Page 81 of The Oscar Escape
Her toes curled inside her lobster-red fisherman boots. “You do know what I have on underneath this. Lobsters all over my naughty-down-there parts. What does your normal penis thing think about that?”
He ran his finger down the ancient lifejacket. “I don’t care if this thing is a treasured island relic that contains the secrets to the universe. It’s coming home with us.”
Home.
She knew he meant back to the inn—back to their room. Still, she couldn’t deny it had a pleasing ring to it. And speaking of home, where would they call home? Wherever her music career took them, right?
“Hey, lovebirds,” Del grouched, pulling her from her thoughts. “We’re losing light.”
Oscar helped her into the boat. With the trio on board, Del hit the ignition. The engine blustered to life, sputtering and hissing. It emitted a few slightly ominous puffs of smoke before settling into a cantankerous thrum.
This watercraft was the boat version of Del.
With the islanders watching, they left the harbor’s calm waters and headed out to the open sea. Only a handful of minutes had passed before the boat met rolling waves. Jolt after jolt, the water met them head-on as they bumped along the white crests.
Now she understood what Del meant when he said the sea was on rollers. She got a whiff of oily fish fused with the burning scent of pungent diesel.Do not puke.Her belly did a flip-flop, and she gripped the side of the boat. “What is that smell?” she eked out.
“The herring Del uses to bait the lobster traps. Keep your eyes on the horizon. It’ll settle your stomach.” Oscar offered. “And eat this.” He covertly handed her a packet of crackers.
She concentrated on the line where the sea met the sky. “When did you become a fisherman?”
“I’ve learned a lot over the years.” His voice took on a wistful quality. “It’s the best part of moving from place to place as a freelancer. I’ve become a Jack-of-all-trades.”
Her belly responded to his words with a few nausea-inducing somersaults. She wasn’t sure if her reaction was due to the rollicking waters or his response. She brushed it off. It had to be the ocean. She ripped open the packet of crackers. Nibbling like a mouse, she focused on a buoy in the distance, and as Oscar predicted, her stomach settled.
Okay, she could do this.
Del opened a sliding glass window. “You spend much time on boats growing up in Colorado, Mrs. Elliott?” he called over the hum of the engine.
She leaned into Oscar. “This doesn’t feel like the moment to tell him we spent loads of time on the water . . . in the Caribbean . . . on Phoebe’s aunt and uncle’s mega-yacht.”
“I’d hold back that little nugget,” he whispered.
She tossed Del a wide grin. Might as well play nice. “I spent a little time on the water. I learned to water ski when I was a kid.”
Del kept his eyes trained ahead, but he didn’t scowl. That was about as close to a win as she’d get with the lobsterman.
Feeling like she’d gained her sea legs, she threaded her arm with Oscar’s. They walked a few paces to the back of the boat.
She watched Del, who remained tucked away inside the cab. Grateful to have a few moments alone with Oscar, she studied his expression. “I’m not sure what got into me at the schoolhouse. And then to have freaking Georgia Winstegan join me on the piano. Did you know that the judge was married to Georgia? You know she’s my favorite composer.”
“Of course I know she’s your favorite. I even remember when we found the recordings in Bab’s attic. I recognized the song you played. I must have heard you play it a million times. But I promise you, I had no idea who the judge was until we met him at your island trial—and I for sure had no idea about Georgia Winstegan being his wife. Maybe they met in Denver.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Georgia conducted the Denver Symphony Orchestra years ago before we were born.”
“You’re right, but how did you know that?”
Mischief glinted in his blue eyes. “A lifetime of listening to you play music and lecture—I mean,talkabout it.”
This man.
She couldn’t even be cross with him.
“And the judge said he worked in Denver. I put it together.” He paused. That look of complete and total adoration overtook his features. “As soon as you called out Paganini, I knew there was no stopping you. You were amazing—electric. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Nobody could.”
“Do you think I’m crazy for making a deal with the judge?” She returned to toying with the busted buckle.
