Ivey Pierce is an explorer, and thanks to her career as a wildlife biologist, she does not stay stationary for long. But when her parents die in a terrible accident, and her childhood home is left vacant for two years, she returns to the tattered me...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
IT TOOK THIRTYMINUTES to pull into the waterfront bar and grill. Cars filled the lot as music and conversations with friends poured through the tavern's walls and grew louder when we pushed through the doors.
"Bar or table?"
"Bar," I told him.
The seats were congested with people of all shapes and sizes. We found two empty stools at the end of the bar so close that we had to face one other with our knees intertwining to fit. I glanced at where our skin touched, the air seeming thicker than usual.
"What do you want?"
"A gin and tonic with extra lime, please."
"Not extra gin?"
I snorted. "Unless you want to scrape me off the floor tonight."
The bartender took our orders and Weston's credit card.
"I'll pay for the next round," I said.
He shook his head, sipping his drink without breaking eye contact. I rolled my eyes.
Stevie Nicks sang Gypsy into the rustic establishment, and the smell of sweet liquor, aged wood, and the sea filled my head, making me woozy. The finish on each chair was light brown from wear and tear, and the string lights wrapped around the wooden ceiling beams glowed a pale yellow.
"Sorry I made us go tonight," I said, stirring my drink with a flimsy straw.
"Why are you apologizing? You don't have to apologize."
I didn't know why I apologized, so I dropped the subject. I thought about what Nora said before I left and asked, "How'd you find the job opening for Clifton? What made you come here?"
He stared at me, his fingers drumming on his thigh. If he moved his hand to his left, it would be touching my leg. What would his hands feel like on my skin?
"What did Nora tell you?"
My dirty thoughts melted from my brain, and my body stiffened at the mention of Nora. Should I tell him how she warned me about him? I wondered. Would that put him in a bad mood?
"She didn't tell me anything, actually. Why?"
"Nora Lincoln doesn't like me."
"I could've guessed that."
He paused and dumped his drink into his mouth until the ice clanked against the empty glass.
"I worked five, almost six years, in the intensive care unit before I became a family nurse practitioner. But I found this job through a friend in my nursing program back in New York, and I decided to take it because Clifton needed a medical professional, and I needed a job."
"Wow, I can imagine you were—are a great nurse," I corrected myself.
He chuckled curtly. His head hung like the compliment made all of the muscles in his neck snap. The sound lit up my nerve endings like a firework.
