Sunshine Island

Chapter Two

Almost as soon as I had flipped through the pages in vague interest, the door to the library burst open, and a stranger walked in, looking around curiously.

I took one look at him and knew enough to duck my head behind my book. He was a sailor, and that was easy enough to tell judging by his sun-kissed skin, flowing shirt, and soft swagger. He walked like a man who was used to the rocking of a ship and I speculated he probably wouldn't be able to tread as gracefully on land as he did aboard a ship.

Sailors could tend to have a bad attitude when it came to Sunshine girls. We were conscious of them and every move they made; one misstep was the difference between being charmed into bed and getting them arrested. I would rather avoid both conditions if possible, so I made every effort to ignore the man in the library. Instead, I enveloped myself with Latin and stitching techniques.

I was only properly down the first page and a half when someone cleared his throat loudly across the table from me. I glanced up out of instinct and met beautiful ocean colored eyes. They weren't quiet blue, or green, or gray, but a muddled mix of all three colors at once. I fell into those eyes as if they were the first warm waves of summer. I dropped my book against the table on accident, and the noise startled me out of the haze. I blinked a few times and forced my mouth to close before looking back at the man across the table. It was the dark haired stranger, and he paused for a moment before breaking into a smile and tilting his head, as if he was waiting for something.

"Sorry," I attempted, not feeling very sorry at all, "can I help you?"

"I said I was looking for the directory," he repeated, and his voice was saltwater and ocean waves. I blinked again a few times and propped my book back up on the table.

"I don't work here," I managed to respond, and I ducked my head behind the book again. I forced myself to stare at the book, but it was impossible to concentrate when he chuckled. I glared at him over the rim of the book. He smiled hopelessly at me and I glanced around to see what was so funny. He motioned toward my hands.

"Pardon me – might I?"

I scowled a little, but he still tentatively reached forward and took a hold of my book. I opened my mouth to protest, but he simply flipped it right side up and returned it to my hands. I felt, in that instance, ready for death. My face started to heat up and I knew I was probably getting all red around my ears and nose. He leaned back in his chair, still looking amused at the situation.

I allowed a single nod form my head before shoving my nose back into the book. It was quiet for a few moments, though I felt his presence with annoying shock.

"I didn't mean to startle you, lass," he explained and I glanced back over my book to see him lounging comfortably in the chair across from me. His elbow was braced up against the table and his fingers were tangled up in his short dark hair. He smiled again when I looked up and I groaned internally.

"You're not going to leave me alone until I help you find the directory, are you?"

"On the contrary," he said, looking playfully wounded, "please, say the word and I'll leave. Wander the stacks a bit until am hopelessly lost, and then perhaps I'll call out for a bit of help?"

I shut the book abruptly and laced my fingers together over it.

"I think you have this tiny island library confused with some main land monstrosity. There are only four bookcases."

"And I'll bet you've ready every single book here."

"Twice," I said, before closing my mouth quickly. He leaned forward and I instinctively leaned backwards, away from his crooked smile and ocean eyes. He motioned toward the books with his thumb and I swallowed. What was it that he smelled like? Salt? Sun?