Page 23 of A Touch Enchanted

He let out a chuckle. “Are you asking me, Cricket?”

“No. Yes.” A sinkhole was welcome to open up under my apartment any time now. I blew out a breath. “What I meant to say was, yes. I’d like you to come over tonight.”

“Are you going to talk to me?”

“I’ll probably have to since I don’t know any sign language except my name and water, which I guess could be enough for us to work with.”

“You know what I mean.” The low rumble of his voice over the line sent a shiver through me. “Can we talk about the kiss?”

I began pacing across the short length of my living room. “I’d rather we didn’t.”

“Let’s make a wager.”

I stopped pacing. “What kind of wager?”

“After we find whatever it is you’re looking for in the ocean, I’m going to kiss you again under the stars.” When I opened my mouth to protest, he cut me off. “If you feel nothing, if the kiss means nothing, I’ll shut up about it forever and we’ll never talk about it again.”

“And if I do feel something?” I hated the timbre of fear in my voice, the breathy quality that always made me sound like I was begging for protection, and probably sex, from a big strong man. Like I wasn’t capable of doing the protecting.

“If you feel something, then we’re going to talk. About everything.”

I swallowed hard enough for him to hear. “Not until we find what I’m looking for though, right? So you’re saying I have time?”

“Only because your attention is divided.” He lowered his voice. “Trust me, the next time I kiss you, I want your full focus, to make damn sure I know what you’re feeling.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” I needed to get off the phone before I became hysterical. “I’ll talk to you later and see you tonight or whatever.”

I hung up and pressed a hand to my fluttering stomach. Holy shit.

I was in so much trouble.

The bell above my parents’ shop dinged and my dad’s head popped up from behind the counter, where he’d been putting some stock away. “Squirt! You made it.”

“Hey, Dad.” I beamed at him.

My dad wore his hair in a long braid that reached halfway down his back. The soft brown that matched my own was streaked with a generous amount of gray. The sun had weathered his face, making the laugh lines around his sky blue eyes that much more pronounced. He mostly wore V-neck T-shirts and cargo shorts and had the tan lines to match his attire. He’d always been the portrait of laid-back island life.

He set an air tank on the counter next to the BCD vest, regulator, pressure gauge, mask, and other equipment Donovan would need to dive. “Got this one set aside for you. Last one, too.”

“Thanks.”

I pulled out my credit card to pay for the rental, but he waved me away. “Don’t insult me, Squirt. You know your money is no good here.”

I nodded and put it away, knowing he’d never let me swipe my card. Which was why I’d brought an emergency hundred-dollar bill that I’d slip into the register later when he wasn’t looking. There was no way I’d let my parents lose the rental money for that equipment. A hundred might not be a lot to some people, but that was a week’s worth of food for them in the winter months. I hadn’t forgotten how lean things could get come March.

“Ruby Jean!” My dad’s booming voice carried to the back of the shop. “Get your fine ass out here and come say hi to your daughter.”

My mom whipped open the flowered curtain that separated the stockroom from the customer-facing portion of their small scuba and bait shop. She was so tall, her head almost reached the top of the doorway. People always wondered how my parents, who both stood over six feet, had managed to give birth to a girl who’d topped out at five feet, two inches. My dad liked to joke that the milkman was also a shortie.

Out of everything I loved about my mom, I loved her smile the most. It was wide and genuine and ate up half her face. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair in a braid, similar to my dad’s. I used to tie matching ribbons to the ends of their braids when I was a kid, and they’d wear them like that all day, not caring what other people thought of them.

I always wished I’d had their confidence growing up, but I cared a lot longer than I should’ve about the opinions of people who didn’t matter.

My mom crossed the shop in three strides. Their place wasn’t as roomy or as up to date as some of the other shops on Stardust Parkway—with its worn and scratched wooden counter, chipped blue paint, and bubbled-letter advertising that hadn’t been redone since the eighties, promoting scuba and fishing equipment rentals and bait.

As a result, it often got overlooked by tourists. But the locals made it a point to pop in and buy something, even if it was as small as a can of soda, at least a few times a month. It’s what kept my parents afloat and made me incredibly grateful to live in a small town where people still believed in taking care of each other.

“There’s our shy Violet.” My mom swept me up in a massive hug. The familiar scent of her cinnamon-flavored gum washed over me. “We thought you’d be busy saving the world.”

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