Distracted √

Distracted: Chapter Seven

"Spence, I'm going inside to take a nap. Don't stay out here all afternoon worrying about something that doesn't even matter. We all do things subconsciously, especially artists. You're intuitive, not premeditated. I get that. Obviously, these themes resonate with you and that's why you stick with them," she said. "I'll set my clock. We'll go out for dinner."

She was offering an olive branch, for what, she didn't know. Somehow, she'd wounded Spence. If something as simple as putting his art into a category distressed him, what would he do if she broke a plate? Ruined his shirt in the washing machine? Wrecked his car? He exasperated her and she felt so tired. Men and their fragile egos. Get over it, she wanted to scream.

Three hours later, Erin awoke refreshed and calm. She found Spence on the deck, still rocking in the hammock. Several more bottles had joined the empty one beside him. Twilight tinged the sky with pinks and purple and she heard the steady sound of waves in the distance.

"Do you need to take a shower before dinner?" she asked, trying to motivate him.

Spence turned to look at her, his face bemused. "I'm sailing south tomorrow."

Erin found it hard to catch her breath. "What? Are you nuts? You can't leave me here and sail off into the sunset."

"Well, you'll have to come with me," he said, rising from the hammock. She followed him into the dark, cool house.

"That's ridiculous. I'm not going anywhere," she said. "We've got to work on your book."

He opened the refrigerator and looked at the contents, his back to her. "We can do that on the boat. You sail?"

"Spence! Get serious," she begged. "We've been doing so well. We need to keep on schedule."

He closed the refrigerator door. "You'll get the hang of it," he said, ignoring her remarks. "Guess I better order some provisions."

Erin lost her appetite. She raised her fists and growled. "Grrr! You drive me crazy," she said through clenched teeth. She grabbed her handbag and car keys. "Feed yourself. I'm out of here."

She stormed from the house, slamming the door. Spence heard the SUV's engine start and the wheels spin in the sand, kicking up shells in her haste to depart.

He pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket. "Suzy Q? It's Spence," he said when the party answered. "I'm going to need some things for tomorrow morning."

* * *

"Pack light. Shorts, shirts, a bathing suit. Actually, leave your clothes here. Just bring your bikini."

Erin frowned. She'd returned to a quiet, dark house the night before. Instead of looking for Spence, she'd locked her bedroom door and read until two o'clock. She tossed and turned for another hour, then fell into a fitful sleep. He'd knocked on her door after seven, waking her. She stood in the bedroom doorway, dressed in a long T-shirt, her hair a frowsy mess.

"Spence, I'm not going anywhere. We have to work on the book."

"Plenty of time on the way. Come on, let's get your bag packed," he said, stepping into her room. He went to the closet and opened a drawer. She watched as he tossed clothing onto the bed.

"Hey! Get out of there. Stop that!" She smacked at his hand. "I am not going anywhere with you."

But then Erin thought back to her meeting with Patricia and how the book advance paid for the sailboat. No book meant no boat. Maybe that could be the hook to get him motivated. So what if she spent a couple days on a sailboat? In fact, being on a boat meant he couldn't get away and she'd have his complete attention.