Radclyffe: Wild Shores

The plane bumped down, bumped again, and the deceleration pulled her forward in the seat until the plane came to a halt. She glanced out the window, but it might as well have been midnight rather than just after seven a.m. Thick fog blanketed the runway. The lights from the terminal barely penetrated the murk. They were lucky they’d been able to land at all. She could have been diverted to Philadelphia or worse, where she’d end up spending days trying to get to the coast.

Still, her connection was undoubtedly going to be grounded.

As soon as the flight attendants opened the doors, she grabbed her computer bag and carry-on and trooped out, breaking away from the crowd as quickly as she could and heading for the rental car area. The lines snaked away from every counter, two and three people deep, as the departure board flashed canceled after nearly every flight.

She picked the shortest line and hoped for the best. She would have dearly loved a cup of coffee, but she wasn’t giving up her spot for anything. She flicked through email while she waited, answered a few, and as she drew closer to the counter, began to hear snippets of conversation between stranded passengers and harried service representatives. The news wasn’t encouraging.

A middle-aged man in a rumpled white shirt, business pants, and a monogrammed briefcase slung over one shoulder by a hand-tooled leather strap announced angrily, “Look, I’ve got to have a car. I have an important meeting in two hours and I’m going to have to reschedule that as it is.”

“I’m really sorry, sir, but our only remaining vehicles are reserved, and we can’t release them—”

“Have you looked outside? Those people with reservations aren’t going to be arriving. I’m here now. I need to have a car.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” the woman said again, her tone unbelievably calm considering the morning she must be having, “but we are not authorized to release any of the reserved—”

“I want to see a manager.”

“I’m afraid he won’t be in—”

“Never mind. I’m sure one of the other agencies can take care of me.” He spun around, knocking into the woman behind him. She stumbled back and collided with Gem.

“Oh!” Gem’s phone slipped from her hand and, off balance, she made a clumsy grab for it.

“Sorry,” a dark-haired woman said in a husky, rich alto. Somehow, Gem’s phone was miraculously scooped from the air by a long-fingered hand. “Got it.”

Gem straightened and met bittersweet chocolate eyes shot through with gold. “Thanks.”

“I think it was my fault you dropped it. Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault. It’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”

The woman shrugged. “That’s what we get for trying to outsmart Mother Nature.”

Gem grinned. “But we’ll keep trying.”

“Undoubtedly.”

The stranger was about Gem’s age, dressed in khakis, a pale-blue cotton shirt, and casual boots, and carrying a worn leather satchel in one hand and an equally travel-weary computer bag slung over the other shoulder. Her collar-length, layered dark brown hair verged on black. The angular slant to her arching cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and bronze skin tones hinted at the Mediterranean somewhere in her ancestry. Her lips parted in a full, confident smile, and Gem felt herself blush. She was staring. She never did that.

“I think you’re up.” Gem nodded toward the counter. The woman looked over her shoulder and back at Gem as if reluctant to end the conversation. Gem was certain she was making that part up, but an unusual spark of interest shot through her nonetheless. “Good luck.”

“Appreciate it.” Austin didn’t expect to have any better luck than the fellow who’d knocked into her. Dozens of other passengers milled about in the same fix and no one seemed to be getting any vehicles, but she’d waited this long and might as well try. She smiled at the petite redhead behind the counter. “Hi.”

“Your name please?”

“I don’t have a reservation.” Austin paused. Her flight had been short, but Eloise had called hours ago. Given the time it had taken her to drive to the airport and catch her plane, maybe Eloise had used her crystal ball. “I don’t think.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Check under Germaine.” She spelled it, glad she’d automatically lined up at the rental place the company always used.

“Oh. I have it.” The redhead smiled for the first time in twenty minutes. “You’re lucky. It came in right before the rush hit.”

“Better lucky than good,” Austin said.

The agent laughed again and raised a brow. “Sometimes it’s nice to be both.”

“You’re right.” Austin grinned. She enjoyed flirting with women. She enjoyed women, when she could. At the moment, she couldn’t, so she signed the necessary papers and stepped aside to file them away in her briefcase. The blonde she’d bumped into stepped up to the counter.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a reservation. And I suspect that’s not a good thing.”

The cute redhead sighed. “I’m so sorry. We simply don’t have any other vehicles.”

“Do you think I’d have any better luck elsewhere?”

The redhead looked down the counter at the long lines at every rental car agency. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone without a reservation is going to get a car today. You’d be better off using your time trying to find a hotel room. There won’t be many of those left either.”

“Well, thanks anyways.”

Austin collected her keys and caught up to the blonde as she wended her way through the mass of people milling about. She’d been stranded plenty of places in her travels around the world, and more than one stranger had helped her out with directions, impromptu rides, or in a few cases, even offered her a room when she would have been sleeping on a bench otherwise. Returning the favor only seemed right, and the fact that the blonde was beautiful had nothing to do with it.

“Excuse me,” Austin said as she drew alongside the blonde. “I’m not sure we’re going in the same direction, but if we are, I’ve got one of the last vehicles leaving today. Maybe I can give you a ride somewhere.”

The blonde stopped and regarded her contemplatively.

Austin grinned. “I know you don’t know me, but I’ve got references if you need them.” She patted her briefcase. “ID provided on demand.”

The blonde laughed and held out her hand. “I’m Gillian Martin. Most people call me Gem.”

Austin took her hand. “Austin Germaine. Nice to meet you. Again.”

“It is.”

Gem’s tone was thoughtful, and Austin somehow knew she meant it. An unfamiliar pleasure stirred in her chest. She traveled constantly, met new people the world over, but rarely connected with anyone. She had gotten used to being alone and was rarely aware of being lonely. But right at this moment, she realized she had been. “So, about a ride?”

She heard the hopeful note in her voice and didn’t care. Her breath caught as she waited for the answer.

“I’d very much like a ride, but unfortunately, I doubt we’re going in the same direction. I’m headed to a little place off the coast no one except avid birdwatchers tends to visit this time of year.” She cocked her head, her gaze sweeping down Austin’s body. “I don’t suspect you’re one of those.”

“I’m afraid not.” Austin never discussed her work for the company and had even less reason to talk about her other work. She often felt as if she led a secret life, and the person she was there, no one actually knew. “Where is this place?”

“It’s called Rock Hill Island. It’s—”

“About two hundred miles from here as the crow flies,” Austin said, “or it would be, if not for the fog. Would you believe me if I said I was headed there myself?”