Page 8 of Love Bound

"Me? God no. I don’t want hypothermia." She spreads her arms and says, "That's why it's called Echo Bay."

"So, the caves make this Echo Bay. I thought it was called Echo Bay because you could shout across the water and the sound comes right back."

"That's what we tell the tourists," she says.

That's right. Because Allison and I were tourists. I think of how silly we must have looked shouting at Rock Island, waiting for our voices to return. I spend way too much of my time waiting for things to return.

"You'll have to check it out on your day off," she says.

I shake my head. "Wouldn't want to get caught."

"I'm exaggerating. You can just climb up on the rocks inside the cave if you get caught. The last time, it was a couple from Kentucky. They disappeared and then moseyed out seven hours later."

"They didn’t call anybody?" I question.

"Sketchy phone reception here. You'll see. They were a little dehydrated and hungry. But we fed them at the Pine Cove, they were fine."

"Oh, so you work there?"

"No," she says. "I don't." And then she sits down swiftly across from me. "Listen," she says, looking at me directly, right into my eyes.

Her eyes are stormy, light blue and depthless, and I realize they’re the color of the sea behind her. It’s too much. Her little spray of freckles across her nose, her fine features, full lips, all blur for just a second. Her skin is pore-less. I think if I were to touch her cheek, it would be hard to tell when I actually made contact.

Just then, I feel a tug in a place I haven’t felt in a very long time and I have to look away.

"I have to tell you something," and she keeps at it, trying to retrieve my gaze again. "And I…I need to be upfront with you about this."

"What?"

"I'm the vet from next door," she blurts.

My heart leaps up and starts thudding hard against my ribs. I wipe my face with one hand and am finally able to return her stare. "You're the vet." It isn’t a question.

"Yes. These are not welcome muffins. They're wooing muffins." She runs a hand through her hair and a finger snags on a wave. "How long are you up here for?"

Forever is what I want to say. But I know this is a detour right now. This is not permanent. So I shrug and say, "For the duration."

"So, a while? Okay. You've got to convince your boss to drop this thing about buying the house—my clinic—next door."

I can't keep up. With her, with the sun in her hair, with her smell, like vanilla and coffee and caramel. I lost my sense of smell really after Allison and I feel immediately guilty for noticing this woman's scent. "My boss?"

"The guy who bought this place. I need to get to him and tell him to drop it. The building isn’t for sale." The freckles stand out like dark little stars. She’s just revving up—I can tell.

"I am the boss," I tell her.

This takes a few moments to sink in. Suddenly her demeanor changes like she can't decide which to be: driven and pointed, or gently persuasive; and the result is a pendulum swing back and forth between the two.

"Please stop trying to make me sell the place next door. It’s my livelihood," she says.

Now, I don’t know how to respond. "You're the vet? You're C.L. Russo?"

She sticks out a hand. "I'm Claire."

"Finn. Finn Colton," I say and take it. Her hand is warm, alive, and I am suddenly aware that betrayal exists even in small moments.

Shoving both hands into her jean pockets, she continues: "It's where I live. It's what I do. I can't imagine not being here. I've been here forever."

"Well, I don't think that's for us to discuss. This is for our attorneys."