Page 79 of The Oscar Escape
ARIA
Aria glanced over her shoulder. The sun was low in the sky, casting a shadow over the lawn in front of the inn. She rested her hand on a weathered wooden post. Havenmatch Island’s dock creaked and whined beneath her, rocking to the gentle rhythm of the water. She ignored the sea-soaked wood’s complaining and maintained her balance.
She had an audience. The entire town had come out to observe the spectacle.
She zipped her raincoat up to her chin. It was brisk out but not cold. The winds were mild as she inhaled diesel and a pungent fishy aroma that had the gulls going wild. A shimmer caught her eye. She peered into the water and spied—God help her—freaking sequins. The shimmery circles had to be from her X-rated splash-and-dash the night she arrived.
The infamous Mrs. Elliott. The island marauder. The out-of-her-mind chocolate-gobbling menace.
That’s who Del—and probably a decent majority of the islanders—still thought she was. She might have won over most of the Love and Lobsters planning committee, but obtaining Del’s seal of approval would take more than knocking out a few songs and sharing a solid promotion plan.
The lobster showdown had begun, and she needed to keep her wits about her, which would be easier with Oscar by her side. But the man was nowhere in sight.
After Del tossed out a bargain of his own, her fake husband whispered into her ear that he needed to get something from their room. She’d barely blinked before she’d found herself heading down to the dock with the committee and Oscar sprinting in the opposite direction.
What the hell did he need to get? And why did he need it at that very second?
She hadn’t asked. She’d wanted to ask, but, again, she hadn’t had time. Del was hellbent on testing her seaworthiness,Havenmatchiness, or whatever he wanted to call it. She, for her part, needed to portray herself as steadfast and unflappable. When Del opened the door and gestured for her to pass through it, it was on. She’d harnessed her eat-worms moxie and strutted her stuff down the trail.
And here they were—and word got out fast. Islanders stood in clusters and reclined in Adirondack chairs dotting the inn’s lawn, some with binoculars, taking in the scene.
Between her melee of an arrival, the kangaroo court spectacle, and this dock debacle, at least she was providing the senior citizens with some rip-roaring entertainment.
“You ever been on one of these, Mrs. Elliott?” Del asked from the cab of his lobster boat.
“No.” Aria observed the watercraft. Faded white with red trim, the boat wasn’t large, thirty, perhaps thirty-five feet long. As far as lobster boats went—in her limited experience—there wasn’t much to this one. She studied the small, enclosed cabin in the center, a pulley-looking thing fixed to the side and a few raised bins in the back.
“You ready, Mrs. Elliott?” Del called from . . . from . . . from the captain’s enclosed driving box room.
Dammit!She didn’t know the official name.
She adjusted an orange life jacket Del had handed her when they got to the dock. She met the man’s eye as he left the little boat box and stood across from her. He extended his hand.
Aria stared at his outstretched arm. She wasn’t sure what the man had in store for her. Whatever it was, she had to maintain her cool. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and lifted her chin. “I was born ready.”
“Wait,” Oscar called, charging past the onlookers and onto the dock. He had a bag with him, but it wasn’t his usual camera bag. This one was sleek and smaller.
“What’s that?” she asked, eyeing the pack.
“A waterproof bag for my camera.”
“You’re bringing your camera?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t need to come, Oscar. I know you’ve got your sea legs, kid. It’s your wife who needs to prove she’s got what it takes,” Del finished.
Oscar looked the man straight in the eyes. “You’ve been good to me. I want you to take what I’m about to say with that in mind.”
Del kept his mouth shut and offered up a barely perceptible nod.
Oscar took her hand in his. “Mywifeisn’t going anywhere without me.”
Damn!He’d dropped the wife bomb. She wasn’t expecting that. Still, if she had to, she could do this by herself. “Oscar, I’ll be okay on my own.”
He shot her a look that sent a shiver down her spine—a shiver that settled between her thighs. And Lord, have mercy. Growly and possessive Oscar was a sight to see.
“That boat’s not leaving without me,” he announced with a thread of pure alpha authority.
