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CHAPTER 2
Isabella
As I settled back against the surprisingly comfortable cushions that lined the seating area, I found my eyes drifting to Jimmy again and again. He had a confidence and ease about him that I was drawn to, like a moth to a flame. I spent time around males, mostly ones that worked for my father, but what I was staring at was a man.
He oozed testosterone, and from my body’s response I would guess a good number of pheromones as well. I kept wondering what it would feel like to be touched by him, to be kissed by him, and to touch and kiss him. I tried to ignore it, ignore him, but it was impossible.
I’d just get my mind on something else and then a sound or a movement would catch my attention, drawing it back to him. His large hands as he handled the ropes, his arm muscles as he lifted the heavy coil. His movements were so powerful, so masculine, so sexy.
And then there was his smile. It was the first thing I’d noticed as I walked down the dock. That kept coming back to my mind. Immediately following was the distinct flutter in my belly when our eyes met.
For the hundredth time, I tore my gaze away from him and turned it out to the water to distract myself. Sunlight glistened over the surface of the ocean. It reminded me of thousands of diamonds sparkling. The motion of the waves carrying the boat was soothing and I could see how people could get addicted to being out on the water.
My father owned a yacht that he used for business, but I’d never been invited on it. I’d always wanted to go. In high school, a lot of my classmates’ families had boats, but I was never permitted to go on them either. I’d been allowed to go to school and come home. That was basically it. And once my peers were getting their driver’s licenses around age sixteen, my father conveniently took umbrage with the course of my education and arranged to have me privately tutored.
The more I looked back on it, it was as if he’d wanted to keep me in a bubble. I used to believe that his behavior could be explained by the fact that he was a control-freak, but now I wondered if it had been because of my condition.
Since finding out the news a few days ago, I’d called him. Several times. But he had yet to return any of my calls. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be unreachable for weeks, sometimes months at a time, but I’d always assumed, wrongly so it turned out, that if I really needed him, he’d be there. If the past seventy-two hours were any indication, that was not the case.
I closed my eyes against the bright southern sun and tried to push all negative thoughts from my head. I didn’t want to waste another second worrying about him or my condition.
Instead, I focused on the fact that I was there. In Georgia. On this boat. With the sexiest man I’d ever met.
We’d been out on the water for a couple of hours now and I’d done everything I could to not stare and drool over the boat captain. I’d read every piece of literature on Firefly Island that I’d picked up at the rental car company in Savannah, my childhood hometown.
I’d learned that Firefly Island was founded by three Harvard students, who bought the island to use as a vacation home. Carlton Abernathy, whose family was in real estate, Benson Montgomery, who was heir to a shipping dynasty, and Trenton Culpepper, whose family made their fortune in oil. The three decided to move to the island permanently and develop it after they graduated.
Firefly Island was nicknamed the Jewel of Georgia. It was renowned for its breathtaking coastal scenery that included beaches that lit up nightly with lightning bugs.
Its architecture was also notable. Well-preserved early-to-mid-19th-century and late-18th-century buildings populated the tiny island. It also had thriving historic and arts districts nestled in the heart of the city.
It boasted a modest population of just over five thousand residents, but drew close to half a million tourists every year. The large number of visitors was attributed to its diverse and unique attractions, from magnificent deep-sea fishing to the tallest Ferris wheel in the East—which I planned on heading down to Firefly Pier and riding, despite being terrified of heights.
Then there were the quarterly festivals—including the Annual Firefly Festival, which was only four days away, and which I hoped to attend.
But the biggest draw to the Jewel of Georgia was Abernathy Manor. The world-famous—or should I say, infamous—estate was regularly on “The Top Ten Most Haunted Places in The U.S.” lists, and had been featured on several paranormal investigation and reality shows. I was determined to go on a tour while I was here, even though my second greatest fear, next to heights, was the undead. Actually, I’d always been terrified of anything supernatural.
But that was the old Isabella. The new Isabella faced her fears! She didn’t cower and give in to them.
I wasn’t going to live my life letting them dictate my actions, or worrying about garnering other people’s good opinion. Somehow, after learning about my condition, I had the overwhelming sense I was living on borrowed time, and I planned on making the most of it.
I opened my eyes and once again, they were, of course, drawn to Jimmy. The way he moved was mesmerizing.
We’d barely spoken to one another in our time out on the ocean. He’d asked me a few questions at the beginning of the cruise, but I’d been so nervous that my answers had been short and clipped.
He must’ve assumed I hadn’t wanted to continue the conversation because he’d left me to myself since then. The truth was, I was just socially awkward. I’d never quite learned to interact with people. I’d observed how it was done, but there was a disconnect when I tried to put it into practice.
For other people, it just seemed to come naturally. Not for me. I wasn’t sure if my social faux pas were a result of my insolated upbringing or if I was predisposed to my awkwardness.
I did know that I tended to live in my head. I was always thinking about the next thing I should or shouldn’t say. I was desperate to never do or say the wrong thing…yet that was always what seemed to happen, despite my best efforts.
I was convinced the reason my interactions with Jimmy had been so limited thus far was due to my verbal insecurities. If it were any other person aside from me on the boat with Jimmy, I was sure he’d be talking up a storm with them. He seemed so friendly and easygoing. I couldn’t imagine him ever not knowing the right thing to say or do. It was a very attractive quality. And I wanted to observe more of it.
I knew that our time on the water was coming to an end. He’d said that he could take me out for three hours and we’d already been on the water for two hours and forty-five minutes.
If I couldn’t even muster the courage to speak to him—one of the friendliest most open people I’d ever met—what chance did I have of actually following through with my plan for a new life?
This was a test. One that I planned on passing.
