Page 19 of Bewitched By the Siren
912-555-4040:This morning? I can meet you out front in half an hour.
Me:I’ll be ready.
Me:Thanks, Hali.
Dropping my phone to the counter, I rush into my bedroom to grab a change of clothes before heading into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Letting the water wash away any lingering sand from the beach, I think about how I’m feeling.
I’m excited Hali reached out.Reallyexcited. But why?
Is it because she’s giving me an in to get closer to her, and that’ll make it easier to get her to sign? Or is it something else? Something deeper?
It feels like more, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. Squirting some hair and body wash into my palm, I soap up everywhere before rinsing off. Shutting off the water, I hop out and dry off quickly before dressing in a pair of khaki shorts and a lavender polo shirt that I know brings out the blue in my eyes. After running some product through my damp hair and brushing my teeth, I apply my deodorant and spritz on some cologne.
Sliding on some socks and shoes, I head back into the kitchen to grab my phone. The time display tells me I have about ten minutes to spare, so I grab a bottle of water and head out onto my porch to wait for Hali.
Five minutes later, she walks out, looking beautiful in a white sundress with tiny purple flowers all over it and matchingstrappy sandals. I hop out of my chair and jog down the steps with a wide smile.
“It’s turning out to be a gorgeous day,” I say as I fall into step beside her.
“It’s supposed to turn colder in a few days,” she replies, and are we really discussing the weather?
“Winter is coming.”
I guess we are.
“Did you just quoteNed Stark?”
I just grin back at her, happy she caught theGame of Thronesreference. She must’ve watched the show. Something we have in common. This is good.
“How is the weather in California this time of year?” she asks, taking us back to the topic of weather.
I resist the frown that threatens to tug my lips downward. Is she just looking to keep the conversation going? Or is she trying to subtly remind me that my time here on Circe Key is short?
“It’s cooler,” I say, then shrug. “And when I say ‘cooler,’ I mean it drops to the mid-sixties most days.”
“It’s about the same, here,” she says, surprising me.
“I thought it would be colder here.”
She shakes her head, and I can feel the conversation petering out. I rack my brain for something else to talk about and start to panic when I draw a blank.
Come on, man. Think.
“Too bad you didn’t come in August. You could’ve watched the sea turtles hatch and race toward the water,” she says, saving me.
“I would’ve loved to see that,” I say, relief filling me.
“It’s an amazing experience.”
“So, what do you do, exactly, at the center?”
Her shoulders relax as we step up onto the sidewalk in town and head toward the building in question.
“I’m just a volunteer, so I get all the grunt work. Cleaning tanks. Mopping floors. Stuff like that. But sometimes I get to feed the turtles. And I’m there to witness every release. That makes it all worth it.”
“I bet,” I say. “That sounds amazing.”
“It really is. I cry every time,” she admits, her cheeks turning a bit rosy.
