Page 23 of Spring Break with a Treasure Hunter
“Yeah, I made some notes about who I was speaking with. I wrote some dates down, and basically was doodling while on the phone. Oh, yeah, I mentioned Cork.”
Daisy pinned Cork with a stare, and he had no qualms about what Beck was going to say.
“Really? What did you write about Cork?”
“They asked me if I knew any treasure hunters, or collectors, so obviously I told them about him. And that normally he didn’t do any of the searching, but bought things for his own collection.” He was quiet for a moment, then continued, “Daisy, what’s going on? That’s a lot of questions specifically directed at Cork.”
She was chewing her lower lip again, and Cork was hard-pressed to keep from saying something. But he promised her. He raised his eyebrows and a shoulder. Was she satisfied with what Beck told her?
“It’s all good. I just wanted to know if you remembered what was on those papers because they were so difficult to read.” She sat in the chair beside him and reached for his hand.
That simple move meant more to him than he could have imagined. She believed him.
“I’m glad to hear it. Because I’m really looking forward to moving ahead with you on our new venture. I’d also like to get down to visit the museum. It would be great to see where all these artifacts will be on display.”
“Just let me know when you want to come. Perhaps Cork will still be here on island too.” She smiled when Cork nodded.
“Is he there by chance? I assume he is hanging around since you’re using his phone.”
“Yes, he’s right here.” She handed the phone to him and stood.
Cork stood as well and held the phone against his chest. “Now, why don’t you put your stuff back in the bedroom.”
“I’m sorry for accusing you. We can talk about it after if you like.” She lifted her face, and they kissed.
“Now go unpack. I won’t be long.”
Cork watched her carry her bags back into the bedroom, relief flooding through him. He was going to roll out the red carpet for her tonight—dinner, candles, wine, then a night of lovemaking. One thing for sure, he didn’t want to have to go through that again.
They did need to have a conversation about this and communicate about any concerns. By not doing so, they leave room for misinterpretation. They needed to trust each other, and not run from a conflict, or be suspicious otherwise this would never work.
13
Last night ended up so much better after I spoke to Beck. Cork had ordered a beautiful meal after speaking briefly with Beck while I was unpacking. But I felt embarrassed and ashamed by jumping to conclusions. It was silly of me, and I did my best to make it up to Cork.
After spending the evening on the balcony, finishing up the wine and dessert, I suggested we shower off the stubborn remnants of sand from the beach earlier. Washing each other had quickly led to wild and frantic love-making as if we were both trying to find each other again. It was clear my misunderstanding had rattled us both. We’d fallen into bed and clung together, breathing each other in. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing the memory of our passion and tenderness to sneak in.
I looked at him now, the dashboard lights reflecting on his features. My heart warmed with emotion for this man. He’d crept into a special place, and I knew now my overreaction had been because of my growing feelings for him. The thought of his betrayal had cut me deeply. Cork had grown to be more than just a partner in treasure hunting, he was filling more of my life as acompanion, lover, friend, and possibly even more. He glanced at me and smiled, squeezing my hand that was in his.
“Almost there. Are you excited?” he asked me.
“More than you’ll ever know.”
We drove through the empty streets, and it was still dark when we arrived at the marina. Security lights on the docks cast a yellow glow onto the boats. It was quiet and hushed. The only sound was water lapping softly against the hull of the boats, and the occasional clink of rigging. Even the sea birds were still sleeping.
We wasted no time loading our gear onto the boat Cork had rented. Moving efficiently and quickly, soon we were motoring through the marina and into the outer harbour. The water was calm.
“I hope the visibility has cleared up,” I commented. “You know where you’re going, right?”
Faint streaks of sunrise lightened the sky, but it was still dark and I was unsure how well he knew the waters.
“Yep. Thataway.” He pointed, and I saw him smile in the early dawn light.
“Yes, thataway.”
We arrived at the dive spot. The sun was a little higher, and I looked over the edge of the boat into the sparkling depths. The water wasn’t as murky as yesterday.
“Look, the visibility is better today,” I said and scanned the sea bottom. It wasn’t too deep here, maybe 30 to 45 feet, hopefully we would find theSirena. Either she wasn’t here at all or centuries of tides, the ebb and flow of the sea bottom had buried her.
