Page 16 of Adrift

“Kieran?”

Ah, shit. I know that cheerful voice. It’s my boss.

I turn toward his house and raise a hand as I spot Berty—and the much quieter Doug—sitting on their front porch.

They’re often found here, side-by-side in the wooden porch swing. Berty loves to spend an afternoon ambushing passersby for conversation, while Doug keeps his nose buried in a Sudoku book.

Seeing them like this, it makes something in my chest glow with the kind of tenderness and hope I don’t want to admit to out loud.

Maybe that’ll be me one day.

And now I’m imagining what Gage will look like in twenty or thirty years’ time.

Fuck. Right back to my problem. Berty’s waving me over, and I can’t avoid this any longer.

“Hiya,” I tell them when I reach the porch.

“Hello! Do take a seat, darling,” Berty tells me like he’s my ferry skipper for the day. Then he adds, “Lemonade? Cookies?”

A glass-topped table sits in between the wooden swing and the set of four cushioned wicker chairs. There’s a pitcher, empty glasses, and a plate stacked high with different kinds of home-baked cookies.

“Thank you,” I groan, dropping into a chair and leaning forward eagerly for a chocolate chip cookie while Berty pours me a glass of lemonade. I bite into it and sigh, closing my eyes as I shake my head. “They’re so good.”

“They sure are, eh?” Berty beams proudly. He elbows Doug, and Doug glances up from his book to nod his thanks for the compliment.

For a moment, it almost feels like a normal chat... except that Doug doesn’t look back down at his book, and Berty doesn’t say anything. They’re both just watching me quietly.

Is there something on my face? Did I put on my uniform inside-out this morning?

I almost choke on the final mouthful of my cookie. I grab the glass and swig some lemonade to wash it down.

They trade looks and smiles, and then Berty laughs. “Sorry,” he tells me. “We were just wondering what you had to say. No pressure, though. In your own time?—”

Doug shifts against the swing. It’s only a little movement, but considering how hard it is to escape Berty’s rambling conversations, it amazes me that it’s enough to make him go quiet.

“Oh, uh…” I fold my hands tightly in my lap as my eyes dart across the porch, trying to figure out the best strategy.

Do I tell them I want to leave? Or do I play it off, invent some other reason I wanted to talk to them? Should I give it a few days and see if there really is anything with Gage?

“Hey, kiddo,” Berty tells me softly. “Sure is weird when you’re not smiling. Talk to us. We’re friends right now, not your boss.”

Relief makes my shoulders slump as I look up at him. “Sorry. It’s just… I’m a little lost right now.”

“What’s the problem?” Doug asks in his quiet, soothing baritone.

And the honest answer comes out of my mouth just like that. “Gage Russell.”

Shit. Now I’m blushing.

They raise their eyebrows and look at each other like they’re having a whole conversation. Then Berty looks at me again. “Gage Russell, eh? What about him?”

God. How is even Gage’snamehot? I tug at the collar of my uniform polo shirt as I try to distract myself from my first thought.

I want to march into this big, sexy mountain man’s cabin and lick all the sweat off his muscles after a day of long, hard work.

No. I can’t say that.

“Uh, Gage…” I stutter. Berty starts to grin, and the more he smiles, the hotter my cheeks get. “I mean, I—we—no, there is no—but—I don’t know. We just met. Like, literally today.”

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