Summer on Lovers' Island (15 page)

She reeled in the line, the weight of something on the other end terribly exciting and foreign. When she lifted for the last time, she saw the fish on the hook. “I got one! He's still there! What do I do now?”

Josh chuckled. “Just bring it over the side. I'll do the dirty work.”

Thank God.
She liked fish, but generally it came from the market, all nice and clean and, well, dead. She held the line and waited for Josh, but she had to wait a little longer as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture first. “Come on, you need a picture of you with your first fish,” he said, then took the line and gently removed the hook from the fish's mouth.

“Are we keeping him?”

Josh laughed. “He's only about eight inches. I promise, we'll get more. This time we can both cast.”

They carried on that way for a half hour, and Lizzie managed to bring up three good-sized pollock as well as a darker, thinner mackerel, which Josh threw back. On her last catch, she insisted on handling the slippery fish herself, removing the hook from its mouth and slipping it into the water of the live well.

Josh's line brought up an ugly, spinier fish, which he identified as an ocean perch and also threw back. Lizzie cast in once more but got a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. God, she wasn't getting seasick, was she? She swallowed, but her mouth seemed full of saliva. “Uh, Josh?”

“Yeah?” He turned around, took one look at her, and reeled in his line.

“Look at the horizon,” he suggested. “Bring in your line, and I'll get us moving. The problem with drifting is that you ride the swells.”

He took the lines and secured them and then started the engine again. Lizzie swallowed repeatedly, not wanting to be sick. How humiliating! And Josh looking as fresh as ever. Of course he'd grown up on the water and probably never got sick. She took desperate gulps of fresh air as he sped up, skimming the swells rather than rocking on them. “Better?” he called over to her.

She didn't answer. The sick feeling also made her head feel funny and she wasn't at all sure she was going to be able to hold out.

He slowed as they approached an inlet of the island, and Lizzie knew. She stood up and put her hand on his arm. “Stop,” she said, gulping. And before she could say anything more, she rushed to the side of the boat and heaved.

What a great date she was turning out to be.

 

C
HAPTER
10

She gagged until there was nothing left to come up, then let out a breath and turned around, feeling more than a little wobbly on her feet.

Josh had stopped the boat and was waiting, holding out a bottle of water.

“Swish that around and spit it out,” he said gently. “And then take a drink. I'll have you on dry land soon.”

She obeyed, cleaning out her mouth and spitting the water over the side. Josh started up and guided the boat into the inlet and to a small, ancient dock that leaned to one side but must be sturdy, since he pulled up next to it and tied the line to a graying post.

“It's safe,” he assured her. He took the cooler and put it on the dock and then tossed up a rucksack beside it. He hopped out and held out his hand to Lizzie. She'd taken her tote from under the seat and was ready to step onto something firm that didn't rock back and forth.

She put her fingers in his and let him pull her up. He grinned then and nudged her shoulder. “Don't feel bad. It happens all the time.”

“Right,” she grumbled, adjusting her tote. “You don't have to say that just to make me feel better.”

She watched as he put the ruck on his back and then hefted the cooler, the muscles in his arms flexing under the weight. Her vomit didn't seem to bother him in the least, though perhaps that came from being a doctor, because it didn't really gross her out anymore. It was the embarrassment more than anything. And feeling weak. She hated that.

“All right, let's go. You need to get some food into you.”

“Food?”
Gah.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Josh started off down the dock and she followed him, her sandals making flopping sounds on the old wood.

“I had yogurt and fruit, same as I do every morning.”

He nodded wisely. “Which probably ran out over an hour ago. It's always worse on an empty stomach. And I should have thought to tell you to take an antinauseant.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

He laughed and kept leading the way, off the dock and down a narrow dirt path leading to a sandy beach.

“You were doing so well,” he continued, adjusting the weight of the cooler in his arms. “But you were really focusing on the water, which makes it worse. Your brain messages get all screwed up.”

“I know what motion sickness is,” she answered tartly, but he only laughed more.

“Lighten up, Lizzie. You're not the first person to get seasick. You actually held out quite well.”

She wasn't sure if that was a backhanded compliment or what, but she forgot when they reached the beach and the sparkling sand was spread out before them, drastically different from the rough, rocky shoreline the seals called home.

“Oh, this is beautiful!” Breakers lapped on the shore and gulls circled overhead, wheeling and crying. “Like if you got stranded on a desert island and there was no one for miles and miles.”

Josh put down the cooler and took off his ruck. “I always like to think of it as it might have been a hundred and fifty years ago. Whether or not there is treasure buried here, I imagine the ships and cannons and battles. Charles Arseneault was rumored to use the island to smuggle his goods. And people.”

Josh reached inside his pack for a blanket. He spread it on the sand and sat down, then patted a spot beside him. “Charles was a Southerner, and he hated what the war did to the place he loved. At the same time, he wasn't all that comfortable with slavery. So he smuggled supplies past the blockade into the Confederacy and snuck slaves out and into the North.”

“Talk about playing both sides,” Lizzie commented, pulling her knees up to her chest. When Josh had begun to tell her this story on July Fourth, she'd been intrigued. Now that she was actually on the island? She was dying to know more.

“Oh, there's no question he was in it for profit,” Josh said, grinning. “He made a killing. Until he met his wife. She was something, I guess. They met when she was here on the island, helping send slaves onward up to Canada. They say the love of a good woman … It certainly seemed to turn him around.” Josh grinned suggestively. “Maybe they came out here for lovers' trysts, too. It would definitely explain the island's nickname.”

“And so he buried treasure here? Why? What would he have to hide if he just, well, quit?”

