Oyster (ISLAND LOVE #2) by Fearne Hill EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Fearne Hill
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.3 MB
- Price: Free
Low tides threw up all kinds of unexpected and random treasures. A haul of
driftwood, for instance, kept the greedy wood burner fed for a week.
Wedding bands were not uncommon, bold flashes of gold and silver, each
hiding a tale. Hurled from a yacht in a fit of scorned temper, perhaps?
Slipped unnoticed from a knobbly old finger, shrivelled after a cold swim?
One time, as a kid, I found a platinum watch with ruby gemstones set in the
shape of a heart around the waterlogged face. My dad flogged it, and we
spent the proceeds on a slap-up meal in La Rochelle.
Not all the ocean’s generous gifts were appreciated. Gelatinous blobs of
dead jellyfish made me thankful for my thick rubber waders. Unidentifiable
rotting carcasses were not for the squeamish, fainthearted, or, in an ideal
world, before breakfast.
But a real live mermaid, wallowing in the shallows? That was a first,
and I’d been at this job near enough every day of my whole goddamned
life. My dad, lugging a couple of twenty-kilo oyster pouches from the
trailer to the racks like two bags of sugar, scarcely lifted his head.
“She’s going to end up in hospital with hypothermia if she’s not
careful.”
“More like fish food on the ocean floor.”
My brother, Max, gave a huff of laughter, a sound that didn’t flow too
free and easy between any of us these days. “Look at her! Drunk as a
donkey, she must be. She can’t even sit up straight.”
Tides didn’t roar in on our stretch of beach, but they didn’t hang around
either. Already, icy tongues licked at the woman’s knees. Like the sea had
coughed up a rare species of anemone, her floaty white dress billowed
around her. Any deeper and it would become a waterlogged anchor.
Funnily enough, at five thirty in the morning, with a cool dawn still
pulling itself together, the rest of the beach was deserted.
“She’ll have a splitting headache later.” My dad, no stranger himself to
a spot of overindulgence, straightened, rubbing at his back. “She’s had a
very good night by the way of things.”
A bit early in the season for wild tourist parties, but he was probably
right. The rich folk with holiday homes on the island were a law unto
themselves.
A wave, more ambitious than the rest, rolled up the beach. The woman’s
slim frame wobbled to the side before, with a jolt, she righted herself,
leaving one hand trailing in the water, the other curled around her bent
knees. She flopped her head down again, as if exhausted.
“Putain, I’ll go,” I said. “I’ve finished this row of pouches anyhow. I’ll
see you back at the shed later.”
“Good luck. ’Bout time you found yourself a girlfriend and settled
down.”
“Fuck off, Max.”
He snorted. “Can’t let an opportunity like this pass you by. Beggars
can’t be choosers, mate.”
Younger brothers, eh? Who needed them? “Talking about yourself
again?”
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