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From Shore to Shore

By Tabitha Bouldin

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Chapter One
A brand-new adventure on a clean horizon. Bree Jamison dusted off her hands and stepped from the Acadia’s deck to bleached dock boards. Her sea legs complained, sending her listing sideways a half step. She jerked upright before her jelly legs plunged her off the dock. Not that she’d mind a swim— was rather looking forward to it—but not quite yet. Davy Jones’ locker would wait another day. She’d never been a fan of pirates, but she couldn’t argue with beauty. Of all the places she’d lived, Sparrow Island won the award for most memorable. Even though she’d yet to truly live there. Remote. Picturesque. Perfect. The next six months would be a breeze.
Planting her hands on her hips, she turned and scanned the place she’d call home. Endless ocean banked by billowy clouds and not a boat in sight. Except for the two-seater craft bobbing alongside their larger research vessel, captainless but well docked.
Damien, her diving partner of the last year and fellow marine biologist, brushed a hand through his golden hair and tossed her the Acadia’s line. She twisted the rope around the piling and quickly threw a double hitch around the cleat.
Damien offered her a smile that could charm a shark. Goodness. Who needed a defibrillator with smiles like that? She shook off the feeling.
“All right there, Bree?”
“Never better.” Especially if he kept smiling like that. At her. Stop it. Remember what happened last time you let a gorgeous smile make decisions for you.
They followed the same routine for the second line, securing their boat as second nature as breathing. Damien tossed her satchel at her feet and followed, landing on the dock with a graceful thud. “Come on. Wait till you see the beach house. It’s perfect.”
“Better than the place in Barbados?”
“You had to bring that up, didn’t you?” Laughter rippled through the salty air. “I mess up one time and you can’t let me forget it.”
“If it wasn’t for that mistake, I’d still be wondering if you were human.” Bree matched his stride, swinging the satchel over her shoulder. The dock creaked, waves lapping the piling and sending the Acadia bobbing against her lines.
He slipped on a pair of Ray Bans that reflected the beach back at Bree when she glanced his way. His voice took on the smooth glide of pride. “That’s me. Damien the Destroyer. Sent to Earth to swindle beautiful women.”
And swindle them he would. Not out of money or valuables, but of their hearts. Their love. All but hers. Four women in the last year they’d worked together. Damien loved and discarded women the way many tossed aside disposable coffee cups.
Bree’s heels sank into soft earth. Sand churned with each step, the spray of fiery particles burning her calves. Beach stretched out on either side, disappearing far into the distance as the island curved, hiding its secrets. No shade to protect the sand from the blistering sun. Sweat carved a path down her back. Should have taken the swim. She needed the water, the blissful quiet.
“You wouldn’t believe the sweet deal I got on our house.” Damien chattered, arrogantly unaware of any tension or turmoil. “I could have bought the place for less than a year’s salary. Almost did.”
That knocked Bree out of her island stupor. “You’re leaving?” Great. Just what she needed. To lose another partner.
“Could have bought. Pay attention to the words I say, and you’ll have less chance to misunderstand.” He knocked his shoulder against hers, a playful action with no more ardor than a clown fish and its anemone. “I’m not ready to hang up my flippers yet.”
No. Doing that would mean settling down. Something they’d both sworn never to do and a decision that made them excellent partners who flitted around the globe in six-month spans to dive, document, and survey the ocean corals. Which is why they made perfect sense as a couple. Like minded. Similar goals. Perfect match. Except Damien loved falling in love.
“I thought our captain was supposed to meet us at the dock.” She shuffled through the last stretch of sand, relieved when a stand of loblolly pine cast a welcome shade over her heated body.
“He’s meeting us at the house. Said he’d make sure the fridge was stocked and no rodents were making nests in the corners.”
Staving off a shiver, Bree kicked a small stone, sending it flying to thwack against a tree trunk. The childish gesture tickled an old memory of laughter. Stepping between two pines, the house popped into view as though it had been hiding behind a curtain like a child, waiting to jump out and shout its arrival.
Butter yellow exterior and a silver roof dappled with light drew her toward the wide porch wrapping across the front with glass double doors planted square in the middle of the house. Her first step was tentative, testing the strength and durability of the worn stairs. Bleached to a dull gray, they held her weight without a creak.
A shadow dropped over her, deeper than those cast by the trees, and a voice rumbled, gravely and dark. “Well, well. We meet again.”
Bree’s head snapped up, her gaze finding the chocolate-colored eyes of the man she met during her exploratory excursion to the Independence Islands so many months ago. “Didn’t know I’d made such a lasting impression.”
Damien scooted past her, cutting her off from the intensity of the stranger’s smile. “You two know each other?”
“We met when I came over to scout the islands for coral. He saved me from a murderous parrot.”
“It’s not every day a stranger stumbles into a wedding party.” He chuckled, the sound as warm as his eyes had been that day. “Until you showed up again at the Christmas festival, I thought I’d imagined you.”
Ah, yes. The festival where she’d browsed stalls and wheedled information from the locals about coral reefs and diving locations.
