Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2)

She had no idea how to respond in a way that wouldn’t send him running, but fortunately she didn’t need to because he pulled up outside her cottage.

She wanted to ask what his plans were. Wanted to ask if he’d made any decisions about Philip and Camp Puffin, but she didn’t want to push him. She reasoned that if he had something to tell her about that, he’d tell her.

Instead of focusing on that, she focused on the cottage and the bay.

“I love it here. Leaving it seems to get harder every time.”

“Then don’t leave.”

She stared ahead, watching wispy clouds drift lazily across the horizon. Soon the leaves would turn and the temperature would drop. “Now that the plaster is off my wrist, there’s nothing to keep me here.” And she’d been putting off the decision about what to do next, a tiny part of her thinking, hoping—

Unwilling to accept even to herself what she’d been thinking and hoping, she slid out of the car.

Frustrated with herself, she stretched her hands into the air. “It feels amazing not to have that cast on my wrist—Zach!” she gasped as he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

Breathless, laughing, she thumped his back. “What are you doing? Put me down—”

“I’ll put you down when I’m ready.” Pausing to toe off his shoes, he strode across the sand as if she weighed nothing.

When she realized what he intended to do, she started to squirm. “Don’t you dare drop me in the sea, Flynn. Put me down. Put me down! I’ll lose my flip-flops, soak my jeans, it’s freezing and—oh!” She felt a tug on her feet as Zach removed her flip-flops and dropped them on the sand and then he was wading into the water and she was laughing and clinging at the same time. “Don’t drop me!”

“A moment ago you wanted me to put you down. Make up your mind.”

“I’m going to kill you, Zach. I swear I’m going to—holy crap—” she gasped as he lowered her into the freezing water. “That is so cold!”

“All summer you’ve been telling me how much you missed swimming.”

She stood, shivering, as her calves turned slowly numb. “Obviously it was one of those memories I’d built up into something different in my head. Suddenly I’m missing the Mediterranean.”

“Wimp.” He was looking at her and she was facing out to sea, which was how she saw the wave racing towards them and he didn’t.

“Did you call me a wimp?” She held his gaze and timed it perfectly, her push sending him spluttering under the water.

He recovered quickly and grabbed her around the waist and she struggled to keep her balance, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m soaked.”

“That’s what happens when you swim in the sea.”

“But people generally change into something more suitable, like a bathing suit or a wet suit. I can’t feel my legs. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I may have frostbite. You’ll have to fly me to the hospital again, Flynn.”

“I have other ways of warming you up. Better ways.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the water as another large wave rolled in and soaked the only part of her that was still dry.

Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her eyes stinging.

“These are my favorite jeans and now they’re stuck to my body and nothing short of a surgeon’s scalpel is going to be able to remove them. I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“Better do it inside. That way my body won’t be washed away.” Still holding her hand, he scooped up their shoes and together they walked towards the cottage.

Feeling the cool sand beneath her feet, she felt a pang of nostalgia. “When I was little, my grandmother used to pick me up and wash my feet off outside the door so I didn’t bring the sand indoors.”

Zach paused. “When your mother left, why didn’t she take you with her?”

“She was a single mother and I was settled in school and doing well. I loved the island.” She bent and brushed the sand from her feet. “I don’t remember my parents’ divorce being a great trauma. My father was away all the time when I was young anyway, so the divorce simply made it official. It didn’t change my day-to-day routine. And I always knew I was loved. I was lucky.” She sent him a look. “Is it hard for you to hear this?”

“That you had a happy childhood? No.” He reached out and smoothed a strand of damp, tangled hair from her face. “I’m glad you were happy. You deserve to be happy.”

So do you.