Page 17 of A Shore Fling
I flip through the logbook, ensuring every entry is accurate and legible. I’m sure many harbormasters use computer programs to track their data, but not me. This might be a quaint beach town, but most of the residents are hardworking middle-class folks. We don’t have the budget for unnecessary extras. And unfortunately, things that could simplify my job will never be an option. But that’s okay. Havenport is part of who I am, right down to my marrow. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, and I love what I do, even during the chaotic summer months.
After a final read through of the report, I file it away and shut everything off. I lock the door behind me and then pause, taking in the peak sunset colors. Shades of pink and purple sweep across the sky like they’ve been painted with a massive brush. As long as I live, I’ll never tire of this view. It still has the power to steal my breath. And tonight is one of those times. It’s like a balm for my soul.
Tourists busily snap pictures with their phones and cameras, trying to capture each moment, every shift of color. What they don’t understand is that standing here quietly absorbing each second is far superior and more beneficial to my peace of mind than any picture could ever be. I want to shout at them to put down their phones and be present. The memories will stay with them long after they leave Havenport. Besides, there’s no existing camera that can accurately capture these colors.
When the sky finally begins to darken, I get in my truck to start the short drive home, and decide to swing past The Rock Lobster house. I should make sure Nina didn’t have a mishap en route. But to my surprise, I don’t encounter her on the way. The lights are on inside the house, telling me she made it in one piece. I’m impressed at the distance she walked while carrying her heavy bags. And up a big hill too. Good for her.
Maybe she won’t be as disastrous as I’ve been imagining.
CHAPTER 6
NINA
Every step I take rubs my leather sandals against my already raw feet. I’ve been cursing myself for wearing them since I left the harbor. Maybe during my time away from the city I’ll learn to prioritize practicality over style. That would be a valuable skill for my parents to have taught me, but being a Moreau, there was no chance in hell of that happening.
I’m limping up the hill when an old Jeep pulls up beside me. There’s a woman about my age inside.
“Hey, I’m Willow. You look like you could use a ride.”
I smile. “Hi. I’m Nina, and you look like a godsend.”
She laughs. “That might be a stretch. Throw your bags in the back and jump in.”
Her energy is contagious, and I hurry to do as she suggests.
“Where to?” she asks as we start moving.
“I don’t remember the street address, but the harbormaster said it’s up and down this hill, and then the house is on the right.”
Her gaze briefly lands on me. “You met Travis?”
Oh boy, did I meet him.
“Yes.”
“It’s good you didn’t let him scare you off. His bark is worse than his bite.”
“Have you known him for long?” Maybe she can offer me some insight about the grumptastic harbormaster.
“You could say that. His brother and I are best friends.”
“Is he as abrasive as Travis?”
She snorts. “No. He’s the town lothario.”
“Oh jeez. Does that make you his wingwoman?”
“Unfortunately, it does.”
“How’s he as a wingman?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Not as good as I’d like.”
As we approach the top of the hill, I thank my lucky stars that Willow picked me up. Between my sore feet and my luggage, I’m not sure I would’ve made it to the top.
“You’re gonna want to look out your window now,” she tells me, stopping the Jeep.
I turn my head and suck in an awe-filled breath. The view of the sun setting over the ocean is a breathtaking mix of pinks and purples. “Wow. Now, this is what I came here for.”
