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Dean laughed. Sammy’s sister was eight years old and had taken a strong liking to Dean since their first meeting at the docks. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
The morning went quickly, working with his islander friend, laughing and poking fun at the other fishermen with their empty and half-full nets. After Dean dropped off fish to four customers, including Busy Bees, he headed home.
He wanted to see Emilie, but he worried about everything that could go wrong. What if she was disappointed with the changes he’d made on her house and broke off their fake engagement? What if she found out about Ava? Too many what if questions and no answers, at least not yet.
And then there was the kiss that replayed in his mind. Certainly, he’d never felt that way with Ava. Dating her had been like cleaning fish. It left a stink and a mess to clean up afterward. Emilie was more like the ocean. Always in his thoughts, steady, but sometimes rocky, and constantly full of life.
He turned on the radio, allowing his favorite old rock songs from the eighties to distract him.
When he arrived home, he went in through the back door to slip into the shower before Emilie saw him, or worse, smelled him. Even though he’d changed his clothes at the docks and washed his hands and arms, he couldn’t get the fish stink out of his nose. Most days he didn’t care, but if Emilie wanted another spontaneous kissing practice session, he wanted to be ready.
He hobbled around to the back of the house. Luck was not on his side. Emilie sat on the back porch, holding a soda and looking up at the sky.
Without looking his way, she pinched her nose and pointed to the door. “I can smell you from here. Don’t come near me.”
He ignored the pain in his ankle and stepped closer, his hands reaching out to hold her. So much for staying away.
“Don’t you dare.”
It hadn’t been in his plan, only now he couldn’t resist. He grinned wider and pulled her from the lawn chair she lounged on. She screamed helplessly and pushed him away with her fists, but it was no use. In no time, she was slimed with fish stink.
When he let her go, she ran for the side of the house, grabbed the hose, and turned on the faucet.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He tossed his phone to the side and ran at her. A cold stream hit him squarely in the eyes. He backed up and blocked his face. “Oh, you’re going to get it.”
His worries from the day melted away. She was just as beautiful soaking wet as she was when she dolled herself up. The two of them wrestled for the hose as Emilie screamed for a truce. Both of them were soaked. After she turned off the water, he slung her over his shoulder and limped to the guest bathroom, his ankle smarting with every move.
But it was worth it. Even when she kicked and pounded his back, she didn’t stop laughing. So adorable. Dean stored away the memory as one he’d never forget.
“You better be glad I have a few extra changes of underpants or else you’d be in trouble,” she yelled at him.
He placed her next to the bathtub and leaned over to kiss her cheek. It was unintentional, but when she pulled back in surprise, he knew he’d done the wrong thing. To mask his hurt, he flashed her a smile. “Thought I could pull a fast one, but you’re too quick.”
Blocking her face with a hand, she took a step back. “Dean, I—”
A bitter feeling of disappointment punched him in the gut. They were having so much fun. Why’d he ruin everything? He tried not to sound deflated. “Sorry, I shouldn’t kid around so much. I’ll leave a shirt and some shorts by the door.”
“I told you! No more kissing practice. I’m already good enough.” She giggled. “Also, bring me a stapler. I’m going to look like a clown in your clothes.”
He winked, glad the playful mood had returned. “Can’t wait to see it.”
He backed out of the bathroom, his ankle stinging again. She noticed and nodded toward his foot.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing much. Just turned it wrong at the docks.”
She frowned and bent to study it. “It’s bruising. Make sure to ice it after the shower.”
He gave her a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” He hurried to his room, grabbed what she needed, and left it outside the door.
The memory of them laughing together replayed in his mind as he showered. Her soft cheeks. The way she smelled. The surprise on her face when he’d kissed her. He couldn’t help overanalyzing his impromptu attempt to get close to her. New ground for both of them.
Maybe if he told her how he really felt, they wouldn’t have to fake their relationship. His feelings were real, and it was about time he did something about it. Finding the right time would be the trickiest part.
After a somewhat cold shower, he felt and smelled better. He changed and iced his foot in the bedroom while Emilie walked down the hall in his clothes, a towel wrapped around her head.
Her lips pulled down in a pout. “You could probably wear my clothes.”
