Changing Tides, page 24
His eyes darkened in the lamplight illuminating his wary expression. Still, he said nothing, waiting for her explanation, so she gave it to him.
“I only found out once I got here that this was a fundraising event to kick off Carter’s campaign. I swear, I had no idea. I didn’t even know he’d be here. And, yes, he kissed me in there. He seems to have some grand illusion that we’ll get back together again, and that I’ll be his perfect little piece of arm candy. But I gave him zero indication that was something I wanted,” she insisted. “In fact, quite the opposite. I’ve done nothing but turn down his advances these past months.”
Did she though? She chewed the inside of her cheek as she remembered their conversation and the friendly banter as they walked side-by-side in the antique shops just hours ago.
Still, it meant nothing. She’d been upset and lonely.
“Does he know about us?” Joe asked.
Rachel nodded. “Since that first night I had dinner at your place.”
Joe said nothing a moment, only stood there in silence, hands shoved in his pockets while the muscle in his jaw worked with the passing minutes.
Then, with his gaze fixed on the concrete by his feet, he said, “You hesitated,” and the area between his brows creased as if it pained him to say it.
Rachel swallowed. “What?”
“When he kissed you, there was a moment, however short, where you hesitated before pulling away.”
“That’s because I was in shock.” It was the truth. She only hoped he believed it, but she knew he had a lifetime of insecurity behind him, telling him he wasn’t good enough.
He lifted his gaze, meeting her eyes. “I want to believe you.”
“So believe it. Please, Joe.” She stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Reaching up, she slid her hands over the lapel of his jacket, and a shiver wracked through her. Goosebumps rose on her arms. “All I wanted was you here with me tonight. I understood why you wanted to stay with Brady, but I was so disappointed when you said you couldn’t come. So when I saw you standing there . . .” She shook her head, her throat thick. “I thought my heart might fly from my chest. You, Joe Hastings,” she said, gripping his jacket, “are all I want. I didn’t hesitate because I might have feelings for him. I hesitated out of surprise and shock, and anger. I would never do that to you. I would never string you along like that if I was interested in anyone else.”
“You swear it?”
She caught a hint of mint on his breath and nodded. “I swear. You believe me, don’t you?” she asked, searching his eyes, desperate for him to trust her, to know he was enough.
“I believe you.”
Her muscles melted at the sound of those three words.
Reaching out, she intertwined his fingers in her own, surprised it hadn’t taken more convincing. “Good. Let’s go home, then, shall we?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The drive home was anticlimactic. After going over all of her options, Rachel realized that if she wanted Andi’s car to get back to Bayshore, she’d need to drive it herself.
During the drive, she rewound the events of the evening back through her mind, furious at Carter and her family. By the time she arrived home, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to Joe, so that’s exactly what they did.
She made them a fresh pot of coffee and changed out of her dress into something more comfortable, while Joe removed his jacket and bowtie, then they sat together on the couch while he filled her in on Brady’s accident and how he realized he was an idiot for being there when he should be with her. But all throughout the evening, something felt off. So, when Joe told her he’d better head home after only an hour, the feeling returned tenfold.
“Do you have to go now?” Rachel asked.
Something deep inside her warned her not to let him leave.
But he nodded and stood. “I have an early morning.”
“Right.” Rachel’s stomach dipped, and the niggling sensation turned into a full-on gnawing as she bit her lip and walked him to the door. “There’s nothing I can do that’ll change your mind?”
“Afraid not.”
“But I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked, hating how needy she sounded.
“Sure.” He braced his hand on the knob, and panic squeezed her chest.
“Everything’s okay with us?”
“Yeah.” He leaned in for a kiss, and when he pulled away, he whispered, “I love you.”
Words of encouragement and reassurance.
They should’ve made Rachel feel better. They should’ve chased away the biting fear fisting in her stomach. But as she told him she loved him back and watched him take the stairs down to the sidewalk below, she couldn’t help but chase away the feeling that there was something she was missing. Something ominous. Like rolling, black clouds. Or that first rumble of thunder. The calm before the storm.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The scent of bacon filled the kitchen as Rachel grabbed the fresh carafe of coffee.
It was nearly 11 a.m., and she had yet to speak with Joe. Though this wasn’t unusual, she still couldn’t stifle the nagging feeling taking up space in her chest.
She sauntered into the dining room of The Sea Oat and refilled several cups of coffee, but it was slow, and when it was slow, it gave her too much time to think.
Heading back into the kitchen, she dropped the carafe off, then snatched her binder off the counter where she’d stashed it and took an empty booth back in the dining room, taking care to monitor the remaining table as they ate their meals.
She opened and flipped through the pages. Inside were sketches of her vision for Andi’s wedding. Rachel was no artist, so they were rough, but they were decent enough that they conveyed design and vision. One page portrayed the tables with their centerpieces. Another was an image of where the ceremony would take place, down to the chairs and aisle and the arbor, dripping in white stephanotis, in which they’d say their vows overlooking Calloway Cove. The cake and bridal party tables would be simple. On the next page, she laid out the color scheme, which was mostly varying shades of white and cream to keep it airy and sophisticated with only a pop of coral in the flowers and the multi-patterned china.
