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Authors: Melissa Good
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thousand old wrecks like this around these islands. That’s just an old island freighter. Some of the historic wrecks have no-dive zones, but not this area.”
“So what’s their problem?” The small boat circled them lazily, then after a moment, roared off.
Dar watched the small boat retreat into the distance. “Beats me.” She shrugged. “Maybe they’re not used to people using a 56
Terrors of the High Seas 39
foot Bertram as a dive platform.” She finished covering the seawater-filled water well that held the box they’d brought up.
“Let’s leave that in there until I figure out how to take it out of the water and not have it fall to bits on us.”
“Rats.” Kerry’s arms circled from behind and gave Dar a squeeze. “I wanted to open it up and see inside.” She inspected the basin. “I know it’s nothing much, just an old cigar box or something, but—”
Dar turned around and returned the hug, giving Kerry’s neck a friendly scratch. “I think we might need some oil first…to keep the wood from drying out. Tomorrow, okay?”
“Mm.” Kerry licked a few remaining drops of water off Dar’s throat. “Okay.” She released her lover, but took her hand and led her over to the cooler. “Share an iced tea with me?”
“Sure.” Dar waited while Kerry opened the bottle and took a swig, then accepted it and sucked down a mouthful herself. She swished the tea around before she swallowed it, clearing the last taste of saltwater and rubber from the dive. “All right, how about we pull up anchor and go get us some conch?”
Kerry stifled her mild amusement over the casual speech, wondering if Dar knew how much she sounded like her father sometimes. In the office, it almost never showed. There, Dar’s vocalizations—when they weren’t wall-rattling yells—were crisp and sharply professional. Only when they were alone and her lover was relaxed did her Southern upbringing tend to slip in. “Sounds great to me, Dixiecup,” Kerry teased. “I’ll go pull in the buoy.”
Dar captured her with one long arm and pinned her up against the bulkhead. “You making fun of my accent, you little Yankee?”
“Nope.” Kerry ran her hands over Dar’s still damp body. “I love your accent. I wish you’d let it out more often.”
One of Dar’s eyebrows lifted expressively.
“I so want to hear you tell Jose to ‘get yer damn ass outta mah office.’” Kerry giggled. “Yah damn little pansy assed pissant.”
Dar burst into laughter. “He’d piss in his pants.”
Kerry nodded cheerfully. “Exactly!”
Dar’s chuckles wound down, and she quieted. “It’s funny…you liking my redneck side.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “It just is. To me, anyway. I worked so hard to cover all that up,” Dar said. “I remember sitting in a management meeting once, after I’d made regional director, and listening to three of the other people there trash one of the Southern project managers.” She exhaled. “Called him a hick and a lowlife redneck.”
Kerry sighed. “They make fun of everyone, Dar.”
Dar nodded. “I know. But this was different, because it might as well have been me they were talking about, only the other guy 40 Melissa Good wasn’t bothering to pretend.” She gazed thoughtfully over Kerry’s shoulder.
“Mm.” Kerry was slowly rubbing Dar’s back, easing the tension she felt there. “What did you do?” she asked softly.
“Called them jackasses and told them to go find some class before the company had to buy it for them,” Dar admitted.
“That’s my Dar.” Kerry leaned her head against Dar’s collarbone, soft chuckles emerging from her throat.
“Yeah, well.” Dar had to smile herself. “After that, they never did say anything about rednecks in any meeting I was in.”
No. Kerry hugged her frequently curmudgeonly boss. “I bet they didn’t.” Just like no one says anything about you… in any meeting I’m in. Damn right.
Chapter
Five
THE SMALL ISLAND they
“So what’s their problem?” The small boat circled them lazily, then after a moment, roared off.
Dar watched the small boat retreat into the distance. “Beats me.” She shrugged. “Maybe they’re not used to people using a 56
Terrors of the High Seas 39
foot Bertram as a dive platform.” She finished covering the seawater-filled water well that held the box they’d brought up.
“Let’s leave that in there until I figure out how to take it out of the water and not have it fall to bits on us.”
“Rats.” Kerry’s arms circled from behind and gave Dar a squeeze. “I wanted to open it up and see inside.” She inspected the basin. “I know it’s nothing much, just an old cigar box or something, but—”
Dar turned around and returned the hug, giving Kerry’s neck a friendly scratch. “I think we might need some oil first…to keep the wood from drying out. Tomorrow, okay?”
“Mm.” Kerry licked a few remaining drops of water off Dar’s throat. “Okay.” She released her lover, but took her hand and led her over to the cooler. “Share an iced tea with me?”
“Sure.” Dar waited while Kerry opened the bottle and took a swig, then accepted it and sucked down a mouthful herself. She swished the tea around before she swallowed it, clearing the last taste of saltwater and rubber from the dive. “All right, how about we pull up anchor and go get us some conch?”
Kerry stifled her mild amusement over the casual speech, wondering if Dar knew how much she sounded like her father sometimes. In the office, it almost never showed. There, Dar’s vocalizations—when they weren’t wall-rattling yells—were crisp and sharply professional. Only when they were alone and her lover was relaxed did her Southern upbringing tend to slip in. “Sounds great to me, Dixiecup,” Kerry teased. “I’ll go pull in the buoy.”
Dar captured her with one long arm and pinned her up against the bulkhead. “You making fun of my accent, you little Yankee?”
“Nope.” Kerry ran her hands over Dar’s still damp body. “I love your accent. I wish you’d let it out more often.”
One of Dar’s eyebrows lifted expressively.
“I so want to hear you tell Jose to ‘get yer damn ass outta mah office.’” Kerry giggled. “Yah damn little pansy assed pissant.”
Dar burst into laughter. “He’d piss in his pants.”
Kerry nodded cheerfully. “Exactly!”
Dar’s chuckles wound down, and she quieted. “It’s funny…you liking my redneck side.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “It just is. To me, anyway. I worked so hard to cover all that up,” Dar said. “I remember sitting in a management meeting once, after I’d made regional director, and listening to three of the other people there trash one of the Southern project managers.” She exhaled. “Called him a hick and a lowlife redneck.”
Kerry sighed. “They make fun of everyone, Dar.”
Dar nodded. “I know. But this was different, because it might as well have been me they were talking about, only the other guy 40 Melissa Good wasn’t bothering to pretend.” She gazed thoughtfully over Kerry’s shoulder.
“Mm.” Kerry was slowly rubbing Dar’s back, easing the tension she felt there. “What did you do?” she asked softly.
“Called them jackasses and told them to go find some class before the company had to buy it for them,” Dar admitted.
“That’s my Dar.” Kerry leaned her head against Dar’s collarbone, soft chuckles emerging from her throat.
“Yeah, well.” Dar had to smile herself. “After that, they never did say anything about rednecks in any meeting I was in.”
No. Kerry hugged her frequently curmudgeonly boss. “I bet they didn’t.” Just like no one says anything about you… in any meeting I’m in. Damn right.
Chapter
Five
THE SMALL ISLAND they
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