Page 19 of Joel
9
KYLIE
The viewfrom Joel’s back porch is stunning.
North Haven is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited, and yet, until this morning, I haven’t had the good sense to pay attention and appreciate my surroundings. How many times will I make it to Alaska in my lifetime?
I sip on my coffee, admiring the mountains that frame the bay and the gentle fog swirling around them in a wispy, whimsical pattern. The white-gray is a gentle contrast to the blue water and the hunter green of the evergreens.
It’s a peacefully overcast morning.
There is no urgency.
No agenda.
No covert mission to plan.
No illegal treasure to find.
There’s only this quiet, easy moment that finds me wrapped in a blanket the smells like pine and clean linen—like Joel. I could sit here savoring my coffee every morning and never tire of it. I bet even the winter is pretty. Though I’ll be admiring the scenery from inside the hot tub.
Iwouldadmire it. If I were really marrying Joel and staying.
But this engagement is all just a prank.
Somewhere out there, just past the bay, the wreckage ofThe Esmereldahides in plain sight, and the reminder of that forms a pit in my stomach.
“There you are,” Joel says, appearing in a pair of boxers and nothing else. I gulp a swallow at the rows of washboard abs on display as he stretches his arms overhead. There’s an anchor tattooed on his bicep, and a more elaborate design on his upper thigh I’d really like to explore further, perhaps with my tongue.
“Feeling better?”
“Sorry about last night.” He rubs sleep from his eyes, taking the seat next to mine.
“Sorry about what?”
“I was a zombie.”
It was after ten when Joel showed back up at the hotel to pick me up. Dinner was postponed due to the emergency. He insisted I check out of my room because I wasn’t going to need it anymore. He ran his palm along my thigh on the short drive back to his house, but the poor man collapsed two minutes after we got home, before he could even finish his dinner. There was no breaking in the hot tub like we planned. And when I woke this morning, he was out like the dead.
“You had an emergency,” I remind him.
“Yeah.”
I turn to look at him, finding a vacant look in his eyes. I reach for his hand and squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.” I give his hand one more squeeze before dropping it and offer him a sip of my coffee.
“Thanks,” he says, taking it eagerly. After a hearty gulp, he adds, “We had to rescue four men from a fishing vessel that was taking on water.”
“Did everyone make it?” I ask delicately.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, good.”
“It was a long day. Seas were a little rougher than the day you were on them. One of the fishermen had a pretty bad gash on his head, and another one had a broken arm. But otherwise, they’re thankfully unscathed.”
