Page 34 of Turbulent Fires

My dad gives a nod. “Yes, he had real vision. It was a pleasure working with him.”

I look back and forth between my dad and Wolf. Is that respect I see in my dad’s gaze? What is happening? Who is Wolf? Is he not the carefree man I’ve known for the past couple of months? I want answers.

“How very interesting. This world is much smaller than most of us believe.”

I’m still confused. Wolf grins at my dad. “Especially from thirty thousand feet,” Wolf says, making a joke.

I gaze at this man, wondering how I know so little about him when I feel so much. The man is charming, maddening, and carefree. Is he more than all of this? He’s just managed to do the impossible, or what I thought was the impossible — he’s impressed my father. He did it without changing a single thing about himself.

We finish our meal, walk outside, then say goodbye to my parents. I go with Wolf as they head to their hotel. I always invite them to stay with me, but they own the hotel here and love to stay at it to make sure it’s being run the way they insist on it being run. They don’t tolerate less than the best for their guests. Old staffers know they aren’t to alert the new staff to who they are. They want to make sure they’re being treated right as normal patrons, not because they’re the owners.

I’m at a loss for words as Wolf drives me home. We need to have a conversation, but I’m not sure I’m ready to have it yet. If I start asking questions, I’m opening the door to him doing the same. If we walk through that door together, the bandage will be forever ripped away, and then I’ll have to admit this might be leading to something more than just a fling. I’m not quite ready for that yet.

Chapter Thirteen

Audrey

What am I the best at? I’d have to say running. If I get scared, it’s exactly what I do. Why? Who knows. I’ve never lived in fear. I’ve had an incredibly sheltered life. But romance scares the heck out of me. So I didn’t ask Wolf any questions about who his parents are, and therefore I didn’t have to answer any questions about who I am.

Now, the salty breeze is kissing my cheeks as the Catalina Express Ferry docks in Avalon on Catalina Island. I wait in the line of people, then my sandals click softly on the weathered wood planks as I step onto the pier, dragging my sleek suitcase behind me.

I decided to do another blog, and this one is all about Catalina Island’s hidden gems. It’s a perfect getaway for anyone wanting to travel to paradise without having to go too far. I think it might be my favorite blog yet. I feel a bit guilty about running away, but it’s hard to have too much regret when I’m in such an amazing place. A part of me wishes Wolf was with me. But this trip is about more than work, it’s also about me. How much of myself do I want to invest in this relationship? I can now admit it’s going someplace, even if I don’t know where that place is.

I take in a deep breath, inhaling the sweet Pacific Ocean air as I look around at the postcard view with Avalon Harbor twinkling like the jewel it is. Sunlight reflects off of the sailboats as pelicans dive beside them, looking for lunch. The pastel buildings along Crescent Avenue seem to be smiling in the distance, welcoming the newest visitors to the island too few get to experience.

I have to pause as I remind myself this is a work trip. Of course I’m going to enjoy it as I love all of my travels. It’s why I do what I do. There’s no reason for me not to do a job I love. I think everyone should find their passion and go for it. Yes, it can be scary, but the rewards for doing what you love are well worth the risk.

I have my itinerary, printed out and color-coded, saved on my phone, but I always like a hard copy. There’s something extremely satisfying about crossing things off of a list instead of deleting on an electronic device.

It doesn’t matter how much work I have to do, because the island’s charm is already tugging at me like a mischievous child, whispering for me to relax, stay a while, and drink some buffalo milk.

Many of the crowd are doing the same as I am, in no hurry to be anywhere. What I hear most when people talk about the island, is that time seems to slow. The need to rush, the need to worry, the need to be in the real world simply disappears. I move along the wide walkway toward my first stop, the Bluewater Grill. It’s rumored to have the best seafood in town, and I’ve been told their Ponzu Scallops are one of the best things a person can ever eat. To top all of that, it has an excellent waterfront view. I’ll have to see if this is true. I like to be thorough in my reviews.

I arrive within ten minutes. I could’ve gotten there sooner, but I’m taking my time strolling the walkway and stopping to take pictures. I want to see everything, take it all in. My fingers already twitch to start writing, and I’ve barely arrived.

Stepping onto the wooden, covered patio outside seating area, a familiar voice calls out with entirely too much smugness and amusement. I stop dead in my tracks as I look up into the most devastating green eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the most beautiful journalist in her natural habitat, chasing a good story and dodging commitment.”

“What in the world are you doing here?” I gasp as he gazes at me like the cat who’s about to consume the canary. Leaning back in his chair, wearing aviator sunglasses and a smirk so smug it deserves its own zip code, is none other than Wolf.

“Surprise!” he says with a tried innocence the man will never be able to pull off.

“How did you know I was coming here?” I demand. The scariest part of all is that I’m not too upset to see him. I did this trip to gain some perspective, but he’s hard to resist, and this island is made for lovers.

Wolf taps his chin, faux-thoughtful. “I can’t give away all of my secrets or I won’t be able to do it again,” he tells me. He holds his hand out to the seat across from him that’s already set for a second person.

“Expecting company?” I ask.

He laughs. “Maybe. I’d hate to be stood up. You don’t want to miss out on a good meal, do you? I already have a buffalo milk and Ponzu Scallops on the way.”

Ugh. It’s like he’s read my mind . . . or peaked at my computer. I’ve said he’s dangerous all along, but I might’ve been underestimating the man. He’sbeyonddangerous. Still, I sit, giving him exactly what he wants.

“You do realize I’m here to work, not play,” I tell him as I primly spread my napkin on my lap. It’s most likely going to get blown away in the breeze, but I need something to do with my hands. Otherwise, I might jump the man. I can be infuriated with him while still wanting to rip off his clothes. There’s a thin line between anger and lust.

“Work and play are the same thing. Plus, you have to experience all of the island if you want to write a comprehensive blog,” he reasonably says.

“Okay, I’ll have lunch with you, but then I’m leaving on my own,” I warn. He winks at me as if he’s not worried. I don’t know what else he has up his sleeve, but I need to be on my toes.

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