“She’s a wily one. Don’t get your hopes up on her sticking around this time either. Bree doesn’t do permanent.” Damien waved his hand toward the house. “Just the mention of buying a house and putting down roots makes her squirm.”
Though her jaw tightened at Damien’s casual offering of her personal beliefs, she didn’t refute his claims. Roots. Blech. Who wanted to stay in one place, staid and immovable ? Not her. That’s why she loved the ocean. So much they didn’t know. A million new things to discover and explore. Never the same. Never boring.
“We going inside or standing out here until we turn into dried out husks?” Shouldering her bag, she strode toward the door, wrenching it open and accepting the burst of air conditioning. Her skin cooled, drawing a smattering of goosebumps across her arms when her damp shirt rustled across her back.
Open and spacious, the living area welcomed her with hues of cream and beige. A basket filled with fruit rested in the center of the glass table, bright reds and sunny yellows promising a welcome relief from the sudden hunger pinching her stomach.
Footsteps sounded at her back. Bree moved aside, allowing the two men to enter the house. She propped a hip against the counter and settled her arms loosely across her stomach.
Their captain offered a hand. “Cooper Carmichael. Nice to meet you…officially.” His head cocked to the side, the teasing hint of a smile pulling one side of his mouth.
Bree shook his hand, the rough skin a testament to hard work. “When can we dive?”
“Straight to business. As usual.” Damien kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch with a yawn. “We have six months on this speck of land. There’s no rush.”
Interesting. Damien never slacked off from his work.
“Tell me about this meeting you two had.” He snagged a banana from the bowl and peeled it with precision.
“Not much to tell.” Bree shrugged, her gaze searching Cooper’s face. “I stopped on Merriweather to scout around. Someone mentioned an old lady who would probably know the local history.”
“Miss Evelyn.” Cooper cut in, the overhead light illuminating the scruff of beard across his chin. He took up the story, facing Bree with a look of amusement. “My sister was getting married. Miss Evelyn is her husband’s grandmother. Bree arrived as they were leaving. Out of nowhere, a parrot dive bombs the wedding party, coming specifically for Bree.”
“I would think you liked birds. What with them being able to flit from place to place as you do.” Damien’s careless appraisal sounded fair, but something about his tone drew tension into the air.
Bree shouldered her bag and pushed off from the counter. Damien thought he knew her. Felt confident enough to share her life with a stranger. An oversight she needed to correct. Later. “I’m going for a swim.” Anger rippled beneath the surface, drawing heat up her neck. Damien never met a stranger, but that didn’t mean she felt the same.
“Mind if I check out the boat before I leave?” Cooper sent a glance between her and Damien as though uncertain which of them had the power to grant permission.
“Go ahead.” Bree waved her hand toward the door and the path leading to the beach. “Give me a couple minutes to change and I’ll walk you down.”
“I think I’ll head into town. There is a town, isn’t there?”
Cooper swiveled to face Damien. “Depends on what you’re looking to find. If it’s entertainment, you’ll need to head up to Mimosa. The other islands are locals only, with you two as an exception for your research. We have a few amenities.”
Escaping the room, Bree blew out a long breath to expel the rise in temperature before it could take root. Down a short hallway, she found two rooms across from each other with a bathroom at the end of the hall. Nothing they hadn’t encountered before. She took the room on the right, facing the ocean though all she saw through the windows were trees. Silence settled around her, that same peaceful oblivion she found beneath the ocean.
Her bag landed on the bed with a soft plop, cushioned by an off-white comforter. Pillows covered half the bed, an array of soft blues and grays.
She took her time changing into a simple one-piece bathing suit and finding a towel in the moderate bathroom. Cooper’s voice sounded from the living room, followed by the slide of the door and a heavy sigh from Damien. Whatever crab had pinched her partner, it wouldn’t last. Nothing with him ever did, except for the job.
Damien lounged against the wall, apparently waiting for her. “Sorry.” He ruffled both hands through his hair. “I didn't mean to talk about you like that.”
“I get it.” She strode around him. “We’ve spent too many hours together in close quarters. Get out of here. Blow off some steam, or whatever it is you do.” She wheeled around and planted a finger in his chest. “But when you come back, I expect this to be gone. No more of whatever that was. You’ve made it clear that you’re not part of my personal life, so stop treating my life like blood you can toss overboard to chum the water.”
“You got it, boss.” He fingered a mini salute.
He didn’t smile, a sure sign he’d taken her words to heart.
Bree backed into the living room. What made sense in theory often fell apart in real life, as the last few minutes proved. No relationship was worth that kind of trouble. If they didn’t leave because of a bout of conscience on how their life would be perfect with another partner, they turned, throwing her to the sharks.
Better to travel the globe, never settling, than to be trapped in one place long enough to watch as they walked away. Just keep swimming. Dory’s motto. One aimed toward perseverance, but Bree took it as a reminder to never let emotional attachments sink in their hooks.

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