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“Come on,” he ordered, possessing the audacity to snap his fingers at me before I’d gotten down another single serving of caffeine. Man must’ve lost his mind. “Time is of the essence.”
“What the hell am I packing for?”
“Camping. It’s a Mistyvale rite of passage. Bring layers. I’ve got all the gear.”
“I work tomorrow.”
“Afternoon. I called Kara and told her I have to head out on the water tomorrow, so she’s opening for you.”
“Jesus.”
“Is waiting at the top of the cliffs. Let’s go. We’re running out of time.”
Before I could demand ‘time for what’, he was throwing open drawers and ripping my clothes out of them. Startling forward, I demanded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Packing. At this rate, it will be two negligees and a couple lacy underthings with some heels. You prefer the impractical, don’t you?” His smirk was infuriatingly adorable.
“Get out,” I snarled, rushing for the dresser I’djustfinally unpacked into when I realized Eric was evidently here to stay. Jameson headed for the door, grinning all too broadly. “Food,” I grumbled.
“Already in the truck,” he said firmly, smirking down at me. “For a barista, you’re kinda feral in the morning.” He laughed, the sound coming from deep in his chest as I chucked a pillow at his head, and then he was gone. Grumbling about insane people, I assembled a day’s worth of clothes and pajamas, a few extra pairs of socks, and wrestled athletic wear onto my body. It took a beat in my groggy, half-asleep state to realize that was sincere excitement in his voice, his eagerness not in standing with his usual growly demeanor. Still bossy as hell, but in a cute way, like a kid on Christmas morning. Fine. I was officially mildly curious.
Chugging my coffee, I headed for the door.
* * *
“This isthe only time of year the tide is out far enough to see them,” Jameson explained as we clambered over slick rocks between tide pools. We’d driven nearly an hour around the island to see the caves on the cliffside and the massive tide pools that bordered the ocean. The beach was at least one hundred yards of damp, wavy black sand, the waterline significantly receded. Streams of icy water carved mini-canyons through it in their fight to freedom. For what might have only been the second time since I arrived in Mistyvale, the sky was a gorgeous, open blue. God, I’d missed that. Something so simple. Try as I might to keep my attitude in check, the absence of the sun’s caress and a blue sky had been eating at me.
Thiswas heaven, the air still crisp, but the sun stretching out in the happiest of reunions, as waves distantly rolled against the sand and Jameson led the way across a beach only available for a few hours a day during the peak of the summer. He glanced back every few seconds, making sure I was still in his wake. Without fail, for the bigger steps or jumps, he’d turn, reaching out a hand until he knew I was steady.
“Elora told me a story about you guys climbing around out here on your own?”
He scoffed. “All the time. We spent a good chunk of the summer out here—we’d pack bags and walk all the way down the beach, hike the mountain, camp until the following morning, and walk back at low tide.”
“It feels like a different world,” I admitted, thinking back to my childhood outside of Tampa, where our fields were bisected by concrete.
“That’s because it is,” he agreed, turning to look at me expectantly.
Smiling softly, I explained, “We always lived off in the rural center of Florida so mom could have a little bit of land and a few horses. But with the abundance of venomous critters and modern-day dinosaurs, I can’t fathom my parents allowing the three of us to run off and camp overnight unsupervised. Let alone trapped until the tide rolled out.”
“Fair enough. I certainly wouldn’t let my baby girl run around in the world of Florida Man.”
I giggled, shaking my head in an attempt to stifle the effect of picturing Jameson as a dad. He would look damn good chasing around a little princess, and I had a sneaking suspicion he’d do it. He might grumble to his brothers, but from what I’d gathered, there weren’t actually lines to what he’d do to keep his family happy. I was so screwed.
“It’s really not that bad,” I assured him.
“The headlines beg to differ.”
“Yeah, well. I assumed you all were regularly mauled by bears or trampled by moose, and yet here you stand.”
Shrugging, Jameson said, “We like the rumors—they keep people out of paradise.”
“This is your paradise?” I asked, genuinely curious as he hopped over another stream, his smile broadening when I did the same without hesitating.
“Wide open land, quiet nights, mountains, and the sea. If you steer clear of the gossips, nobody really sticks their nose in your business. So, yeah. It is.” Those sweet little dimples popped up as he asked, “What’s yours?”
“Mmmm…” I trailed off, surprised when his hand came to settle against my back beneath the pack like a silent reassurance. Sucking down a breath, I admitted, “I don’t know anymore, to be honest.”
Jameson was quiet for a moment, the space filled by the song of the sea, until he pressed, “Gonna give me more than that?”
