Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
His eyes slowly traversed my body, fire shooting through my blood at his visible swallow.
I also didn’t miss the slight furrow of his brow at the mention of the money. It almost made me feel bad. Almost. The furrow didn’t last for long before it gave way to a wrinkle of determination. “I’m going to make it my business to ensure that this won’t be the last I see of you.”
I pursed my lips against that promise, the strong tug in my chest telling me that something was beginning there. It couldn’t. It wouldn’t. This man had disaster written all over him. Or, more correctly, this man had peace written all over him. At least he did until Calliope Derrick fucked it all up.
“You’re a fisherman, right?” I asked him.
An easy grin curved his lips. “Process of deduction works well with you, I see.”
I appreciated the dry joke but didn’t make that obvious, my scowl remaining no matter how much the man made me want to smile.
“Well, understand the metaphor that I’m far too big of a catch for you or your boat to handle.” I eyed him in a way that pretended I found him lacking before turning on my heel and walking away.
I thought I’d gotten the last word, given I was well practiced at dressing men down.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at just what me and this boat can handle,” he called to my back.
I didn’t miss the innuendo.
Not exactly eloquent or original, yet my step stuttered on the dock, nonetheless.
I wouldn’t be seeing him again. Most certainly fucking not.
Not even if my life depended on it.
At that time, there were enough things my life depended on; I didn’t need to add an attractive, smiling, cinnamon bun fisherman to the mix.
ELLIOT
“Well, that was Calliope Derrick.”
I heard the thump of my father’s well-worn boots as I watched the most striking woman I’d ever seen get into what was likely a $100K Porsche.
It roared to life, then she sped from the lot, not even slowing down at the stop sign at the exit to the dock before hurtling down the main road. It didn’t surprise me … the fancy car, the disregard for laws. It landed with what little I’d learned of Calliope Derrick with her sharp tongue, a gaze that could tear a man to shreds, and a mouth that invited destruction. Not even to mention the body encased in expensive fabric, likely costing more than everything in my entire closet. Heels—wildly impractical and what I thought were an insane thing for a woman to torture herself with… Calliope strode in them like slippers. A goddess in black who could cut through me like butter with nothing but a look.
Trouble.
Calliope Derrick was trouble, her debt collecting role notwithstanding.
Someone I should stay far away from. I knew better than anyone the damage the wrong woman could wrought.
Except my gut told me that Calliope Derrick was not the wrong woman.
“You were hiding from her?” I finally ripped my gaze from the space her car had disappeared from to face my father, looking at me with a knowing grin.
He took off his worn Shaw Shack cap, rubbing his silvery hair. It might’ve been all silver, but he still had a lot of it. No balding for the Shaw men. “Of course, I was hiding from her, like any self-respecting man would do,” he joked. “You had it well in hand. I’d have attempted to come to your aid if I thought you needed it, even though she’d chew me up and spit me out in a second.”
This was a small town. I’d lived in it all my life, as had my father. We knew the locals, knew Rowan Derrick and Kip Goodman, their respective wives. And no one in town had escaped the news of Calliope Derrick’s arrival.
I’d overheard more than one local man speaking about her, either saying how hot she was or how stuck up of a bitch she was, depending on whether they’d tried to hit on her and had been shot down. From what I understood, she shot down every man brave enough to try.
I didn’t have much of a life outside of work, busy trying to keep our business afloat and being there for Clara’s treatment. Therefore, I hadn’t had the occasion to stumble upon Calliope Derrick.
Yet she’d found me.
I had sworn off women who even hinted at being complicated. Not because I didn’t respect complicated women. I respected them like I respected the ocean, understood that they could be calm, warm, welcoming. And that they could lay fucking ruin to your life in the right conditions. Been there, done that. I actually liked the unpredictability of the ocean. And one day I’d find a woman. But not one like Calliope Derrick.
My mind ventured beyond the woman herself to the news she’d brought.