Though Rachel was biased, it was beautiful. And it needed to be. Never before had she wanted something to be a success as much as this. She couldn’t work at The Sea Oat for much longer, not with Carter’s influence. In fact, if she didn’t desperately need an income, she would’ve quit last night after his threat to Joe’s business. But need outweighed pride and principal at the moment, so she’d hang on until after Andi’s wedding in the hopes of gaining some new clients and bringing the crazy idea of opening a party planner business to fruition.
So many big names in publishing would be there. People with money, prestige, fortune. People like her family. It was an unprecedented opportunity, not just to gain local attention, but business from high-profile clientele. Which meant everything needed to be perfect.
And she’d lain awake last night in bed with everything at stake running through her head—her relationship with Joe, his business, Andi’s wedding, her job at The Sea Oat—feeling the weight of them anchoring her down.
The door jingled as several people walked into the restaurant, bringing her back to the present. With a deep breath, she stashed her binder aside and stood to greet them.
By Monday morning, Rachel still hadn’t heard from Joe, and though it had only been a little over twenty-four hours since she last spoke to him, she was starting to worry.
Maybe he’d been lying to her and he was upset about the kiss with Carter? Or maybe Carter already dropped his contracts with the restaurants, and he was scrambling to find a way to make that money back? Maybe he’d changed his mind about her, or Brady’s injury was more serious than they thought?
No matter the reason, they were meant to be together, and she’d prove it if she had to. When a Beaumont wanted something, they went after it, and she had no intentions of letting whatever this was come between them. So, she’d work her shift this morning, and then she’d track him down.
She pulled on a comfortable sweater and jeans, then laced up her sneakers when a glimpse out the window caught her eye. Fat, white snowflakes fell from a dull gray sky, and it was coming down fast.
With a sigh, she grabbed her heavy winter coat, pulled it on, and flipped her hood up before she headed for the restaurant. Once inside, she shook the snow from her coat, hung it on one of the hooks, then replaced it with an apron just as Miguel flicked on the radio and began to heat up the griddles.
It was their regular routine, one that felt comfortable now, and as the monotone voice of the weather report blasted through the small space, she set about her work.
“Hello, Bayshore. Today we’ve got cloudy skies over the area, with an eighty percent chance of snow. . .”
Fitting, Rachel thought. Gray skies and snow to match her mood.
She zipped over to the coffee pots and began measuring grinds into the baskets, then filled them with water and switched them on while the robotic voice behind her continued its report.
“. . . watercraft warning . . . winter storm warning at sea . . .”
Rachel paused, turning toward the stereo. The hair on her arms stood on end.
“. . . with winds up to fifty knots . . . coming out of the west . . .”
A tendril of fear swirled inside her, latching onto her heart.
There was no reason to believe Joe was on the water. She was being paranoid, she told herself. As a seasoned fisherman, Joe checked the forecast religiously, paying particular attention to water conditions and advisories. After what happened to Jason, he never took a risk.
And yet, the knot in her chest tightened.
Fishing her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed Joe again, but as expected, it went straight to voicemail.
He was probably preoccupied with Brady. Plus, it was early yet today. Surely, she’d hear from him soon.
She shoved the phone back in her pocket and headed for the dining room, determined to take her mind off it for a while.
And it worked.
Several hours into her shift, she was buzzing along when Bruce ambled in.
“Well, what drug you in?” Rachel grinned as she came to a stop in front of the stocky fisherman. “With this weather, I didn’t think you’d be out on the water today.” She glanced outside. It had stopped snowing for now, but the sky looked particularly ominous out over the water, and the wind had picked up.
“Nah. Not me,” he said, taking off his cap. “We just got in from a run yesterday. No way we’s going out in this today.” He glanced down at his hands—dry, with nailbeds stained black from motor oil—and shifted on his feet. “You look in mighty good spirits though, consider.’”
Rachel’s smile slipped as he peered down at her from underneath his thick brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, with Joe. I’m sure they headed in on time, but—”
“What do you mean, headed in?” She grabbed Bruce’s arm, and her hand shook. “And who’s they?”
His eyes widened with alarm, and a helpless sound escaped his lips.
“Bruce, tell me,” she insisted, though she already knew. Deep down, her gut had known something wasn’t right since Joe left her apartment Saturday night. Only she hadn’t imagined this.
“Why, Miss Rachel . . .” She could hear the nerves in his voice. “He went out with Sam’s crew on the Dreadnought yesterday mornin,’ just before dawn. I thought you knew.”
A hiss of air slid between her lips, and the floor spun beneath her feet. With rubbery limbs, she gripped the nearby table as she tried to gain her bearings.
“He told me he wasn’t going. He told me . . . ” Rachel’s voice trailed off before she squeezed her eyes closed. “How far out are they? Can they make it back to shore if the weather gets bad enough?” When he said nothing, she lifted her gaze to his, and the answer was written in his creased brow, the concern in his eyes. “How bad is it? The weather?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bruce . . .”
