves lull my head into a calm sort of quiet.
“Tell me about the truck.”
“What?” I startled.
“The giant F250 in your driveway that you said was left to you. Tell me about it.” He looked at me with a mixture of expectation and patience, like he knew I’d eventually tell him and was willing to wait for it.