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Beau’s hands slowed for a few moments, and her skin prickled under his scrutiny, but he continued sifting through the oysters, his hands picking up the pace.
They worked in silence for a while, the sun rising higher and the air growing more humid as one hour passed, then another, until sweat trickled down Kit’s back and her arms ached. She stepped back from the now almost empty table and stretched her arms overhead as the low hum of a motor approached.
A large, sporty hybrid bay boat approached, then stopped at the dock. The engine cut off, and Cal, carrying a big cage, stepped onto the dock and headed their way. Nate followed, hopping off the boat and onto the dock, then joined Cal, Kit, and Beau at the culling table.
“How’d it look out there?” Beau asked, sweeping a small pile of oysters into one big palm, then dumping them in the recycling bucket.
“Better than expected,” Nate said, wiping his forearm across his glistening brow. “Most of the cages we lowered to the bottom yesterday were safe, though a few were covered with silt from the runoff and a few cages were damaged. But it’s the drop in salinity that’s worrying me. I’m scared the ones that survived might drown with all the fresh water that’s poured into the creek.”
Beau frowned, and the creases of worry lining his mouth made Kit’s stomach drop. “Did you bring in another load of cages?” he asked.
Cal nodded as he set the large cage he had carried down by the culling table, unlatched it, and withdrew a mesh bag. “The rest are in the boat, ready to be sorted.”
“Figured we’d keep sorting,” Nate said. “Save what we can now.” He glanced at Kit and managed a small smile of greeting. “How’d you and yours make out last night?”
“Good.” Kit chanced a glance at Beau, who was studying her expression. “Thanks to Beau.”
Nate clapped a hand to Beau’s shoulder and laughed. “Yeah. He’s a good man, just in case you didn’t know it already.”
Kit looked down and continued sorting through the last of the oysters on the table. “I know,” she said softly. “He’s one of the best.”
Cal dumped the mesh bag of oysters out onto the culling table, filling the surface with a fresh batch of oysters to sort, and Nate clapped his hands together.
“Sun up the way it is,” Nate said, “I’m in need of a tall glass of water. Anyone else care for one?”
They all voiced their agreement, and Nate excused himself to get drinks for everyone. The sun’s rays grew sharper, and a bead of sweat burned Kit’s eye. She wiped her face with the hem of her T-shirt and fanned it out.
“There’s a ton left to sort,” Beau said, dragging a large pile of oysters in front of him. “I imagine you’re tired. You don’t have to stay, you know.”
Kit nodded but continued working. “I want to. I’d like to help, as long as that’s okay with you?”
Beau reached out and covered her hand with his, coaxing her eyes up to meet his. “Thank you.” He glanced at Cal. “You toss a lot in the boat?”
Cal grinned. “Everything that was left. It’s full.”
Beau released her and patted Cal on the back. “Good job.” He smiled, but his pleased look dimmed as he met Kit’s eyes again. “We’ll keep working ’til we knock the rest of ’em out. Then maybe you and I can have that talk?”
Kit’s hands slowed over the oysters as an urge to prolong her time with Beau surged through her. “Okay,” she said quietly. “After this, we’ll talk.”
* * *
Several hours later, the sun had dropped low on the horizon, splashing bright shades of lavender, pink, yellow, and blue across the sky that draped Hope Creek’s banks and reflecting off the water, transforming the creek into ripples of colorful silk.
Beau stripped off his gloves and dragged his hand through his damp hair, his body slicked with sweat.
Kit seemed to have fared about the same.
He glanced across the now finally—thank the Lord!—empty culling table and studied her face as she peeled off her gloves and stretched her arms over her head. Her eyes were closed, and dark circles of fatigue had formed beneath her eyelashes. She sported a light sunburn on both cheeks, and her neck was flushed with heat.
“Burning up?” he asked.
Her eyes opened and met his, and her face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as he examined her expression. “Yeah. I didn’t realize we’d been at this for so long.”
Beau glanced behind him, where Nate and Cal carried the last buckets of market-sized oysters that they’d been able to salvage to the storage shed. Their steps were slow, and Cal’s shoulders drooped, as though a weighted barbell had settled over them.
Beau managed a small smile. “I doubt any of us will have trouble sleeping tonight.”
He rolled his shoulders, the ache between his shoulder blades the most pronounced of all his newfound pains, then returned his attention to Kit. She stared down at her hands, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.
