How does he know?“You think I need to resort to bribery to get your duck to like me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have you know I’m very likeable all on my own.”
“I’m well aware.” His instant, easy reply makes my belly flutter. “But Dave’s a little slow on the uptake.”
“Don’t insult my new friend like that.”
He blows out a sigh. “Something tells me you’ll be teamed up against me by the time I come home.”
The way he sayshometurns the flutter into a flock. “You’ll always be his favorite. I can’t replace you.”
“You calling me special, Boston?”
My eyes skate over the wood shingles of his house—the home he welcomed me into without hesitation, where we finally kicked down the flimsy wall between us, regardless of how self-sabotaging it might be.
“Yes,” I answer.
There’s a pause, and I bite my lip, wondering if that was too honest. If the distance has made me too bold. But he says, “I’m afraid that adjective is reserved for you. You’ll have to find another one.”
My smile is so big, my cheeks hurt. “Arrogant. Difficult. Bullheaded.”
“You know, bulls are famous for their virility.” I can practicallyseethe cocky smirk on his face. “I’ll happily take that compliment.”
“You are…”
“Perfect?”
“I was going to say incorrigible.”
“See, that’s what my day was missing. A nice, multi-syllable insult. Thank you.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me that’s why you called.”
“Do you want my honest answer?” he asks, his amusement fading.
“Yes,” I say, my heart kicking into gear.
A breath, then, “I wanted to hear your voice.”
It’s like I just drank a gallon of hot chocolate, the sweetness and warmth of his words infusing my chest. Before I can admit that I wanted the same, he clears his throat and asks, “How’s work? Amanda told me you were partnering with Kenny for some tours, and you’re helping man the table tomorrow.”
“It’s good. The tours were easy. Kenny did the driving and oyster holding, and I did all the talking. Ifigure tomorrow will be even easier. Amanda printed out an oyster cheat-sheet for me just in case, but I’ve got it down.”
“Sounds like if I’m not careful, you might take my job.”
“I would, but no one wears stained orange waders as well as you, Grayson.”
“You just say that because you haven’t seen yourself in them,” he replies. Then he bumbles right along, like doling outanothercompliment is no big deal. “Thank you, again, for covering. You’re going above and beyond for me. Hell, ‘thank you’ isn’t even a good enough word for it.”
“You don’t need to thank me,orfind a better word.” He inhales to argue, but I cut him off. “I feel lucky to be in a position where I can help you. And it feels like a privilege that you trust me enough to help take care of things.”
He snorts. “Eliza, anyone with half a brain knows that having you in their corner is like having a fucking superpower.”
My dorky smile, the one he’s held on my face for the last five minutes, suddenly slips. Not because he’s upset me, but because I think that’s one of the most wonderful things anyone has ever said to me.
I’ve gotten praise from professors, bosses, occasionally my parents. Kyle would say nice things about me, back when we were in love. Kitty hypes me up all the time. But to hearthesewords fromthisman—who’s seen me at my worst, who’s no bullshitter, whom Irespect—it reaches right into the places where I store my doubts, the parts of me that have tirelessly strived to achieve, but quietly wondered if I’d actually get there.
