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He gestured toward me. “You’re not even dressed for it.”
I looked down at my plain black shirt and jeans. “I didn’t realize it was a requirement.”
He rolled his eyes playfully. “Typical tourist.”
When his grin spread wide, I swallowed again, looking for something, anything, to keep me from embarrassing myself further.
I pulled my small notebook and pen from my bag. “So, Huck. Are you ready to show me what Outtatowner is all about?”
FOUR
HUCK
As Cass looked up at me with hopeful eyes, I almost did it. Almost crossed the room, invaded her space, and acted on the desire coursing through me since the moment she stepped into my kitchen. She was fun, clever, and alluring. In twenty minutes, I’d had the most fun with Cass than I’d had with any other woman in a very long time. Possibly ever. There was just something about her that made me feel at ease, but wound me tighter at the same time.
But she had a job to do. A story about the town I now called home.
When I left the kitchen, Cass followed me through the bakery and out onto the sidewalk. As we walked toward the center of the festival, friendly greetings were mixed with curious glances. I smiled and nodded as I pointed out businesses and made general comments about their owners.
I pointed up ahead. “We can walk along the marina and then cut over to where most of the festival events are, if you’re okay with that.”
Cass smiled at the people we passed and occasionally jotted something down in her notebook. She asked questions about general life in Outtatowner and how the small town understood and accepted that tourists were the lifeblood of the community. She also wanted to know if we held a winter festival with twinkle lights and music and caroling, like she’d seen in Hallmark movies.
I assured her we did.
Walking along the water’s edge, I was acutely aware of her distance to the water. After an intrusive thought of her losing her footing and tumbling into the cool water below popped into my head, I casually shifted, putting myself between her and the edge.
Cass continued to look at the boats docked at the marina. “Sullivan and Sons Charters. Would that be a last name? Sullivan?” Her eyes moved over the boat as it rocked with the gentle waves.
“It is. Red Sullivan. Though it’s about to become Noble King Fishing Tours if the rumors are true.”
“Yesterday in the bakery, that woman said to you, ‘You wouldn’t treat a Sullivan this way.’ What did she mean by that?”
I eyed her carefully. She sure didn’t miss much.
I ran a hand over the stubble at my chin and sighed. “Bit of a family rivalry in town, you could say.”
Cass perked up beside me, her green eyes bright and curious. I could see her reporter brain whirring a mile a minute.
I lifted a hand. “It’s not all that interesting.”
Tiny lie. The feud between the Kings and the Sullivans was quite possibly a defining characteristic of nearly every townie.
Cass narrowed her eyes at me and stopped walking. She smelled bullshit. After she tucked the corner of her lip between her teeth, considering, I knew I was a goner.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. It’s a big deal.”
A proud smile spread across her features. “I knew it! Tell me everything.” Excitement bubbled out of her.
“Not much to tell. The Kings are wild. Some are downright mean, but they’re good businessmen. The Sullivans are the workhorses––been in this town for generations. They tend to be quieter and keep to themselves, but they’re a tight group. The Kings may start a fight, but a Sullivan can end it.”
She nodded, taking the information in before tilting her head to give me the side-eye. “And whose side are you on?”
“Neither. I’m impartial. In fact, I think both sides are short sighted and a bunch of hotheads.”
Cass’s hand slipped into her bag to pull out her notebook.
I pointed at it. “Don’t write that down.”
