Sandpiper Island (The Bachelors by Donna Kauffman

Author:Donna Kauffman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Ford bumped the boat against the dock and opened his mouth to call to Delia to step back so she wouldn’t get her fingers smashed against the piling, but she already had the nylon line looped and in her hand. She tied off neatly and expertly, so he stepped aft to do the same.

He lifted her backpack off the console and handed it to her as he met her by the ladder that led up to the dock. “I guess growing up on the coast, you’ve done that a time or two.”

She smiled. “Once or twice. Been a long time, though. Guess it’s like riding a bike. Or sailing a boat.”

He reached to help her up the ladder, but she slung the pack over her shoulder and was halfway up before he could pocket the keys to the boat. “Well, okay then,” he murmured. He grabbed the small cooler Blue had stowed on the boat for him, along with a gear bag, and then climbed up after her.

“What do you need to do first?” she asked anxiously, as he stepped onto the dock next to her. She was already wearing one of his old sweatshirts, which hung down to mid-thigh. Fortunately she was also wearing jeans rather than slacks, although he wasn’t too sure how her shoes would fare on the rocks.

“Keep the sweatshirt,” he told her. “And put this on.” He slid two hard hats out of the gear bag, handed one to her, and popped the second one on his own head.

She eyed the green plastic helmet, clearly confused. “Just how deep are the puffin nesting burrows?”

“It’s not to protect you from what’s underground, but what’s overhead.”

She looked up and he snatched the helmet back and stuck it on her head about a second before she ducked, a laugh spluttering from her as the first splat hit the dock beside her. “Holy cow. I mean, I saw that there were a bunch of birds flying around as we were heading into the cove here, but—is it always like this?” She chanced a half glance upward.

Ford didn’t have to look up; he knew the sky overhead was filled with a variety of seabirds. Dozens and dozens of them. “No,” he said. “Over most of the summer, it’s worse. Far worse.” He smiled briefly. “Or better, depending on your perspective.”

“Right,” she said. “A good migratory news, bad poop news kinda deal.”

He let out a short chuckle. “More or less. Hold on.” He climbed back down to the boat and pulled a pair of scuffed-up black wellies from one of the storage bins. He climbed up till he could toss them on the deck next to her. “Might want to slide your feet in those.”

She tugged them on over her thin-soled leather flats as he climbed the rest of the way to the dock. “So, this wouldn’t be considered a lot?” she asked. “Birds, I mean.” She gestured overhead as she hopped on one foot to get the other all the way into the heel of the boot.

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