By The Sea

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By the Sea

Copyright © 2014 by Katherine McIntyre

ISBN: 978-1-61333-704-2

Cover art by Tibbs Designs

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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By the Sea

By

Katherine McIntyre

~Dedication~

Thank you to my amazing husband and my caring family for all their encouragement and support.

Most kids had imaginary friends growing up, but not like mine.

I slowed down near the cypress docks because, like always, they made me think of him. The ocean crashed along the pier and glittered under the dying sun like shattered glass. Since I’d lived my whole life in Weymouth, an ocean-view walk home was a common thing. My “friend” Niall hadn’t been. Years after most kids abandoned their imaginary friends, mine had tagged along right through middle school. I wasn’t stupid—I’d known what the other kids would think, so I’d kept him quiet. And there’d been rules.

He’d only meet me by the sea. I’d come by myself at night, making some excuse to my folks or telling them I wanted to go find shells at the beach.

I’d lied. Covering my tracks the best I could, I’d always brought home a shell he’d helped me find, anything from pieces of clams to slipper’s shells. I fingered the conch around my neck—the last shell Niall had given me before he’d left.

The salty breeze picked up strands of my hair and rippled them like pennants as I made my way down the boardwalk. So, yeah, most invisible friends don’t swim with you. You can’t stroke their wet hair or see the smile in their eyes. Most don’t smell like brine and the breeze. But he’d vanished, same as all invisible friends do, once I’d reached a certain age.

Stepping up my pace, I bypassed no less than three candy shops, all declaring the best salt water taffy. I still needed to get home and take a shower before my waitressing shift tonight at Safe Harbor. My beat-up jeans and long-sleeved sweater were covered in fish guts from my shift at Bobby’s Seafood. My sleeves were crusty; they were going to need a serious washing before I wore that shirt again. Despite the refrigerator chill permeating the place, I’d been sweating by the time I’d clocked out.

Between the two jobs, I managed to make ends meet. A lot of hard work, sure, but I made enough for an apartment on my own and some gorgeous, aged furniture—code word for thrift-shop finds. Mom and Dad’s place was up the street, the same house they’d lived in for twenty years now. For me, happiness consisted of swimming whenever I wanted or sitting on the beach and listening to the waves. I couldn’t imagine a life away from the coast.

I broke into a whistle as I stepped off the boardwalk and onto the small streets leading to my apartment. The Dusty Rose apartment complex rose in the distance, all whopping three floors of maintained red brick.

Mr. Casey leaned against the railing, smoking a pipe, his thick brows scrunched together as he skimmed through the paper.

“Good morning, sir,” I called out as I approached the steps.

“Back at you, Meggie.” He nodded, barely looking up from his paper.

“How do you keep reading that junk?” I peered over his shoulder. “It’s all wars, death, and complaints. A whole lot of misery.”

“Misery keeps a level head on you.” He offered a grin. “Too chipper for your own good, Meggie.”

I snorted as I strolled up the steps and popped inside the building. With my next shift in two hours, I’d have enough time to scrub the smell of fish off me, scarf whatever leftovers I had in my fridge—two-day-old fried rice—and, if I was lucky, get through another chapter of my book. Had to hurry if I wanted to get that last one done.

***

The wet strands of my ponytail tickled my neck as I circled around to the rear entrance of Safe Harbor. My plain black tee and knee-length rippled skirt played up my curves, even though I had more hip than bosom. Dressing for work was tricky. While I wanted to look presentable, since it led to more tips, sometimes dolling up brought in creeps who I’d have to try and politely handle on my own.

My boss, Janice, sat in the back, smoking a cigarette and shouting into her phone. She wasn’t a bad boss; a bit on edge, but since she’d risen through the ranks herself and dealt with the trails and woes of waitressing, she had a “deal with it” mentality. I snuck in past her, not wanting to get involved in her and her mother’s usual arguments. The last time I’d gotten roped in for advice had most definitely been a trap.

Reynard, our main cook, was already hard at work, shouting indistinguishable babble over the hissing and sizzling going on at his station. A strong fishy scent permeated the air. I sniffed my arm, wanting to make sure it wasn’t me. Around here, seafood reigned, and the smells of fried halibut, crab, salt water, and mussels couldn’t be avoided. Live here long enough, like me, and you’d be able to tell the different scents apart, too.

Gina was leaning against the wall chatting someone up but, from this angle, I couldn’t see them. Whoever it was, they warranted full-flirt mode from her—hair twirls, batted lashes—the kind of stuff she saved for after working hours. I ignored them, walking over to my cubby and checking my reflection in the small mirror Gina and I shared. No spots of dirt marked my cheeks, though with how tan I was, marks were hard to spot anyway. All the time I spent swimming paid off, giving me year-round color. My dark hair was still damp from my shower, but with the light skimming of eyeliner and tinted lip gloss I’d applied, I pulled off presentable.

