Page 159 of Rhodes

My boots sink too deep twice. Tallulah laughs both times. She nearly loses one of hers and grabs my forearm to steady herself, then keeps talking about the nutrient-rich soil here like touching me did not register at all.

At some point the distance between us stops being something either of us is maintaining. We start talking the way we used to before every sentence became dangerous.

She tells me Jo is threatening to quit reef work every Friday because Ford keeps trying to lure her to Biloxi on Thursday nights.

I stand there looking at her before I remember not to. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and strands of hair have escaped her cap and stuck to the side of her face.

She catches me staring. The laughter fades, but the smile does not disappear.

I look toward the next marker. “Where do you want this one?”

She points, and we keep going. The sun is lower by the time we make it back to the shed.

Tallulah kicks mud from one boot before stepping out of the waders.

“Hang them there.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“See? You are helpful and obedient.”

I peel mine off and hang them beside hers.

She comes closer to straighten one of the straps where I twisted it around the peg.

She shakes her head. We're standing too close, and we both notice it at the same time.

The shed is quiet except for wind moving against the metal roof and something tapping irregularly outside.

Tallulah's hand is still on the strap between us.

We stare at each other for an extended moment. I want to kiss her so badly my entire body seems to know it before I can put a lid on it, but I don't move.

Her eyes drop, and I lick my lips. Then she closes the distance and kisses me. For one second, I forget every good intention I've had for the last six months.

My hand comes up to her waist, and she is already closer, her mouth opening under mine with the same familiarity that used to wreck me in a completely different way. I taste coffee and cold air. Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt.

I kiss her back because she kissed me first and because evidently there are limits to how evolved one man can become in less than a year.

When she pulls away, I let her. She brushes the back of her hand over her lips. Her face is close enough that I can see the tiny line between her brows.

I drop my hand from her waist. She steps back. Then she walks toward the door, her hand grabbing the frame, and turns around to face me.

“Dad and I are getting oysters in an hour.”

I look down at my muddy clothes, and back up to her.

“At Bowen's Island. You're dressed appropriately. Want to join us?”

That surprises me more than the kiss.

“Yeah. I'd love that.”

She picks up her coat, and neither of us says another word about what just happened in the shed. Like the phone call I missed three weeks ago, I wonder if it was just an accident, nothing more than that.

We leave the shed together, each of us getting into our vehicles. I follow her to James Island.

Bowen's is crowded enough that we wait ten minutes for a table, which Granger spends telling me he has never understood why anybody waits for food they have to shuck themselves.