Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“Hey, darlin’.” I strolled to the counter. “Did Willis get my order together?”

“Sugar, you know it.” Jojo walked out from behind the register and turned to the line of coolers near the door. “How many bushels you need?”

“I think one is plenty.” I withdrew cash from my wallet and placed it on the counter. I grabbed the canvas sack from her grasp. “Tell Willis I said thank you. I heard these were his best this year.”

“He’ll appreciate that, Blake.” She smiled. “Take care, honey.”

I heaved the fifty-pound sack into the bed of the truck and jumped into the cab, ready for the blast of heat. It didn’t matter to me what the temperature reading was on the dash; the cold had settled into all the nooks and crannies of the island. I continued south a few hundred yards. My thumb lightly drummed the top of the steering wheel. I couldn’t help but sing along with The Embers—somehow it made the summer not feel so far away.

I pulled the truck to the sound side of the house. From the windshield, I could see the low glow of a fire on the beach. Good. Cole’s at least got that going.

The oysters had slid to the tailgate. I reached over the side and retrieved the bushel Willis had sacked for me. By now, the sun had settled in the west, and the night sky was cast with a harvest moon that lit up the entire sound.

“Cuz, what kept you so long?” Cole stood on the beach, poking the orange embers with a long fire stick. He had assembled a long sheet of metal over four stacks of cinderblocks that acted as sawhorses. “This fire has been ready for thirty minutes.” The coals burned two feet under the platform.

I held up the canvas bag. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ve got the oysters.” I dropped the sack near Cole’s feet and scanned the empty beach. I took a deep breath of the chilled air.

“I have the champagne!” Emily giggled as she bounded over the grassy yard toward the beach. She held up a green bottle and pointed toward Sierra. “And sparkling cider.”

“I’m holding the good stuff. We are not smacking Moet into the sea.” Sierra smiled at me before my arms wrapped around her, and I buried my head in her shoulder.

“Darlin’, you need to keep me warm tonight.” The words made her purr in my ear.

My hand dropped to her belly where I could feel the small bump under her sweater. I rubbed over the fabric.

“Hey, you two. We have serious oyster roasting and boat christening to do tonight.” Emily wagged her finger at us.

Sierra tilted her head to the side. “We aren’t stopping you.”

“All right. So what’s the game plan? It’s damn cold out here.”

“This bottle is for drinking and celebrating.” Sierra held up the expen

sive French champagne. “And that one is for the boat.” She pointed to Emily’s bottle.

“Looks like you two covered all the bases.” I reached for the high-end bottle and unwrapped the foil sealing the cork. I looked at Cole. “And what about the oysters?”

“Ten minutes, tops,” Cole announced as he dumped half of the sack onto the metal sheet. A low hissing noise rose from the table when Cole covered the first round with a heavy canvas.

“Let’s make a toast.” Emily withdrew glasses from the bag she had brought to the beach, and held them up for me to pour.

“Thanks.” I tilted the bottle and filled each glass with the chilled beverage. I grabbed the cider for Sierra and handed her a special glass.

“I think you should do it, since you’re the songwriter.” Sierra poked me in the side.

“I’m a QB,” I groaned. “A football player,” I added.

“One who is not in the playoffs,” Cole called out.

Fuck. I didn’t need him needling me about what happened with the Thrashers.

“Songwriter doesn’t equal toast master, but I’ll give it a shot, baby.” I watched as the sharp flames from the fire caught the rise of the champagne’s dancing bubbles.

I cleared my throat. “Here it goes.”

I looked at Sierra and felt my heart swell a little. This was a moment I never saw coming, even if it was one I’d always wanted.

“Cole, man, when you asked me to go in with you on this venture, I could have sat down and listed the pros and cons, run the numbers, and consulted every boat builder Down East, but I didn’t. You asked, and I said yes.” I shuffled my feet in the sand. “I said yes, because you asked.”