Exhaling, he shook his head. “It’s hard to say. The winds are picking up. Winter storms on the water can be brutal. Thick sheets of ice coats every part of the boat. Icicles form on everything, and the cold is enough to cut to the bone. But the storm shouldn’t be anything the skipper of the Dreadnought hasn’t encountered before, and though the gales are strong, it’s no hurricane.”
Rachel wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. It’s no hurricane wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement for their safety.
“I need to go.” Her hands worked, fumbling with the ties of her apron as her head cleared. “I need to go,” she repeated, almost desperate. “Tell Boggs I had an emergency.”
She flung her apron off, then ran for the kitchen, ignoring the diner asking for more water and the couple wanting to pay their bill.
What did her job matter if something happened to Joe? Boggs could fire her for all she cared.
Bursting through the double doors, she grabbed her coat, shrugging it on, and flew outside into the whipping wind, knowing exactly where she needed to go.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Rachel pounded on the door until her fist ached. A minute later, Sara finally answered, her face pale and wan.
“Have you heard from him?” Rachel asked.
She had no time for pleasantries as the wind howled around her, blowing her hair into her face.
When she shook her head, Rachel sagged and scrubbed a hand over her mouth. If she let herself, she’d lose it entirely. “I didn’t know he went . . .” she said, feeling lost. Then she angled her head to stare at the sky as if she could wipe it clean. “Why would he go?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sara’s voice came from behind, harsh and ragged as if she’d been crying. “He went because of you.”
Anger flashed in Sara’s eyes, as angry as the clouds above her.
“Excuse me?”
“Apparently, you have admirers in high places.”
Rachel’s stomach sunk. “Carter,” she whispered.
“He dropped Hastings Seafood, and Joe panicked. Though I can’t say I blame him. That’s half his revenue.” The vein in Sara’s forehead twitched. “My guess is he figured you wouldn’t stick around if he was poor.”
Shock slammed into her. Never in a million years did she think Carter would move that fast. “Did he tell you this?”
Sara huffed. “About the Flemings? Yeah. The rest I didn’t need to be told.”
Head reeling from the news, Rachel brought the back of her hand up to her mouth, biting her knuckles. She should’ve known Carter would make good on his promise. Yet she’d given him the benefit of the doubt. And now, she hated herself for it.
“The other day”—Rachel’s voice cracked—“he told me the Dreadnought was short one crew member, and I thought . . . for a second I thought he might be considering it, but then when I asked him, he insisted he wasn’t.” Rachel swallowed. “I made it very clear I didn’t want him going,” she said, because if she didn’t, the guilt might eat her alive.
“Well, apparently, he didn’t get the memo.”
Ignoring her, Rachel’s thoughts raced. As much as she wanted to believe Sara was wrong, her gut said otherwise.
Sara’s doubt about them, the gala, and seeing Carter kiss her—both of them drove him to take this gig.
Rachel ground her teeth until her head ached. She sensed something was off, yet she let him go when she should’ve pushed him to stay, made him tell her what was on his mind.
He must’ve made the decision to go the night of the gala. It’s why he was so quiet.
“How long is the trip?”
“A week.”
Rachel swallowed. That meant it could be a week until she heard from him—a week until someone knew if anything went wrong. Unless they were in distress and—
The ringing of a phone cried out, and Rachel watched as Sara fished it from her pocket. One glance at the screen and any remaining color drained from her face.
Rachel’s heart seized in her chest, and she leapt forward, gripping Sara’s arm between her hands. “What? Who is it?”
“It’s the U.S. Coast Guard.”
“I-I-I have a friend,” Sara stuttered. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at her phone.
Rachel ground her teeth harder until they threatened to crack. “Answer it,” she snapped, then reached out and took the phone herself, accepting the call and hitting the speaker button.
Sara shook her head, clearing the stunned expression from her beautiful face and answered, “Hello?”
“Hey, Sar, it’s Pete.”
Sara blinked over at Rachel. Both of them, staring into each other’s eyes, wild with fear, as they waited for the blow.
“Um, I don’t know how to . . . I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s Joe. The boat he’s on, the Dreadnought, we just received a distress call from the boat’s beacon.”
The world tilted on its axis, and Rachel sunk to the concrete beneath her feet. Her thoughts splintered into a million tiny pieces, and a loud buzzing filled her ears, drowning out the words running on a loop in her head. It’s Joe . . . we just received a distress call.
The air turned thick and soupy, making it hard to breathe as fear latched onto her heart with tenterhooks.
In the distance, she vaguely made out the sound of someone calling her name, but she couldn’t place it. The buzzing was too loud.
Someone shook her, and her head whipped back, rattling her brain.
After years living on the coast, she’d gleaned more than a little information about boats, and there were two ways to send a distress call: One of the crew could manually call it in, or a beacon inside the ship automatically sent the call when it hit a certain depth in the ocean. And if the Dreadnought’s beacon sent the call, that could mean only one thing.
