Page 223 of Out of Left Field

The moment Willa stepped onto the resort dock in that short little dress and bare feet, my brain went blank. I got on the boat, vowing to figure my shit out. I was a different man, I’d done a lot of growing up, all I had to do was put it all together. Just because I’d never committed to someone before didn’t mean I couldn’t. I knew what a good relationship looked like. My parents were happily married. Neither was perfect but they forgave each other, they worked to be better, and more than anything else, they always took care of each other.

I could do that. I could take care of Willa.

“Gangs all here!” Jeri surveyed the boat. Charley and Willa sat near the bow, Hunter had Tilley in his lap, Rhett sat in the seat opposite mine.

“Why are we eating dinner on a different island?” The resort had some of the best food on the island.

Jeri grinned. “Because I heard this place had better food. We’ll be eating resort food for the next two days. Besides, this is fun.”

I hadn’t been over to Flamingo Island (the island was renamed in the early nineties to make it sound more appealing) in years. Not since I was a kid. Back then The Fighting Conch was a must-stop for good food. But then the owners changed and we never went back.

Apparently something had happened in the last year. That or someone was pulling a joke on Jeri.

I served as our temporary captain, navigating the short distance from Calusa Key to the Island. It was one of the many privately owned islands in the area that had started as a hotel for the millionaire hunters and fishermen who liked to escape to the wilds of Florida each winter, then transitioned into a more traditional inn sometime in the sixties. Once upon a time there had been a popular spa on the island as well as the tiki bar and two restaurants. I had no idea what state the inn or the rest of the island was in, but the restaurant looked like it could use some work.

Not to mention the dock was empty when we arrived. “You sure this place is open, Jer?”

She shrugged. “Willa’s the one who heard about it.”

Willa’s cheeks turned pink. “Uh, a guy named Samuel told me it was the best food around.”

“Samuel? From the seafood market?” He probably supplied the Conch.

“Sings opera?” Willa muttered.

“That’s him. Well, if Samuel says it’s open then it’s open. Let’s check it out.” I’d known Samuel my whole life and he had a high standard when it came to food. We might be lonely at dinner, but the food would be good.

I helped everyone out of the boat, but when Willa took my hand it felt different. Without thinking I touched the small of her back as she stepped up onto the wooden planks.

I wanted to touch her more.

Instead I shoved the key into the glovebox and hopped out of the boat, following everyone else into the building. It needed…everything. New paint, new screening, new signs, but inside was impeccably clean. Willa sat at the opposite end of the table from me and conversation was as easy as the food was delicious, even if we were the only customers.

I was starting to believe Jeri really just wanted an adventure and there would be no awkward attempts at matchmaking.

Then I went to the bathroom and when I came back everyone was gone.

Everyone except Willa.

“We’ve been left behind,” she sighed as she waved at the boat quickly disappearing into the sunset.

Calusa Key was a hop, skip, and jump from here, but it still required a boat to get there. And ours was most definitely gone.

“I went to the bathroom—Jeri knew I went to the bathroom! And then they were all gone! Who does that?” She kept waving her arms around. Her long hair was a little curlier than normal thanks to the salty air and her cheeks had turned pink again from the combination of alcohol and frustration.

I had to jump out of the way twice to avoid getting punched in the chest. “They were pretty tipsy,” I groaned, but I knew that wasn’t what happened.

They left us on purpose. It was a very calculated abandonment.

“What are we supposed to do? Swim back to the resort?” Willa peered over the edge of the dock like she was seriously considering it, too.

“There has to be a boat. This island is also a resort.” Resorts had boats. Especially when they weren’t connected to the mainland. “We’ll ask the manager of the restaurant what to do.”

I took Willa’s hand out of habit, wanting to reassure her, but mostly I just wanted to hold her hand. We wove our way back through the empty restaurant, past the dark wood booths and lacquered tables, to the old bar.

“I thought everyone left?” Roan, the Fighting Conch’s cook, manager, and only waiter frowned as he wiped down the bar.

“We seem to have been stranded by our friends. Any chance you have a boat available?”