My shift was about to begin and, despite my reticence to interrupt Gina and her new friend, they blocked the doorway. I approached, trying to think of the most polite way to dodge past, when Janice strolled through, grabbing my arm.

“We’ve got a new hire His name is Mason. Could you and Gina show him the ropes tonight?” she asked.

I nodded as we turned the corner to greet them.

Mason was about a hand-span taller than me, which, at my five-foot-seven, placed him in the “tall” category. He could have been described as lanky, but the way his black tee clung to his figure, those muscles weren’t lacking in definition. With tousled dark-brown hair and ash-blue eyes, he’d draw more than Gina’s attention. Especially combined with his long face and defined chin. The man was attractive, but that wasn’t why I stared at him like I’d spotted an alien landing. Everything about him, I’d seen before.

From the way his face lit with curiosity to the slight tilt of his jaw, even the lingering scent of brine and breeze gave him away. He was identical to Niall, give or take seven years of growing up. Which was impossible.

“Are you going to introduce yourself or stare at him slack-jawed?” Janice asked as she strolled past us.

My cheeks heated in embarrassment and I tugged on my ponytail. Great, now I was losing my mind. I stuck out my hand while staring down the linoleum, which, of course, made the situation more awkward. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Megan.”

“She gets pretty busy, though, so you’ll want to tag along with me tonight,” Gina said, trying to draw the attention back to her. Too late; my awkwardness had already made an unforgettable appearance, so, of course, I couldn’t be let off the hook.

“Mason.” He clasped my hand, his own warm and oddly damp. His voice wasn’t deep, but had a kind of softness I hadn’t expected. I peeked past my long fringe of bangs, hoping my blush had faded somewhat.

“Megan,” I said, before realizing I’d already introduced myself. “Well, like Janice said, if you need help with anything, let me know. I should be getting to work. I mean, working on stuff, I’m already at work.” Voila, my incorrigible ability to make uncomfortable situations more uncomfortable. Ugh. He probably thought I was some backwoods moron at this point, all because he looked like someone I’d made up a long time ago. As if that didn’t sound crazy. “Anyway, let me know if you’re having trouble.”

“Will do.” He gave me a grin, his eyes crinkling with his smile. I whirled around, making a beeline for the host stand. A hand grabbed my shoulder.

“Megan?” his voice sounded behind me. I clutched the bundle of menus I was toting and glanced back. “I like your necklace. That’s a beautiful shell.”

My cheeks flared up again and I managed some semblance of a response before racing away as if my legs had caught on fire. What the hell was going on? First the resemblance and then the comment about my necklace? Was this some huge conspiracy to get me locked up in the sanitarium? Or I could be overanalyzing things and he could be some poor schmuck who started working here wondering why that Megan chick was acting so weird around him.

I let out a sigh and dumped the pile of menus by the host stand where Terry stood watch.

“Ready for the masses?” she asked, leaning against the stand and staring at her phone.

I snorted. “All five of our regulars plus whatever poor saps decided it was a good idea to vacation here.”

“Sounds about right.” Terry squinted, staring out the glass doors. “There’s Al, I think. One down, four more to go.” The old man hobbled toward the restaurant, leaning on his walker as per usual. “By the by, did you see the new boy?” Terry whistled low.

I shook my head. “You guys are making a huge deal over nothing. The guy could be a swamp monster and, if he was someone new, there’d be talk.”

Her eyes widened. I closed mine, cursing my luck. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

“Swamp monster? That’s rough.” The slight twang to Mason’s words—all of it was so familiar.

“That’s me, keeping things bitchy from open to close.” I turned around and gave him my customer service smile.

“Yeah right.” He arched an eyebrow. “You seem the sunshine and buttercups type.”

“He’s already got you pegged, Meg.” Terry grinned, rifling a hand through her pixie cut.

“Almost like he knows me,” I mumbled. Christ, I sounded crazy again. “Ignore my babble. Time to wait some tables!” Trying to shake off my inability to string a sentence together, I made a beeline for Al, who had settled by the bar. His face crinkled into a mess of wrinkles with his smile. I grinned and handed over a menu.

“Megan,” Terry called a couple minutes after I put Al’s order through. She jabbed a finger in the direction of an older blonde woman sitting in one of the booths. “Got a customer for you. Mind if Mason shadows?”

“Sure thing.” I waved Mason forward. “You want to give it a whirl?”

He shook his head. “I’d rather watch. I’ll pick it up after the first customer or so.”

I approached, conscious of the gorgeous man following me. With my luck I’d trip and hit the floor. Arriving at the table, I focused on the customer. The woman had some heft to her, but her weight wasn’t the only thing that said plump. From her lips to her curls, the word fit. Her eyebrows lifted as we approached.