Page 17 of Elijah's Hope
“Hmmm.”
“What?”
She shrugged. “No wonder you ran that contest,” Shelby said. “I have to think you and the other guys must be lonely.”
I shook my head. “I don’t get lonely. Been on my own for too long for that. The contest was just…harmless fun.”
I thought if I kept saying it to myself, I might believe it. Because something didn’t ring true about it. This didn’t feel harmless. Being with Shelby. Quite the opposite, it felt dangerous.
Was I lonely? Was that what this was all about? Was that what Jackson was trying to warn me about when he told me to be careful? That I would get attached to Shelby too quickly because I was some lonely pansy-ass looking for female company?
“Doesn’t feel harmless,” she said, as she bobbed her rod in the water.
That she agreed with me shocked me, but I couldn’t imagine we meant it the same way. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you and I know each other now. Or are at least coming to know one another. Two people meet and are friendly. They can grow to have feelings for each other. And feelings are never harmless, even the simple ones.”
Shit. We did mean it the same way.
“Don’t grow feelings for me, Shelby,” I warned her. “That would be the worst thing you could do.”
Because this was never going to be anything but few dates. I wasn’t worthy of her and she was too damn good for me.
Her nose wrinkled. “Sorry. Too late. I like you.”
“Shelby…this isn’t— I meant what I said. I’m not thinking about anything long term. Let’s just have some fun.”
She shrugged. “Okay. But I’m having fun because I like you. But don’t worry, it doesn’t have to be anything more complicated than that.”
I had no idea how to respond that, so I said nothing. I desperately wanted to change the subject.
I pulled my line in and set my rod aside. “Listen, I don’t think we’re going to catch anything and I’m starving.”
I opened the storage bin and pulled out the satchel I had packed.
“Did you make us sandwiches?” she asked, pulling in her line as well. “My favorite sandwich is a chicken sandwich. After that I like tuna. Mostly that has to do with the mayonnaise. I love mayonnaise. Sometimes I think I could have a mayonnaise sandwich on white bread and I would be happy. Is there mayonnaise on those sandwiches? I suppose I should have asked that first. After all, what if you’re a mustard man?”
“It’s not sandwiches,” I said, trying not to think about what it would mean to listen to Shelby ramble on about any topic for the next thirty or so years. It was strange. I would have thought being so used to the quiet that all her chatter would have been irritating. How many times had I taken this boat out to fish and thought how happy I was to be on the water by myself, away from the crew?
How much better was today?
I pulled out a bottle of chilled champagne and fortunately, it had been cold enough on the water to keep it chilled. Next came some fancy crackers and pâtés. Some grapes and even two glass flutes. I had a blanket I shook out and placed in the center of the boat.
Shelby seemed awestruck, which was the exact vibe I was going for.
“That’s not sandwiches,” she noted.
I laughed taking a seat next to her on the blanket. “I explained to the guys how things rolled onThe Bachelorand told them we were going to have to up our game. Especially given the only place to eat out in town is Bud’s. Anyway, we put in a joint order a few weeks back to have some specialty items ready for our dates. Zeke, who owns the cabin you’re in—you haven’t met him yet—let’s just say he’s the resourceful type. He hooked us up with nothing but the best of everything.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I’ve never had champagne before.”
“Never? Not at a wedding or some family event?”
She shook her head.
Shit, I thought. Even I’d had champagne a few times in the past ten years. I suppose I forgot that Shelby was still really young. Hell, she’d only been legal to drink for about three years.
“Want to try it?”