“Who knows? Evidence? Contraband? Secrets? That's what's kept the legend going all this time. No one really knows what was supposed to be in that treasure. Money that he'd come back for later? He settled in Jewell Cove and never seemed to be hurting for coin. Charles and his wife were both risk takers, passionate about their beliefs. It makes for some interesting reading. You can always check out the historical society for more if you're interested.”

Her, dig around at the historical society? It was kind of funny, really. Certainly not her speed. And yet … the story intrigued her somehow. It was adventurous and romantic. And it gave the sleepy little town of Jewell Cove a smidgen of glamour when all was said and done.

Her stomach and head were starting to come around, so she nodded at the cooler. “So, you brought us a picnic.”

“Of course. Food always tastes better outdoors and it's not like you can find a drive-thru around here.”

He opened the cooler and handed her a small bag of buns and a rectangular plastic dish, cold from the ice inside. She peeked inside the lid and gaped. “You brought the stuff to make lobster rolls?” Another container held an assortment of vegetables: carrots, celery, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes. “Josh, this is amazing. Who on earth was open early enough for you to pick this up before we left?”

“Open? Wow, give me a lot of credit, why don't you. I made the salad at six thirty this morning. Bought the stuff last night so it was as fresh as possible.”

She looked over at him. “You made this?”

He grinned, and she imagined his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Of course I made it. I can cook, you know. What did you think, I lived on mac and cheese and hot dogs?”

Lizzie made a face at the thought of that as a regular diet. “Sorry. I just thought with the take-out containers…” The salad was packed in a dish with a black bottom and clear top.

“Chinese food. That I don't make from scratch, but the dishes come in handy.”

She put the lid beneath the bottom of the dish and picked up the roll, using a spoon to stuff it full of the tender lobster meat and sauce. At the first bite she knew he wasn't lying. The man could cook. Perfectly seasoned, the lobster salad was scrumptious. The bread she could only assume came from the Main Street Bakery. No baked goods she'd ever had anywhere could compare to theirs, and top of the list was their bread.

“So, is it okay?” Josh opened his roll and filled it with the salad.

“It's perfect. I'm feeling a lot better, too. I think you were right. Having something to eat will help.”

“You won't find the trip back bad, I promise. It really is the rocking motion when you're stopped that does it.”

She didn't want to think about that right now, so she focused on the roll, wiping her fingers on a napkin Josh handed over along with another bottle of water. She'd figured that was it for their lunch, but then he took out another dish and two forks. “So I didn't make this,” he said, grinning. “I totally bought this at the diner last night. Gus's blueberry cream cheesecake is too good to resist.”

The cake had a cinnamon crumb topping, and the first bite was pure heaven. “Oh my God,” she murmured, dipping her fork into the dish once more. “That's fantastic.”

“You know, that's something I've noticed about you, Lizzie.” He rested on his hands and squinted over at her. “You really let yourself enjoy things.”

She chewed, swallowed, and pondered that for a moment. “I'm not sure if that's a criticism or a compliment.”

He chuckled. “Compliment. I'm not real good at that myself. I kind of had the fun beaten out of me for a while. I like to think I'm slowly getting it back.”

Lizzie looked down at the cake, torn between finishing the slice and focusing on Josh. With more than a little regret she put the lid on the dish and leaned forward to put it in the basket. “You can't say something like that without me wanting to ask the follow-up,” she said quietly. She spun on the blanket so she was facing him and sat Indian-style with her elbows on her knees.

“I told you that I found peace by taking out my boat, that sort of thing. Truth is, bit by bit I hid myself away, and I haven't really opened myself up again.”

Except to her. Lizzie let out a breath. “But I'm safe, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, I suppose you are. You're not family. You don't have history in Jewell Cove, and you're not staying. You're just passing through.”

It was all truth, so it was perplexing why hearing him say the words bothered her so much.

“Some would say I haven't been as much fun the last few years.”

“Life has a way of kicking us in the teeth, doesn't it?”

She inhaled deeply, tasting the sea air. “Not right now, it doesn't. Thank you for bringing me here, Josh. A picnic on the beach was just what I needed.”

“Me, too.”

His voice was low, with something beneath it that made her sit up a little straighter. The barest hint of suggestion, but it was there just the same. She was acutely aware that they were isolated here on the island. “Hidden” … wasn't that the translation for the native word? And then there was the name given it by the locals … Lovers' Island.

Lovers.

Once more she felt a pang of regret as she said the words she knew she must. “Josh, we can't mix business and pleasure,” she warned.

“How much is really business?” There was a coaxing note in his voice and she was just vulnerable enough to be flattered that he was suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting.

“You're my boss,” she said.

“Barely. We work together. And you're only here for a few months. It's not like you're going to be part of the practice forever.” He leaned forward. “Lizzie,” he said in a soft voice. “I would never use something like this against you. You have to believe that.”

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to so badly that specific parts of her body ached in anticipation. The breath seemed to shake in her chest. “I believed that once before,” she reminded him. “And you know how that ended.”

“We've both believed a lot of things. I'm not looking for forever, and neither are you. But damn, I'd like to start living again. I want to feel alive. I want to take risks and chances and the hell with the rest.”

Lizzie was so tempted. A gull gave a sharp cry overhead, plaintive and demanding. And still she and Josh leaned closer, closer, and butterflies winged their way through her stomach, fluttering with anticipation.

What he was asking for was a fling. With no consequences. Once upon a time that was how she'd lived her life. Fearlessly. How had she changed so much?

Maybe this was just what she needed to move past the mess that was her relationship with Ian. She liked Josh a lot. And she was insanely attracted to him. Come January she'd be back in Springfield. If they kept their eyes open … agreed to no strings—

She jumped up off the blanket. “You want to feel alive, Josh?”

His eyes looked confused and she couldn't help but smile, feeling suddenly strong, and with a feminine power she'd somehow lost over the past months. Yes, this was what she needed. “Come with me.”