Page 2 of Falling for the Wrong Guy

“See you then.”

Wispy tufts of ghostlike fog still clung to the forest of masts in the marina. The shiny blue hull of Oscar’s houseboat tapped against the side of the dock. A boat I’d never seen before was moored in the slip next to it. It was an old tugboat that had been converted into a houseboat. Occasionally, a high-dollar conversion would moor at the marina for a few days, though usually in summer, when the weather was more inviting. This wasn’t one of those shiny, expensive models. The vessel was dotted with chipped gray paint, and the windows on the wheelhouse were hazy and cracked. The only signs of life on the boat were a makeshift laundry line hung with shirts and socks and a fat, sleepy gull perched on top of the wheelhouse.

That same bird casually turned his long beak my direction. My phone beeped. I glanced at the incoming text. “I guess the fairies were in a bad mood. Evan cancelled!!” A flapping of wings pulled my attention toward the boat. The gull swooped down from the wheelhouse. I’d grown up on the cove and never thought twice about a gull taking flight, except this one headed straight toward me. His beady black eyes were laser-focused on the sandwich in my hand. I screamed. From the corner of my eye, I saw a man shoot out of the tugboat wheelhouse.

“Gus, no!” he yelled.

The next few seconds were filled with flapping wings, a determined sharp beak and a good dose of terror. My instincts kicked in too late. I should have thrown the sandwich at the bird. Instead, thinking it was heavier and more of a deterrent, I threw my phone … and missed. My phone clattered across the dock. I waved my arms to fend off the gull and keep that sharp beak from my face. I backed up three quick steps, and in the flurry of feathers and greedy determination (on the bird’s part), reason clicked in. As I threw the sandwich in the air, I took another step back. My boot didn’t land on the dock. My arms flailed as I fell backward into the icy, brackish water. The sharp, cold ocean swept the breath from me as salt water filled my nose and throat. The water around me reverberated and became turbulent as I swam frantically to the surface. I gasped when two hands took hold of my waist.

The shock and moments of terror caused me to lash out at the man holding me. I swung my fist back and managed to get in one good punch to his jaw. He grunted as his teeth snapped together.

“I’m trying to help you,” he muttered. “Stop struggling.”

The extreme cold took over, and my limbs suddenly felt useless, heavy, and immovable, but my chin was vibrating uncontrollably. His hands stayed firmly on my waist. Oscar was up on the dock peering down with great concern. He tried to help, but I worried he’d fall in, too.

“It’s all right, Oscar. I can pull myself up.” I reached for the edge of the dock, but my hands were so numb, it was hard to get a good grasp. The man behind me moved his hands down to my bottom and gave me a strong push. I managed to pull my upper half up onto the splintery planks. I turned back but couldn’t see him over my shoulder. “You can take your hands off my rear end now … please.”

He lowered his hands, and with some effort, I managed to pull my legs up on the dock. Oscar was already taking off his coat for me. A few feet away, the gull was casually, and without a care in the world, enjoying the tuna sandwich.

Oscar handed me my phone and dropped his coat around my shoulders. The shivering had slowed, but my limbs still felt heavy. I could hear water splash on the dock as the man pulled himself out.

Seawater poured off him as he crouched down next to me. Even in a crouch, he was giant. “I’m so sorry. You’re hurt.” He reached for my hand. My reactions had been slowed by shock. I stared down at his big hand holding my wrist. Blood dripped from a gash on the back of my hand.

“It looks worse than it is.” I pulled my hand free. I was feeling a few good blush shades past major embarrassment.

“Again, I’m so sorry,” the man said. He had green eyes that were surrounded by long spikes of black lashes, and while it was the last thing I should have been thinking about, given the circumstances, I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was.

“It wasn’t your fault. Thank you for jumping in—” As I said it, the whole nightmarish moment played out again as the gull swept through the air close to my head. I gasped and ducked down under Oscar’s coat. When I finally emerged like a turtle from its shell, I was stunned by the image in front of me. The gull had landed on the man’s shoulder, like a parrot on a pirate. The last few minutes were becoming clearer and the reason for his apology even more so.

