Page 11 of Fast Currents
I chugged half of my water bottle, wiping sweat from my nape. The ache in my shoulders burned, tired muscles reminding me it’d been hours since my last break. My stomach grumbled, and I picked up my phone, pausing my music. It was past noon. My friend Anya had texted, inviting me to meet her for lunch at the park. I had enough time to make it if I hurried. I dashed off a response and scooped up a protein bar and soda, walking the couple of blocks to the marina.
Anya waved from a picnic table beneath the trees. She’d covered her yoga gear with a long flannel shirt that was too big for her lithe figure. Probably one of Drew Fenwick’s.
“Hey,” she greeted me with a gentle smile as I slid onto the bench across from her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”
“Sorry, got caught up in a project. No Violet or Rae today?” I asked.
Anya shook her head, her long blonde braid whipping across her shoulders with the motion. “Vi was too busy at the shop, and Rae already had plans with Zach.”
Violet Fenwick ran a local boutique selling her family’s sea salt blends, the Salty Pantry. Her brother Zach and our other friend Rae had recently become a couple. They’d taken to having “lunch” together whenever they could sneak away. I avoided glancing at Rae’s sailboat down at the dock. IfSailor Swiftwas rocking… their boots were probably knocking.
“How was your first night of art classes?” Anya asked, eyes dancing as if she already knew the answer.
“Fine. The kids seem eager, and the adults had a lot of fun.”
“Are you sure you can call them adults, if Gran’s involved?” Anya asked, her lips twitching.
I lifted one shoulder. “Maybe not, but she brought wine, so I can’t complain too much.”
Anya’s cheeks stretched into a full grin. “You haven’t seenWhat’s New, Friday Harboryet today, have you?”
My eyes narrowed. Half bitch session, half useful information, our local social page was the hub of island gossip. “What now?”
“Gran previewed her art to ‘drum up excitement’ for the upcoming show.”
“Of course she did.” I shook my head. “I’m surprised my phone isn’t blowing up.”
“Me too. I bet Clay’s is.”
“Lovely.”
“Don’t be surprised if you get an extra art docent at your next class to keep an eye on her.”
“It’ll only encourage her.”
“I know that, and you know that. I doubt Clay does.”
Having Clay supervise was a distraction I didn’t need. I dropped my head into my hands, rubbing at my temples. Anya chuckled.
“It won’t be that bad.” She paused, considering. “Though, if you haven’t Gran-proofed your projects, Clay might see himself in her artwork. She wouldn’t be shy about using him as a model, and he is a fine-looking man.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to disagree, but I’d be lying. Clay was gorgeous. An artist’s dream. High cheekbones, sculpted jaw. Soulful brown eyes. And his body…
“I’ve already bought the supplies.”
“Then I can’t wait to see the show. It’ll be worth the ticket just to see the culture clash.” Anya arched one delicate brow. “How is it going, working with Clay?”
“Fine.”
“There’s that word again.”
“What? I have nothing to report.” He didn’t actually kiss me. That would have been newsworthy.
She couldn’t quite hide her smirk. We sniped at each other too often for her to believe we could work together smoothly.
I shifted under her knowing gaze. “We’re mostly getting along.”
“Hm.” Anya packed up her food containers, stowing them in the cute blue tote she used for her lunch bag. “Want to walk along the dock before we head back to work? I have about twenty minutes before my next yoga class.”
