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“Huh? What? It’s not time to fish,’’ he mumbled. Then opened his eyes and jumped.
“Maggie?” he said and began to sit up. “Oh, I guess I dosed off looking at the stars. Sorry, must have been the beer.’’ He looked across the sound, squinting at the first light of another summer day on the island. “We slept longer than I bargained for.’’
“My neck is killing me, and I feel the beginnings of a hangover. Too much wine and too many margaritas.’’ Maggie massaged her temples.
“Let’s get you home. Come on,’’ he said, getting up and stretching his arms behind his back.
Maggie stood and searched for her flip-flops. Slow motion is good; don’t move too fast. She slid her feet into her shoes and followed Reid off the dock. When she reached the end of the pier, Reid grabbed both of her hands to steady her down the two rickety steps. Hand in hand, they made their way through Shirley and Henry’s front yard to his Jeep.
Eight
Maggie
Maggie couldn’t sleep. She had been tossing and turning for the last hour, and trying without success to find rest again. It felt like those early mornings in college on test days when she would wake before dawn and not be able to shut off her mind, running facts and possible questions repeatedly. Or when she knew she had an important deadline looming. She would meticulously review every element of her project, each photo, graphic, and detail, and sleep would always elude her in those wee hours before the day began. However, this time, it wasn’t deadlines or multiple-choice questions that left her restless. It was him.
It had been a week since Reid had told her he didn’t have time for her and only wanted to be friends. Then, moments later, he had initiated the most intense make-out session Maggie had ever experienced. He had started the whole thing, and if Justyn hadn’t walked up, who knew how far it would have gone.
With a groan, she threw the duvet off and sprang out of bed. Maggie knew she would not be able to fall back asleep now, and she had to clear her mind from all these thoughts about Reid so she might as well check out the early morning island sights. She walked over to the balcony, and she was struck with how serene the sound looked in the predawn light. In fact, she was sure she had never seen the water this calm in all her days on Harkers Island. This must be what the old timers referred to as “slick as glass.” It looked more like a lake than a moving body of water. Oh hell. I might as well go out instead of standing up here.
The air was still a tad chilly, so she grabbed the lightweight white cardigan that was draped over the chair in her bedroom. She pulled it over her blue cotton sleep tank and adjusted her boxer shorts as she quietly padded downstairs.
Jutting about thirty yards out into the sound, the Buttonses’ pier was one of the longer ones on the east end of the island. Just about every fall, a hurricane or tropical storm would take out all the piers, and the homeowners would rebuild. After investing so much money each year, most people eventually decided to craft smaller piers that would be less susceptible to the wind and rain damage. However, Maggie remembered Mrs. Buttons telling her that the pier was important to her son and his wife. The pier had a small gazebo near the end and still extended about four feet beyond, ending with a small floating dock that was two steps down from the rest of the structure. It included cleats for tying up boats and was lined with a haphazard collection of shells the Buttons family, as well as Maggie and Blair, had left in a pile on one corner.
Maggie lowered herself onto the floating dock and thought, not for the first time, how glad she was that Daniel and Sally Buttons and placed such a high priority on their pier. She looked out and felt like she was sitting squarely in the middle of the sound. Just then, she noticed how high the tide was. The water quietly lapped against the floating dock, rocking it. Maggie hugged her arms around her bent knees and looked out toward the cape and the lighthouse.
Saturday morning was dawning all around her. It would be another hot day, and in a few hours, boats would be whizzing by, carrying tourists and locals on their way to spend a day of fun on the banks. For now, all was quiet and eerily calm.
Maggie drifted to her earlier thoughts about Reid. She hadn’t seen him alone since last week when he’d dropped her off. She and Blair had discussed and analyzed the hammock encounter. They decided that he was definitely attracted to Maggie, but for whatever reason, he assumed she wanted a relationship.
It was Maggie’s plan to squash that thought the next time she got him alone. She wanted a fun summer fling. Blair had given her the pep talk, and she was ready to explain her no entanglements idea, but so far, she had not been presented with the chance. Either Reid was always with Justyn, or running in the other direction. It had Maggie wondering if he was just drunk that night in the hammock. She shook her head again.
Maggie picked up one of the shells that had been lying on the dock and skipped it across the glassy water. One. Two. Three. Four. Pretty good, she thought as she turned her gaze right to follow the shell’s path.
That was when she noticed a tan upper body breaking the surface of the slick water. Reid was about twenty-five feet away and doing the breaststroke as he steadily swam parallel to the shore toward the Buttonses’ pier. Maggie sucked in her breath and felt her heart skip a beat at the exact same moment her belly tightened with those darn dancing butterflies. His shoulders glistened with salt water running off, and Maggie was entranced by the way his shoulder and lateral muscles were working together in such harmony. He switched to the freestyle stroke, arching one arm over his head, followed by another.
On impulse, she picked up another shell, which was part of the collection she had left on the dock a couple days ago, and skipped it in the direction Reid was swimming.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Plunk! The splash landed a few inches from his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. He dipped a muscular arm in the water once again, and closed in on the dock. She had him in her sights. She aimed the third shell so that, if it skipped a perfect six times, it would cross in front of him. Here goes, she thought, casting her arm over her shoulder. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Skip—plunk! The shell danced over the water’s surface, crossing Reid’s path and plopping in the water above his head.
He stopped mid-stroke and looked up.
“What the—?” He looked around.
Maggie could no longer suppress the giggles she’d been holding in, and her whole body shook as she laughed at the startled swimmer.
