Page 13 of Unhinged Magic
Venturing back down the dock, two gulls hurried out of my way, taking off into the air and landing on a nearby railing. Their sharp eyes followed me as I passed. I made my way over to Salty’s on the far end of the dock, rounding the corner to the fishing supplies store. A bell chimed as I opened the door, announcing my arrival into the store that looked like a fisherman’s wet dream. Not mine.
Unlike fishing, ink fascinated me. The way it sank into skin and embedded itself within someone like an extension of theirpersonality was captivating. Every tattoo had a story; a history. It was the single most satisfying thing in life. Period.
I headed to the back of the shop where different sized hooks lined the back wall, some in bright colors, others plain. I plucked two bags off a shelf, adding a couple of sinkers to my handful before making my way back to the front counter.
“Wesley, it’s been a while.”
I turned to the voice I knew well, a robust man with a scruffy beard approaching the counter from a back room.
“Ted, good to see you.” I extended my hand to him, shaking it firmly. My father always said a handshake was an extension of manners, and believed any man you could trust to do a deal with on a handshake was worthy of your time.
Ted pulled at the sides of his jeans, tucking the top that was far too small for his stomach into the waistband. “How’s your mother doing? I should pop in and visit sometime.”
“She’s doing okay. I’m sure she would love to see you,” I replied, handing over my payment.
Ted adjusted the belt around his waist. “I might just do that. Well, it was great to see you, lad. Good luck with dinner.” He winked.
I grinned at his attempt at humor. “Thanks, I’ll need it.”
I exited the shop as a swift gust swept my hair into my face. I swiped it away, bundling my hands with my purchase into the pockets of my jacket.
On the street, a beat-up truck suddenly swerved to avoid a pothole in the road, knocking down the local coffee shop’s street sign. Without a second thought, I started across the road to pick it up when a familiar head of tousled brown hair appeared from the solid timber door of the cafe.
I slowed as Skye marched toward the sign, mumbling something to herself. Her brows pitched together as she bentto place the sign upright, her delicate frame struggling with the weight of the water inside its base.
I couldn’t help but admire her from this position.
After our last encounter, I didn’t know how to act. Because nothing seemed to work where she was concerned. “Need a hand?” I offered, walking across the road.
She whipped around, giving me a quick once-over. “I’m fine.”
“Skip, let me help…” I approached, ignoring the huff that left her as I lowered and stood the sign back upright.
She wrapped her arms around herself, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “Thanks. I wish the council would do something about the potholes in this town.”
“Yeah, it could really use some maintenance,” I agreed.
Every sentence was another piece of her I could learn. I absorbed every word.
Her hands landed on her hips. “I don’t see why they let things get so bad. I’m sure it’s not that hard to fill a hole or paint.” She motioned to the shop I’d followed her into yesterday, its exterior wall weathered and badly in need of a fresh coat of paint. “If that was my shop, I would want to look after it.”
From my few encounters with Skye, I had found her to bepassionatein the way she expressed herself, but it was clear there was another side of her that cared about this town.
I brushed a leaf into the gutter with my shoe. “Why do you care so much about that shop?”
Skye tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.”
Her irises suddenly flickered with annoyance. “Why do you care?”
Oh, we’re back to this. The ‘let’s ignore us, I hate Wesley’ train. Fine, if she wanted to jump back on that, then I would play along, even if it ground my gears to no end.
“It was just a question, Skip. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
Fury rolled over her, my comment hitting its mark. Her hands landed on her hips again. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a child anymore.”
True, but it was all I’d known. She had always been Skip to me. “Yeah well, we missed a few years,” I said dryly.
