Page 15 of A Shore Fling
“The Rock Lobster.”
I chuckle, and she reacts as if I startled her. “What?”
“You laughed.”
I shrug. “It happens occasionally.”
Her dark eyebrows lower suspiciously. “Why did you laugh when I mentioned the name?”
“I thought of the song.”
“Do you know where the house is?” She looks hopeful.
“Yeah. You’re going to follow this road out of the harbor and take a right at the end. Continue until the stop sign, then turn left. That street has a hill, but there’s a killer view at the top. Keep walking down the other side of the hill. The Rock Lobster house is at the bottom on the right. The front porch has rocking chairs made from blue lobster traps. You can’t miss it.”
She repeats the directions to me almost word for word, and I nod.
“I can give you a ride if you want,” I say, surprising myself.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“You'd better get going before the bird-sized mosquitos come out.”
“Excellent. Another charming thing about Havenport.”
“I hope you walk better than you drive a boat.”
She shakes her head, but I notice the corners of her mouth twitching. “You’re kind of a dick.”
“And you’re definitely a disaster.” I smirk.
“On that note…” She walks off in the direction we discussed, her bags slung over her shoulders, rolling her suitcase behind her. She pauses when she reaches the road and then glances back at me. “Thanks again, Travis.”
I tip my head with a quick nod and then watch her until she’s out of sight. I tell myself I’m just doing my job, making sure she exits my harbor safely.
CHAPTER 5
TRAVIS
I’ve barely stepped inside the harbor office, and I already want to strangle David. He’s sitting at my desk, eating a taco over the incident report log as if it’s part of our standard procedures. He makes a smacking sound as he licks the remnants from his fingers. Then he has the gall to turn the page with his wet fingertips.
“David!”
He looks up and smiles. “Hey, Trav.”
“Trav?” I’ve never permitted him to call me by my nickname. It hints at a closeness we don’t share and never will.
“I meant Travis. Boy, you had an exciting last hour,” he tells me, utterly clueless as to his level of unprofessionalism, never mind the dangerous advice he gave to Nina.
I snatch the log book from him, brushing the pages clean before closing it. “You told a first-time boat operator that if she could drive a car, driving a Sea Ray SPX 190 would be easy.”
He blinks slowly. “It’s only twenty-one feet long.”
“She beached it on the shoals an hour after stepping off an airplane.”
He makes a noncommittal face, like it could be some extraordinary natural occurrence, and says, “That stretch of water is tricky.”
“David.”
