he said. “And I like being outside.”
“All right,” she said. “Now, watch that map because this next turn is kind of tricky. It’s easy to miss.”
Charlie pointed out the sign for the hatchery right before she turned down the narrow, winding road to Kepley Pond. “My dad’s brother, Uncle Jake, runs the hatchery and nursery.”
She stopped the SUV in front of the hatchery building, then jumped out and waited for Ronan to join her. “This is where we start,” she said. “Kepley Pond. It’s really not a pond, but an estuary. We bring adult stock into the nursery from the bay. Usually, oysters spawn in mid-summer, when the water reaches a certain temperature, but we gradually bring the temperature up, forcing them to lay their eggs in the spring. We also grow phytoplankton here to feed the larvae. When they’re ready, we move the seed oysters into an upweller system beneath those six docks. We also sell seed oysters to other farmers in the area.”
Charlie led him down to the pond. Long wooden docks jutted out into the brackish water. “As they grow, we put them in containers that sit on the bottom of the pond, giving them space so that they grow evenly. And when they’re big enough, we plant them out in the bay.”
“How do you do that?”
“We toss them overboard with a snow shovel. Very high tech. Maine oysters grow slower in the colder water so they’ll stay in the bay for about three or four years before we harvest them. We do that a lot of different ways, mostly dredging. In some areas we culture them in lantern nets. A few times a year at low tide, we can harvest them by hand.” She smiled. “So, that’s oyster farming in a … an oyster shell.”
They walked to the end of one of the docks and Charlie showed him the upwell system. When she’d replaced the cover, she watched as he sat down at the end of the dock, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
She sat down beside him, glancing over to study his expression. “Is there something wrong?”
He shook his head, his gaze still fixed on a point on the pond. “So, I’m going to have to go out on the water with a boat?”
“Yeah. That’s how we plant and harvest. Can’t you swim?”
“Oh, yeah, I can swim. I’m just not a real big fan of boats. And deep … dark water.”
“That’s going to be a problem,” she said. Why would he have come to an oyster farm for work if he didn’t like the water? Oysters didn’t grow in a cornfield.
“No, it won’t,” he said, his voice on edge. “I need the job. I’m just going to have to suck it up and do it.”
“We wear life vests,” she said. “If you fall overboard, we’ll pull you out. My brothers and sisters fall in all the time.” She paused. “Why are you afraid of the water?”
“It’s just something from my childhood. It really doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“You can tell me,” Charlie said.
“My parents—they were lost at sea,” he said, turned to her. “They were sailing a yacht across the Pacific and it disappeared. Probably sank during a storm. Or maybe it got hit by a cargo ship. Nobody knows.”
“Oh, my God,” Charlie said. “That must have been horrible.”
“After that, I couldn’t bring myself to get onboard a boat and whenever I tried I’d get kind of freaked out.”
Charlie reached out and took his hand, covering it with hers. “I guess we could work on that,” she said.
“You don’t have to pay me until I can do the work,” he said. “It’s my problem. I’ll work it out.”
“Sure. Why don’t we take a little boat ride tonight,” she said. “A test ride, and see how you feel. These estuaries are a lot different than the open ocean.”
He stared down at their hands, then wove his fingers through hers. When he looked back up, their gazes met for a long moment. Ronan leaned closer and in a heartbeat, his lips met hers in a soft, lingering kiss. He drew back, then decided it wasn’t enough, cupping her face in his hands and deepening the kiss.
It was so unexpected, but not at all unwanted. Charlie was afraid to breathe, afraid to make a sound for fear that the spell that had fallen over them would suddenly burst. It had been so long since a man had touched her this way, but all the old familiar feelings came back in a rush.
When he finally pulled back, a long sigh slipped from his body. He pressed his forehead to hers, still holding her face in his hands. “Was that all right?” he murmured.
Charlie wasn’t sure if he wanted permission or if he was asking for a review of his technique. “It was very all right,” she said. “I—I mean, good. Very good. And all right, too.”
He smiled. “So I can do it again?”
“Sure,” she said. “Right now?”
“Later,” he said. Ronan pushed to his feet, then held out his hand. When she stood beside him, he drew her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her wrist. “What’s next, boss?”
In truth, Charlie would have been happy to continue what they were doing. But maybe later would be better. “I think I’m going to take you home to meet the folks,” she said.
He gasped. “What?”
“You kissed me. You know what that means. My mama and daddy are going to want to look you over.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She laughed. “Yeah. But my dad will want to meet you. He has to meet everyone we hire. He’s the president of the company.”
“All right.”
“I won’t tell him about your fear of boats. I think I’ll keep that to myself a little bit longer,” she promised.
“GARRETT SIBLEY, CLOSE that door! You’re letting flies in!”
Charlie’s brother ran down the front steps of the porch, then turned back to grin at Ronan. “It’s Indian food tonight,” he said. “If I were you, I’d turn around and get out of here before she forces you to eat it.”
Ronan turned to Charlie and she gave him a reassuring smile. “My mother likes to try cooking new cuisines. Don’t worry, if it’s really bad, we’ll get something else to eat later. Just tell her it’s good and eat really slowly.”
“I like Indian food,” he said.
“Me, too. But this won’t taste like any Indian food you’ve ever had. Last month, she was mastering German food and everything tasted like vinegar.”
The Sibley family lived in a sprawling white clapboard Victorian, set on a beautiful tree-lined street in the heart of Sibleyville. It was the biggest house in town by far, a testament to the family’s position in a town that bore their name.
They climbed the steps to the wide porch, lined with old wicker furniture and decorated with hanging baskets of colorful flowers. Ronan heard another shout from inside the house and a moment later, a young girl came running out the door. “Garrett, come back here. You have to help me finish folding the laundry.” She froze when she saw Charlie and Ronan, sending Ronan a suspicious look.
“This is my sister, Libby,” Charlie said. “She’s thirteen. Libby, this is Ronan. He’s going to be working for us.”
She rolled her eyes and continued her call for her brother, running down the steps and shouting his name.
“Is your whole family going to be here?”
She nodded. “Isaac is a senior in college and Abby is a sophomore. They’re in college but they still live at home. Jane is eighteen and Ethan is sixteen and both are in high school. Don’t try to remember them all.”
“I’m