Page 23 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
When the woman turns back toward the kitchen, Geneva sets the bag on the clean table and pinches the back of my arm—firmly but not to the point of true pain.
“Thank you kindly? Are you kidding me right now?” she hisses in a hushed whisper.
I lower my chin, my voice quiet. “Looks like some people appreciate my good manners.”
“You are a menace wrapped in pretty packaging.”
“That so?” A smirk tugs on my mouth, preparing to point out that she just called me pretty.
Her eyes flare—a warning and a dare at the same time—but then Geneva rises onto her tiptoes.
The higher-functioning part of my brain knows it’s to gain an advantage—to make herself taller than she already is—but all I can think about is how that simple action shatters the distance between our lips. Then the world tilts sideways when Geneva has the same realization at the exact same time. Her fingers on my triceps shift to a possessive grip as her gaze dips to my mouth. My hand flexes at my side, unsure if I should palm the back of her head, tip up the brim of her hat, or slide my thumb over her jaw—perhaps all three.
A prickling sensation runs backward from my fingertips to my shoulders as I wait. Our short history has proven that she’ll probably sneer, or poke fun at my manhood, or step back and ignore me altogether.
But then—unfathomably—Geneva leans in.
nine
Geneva
Ahigh-pitched ringing sound pierces the air of my favorite restaurant as loud as a fire alarm. I startle, knocking Van in the forehead with the brim of my hat, before staggering back. It takes two thudding heartbeats to realize that one: I’d been leaning toward Van—to kiss him!Two: the piercing sound is coming from the sling bag across my chest. And three: it’s my ringtone for Joanna so that I never miss her call.
I turn away, my shaking fingers nearly fumbling the phone twice. “Hello?”
“Hi, Geneva. Are you still on the mainland?”
“Uh-huh.”
The barely verbal answer is all I can manage, because my heartbeat is still in my ears.
I almost kissed Van.
The thought is a bomb blast and an admonishment wrapped into a shame sandwich. Despite my best defenses, Van’s needling smile keeps messing with my well-layered armor. I have no idea why he can make me yield when I’ve successfully kept every man away since finding out what my father did.
It’d been the wakeup call I’d needed, because prior to that, I dated men who were unreliable, self-centered, commitment averse, and emotionally unavailable. That level of betrayal forced me to come to terms with an irrefutable fact: I inherited my mother’s cruddy taste in men.
So as much as Vanseemsto be the exception to the rule, I need to remind myself that rules exist for areason.
“Oh, shoot. I think the call must have dropped. Geneva?” Joanna’s voice brings me back to the room.
“I’m here.” I clear the sawdust from my throat.
“Noah mentioned you were going to the superstore.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, putting the call on speaker and tabbing over to my notes app. Since all islanders have to travel two hours round trip for supplies not available at Dotty’s small market, we usually share the burden. Joanna almost never leaves Wilks Beach since I’m on the mainland so often and buy her anything she needs.
“Yes. What do you need?”
My index finger is poised to type Joanna’s request for bulk cereal, a tray pack of canned soup, or six tubes of toothpaste.
“I just wanted to remind you not to buy rings at the jewelry counter.”
“Rings?” I ask, tension curling at the base of my skull. “Why would I need—”
Van’s hand on my upper arm, flipping me toward him, nearly makes me lose my balance.
His eyes are the size of Joanna’s cherished heirloom tea saucers.
