Page 3 of Flirting with Sunshine

Like I’d said earlier,irrational.

“I don’t give a shit,” I grumbled, but apparently, it was loud enough for him to hear because he laughed.

“That’s obvious,” he responded sarcastically.

To be fair, Rory wasn’t a bad guy. He was just the most vocal when it came to his feelings for Ava. The available guys in this town all had some sort of crush on her—or, that was what I’d been told pretty early on after I moved here.

“Get in line,” and, “Take a number,” were the two most common phrases tossed in my direction whenever I so much as glanced at her in public.

It made sense though, considering the fact that this place was the size of a freaking pea. Who else were you supposed to want to date? A tourist who was only here temporarily and had bigger aspirations than settling down in a place no one had ever heard of before? Coupling up seemed like a challenge. Which was why it was so perfect for me. I needed to be alone.

I had, however, found it a little odd how protective the people seemed to be over her until I heard bits about a marriage and a nasty divorce, and all the pieces clicked into place. Someone from here—a local guy—had hurt her, and in their minds, no one was ever going to do that again. Not on their watch. Even though I desperately wanted to know every single detail about her and this asshole ex, I never asked, forcing myself to act uninterested whenever the topic was brought up.

When I had first arrived in Port Rufton, I’d had no idea where I was headed. I’d packed up everything I needed to survive and just started driving up the interstate. All I knew was that I couldn’t live in the city anymore. I had to get away from all the damage I’d caused before I drowned in it. I’d quit my job. Sold my house. Taken my dog, Barley, and bailed.

The weather had started beating down so badly that I could barely see the road in front of me. It was eerily reminiscent of the night I wanted so desperately to forget. To stop history from repeating itself, I ended up stopping and staying the night in the first town I drove up on. One night in Port Rufton was all it took.

I met a handful of locals who asked me way too many questions and refused to leave me alone, no matter how much I grumbled and complained. They fed me. Told me I looked like shit. And butted into my business, insisting that I stay here even if it was just temporarily. The storm wouldn’t be letting up for a good four more days, and then the ice would set in. It wouldn’t be safe to get on the road for at least another week. The next thing I knew, I was renting an old man’s house along with his space at the dock and arranging to get my old fishing boat brought up to my new location as soon as possible.

I’d told myself it would only be for a little while, but I’d been here nine months already with no plans on leaving.

While I was still stuck in the past, Ava cleared her throat, bringing me firmly into the present. A smile lit up her whole face, and I felt mine frown in response. She let go of the coolers on the ground at her feet, and I gave Barley a warning to leave it. I knew by the time Ava reached me, her arms had to be getting tired of pulling all the weight, but she never complained. Or if she did, I never heard it.

“Morning, Tony,” she said, and I gave her a gruff nod. I watched as her grin faltered before it reappeared. “Fish looks good,” she complimented, perusing my stash.

“It was a good morning,” I said as Barley betrayed me and walked under the table and right into Ava’s legs.

She reached down to pet him before giving him a kiss on the nose.

“Barley, come,” I demanded, and he slowly headed back to me and lay back down on his bed.

I didn’t miss the disapproving look Ava shot my way, but I did ignore it.

“You caught oysters today?” she asked, sounding surprised.

It wasn’t something I typically brought back with me, but they’d gotten caught up in my net somehow this morning, so I’d kept them instead of throwing them back.

“Only a handful,” I mentioned, as if she couldn’t see that information with her own eyes.

“I’ll take them all.”

“How were Bob’s lobsters?” I found myself asking.

Ava looked like she’d won the damn lottery. I rarely initiated our conversations. Asked her questions even less often.

“They’re huge! Have you seen them?”

“Not yet, but I heard all about them.” I almost laughed, but I killed the sound in my throat before it could come out and give her the wrong impression.

“You have to check them out. They’re unreal,” she said before blowing out a soft breath. “I do hate when I have to cook them though.”

She sounded so sad, and I’d never thought about it before—what it took to create her famous lobster rolls.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t you feel bad when you catch the fish and they die?”

I gave her a half-hearted shrug. “I can’t feel bad about that.”

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