Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (46 page)

Sadie watched as the men carried on a lively discussion. A moment later, Jefferson motioned for her to join them. The boat behind the man was wretched in condition but lively in the choice of colors it had been painted. She couldn’t imagine a less seaworthy craft.

“Come on,” he said as he followed the fisherman to the water’s edge.

She did as he asked, picking her way across the sandy shoreline. The fisherman eyed her with a grin and then handed Jefferson a pair of oars.

“Climb in,” he told Sadie as he removed his Panama hat and tossed it into the boat.

“Into that?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

With the sun glinting off his golden hair, and those blue eyes watching her closely, Sadie almost agreed to join him. Almost, but not quite.

“Enjoy your boat ride, Mr. Tucker,” she said, sidestepping the surf as it splashed inches from her feet. “I will await your return aboard a proper sailing vessel.”

He shrugged. “All right, Miss Callum, but you’ve proved my point.”

Sadie put her back to the sun, the better to see the face of the man who had obviously lost all good sense. “And what point would that be?”

“That you cannot forget about your job and enjoy yourself.”

He stuck one oar in the sand and leaned on it, allowing the other oar to trail behind him. And then he grinned.

A man should never be so handsome and so persuasive. And yet it would be complete folly to climb into a boat that would very likely sink before they were more than a few feet from shore.

Then there was the matter of her hat, or rather the lack of one. A woman bent on fitting in with the well-born ladies of Newport society need not even make the attempt with freckles on her cheeks. To even consider it was pure madness.

So she turned her back on the fool and marched three steps up the beach before a rogue wave soaked her skirt almost to the waist. Startled, she landed in a puddle of skirts on the sand.

Tossing the oars into the rowboat, Jefferson hurried to help her stand. “Are you injured, Sadie?” he asked as he surveyed the damage.

“Just my pride,” she said and then looked past him to the water. “However, you might want to see to your boat, Captain. It appears to be setting sail without you.”

Jefferson turned to see the little boat slipping further from shore with each wave that tossed it. With a cry that sounded suspiciously like her daddy’s version of the Rebel yell, the former detective went racing across the sand and into the water.

He lunged at the boat, catching the edge on the second try. Somehow he managed to tumble into the vessel without toppling it over or sinking. A moment later, he had both oars in hand and was rowing back toward the shore.

“Well done,” she called as he drew near.

“Come on aboard,” was his response as he swiped at the seawater dripping from his hair with the back of his hand. “I dare you.”

“You dare me?” She laughed. “Truly, Jefferson, we are not children. Did you think I would take a dare?”

“No, of course not.” He was almost close enough to touch now, his arms working the oars so that the little boat remained almost stationary despite the waves pounding against it. “Someone who is far too busy thinking of work instead of play would definitely never consider taking a dare of any kind. Especially one where she might actually enjoy herself.”

“You are impossible!” she exclaimed, her hands firmly planted on her hips in what she hoped he would take as a sign of disapproval.

“Not impossible. Improbable, perhaps, but never impossible. Now get in the boat. People are beginning to stare.”

A glance over her shoulder confirmed his allegation. Indeed, a half dozen or so of Key West’s less stellar citizens had congregated at the near end of the pier and were watching intently.

To leave Jefferson to his game would mean walking past them. Alone. In a dress that was already soaked with seawater. The alternative was to sail away in that leaky tub with a madman at the helm.

Neither choice appealed.

“Come on, Sadie. Maybe we will catch up to your hat. Or I could take you out to the shallows and show you the mangroves where crabs climb all over and a vessel can sail through without seeing the sky. And though it’s all the way out there, the water is only three feet deep. You can see down to the bottom and, if you’re brave, you can touch starfish. Pluck lobsters right off the ocean floor.”

That did sound interesting. The mangroves, that is. Her hat could float all the way to England for all she cared. And she certainly wouldn’t be plucking lobsters any time soon. Not unless they were steamed and on a plate beside drawn butter.

She inched forward. “You’re certain that thing can stay afloat?”

“Nothing is certain, Sadie. Live a little.”

Nothing is certain.

She slipped out of her shoes and held them loosely in one hand. Still, she didn’t move as the water teased her bare toes and rippled against her ankles, swirling at her skirts.

Live a little.

Something in that statement jolted her forward and sent her racing across the sand and into the warm water of the Gulf of Mexico. Her shoes landed next to Jefferson’s Panama hat as the water swirled around her.

Mama would be appalled if she had seen the way Sadie threw herself into the little rowboat, emerging dripping but laughing as she climbed into a sitting position and wrung the seawater out of her skirts.

Her sputtering laughter combined with the taste of saltwater on her lips to sear a memory in her mind of a moment when she let go of all caution and concern. When she let go.

