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“Yeah,” he said softly, cradling her closer and kissing the top of her head. “We’ll stay as long as you want.”
They lay, wrapped in each other’s arms, for another hour, as the sky darkened to midnight velvet and the moon grew brighter. The night chorus of crickets, toads, and tree frogs grew stronger, pulsing around them; and their bodies, pressed tightly together, grew warmer as the night air grew cooler. Waves lapped against the boat, rocking it gently beneath them with the push and pull of the tide.
Beau closed his eyes and focused on the feel of Kit against him: the soft, warm weight of her splayed across his chest, abs, and thighs. He smoothed his hands over her back and shoulders, memorizing the shape and feel of her beneath his palms. Listened to her soft breaths and the rapid beat of her heart.
Soon Kit stirred against him. The quiet words she uttered next were as painful as he’d imagined they’d be.
“I need to go back,” she whispered.
Beau tightened his hand around her, the reluctance in her tone reflecting his own urgent need. But he gentled his grip, nudged his thumb beneath her chin, and brought her gaze back to his.
“I’ll wait,” he repeated, his heart aching. “Forever if that’s what it takes.”
CHAPTER13
Teague Cottage was dark, save for the dimly lit porch light, by the time Kit walked home from the Suttons’ house. The large oak limbs that last night’s storm had broken had been cleared from the driveway and stacked into a tall pile on the lawn, and all the boards had been removed from the windows. She ascended the front steps, glancing at the tattered remains of the screen enclosing the porch and the freshly swept porch floor, and entered the house quietly.
The kitchen was empty, and no one was in the living room, but that was to be expected, Kit supposed, as it was after ten o’clock. Royal and Mackey had probably spent most of the day clearing the limbs from the driveway, removing boards from the windows, cleaning the porch, and lowering the boats back onto the creek. And all the while, she’d been with Beau.
Kit rubbed her forehead, fighting the urge to turn around and return to him. Instead, she trudged down the hallway to her room, then closed the door behind her after she entered.
“I was wondering when you’d make it back.” A soft click sounded, and low light from a lamp on the nightstand spilled across the room. Viv, reclining in one of the two beds, sat up and eyed Kit’s face. “I take it you went to Beau’s?”
Kit hesitated and examined her sister’s expression. Her eyes were puffy, as though she’d been crying, but the anger that had resided in her eyes before they’d spoken last night had diminished, leaving mostly sadness behind.
“Yes,” Kit said. She reached up and ran her hand over the back of her neck, kneading tight muscles. “I thought you’d be there, but when you weren’t, I stayed and helped clean up the storm damage.”
“Was it bad?” Viv asked.
Kit nodded. “Bad enough.” She thought of the increasing look of trepidation on Beau’s face each time they had sorted through the contents of a mesh bag and found a significant portion of the oysters in most of the cages damaged. “Beau and Nate figure y’all lost at least a third of the crop last night, and they expect to lose more from shock or the drop in salinity in the water over the next few months.”
Viv grimaced and rubbed her hands over her face. “That’s a heavy blow to our new plans. I doubt anyone will be willing to invest in our expansion now.”
“Not necessarily.” Kit spread her hands, searching for a silver lining of some sort. “I think local restaurants—especially ones like Vernon’s Raw Oyster Bar—have grown accustomed to relying on your crop. I doubt they’d want to see it disappear. They’ll understand, and I imagine they’ll be patient enough to wait until you get things going again, without taking their business elsewhere.”
A humorless laugh burst from Viv’s lips. “They won’t have much of a choice,” she said. “There aren’t but a handful of outfits down here doing the same thing we’re doing, and I bet they’ll be clawing their way out from under damage, too. It’ll be at least late next summer before our youngest crop—if it survives—will be ready to divvy out.”
“It could’ve been worse,” Kit said quietly. “Most of the equipment looked in good shape, and a good portion of market-sized oysters were still viable. We sorted enough out for Beau and Nate to deliver at least two more shipments this week.”
Viv issued a tight smile. “Every bit will help, I guess.”
They both grew quiet, and Kit, exhausted and desperate for a change of subject, walked to the dresser and withdrew a pair of soft shorts and a T-shirt.
She changed her shirt, asking as she pulled the clean one on, “Where’d you go today?”
“To the beach,” Viv said. “I go there sometimes to walk and think. There’s a dune that’s kind of out of the way, and no one usually ventures out there. It’s a good place for some solitude. I came back a few hours ago and helped Dad and Mackey clean up outside.”
Finished changing, Kit crossed the room, turned back the sheet, slid into bed, and sighed as her aching muscles relaxed. “The place looks a lot better, except for the screen. I don’t think Dad will be able to mend it this time, considering the damage.”
Viv laughed softly. “That old thing’s made it through a lot over the years. Probably time to replace it.” Her laughter faded. “It’s past overdue for a change around here, anyway.”
Kit smiled. “This is a nice change.” She rolled over, easing onto her side, and tucked one hand beneath her cheek. “You do realize that if you sleep here tonight, this will be the first night in over fifteen years that we’ve shared this room?”
Viv rolled over, too, and tucked her hand under her pillow, returning Kit’s smile with one of her own. “That’s the plan.”
“I thought you said we were too old to share a room,” Kit teased.
Viv’s smile slipped. “Maybe. But I wanted to sleep at home tonight. Is it okay with you if I stay?”