“Is that your bird?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so, although, in my defense, I never asked him to stick around after I freed him from some fishing line. He just decided to stay. This is Gus.” The man’s smile was not too shabby either, only I wasn’t in the mood for glorious, white splashes of teeth, no matter how disarming.

“You need to teach him some manners,” I said angrily. I brushed away his offer of a hand up and pushed to my feet. The chill was starting to settle in my bones, and the unpleasant odor of oily seawater invaded my pores.

“I have a first aid kit in my boat. Let me at least take care of that cut on your hand.”

“No, thanks. You’ve done enough.”

The man lifted his arm and reached toward my head. I leaned back away from his hand. “Just trying to help,” he said, and he persisted. I felt something peel off my head. He held up a piece of seaweed. “Again, I’m sorry.” He shifted his chin side to side. “By the way, you’ve got one heck of a right hook, Rocky.”

Mustering my last ounce of dignity, I lifted my chin. “You grabbed me and I thought—” I took a deep breath. I was wet and cold and stinky, and while I didn’t cry easily, I definitely felt a few tears well up. All I wanted was to get home. I handed Oscar back his coat. His wrinkly forehead was still bunched in concern. “I’ll bring you another sandwich later.”

“No, no, you go home and get in a hot bath, and don’t worry about my lunch. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” My feet sloshed side to side in wet boots as I hurried along the dock in a cloud of embarrassment and anger and general frustration. “Thanks, fairies. Guess you really were feeling salty this morning.”

ChapterTwo

Dex

Gus knew he was in trouble. It had been two hours, and he was still perched on the railing with his beak tucked under his wing. I liked to think it was in shame, but I knew the bird better than that. He was just trying to stay out of the line of my glower for a few hours.

I yanked the clothing off the line. It was still damp, which wasn’t surprising given the weather. I’d hoped to float into the cove mostly unnoticed and make myself a temporary home in Whisper Cove, but Gus had announced our arrival with trumpets blaring. And now, I’d made an enemy, and the elderly gentleman in the next houseboat didn’t look too pleased with me, either. Gus’s victim, a statuesque, copper-haired beauty with cocoa brown eyes—who looked entirely too gorgeous soaked in seawater—would probably never trust me, or gulls, again.

I bundled the clothes in my arms and carried them below deck. My breakfast plate, one of the two dishes I owned, was still in the sink. The leftover egg had dried to cement, so I filled the small basin with water to let it soak. I’d bought the old tugboat-turned-houseboat from a young couple who’d decided living on the ocean wasn’t as glamorous and adventurous as they’d imagined. Three months into their new life on the open sea, the woman, Katy, threatened to jump overboard if they didn’t sell the boat and rent a house with a foundation and a garden. I didn’t have much money and got a good deal on the boat, but it wasn’t too far into my own adventure when I realized the houseboat was even shabbier than it looked. At least there was a bed and a tiny galley with a hotplate and sink. The bathroom was even less impressive—a toilet and a small space with a showerhead that occasionally spewed enough water for a short rinse. It wasn’t the Ritz. But then, I rarely expected much—a residual habit from a very scattered life. Our dad always worked hard, but he jumped from job to job, never staying long enough to earn more than a beginner’s wage. He was a dreamer who was always convinced the grass would be greener in a new job. He kept chasing that greener grass right up until his heart attack when I was nineteen. We made sure to bury him in the greenest cemetery we could find.

In the last few years, I’d found a decent job and a small studio apartment in the city. I was almost at a place that society might deem normal. I hadn’t planned to upend that normalcy so abruptly, but as our dad used to say, sometimes life comes at you fast and hard and you need to be ready. It seemed my life had been a series of those fast and hard curveballs, but this latest was the most unexpected of all. Usually, I felt confident that I could find my way out of a problem, but I wasn’t so sure this time.

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