Page 3 of Falling Fast
“I’m sorry, that was, well, I’ve never, you’re a stranger, so…” She is back to her delightfully awkward self, stumbling over her words and I reach out a hand to grasp hers.
“Don’t apologize, Ella, I wanted to comfort you.” It’s the honest truth, even if it, too, sounds awkward and strange.
“Thank you.” Her free hand fidgets with her dress, and her eyes won’t meet mine. I’m wracking my brain on how to help her relax, when we’re both startled by the foghorn on the ferry, notifying us we’re nearing the dock on the island. She drops my hand as we walk down the stairs to the vehicle deck.
“Where should I pick you up for dinner?” I ask, desperate to cling to some confirmation that I’m not about to lose her. These moments together have felt so fleeting and yet so monumentally important, I can’t let her go.
“Oh, I’ll meet you at the inn,” she replies, but the fact that she won’t meet my eye tells me there’s something she isn’t telling me.
Before I can get her number, or any way to find her again, she’s gone, hurrying down the narrow aisle between cars. It’s a small ferry, so I keep sight of her until she stops at what must be her car. She turns back and waves, and her smile tells me everything I need to know.
She’s mine.
Chapter three
Ella
What. Am. I. Doing.
This is not like me. Not at all. I’m quiet, have a few friends and my sisters, but don’t really enjoy chatting up strangers. It’s part of why working at the inn is so draining for me. I’m much more of an introvert.
But I just spent the better part of an hour flirting – yes,flirting, with the sexiest man I have ever seen. What’s more, he flirted back. And asked me to dinner. And I said yes. And…cue freak out.
I calm my breathing and try to pull the rubber band from my hair without it tangling too badly, and I think about how to approach the rest of the day.
He said he wants a tour of the island, and I wonder why. He doesn’t strike me as someone who would move here; truthfully, we get very few new residents each year. Ever since the ferry company decreased service to our island, more and more people have had to move way to the mainland for work. It’s why our community is slowly fading and it’s the root of my deepest fear – that the beautiful island I call home will wither away if we don’t get an influx of money and people to revitalize us. We also need an alternative to the ferry service that’s run by some bigwigs who don’t give a hoot about us. There were rumours that some big property developer wanted to build some luxury cottages somewhere, which was met with mixed reviews. Some people thought it was a great idea, a way to bring some life back to the island, but others were understandably concerned that it might make our island lose its quaint, small town feel. I’m undecided. We need to stimulate the economy, but I don’t want to lose our community to some big developer who won’t appreciate our relaxed and friendly way of life.
But that’s not the crisis I should be focusing on right now. Nope, the current problem is a big, tall drink of water as my grandmother would call him, waiting for me to show him around my island. Why is he here? I suppose that should have been my first question, but I hadn’t wanted to burst our little bubble on the ferry. Still, guys like him don’t show up on Westmount Island for no reason. We’ve got a vibrant tourist season all summer, but it’s more for young families and retirees, or as my twin sister Kayla calls them, “newly weds and nearly deads”. Of the two of us, she’s more sarcastic and outgoing, in case it wasn’t obvious. I miss her so much. But she’s off living her dream as a travel photographer. I think she’s somewhere in Alaska right now, hopefully not being eaten by bears.
Anyway. What to do about Marcus. Maybe I should have told him that my cottage is right next to the inn he’ll be staying at, but I didn’t for some reason. There’ll be no hiding it when we both pull into the same driveway, however, and maybe that’s a good thing. It’ll be easy to meet up later. But what if he changes his mind about me between now and when we get to the inn? How embarrassing would that be if I’m all eager to show him around and he’s allyeah, no thanks, I’m good, you weirdo.
Deep breaths, Ella. Deep breaths. Remember the hug. There was definitely…something in that hug. Something that felt unbelievably right, like my soul was breathing a sigh of relief. I’ve read about soul mates in the romance novels I’m addicted to, but never once did I think they existed in real life, or that I would ever find one. But that’s what it felt like when I was in Marcus’s arms. As if a part of me had been missing and was now found. I snort at myself and how ridiculous I sound. I’m infatuated with a man I just met.
But what if it’s not ridiculous…what if he is someone worth getting close to? I felt a part of myself stir awake when I was talking to him. A sensual side, a part of me that longs to be seen as more than just goofy Ella Michaels who’s always got finger paints in her hair from the kids she teaches. It felt like Marcus saw that in me.
The cars start moving off the ferry, and as I drive off, a glance in my rearview mirror shows a sleek black sports car has managed to pull up behind me. Marcus. His hair flops over his forehead in a way that’s both youthful and sexy as anything. I want to run my fingers through it, push it back from his face, and feel the strands between my fingers.
I shake myself out of yet another fantasy involving this mystery man and give him a small wave. We drive off the ferry and Harold, who is manning the deck today, gives me a cheerful salute and I don’t miss his curious stare at the man behind me. I hope Marcus is prepared for a lot of curious stares while he’s here. A single guy in a car like that is going to stand out on the island.
The drive to the inn is short, only about ten minutes. I drive past the main parking lot and pull to a stop in front of my cottage. I climb out of my car just as he does the same. I’m not sure what to do now, but Marcus solves that by strolling over, with a smile on his face.
“Why Ella, are you following me?” His eyes are dancing, so I know he’s teasing me again. I can’t hide my blush, however.
“No! Technically I was in front so you were following me. But I, well, I live here.” I gesture to my home as my words spill out.
If anything, his grin goes wider as he follows my finger, which is pointing to my cottage. It’s insane, but he seems charmed by my inability to be anything but awkward.
“So close. Isn’t that…perfect. I hope you’ll show me your cottage sometime.”
His voice is barely more than a murmur, but the heat behind the words is intense.
“I, well, sure. If you really want to see it.” I stammer out. His eyes haven’t left mine; his gaze is soft, but warm and inviting. I’m starting to believe he’s just as drawn to me as I am to him.
“When shall we meet up for my tour?” he asks, casually placing his hands in his pockets. This somehow tightens his pants around his…considerable bulge, and I hear myself gasp under my breath. When I look up, there’s a twinkle in his eye as if he caught me looking. I feel the heat rush over my face, but somehow keep a straight face when I reply.
“Give me an hour, and I’ll meet you back here.” I’m impressed by how normal that sounded. Maybe I’m finally getting some control.
“Perfect. I’ll see you soon, Ella.”
