Cindy Miles - About That Kiss

Oddly, Sean found she liked it.

“Will you all quit lingering around the yard and get over here?” the old man called. “I’m tired of waitin’.”

“Who is that?” Willa asked.

“That’s the king,” Nathan said with a grin. “He’s been dying to meet you both.”

With that, Nathan inclined his head to Sean, a motion to follow, and Willa bound ahead of them both, wings flapping, her skinny legs eating up the ground as she headed for the elderly stranger. This was a side of Willa that Sean admired and also feared: she didn’t meet a stranger. Ever.

Sean glanced at Nathan. “Sure hope your grandpa is up for Willa’s energy.”

Nathan grinned. “I have a feeling they’re going to get along pretty good.”

As they made their way to the porch, even though Nathan walked beside her, he definitely kept his distance. She had to admit that the rugged shrimp boat captain made her curious. While his looks appeared a bit rough—even his walk had a certain swagger to it—Sean felt there was something solid in Nathan. Safety, perhaps? No, not that. Maybe she simply recognized the same reserve she had. He’d been polite but never pushy. He seemed to respect her boundaries. Maybe his reserve was personally motivated. In a way, he seemed to want to keep distance between them, the very same as she did.

Nathan cleared his throat, and a sheepish grin stretched the scar in his lip. “I’m going to apologize right now for anything uncouth my grandfather says. He is sort of lacking a filter. There’s no stopping him, I’m afraid.”

A nervous laugh escaped Sean. Strangely enough, Nathan’s hesitancy put her at ease. Somewhat, anyway. “It’s okay. He may have met his match in my daughter. Also filterless.”

Nathan gave a soft laugh. “So I’ve noticed.”

By the time they reached the porch, Willa and the older man were already deep in conversation, which worried Sean. But as they joined them, their banter eased her mind.

“They aren’t real wings,” Willa said. “See? I put my arms through here.” She demonstrated the removal of her costume wings while the old man watched intently.

His bushy white eyebrows lifted, raising the bill of his USCG cap. “Huh.” Then he rose from his bent-at-the-waist stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “I ain’t buyin’ it. Fairies are known to be pranksters. You might be pullin’ my leg right now.”

Willa’s brow scrunched up. “What’s a prankster, King Jep?”

“Well, you know, child,” Jep remarked, “a trickster. A mischief-maker. Someone who tries to play tricks on old folk.”

Willa’s already-wide eyes stretched even wider at the accusation. “I wouldn’t do that!”

A smile tipped Jep’s mouth. “Well, that’s good to know, Willa.” His glance moved to Sean, and his brow furrowed as he gave her a thorough and silent inspection.

“This is Sean Jacobs, Willa’s mom. This is, uh—” Nathan chuckled “—King Jep.”

“Yeah, Mama, he’s the King of Sea Diamonds, he told me so,” Willa added.

“Nice to meet you, darlin’,” King Jep said, offering his hand. Sean took it and he squeezed, not too hard but firm. She did the same. “Sean, eh? Good, stout Irish name.” He threw Sean a curious glance. “Usually reserved for the menfolk. No matter. Welcome to our home, darlin’.”

“Thank you for inviting us for dinner,” Sean said, trying not to sound nervous. “Sea diamonds?”

Jep dropped his hand. “Shrimp, darlin’. Shrimp! The most perfect creature God created, just ahead of the chicken.” His head cocked sideways as he considered her, giving her a head-to-toe glance. “You’re a skinny thing. You ain’t got worms, do you?” He winked. “I’ll put some meat on your bones.”

“Jeez, Jep,” Nathan chided, then shrugged and looked at Sean. “See? No filter. Sorry.”

“Hey, why do your blue pants go all the way up to your neck?” Willa asked Jep.

Nathan laughed, and Sean gave him and Jep a sheepish grin as she felt her cheeks turn red. “I’m kinda used to no filter, as you can see.”

“Filters are overrated anyway,” Jep stated bluntly, then looked at Willa. “Well, I imagine it’s because I don’t like wearin’ a belt, and these stay up.” He grasped one strap, showing it to Willa. “Overalls, darlin’. Keeps my britches up!”

Willa giggled then followed Jep as he shuffled down the steps. “Come on, then,” he called over his shoulder. “Supper won’t cook itself now, will it?”

“King Jep, is your kitchen outside?” Willa asked.

“One of them is,” he replied.

Nathan inclined his head. “After you.”

Sean gave another hesitant smile as she watched her young daughter bounce up and down as she accompanied a man almost a century old. “Willa has found a new buddy, so it seems.”

Nathan shoved his hands into his shorts pockets. “Might be a recipe for disaster.”

“It might,” she said as they followed Jep and Willa.

Just then, the breeze brought with it the sound of very old music, like maybe from the World War II era, or older.

“Jep, my middle brother and his wife all love the old tunes,” he stated. “From the twenties and thirties, mostly. My little brother is in love with seventies classic rock. The result is a cluster of strange and great music. You’ll get used to it.” He nodded before she could reply. “Speak of the devil.”

A pregnant woman rounded the corner of the stilt house, making her way toward them. Tall and lanky, she had only a delicate baby bump. With long reddish-brown hair piled atop her head, a wide, genuine smile exposed white teeth. A natural beauty—even from a distance Sean could tell that.

“Um, warning, she’s a hugger,” Nathan said softly moments before the woman pulled Sean into a tight embrace.

“Hi! I’m Emily!” the pregnant woman exclaimed. “I’m Nathan’s sister-in-law, married to the middle Malone boy. It’s so nice to meet you!” She pulled back, her hands still gripping Sean’s upper arms, and inspected her. “I really love your eyes. They remind me of extra-big almonds.”

“Oh,” Sean said with surprise. “Thank you.”

Another filter-less soul.

Yet...Sean found she liked her. She sensed a sincerity in her that oftentimes wasn’t present in others. Emily didn’t seem shy, either—qualities that Willa had, Sean noted. Maybe that was why she immediately liked Emily.

Emily slipped her arm through Sean’s and pulled her along. “Is this gruff-looking guy behaving himself?” she asked Sean.

“Sis, I’m not that bad,” Nathan said, and gave Sean a raised-eyebrow, innocent look. “Besides, I’m a pirate. Just ask Willa. I have to look gruff. It’s in the Pirates Handbook of Rules.”

Emily snorted. “Good Lord! I’ll just bet it is.” She gave her head a shake at Sean, a gesture that seemed to link them as conspirators. “Now he thinks he’s a pirate. And your little girl is absolutely adorable.”

“Thank you.” Sean just smiled. She didn’t know what else to say. She was in Friendly Overload with Emily. Never had she met such...nice people.

When they rounded the corner of the house, the yard opened up, with a dock leading to the river. Across the river, a lone white water bird stood in the muck edging the marsh, its long orange beak stark against the green-and-brown reeds. The sharp, pungent scent of salt hung in the air. Nathan’s shrimp boat sat at the end of the dock, the outriggers jutting skyward.

A small red-tin-roofed house was farther down the dock. And where the grass ended and the river bank began, beneath looming oak trees, several white Adirondack chairs sat facing the water. There were two occupants—a handsome dark-haired guy and a lovely blonde woman. Behind them was a picnic table covered with a checkered tablecloth. Close by, a small enclave stood, apparently the outdoor kitchen. Jep, Willa and another man—Nathan’s father, perhaps—stood over a large cooler, peering inside. Emily led Sean to the couple in the chairs.