The coiffure she had hastily pinned into place this morning now tumbled down around her shoulders, but to worry with such a detail would mean she must release her grip on the seat. And to release her grip could very well mean that she would end up back in the ocean before the vessel itself went under.

With Jefferson seated behind her, the only evidence of his continued presence was the oars that appeared and then disappeared from sight as they met the tide head-on. Warm water splashed over the bow and dotted her bodice and face.

And it was glorious. Every terrifying moment of the battle to remain upright and out of the water was absolutely glorious.

Graceful gulls dipped low as if curious as to the identity of the heathen who laughed louder than their cries. A fish shot out of the water and then plopped down just inches from the side of the boat as if escorting them along their way.

Despite all odds, the little rowboat withstood the crashing waves and remained intact as Jefferson steered it into deeper water. Here the waves became ripples, the stiff wind a calmer breeze.

Sadie let go of the wood and felt the sting of a splinter as the feeling returned to her fingers. No matter. The saltwater would cure what she could not remedy at the moment.

“Look, Sadie, over there. Those are the mangroves.”

Rising up on the horizon were thick clusters of what appeared to be nondescript shrubbery. As the little rowboat drew closer, it appeared as though these shrubs were growing directly out of the ocean’s floor with no dry land to be seen.

Her fingers trailed in the warm water, the splinter nearly forgotten. Overhead the sun beamed warm but not unpleasantly so. She let out a long sigh.

“Look to your right,” Jefferson said, the oars now still.

She looked down in time to spy a school of tiny fish, their bright hues a stunning contrast to the sandy ocean floor. The fish dispersed in a sparkling shot of color as a small shark with a black tip on its fin brushed past.

Jerking her hand from the water, she swiveled around to find Jefferson grinning in her direction. “That shark could have bit my fingers!”

“It was just a baby and hardly concerned with either of us.”

“It was a shark, nonetheless, with teeth and likely an appetite for fingers.”

He responded with a shake of his head and then gestured to the mangroves. “You’ll want to look up once we get inside.”

“Look up?”

“Trust me. You’ll understand once you see where we are going.”

“All right.”

She turned back around, resettled her skirts around her ankles, and then watched as the mangrove forest drew near. While she had been correct in guessing that the shrubs grew out of the ocean’s floor, she did not expect that there would be gaps between the plants large enough for the rowboat to maneuver through.

“Sit down on the floor of the boat and then lean back against the seat so you can look up,” Jefferson urged as he pointed the rowboat toward the largest of the openings into the forest.

Sadie did as he asked and then gasped when leaves blocked out the sunshine. Through the twisted branches of the mangroves, only dappled light filtered down, a welcome change.

“See the crabs?” he said softly. “They’re climbing up the branches.”

And they were. Dozens of them, most no bigger than her fist. Speckled and gray, the creatures skittered up and down the bent fingers of branches and roots that filled the little forest.

Disconcerting as it was to lay back and watch as sea creatures scurried about, it was also fascinating. Somehow green trees and sea life flourished this far from land.

“Fascinating.”

“It is,” Jefferson said softly, “and so are you.”

He brought in the oars and let the rowboat drift, using his hands to move the craft along through the mangroves.

And then he rested his hands in his lap, allowing the water to chart their course. When the rowboat came to rest against a tangle of mangrove roots, Jefferson maneuvered himself into place beside her and threaded his fingers behind his head.

They sat there side by side watching the crustaceans as the breeze ruffled through the mangrove leaves.

“Thank you,” Sadie finally said.

Jefferson turned his head just enough to see her. “For what?”

“This.” She closed her eyes as a soft sigh escaped her lips.

And then he kissed her.

Thirty-Five

H
e kissed her.

Jefferson scrambled into a sitting position and prepared to make his apologizes to the bedraggled sea creature who had stolen his good sense and replaced it with the need to hold her in his arms.

Any moment now Sadie Callum of the Pinkerton Detective Agency would express her righteous indignation at his presumptuous behavior. And he certainly would not blame her.

So he was not prepared for the fact that she opened her eyes and merely offered him a lazy smile.

Nothing is certain. Live a little.

What was he thinking? The answer? He wasn’t. In fact, he was out of his mind entirely.

Retrieving the oars, he climbed into the back of the rowboat and maneuvered the craft back into open sea. When the sunlight hit Sadie’s face, she opened her eyes and then shielded them with her hand.

“Can we do that again?”

For a moment Jefferson wondered whether she meant the meandering trip through the mangroves or the kiss. And then she smiled.

“I don’t suppose there’s time,” she said.

“There’s always time,” he replied, still unsure as to whether he was being called upon to kiss or row.

She sat up then and swiveled around to face him, her elbows resting on her knees and her chin cradled in her palms. “Yes, that’s true. Only not always when we want there to be.”