The hurricane wasn't supposed to land here.
I came to Anchor Bay chasing a story. A few interviews, some photos, out by Friday. Then the ferries stopped running, the roads flooded, and the only lights still burning belonged to a marina at the end of a long wet dock.
He opened the door like I was weather he hadn't forecasted.
Tall. Sunburned. Silent. A boat mechanic who read Neruda by lantern and lived alone on a thirty-eight-foot houseboat at the far end of the slip. He didn't want me on his boat. Didn't want me in his life. Didn't want anything he couldn't tie down.
The storm lasted forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight hours with a man who'd spent his whole life believing people leave.
Now the sun is out. My rental car starts. My editor is calling.
So why can't I walk off his dock?
Genre: Romantic Suspense
I came to Anchor Bay chasing a story. A few interviews, some photos, out by Friday. Then the ferries stopped running, the roads flooded, and the only lights still burning belonged to a marina at the end of a long wet dock.
He opened the door like I was weather he hadn't forecasted.
Tall. Sunburned. Silent. A boat mechanic who read Neruda by lantern and lived alone on a thirty-eight-foot houseboat at the far end of the slip. He didn't want me on his boat. Didn't want me in his life. Didn't want anything he couldn't tie down.
The storm lasted forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight hours with a man who'd spent his whole life believing people leave.
Now the sun is out. My rental car starts. My editor is calling.
So why can't I walk off his dock?
Genre: Romantic Suspense
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