Page 13 of Banter & Blushes #1

CADE

I ’ve fallen in love with my matchmaker.

All my preconceived notions about the future Mrs. Bainbridge have been blown away, especially after that nuclear kiss with Luna.

The logical side of me knows that I shouldn’t have fallen for a small-town girl when I have no plans to stay in Seabreeze Harbor indefinitely.

Asking her to relocate to Jacksonville with me seems unfair because her livelihood is here.

Seabreeze Harbor and Luna are a perfect fit, from her quirky business to her carefree spirit. The locals love her, her best friend works two doors down, and she has no daily commute by living above the store.

Tourists are drawn to her shop—the new soy candles will be flying off the shelves soon I’m sure—the crystal jewelry and essential oils are already a big hit, and what tourist doesn’t need a copy of the latest bestseller?

She might not be a terrific matchmaker, but she’s got enough other irons in the fire to shape and grow a successful business.

And let’s be honest, the only experience I have with her matchmaking is myself, and I’m the one putting roadblocks up there. ..

After spending a restless night, I get up before dawn, hoping that Luna will still join me for the beach walk so we can talk about our feelings.

Just before six, my phone pings with an incoming text.

Assuming it’s Jerry’s annoying daily electronic reminder, I almost don’t read it.

When I swipe the screen, my heart sinks.

Luna: I’m going to pass on the walk this morning .

Just like me, she’s still reeling over that kiss.

I should have fired her as my matchmaker last evening.

But I didn’t, knowing that I’ve still got Grandad’s ultimatum hanging over my head and I don’t know how I can make a relationship with Luna work.

Despite what my heart wants, I need to lead with my head. Gritting my teeth, I type in my reply.

Me: OK. Please schedule a third match date as soon as possible.

After I press send, I cringe at my curt reply. That should stem any feelings Luna was developing for me. My fingers want to immediately send a retraction, but I don’t. I anxiously watch the screen, as it takes several minutes for her to reply.

Luna: I’ll let you know when it’s scheduled.

Tossing the phone down in disgust, knowing that I just killed any chance of a relationship between Luna and me, I grab my baseball cap and run out the door like a pack of hungry wolves are nipping at my heels.

I drink in the fresh saltwater air, slowly relaxing as my steps take me further and further away from the bungalow.

The morning is gorgeous, with a breathtaking sunrise that immediately lifts my dismal mood.

There are only a few beach walkers at this early hour, so I have the sand and surf almost to myself.

Gulls sail ahead of me, landing on the sand several yards away.

They caw angrily, annoyed that I’m sharing their beach.

When I get too close, they flap their wings and fly away, just to caw at me again when I get closer.

A few sandpipers run ahead of me on stick-thin legs, scampering along the sand in search of food.

They’re amusing creatures, bringing a smile to my face.

The waves are calm now, and the ocean water laps gently against the shore, leaving wet patches in the sand. No sand dollars to be found this morning.

I should remove my shoes and let my toes sink into the moist sand. But I’m intent on getting to the lighthouse and back, so I keep a fast pace as I stride down the beach. Hugo’s right, I need to do this walk with nature every morning. It’s a balm to my soul.

Further down the beach, a shiny green object catches my eye. I kneel and pull a bottle from the sand. It’s dirty, but I rub the sand off with my hand because I don’t want to not even look in it after teasing Luna the way I did. Once the grime is scrubbed away, I see a paper rolled up inside.

I blink. Message in a bottle? Surely this isn’t the same bottle that Luna found because I know she threw hers away. This feels a bit like serendipity, as if Luna’s bottle somehow escaped from the trash and made its way to me. I snort and shove that crazy pants idea away.

Unlike in a movie, retrieving the paper from inside the bottle is not an easy task.

I twist and twist until the cork comes loose.

Then, after numerous tries, my fat fingers eventually grip the corner of the paper and slide it out through the narrow opening.

The message is handwritten in blue ink and has faded badly, but I can still make it out.

What does this mean? A bewildered groan slips from my lips as I re-read the message over and over. Is this some kind of divine intervention? Is the universe trying to tell me something?

The message is directed at my love life, but I could interpret it in a variety of ways.

It could apply to Luna and me just as well as applying to me and the third match date I asked Luna to schedule.

Frustrated and confused, I tuck the paper back inside and replace the cork.

With no trash receptacle in sight, I toss the bottle into the ocean, then experience a twinge of guilt over littering. Luna would scold me about this.

As the message floats out to sea, I shout, “Go meddle in someone else’s love life!” With that, I turn on my heel and head back to the bungalow, not even caring that I never made it to the lighthouse.

Luna schedules a third match date for me, as promised.

Margorie McCoy and I are dining at The Cozy Pelican tomorrow evening.

I simply couldn’t bear to go to The Golden Anchor again.

Oddly enough, my date is also from the Jacksonville area, giving me encouragement that a relationship with her will work out.

If I hit it off at all with this woman, I’ll force myself to romance her until she falls for me, ask her to marry me, and put an end to Grandad’s ultimatum once and for all.

I’ll ignore that silly message in the bottle.

With the deadline for the contracts for Hugo’s land due today, I shove my love life to the back of my mind and focus on why I’m here. It’s time to buckle down and get Hugo the best offer I can.