Page 114 of Fire Island
“Come on, old man, let’s take a turn of the town square.” She squeezes my leg.
I clear my throat. “We’re going for a walk.”
Em looks up with a frown. “You want company?”
“No, we’re good,” Evie chirps.
Understanding claims Em’s face, and he grins before turning back to the movie.
“Oh,” Iris says, pausing the movie. “Can you grab ice cream on the way back?”
“Sure.” Evie grabs my hand, leading me away. I slide my wallet from the kitchen counter where I dropped it earlier and shove it into my back pocket. We weave through the café and make the sidewalk as she bursts out laughing.
I pin her to the front door as it closes. A huffy breath tumbles from those pretty fucking lips.
“God, Cal. All I could think of the entire thirty minutes on the couch was straddling your lap.” She tugs on my collar, now wrapped in her fingers, and I drop my mouth to hers. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips, wanting in. She opens automatically, the way she always does for me. I claim every part of her she willingly surrenders.
Fine fingers wander into my hair. I grab her wrists, shoving them against the door above her head. The bell jingles as the door rattles with our movement.
Fuck.
Not wanting my sister to walk out and ruin the moment, I haul Evie to my waist and start for the marina. Kisses dot all over my face and down my neck as her hands turn to fists in my hair. As I take the first step heading down to the docks, she pops her head up. “No. I want to see Pearl.”
“You want to see a useless old relic in dry dock?”
“Uh huh.” Deep browns study my face. “Please.”
“Alright. But don’t get your hopes up. She’s a damn wreck.”
“They’re the best ones . . .”
Emotion sees me clench my jaw shut tight. I turn on my heel and head for the dry dock on the other side of the watchhouse.Evie’s eyes study me the entire way, as if she can pull whatever information from my head with one look. Her scanning eyes have probably seen the entire Callum McCreary User Manual by the time we reach the large diamond-mesh metal gates to the dry dock yard.
“Put me down,” she says, twisting back.
I set her on her feet, and she tugs at the gate. The chain around it, locked, rattles but doesn’t budge.
I wrap my arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. “Errol has the key.”
“Looks like we’re breaking and entering, then.”
She reaches for the top of the gate and hauls herself up the mesh. I assist with my hands on her gorgeous ass. She tips over the top and jumps down, landing on her feet. I follow, less elegantly than Evie. Inside, we wander through the small allotments home to a variety of vessels. Some are seaworthy but not in use, some are busted. Some lots are empty.
We finally reach the far back corner where she stands on her tripods, in the spot Em and I left her years ago, tucked up with hole-ridden, weathered covers. One has slipped off completely, and the paint is peeled on the exposed front of the boat. Evie walks around Pearl as if discovering a new treasure for the first time, running her hand along the side of the old boat, over the cloth keeping the boat’s true form a secret.
I pull the covers from her as I walk around, sending years of dust and mildew up into the air. Waving a hand to clear the murky cloud, I toss the covers to the ground as I go.
Evie comes to my side. “She’s wonderful, Cal.”
I huff a laugh. “She’s going to need a lot of work.”
Evie’s face lights up. “So we’re doing this, then?”
“Between the bike and the boat, we’re not going to have much free time...”
“Does it matter, if we’re together?”
“Em’s going to have to help, baby. This is going to take a hell of a lot of skill.”
