“It really is.” He rocks back on his heels, still grinning. “So listen, we’re definitely hiring. Cora—my partner—she’s out running errands right now, getting ready for the bonfire tonight. But if you’re serious about the job, come by tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. We can work out all the details with her then. She handles all that official stuff. I mostly just make sure nobody drowns and talk about fish.”
I blink. “You’re offering me the job?”
“I mean, pending Cora’s approval and the boring paperwork stuff. But yeah, basically.” He shrugs like this is completely normal. “You clearly know what you’re doing, you love the water, and honestly? We’re kind of desperate. The summer season’s barely started, and we’re booked through July. We’ve been running ourselves ragged. You’d be doing us a huge favor.”
The ease of it is almost surreal. No careful questions about why I’m here or what I want. No sense that he knows anything about my history with Cora. Just a friendly guy offering work to someone who seems qualified.
“I’m interested,” I say.
“Awesome!” He claps me on the shoulder with enough force that I take a half-step forward. “Seriously, this is great. Cora’s going to be so relieved. She’s been saying we need help for weeks.” He glances at his watch. “I should actually get going—promised I’dhelp set up for the bonfire. But yeah, tomorrow morning. Eight sharp. You’ll meet Cora then and we can get you sorted.”
“Sounds good.”
“Perfect. Oh, and bring your certifications if you have them handy. Cora’s a stickler for documentation.” He’s already walking backward down the dock, still grinning. “See you tomorrow, bro!”
He disappears around the equipment shed, and I’m left standing at the marina with a job I didn’t expect to get and a situation I’m not entirely sure how to feel about.
Tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. I’ll walk onto Cora San Pedro’s dock as her new hire, and she’ll have no idea I’m coming.
The thought sits uneasily. This isn’t how I wanted to see her again—ambushing her at work, inserting myself into her operation without warning. But she wouldn’t answer my calls. Wouldn’t respond to my emails. And now I have a legitimate reason to be here, a professional context that isn’t just me showing up and demanding her attention.
It’s not ideal. But it’s something.
The lake laps at the pilings. Somewhere across the water, I can just barely hear music starting up. Someone with a guitar, a crowd of voices, the beginning of what sounds like a bonfire.
I stand on the boardwalk for a long time, watching the last light leave the water.
Tomorrow I’ll see her. Tomorrow I’ll find out if the silence was protection or indifference, if there’s any chance she’ll let me explain, or if I’ve already lost the right to try.
She has Rex. She’s happy and settled, and she has someone good who stays.
But I’m here now. And I’m not leaving again.
CHAPTER 3
CORA
The bonfire is alreadyin full swing by the time Rex and I arrive. I’ve missed the part where people are still sober enough to pretend they have boundaries.
Rex is already unloading the platform from his truck bed when I pull up in my water taxi. He’s got the thing half-assembled by the time I tie off at the Snack Hut dock, because of course he does. Were-shark efficiency extends to carpentry, apparently.
“Need help?” I call, grabbing my guitar case.
“I’ve got it. You just look pretty and tune your guitar.”
“Sexist.”
“Accurate.” He grins at me over his shoulder, hefting the platform into place near the fire pit. “Besides, you’re the talent. I’m just the roadie.”
“There she is!” Mateo calls from the fire pit, waving me over with the enthusiasm of someone who has been waiting for this exact moment. “Harmony Glen’s favorite siren!”
“Sirena,” I correct automatically, weaving through the crowd. “Different mythology.”
“Same beautiful voice that makes grown men weep!” He’s grinning like he knows something. Given the Bennett sisters have had six hours to work, he does.
I’m wearing my bonfire dress. Less a garment, more a state of mind: something flowy that won’t get smoke smell permanently embedded, something I can move in, something that saysI am here to perform, not to answer personal questions about my love life.
It is, I realize immediately, doing none of those things.