Page 1 of Go Away, Darling

Part I

1

Excellent peripheral vision

Chris

The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon. At least I think it was. I had to admit that drinking a six-pack on a hot day of fishing was probably not my wisest decision, but it was my day off and damn it all, I wanted to.

There was a point in every baseball season when I reached my limit. Where I got so fucking sick of the daily games, road trips, and stress that I disappeared for my day off and got shitfaced drunk.

Today was that day. We were 137 games into the best season of my life. The Mantas were on track for a sweet position in the playoffs and everyone had started to say the “P” word.Pennant.I didn’t dare say it out loud, let alone the ones that came after that. Ballplayers dreamt their whole lives of playing in a World Series; I wasn’t about to curse myself now.

Besides, there was a reason I bought a beach house on a quiet island just far enough away from my Mantas teammates. I needed space. I neededhome. My life was baseball but at the end of the day I craved settling down in the same place, putting down roots, living my life off the field as quietly as possible. Here I could fish. I was just one of many who enjoyed spending solitary time alone with their beer and their potential dinner. There was something immensely satisfying about catching your dinner. It called to my baser instincts.

Which was why I was all kinds of fired up and pissed off when I heard the quiet motor of another boat. Generally I was a friendly guy and most days I’d wave, maybe exchange a few words with my fellow fisherman, and get back to it. But not today. Today was Pissed-Off Day. I wanted—noneeded—to brood alone, which required me to sober up enough to tell this interloper to leave as quickly as possible.

I was anchored up in a nice, quiet bay. It was one of those mangrove islands that wasn’t really an island so much as it was where a sandbar had collected enough sand to become a tiny spit of land, the mangroves colonized and it grew to a decent size, but no one was going to be setting foot on it, let alone living on it. It was mostly just a great place to fish and have some peace and quiet. Sometimes I found other fishermen, sometimes I found topless women sunbathing, sometimes I found both.

I was far enough away from Calusa Key that I couldn’t see it, but close enough that it was a quick sprint home whenever I sobered back up. The salt water and harsh sun had called to me all my life, demanding that one day I return to the sleepy island I called home so many years ago. With such a bright spotlight on me this year, it was time. I bought the house and felt a sense of relief that I had somewhere to escape to. The only problem was that those opportunities for escape were few and far between.

The mystery boat came around the northern tip of the island, the driver standing up behind the steering wheel. The blue bimini top was up for shade, so clearly the boater had been moving slowly around the area. He raised his hand in a wave.

I did not return the wave, hoping my foul mood would be obvious and the guy would move along.

Apparently I needed to be more obvious because instead of turning around and leaving, the boater pulled up alongside and cut the motor. “Hello!”

The voice was surprisingly high pitched but I didn’t pay much attention. Instead I reeled in my line and jammed it into the holder. Then I grabbed my beer and marched to the opposite side of my boat. And by marching, what I really meant was that I took two angry steps.

“What?” I barked. At this point any moron would be able to pick up my social cues. I expected a quick apology and then to be left alone.

But instead I found myself gaping.

Yes,gaping.

Because he was ashe.

A gorgeous she.

Her dark hair was tucked up under a blue Mantas ball cap. Her skin was golden brown. Her lips full and luscious. Her eyes were hidden behind a mirrored pair of Costas. Over her body was an open Columbia fishing shirt, revealing a hot pink bikini and a slender but unmistakably female body.

Damn.Just...damn. I hadn’t been struck dumb by a woman in...ever? Had I ever been rendered speechless on sight alone? I didn’t think I had. Sure I got a little tongue-tied in college a few times, and every so often a woman would catch my eye in such a way that I found it difficult to look away, but never this. This woman standing in front of me with a lopsided grin looking as if she belonged on a fishing boat, had just short circuited my entire body, brain to toes.

Speak you fucking idiot.“Ummm . . . can I help you?”

She smiled. “I didn’t mean to bother you but I saw Marine Patrol working their way through the area.” She spoke with her hand moving through the air. Her voice had a lilt to it. This seemed natural and right.

Here she was, kindly giving me a heads up and I was being a grumpy, rude ass. An ass who now had a racing heart and an inability to speak. “All my catches are legal.” I always double-checked their size before deciding whether or not to keep them for dinner. “But thanks.”

She tilted her head like she thought I was adorably clueless. “That’s good to hear. But you might want to finish that beer.”

I stared at the can in my hand. “Shit.” But instead of chugging the last half, I dumped it over the side, stashed it with the other empties, and grabbed a big, cold bottle of water instead. “Thanks. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Happens.”

“I don’t drink and drive,” I blurted out for some reason. My skin was tingling and I felt like I needed her to know that I might be irresponsible and very buzzed but I wouldn’t power up the boat and move until I was sober again.

“That’s good to know.” She tilted her head to the opposite side and I got the distinct impression she was studying me. “You’re new around here?”

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