Page 20 of Awake in Cheshire Bay

I sighed. “Okay. I don’t understand why.”

“Duty.”

Duty? What kind of an answer was that? “So, back home, wherever you are from, is there someone waiting for you?”

“Sister.”

“Just her? No girlfriend? No wife?”

“I no cheat.” His face tightened, which relaxed me. I may be an eventual notch on his bedpost, but at least he wasn’t a cheater. “I has no one. At home.”

“Me either, for what it’s worth.” None seemed interested, and apparently, even a smooth-talking sweetheart like him couldn’t get past my defenses either. I was hopeless and destined to be a little old lady all alone in my bar.

Antonio wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in close enough to feel his heart beating beneath my palm. A long finger pushed away part of my bangs and trailed down my cheek and over to my lips. It was like sweet little zaps of electricity, and it was wonderful and intoxicating. He cupped my chin, tilting it up and brushed his lips over mine.

I wanted more, and I sought it out, but he stepped out of reach.

“Show me more.”

I swallowed at his unexpected comment. “Of me?” My voice cracked because I still wanted to but wasn’t sure how. Yet.

He chuckled as he stared deep into my eyes. “Of Bay. Of your home.”

“Oh, yes.” I gathered my senses as the butterflies slammed into the wall. “Of course. Anything in particular? What would you like to see?”

“All.”

Well then, I was going to be his tour guide, and I mentally tabulated a variety of sights. Cheshire Bay wasn’t too big, and most of the interesting sights were within walking distance. It was the better way to see. We weren’t just lighthouses and pubs. Our stores were delightful, although as I glanced at the clock, most would be closing soon.

“Want to walk around the town? It isn’t too big, and I can show you anything you want.”

“Perfect.”

I locked up my place and we headed down. “Would you like to see the wharf?” His brows knit together. “It’s where the boats dock. There are a nice variety of sailing boats and the odd yacht or two.”

“Show me.”

We headed toward the dockside of our peninsula, all the while I filled him in about the school we passed, and how my graduating class was only twelve people. He laughed and mentioned his group was in the hundreds. There wasn’t even a hundred in our school between kindergarten and grade twelve. To my running list of clues about Antonio, I added how he must’ve at least grown up in a metropolis of some sort to have had so many in one grade. Clearly it was not small town, population 1200.

The best part of our walk was the way Antonio took in every word I spoke. It thrilled me to have someone so interested in what unimportant information I spewed out.

We stopped at the rickety entrance to Wharf Point, a weathered white wooden beam with a sign, originally painted in the 70s, dangling from it. Although the sign hadn’t changed, the docks had recently undergone an extensive upgrade and expansion, and I enjoyed grazing up and down the floating boardwalks checking out all the fancy boats.

“This is the wharf. A lot of people will dock here. Some even live in them full time and travel around the world.”

I pointed to the boat buildings off to the far side, where a few were parked year-round. The buildings accounted for a third of the dock space. The rest were open docks and featured an array of motorboats, sail boats and the fancier, more expensive ocean cruisers – the yachts.

“Boating nice way to travel.”

“You’ve travelled on one of these?”

Even under the glow of the streetlights, there was a tinge to his cheeks.

Yeah, he didn’t just travel on one of those, my gut said he owned one of them. But which one? Was it the thirty-foot sailboat? The yacht with the darkened windows?

One by one, I pointed to the smallest boat, making a game out of it. Antonio shook his head, grinning as I attempted to hide the growing curiosity in my voice.

Walking down the docks, I’d nudge. “This one?”