Once Upon an Island by Sarah Ready

Author:Sarah Ready [Ready, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Swift and Lewis Publishing LLC

14

It’s not quite seven when the doorbell rings. The morning light is only just penetrating my thick bedroom curtains. I groan at the insistent chiming.

“Go away,” I manage to croak out. Then I grab a pillow and cover my head.

The doorbell chimes again.

“No,” I mutter. I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

If I ignore them they’ll go away. I didn’t get to sleep until the early morning hours. Every time I closed my eyes I kept seeing Declan take a bite of that apricot. The juice would run down his lips, then he’d look at me, all hungry-like, and lick them.

It was horrible.

Mainly it was horrible because I don’t think he actually had that ravenous, strip-you-out-of-your-pants look in his eyes when he bit the apricot in real life. That was purely a fantasy of my twisted imagination. Which unfortunately means my subconscious has decided that Declan is an object of attraction and I am the unwilling participant in my mind’s fantasies.

So, every time I closed my eyes to sleep, my imagination took me on a train ride to Declan’s lustful gaze. Therefore, I did the only thing a reasonable woman can do in the middle of a lust-fueled, sleepless night, I kept my eyes open and my mind occupied by watching a five-hour marathon of home renovation shows.

Except, every time a man picked up a hammer my stomach got all squishy and funny. So, the shows weren’t that helpful either.

It may be morning, a fresh new day, with someone at the front door ready to chat, but I’m tired. Really tired.

The doorbell chimes again. And again.

I groan.

Whoever’s here isn’t going away.

My cellphone starts to ring.

I lift the pillow off my head and grab my phone from the nightstand. “’lo?” I mutter when I swipe to answer.

“Isla, open the door. We want coffee. And breakfast.”

It’s Arya. She sounds annoyingly chipper. I squeeze my eyes shut. They feel all gritty and bloodshot.

“Who’s we?” I ask. My voice is all froggy and croaky.

“Me and Michael.”

I scramble upright as soon as Arya mentions Michael.

Michael’s here? On my doorstep? With Arya?

Suddenly, I feel guilty over my uncontrollable, undesired nighttime fantasies.

“What are you doing here?”

I jump out of bed and rush to my closet. I need to get dressed. In something cute and preferably non-see-through.

“We didn’t come together,” Arya says, unaware of my frantic shuffling through my closet. “He pulled in after me. We’re both worried and wanted to see how you’re doing. I have an hour before work. You can make your grandma’s banana fritters and reassure us that you survived.”

I pull a floral patterned dress over my head then pop the phone back to my ear.

“I’m alive,” I say. “Couldn’t I reassure you by going back to bed?”

“No,” she says mulishly. “Let us in or I’ll use the spare key.”

“Give me two minutes.”

I drop the phone and rush to the bathroom. Then I take thirty seconds to splash my face with cold water, finger comb my hair, and put on lip gloss.

When I pull open the door I put on a smile and pretend that I’ve been awake for at least an hour.

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