Moon Shell Beach: A Novel

Moon Shell Beach: A Novel Read Free

Book: Moon Shell Beach: A Novel Read Free
Author: Nancy Thayer
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Jesse Gray say something to the boat attendant and run out into the rain.
    Jesse Gray,
wow.
He was the handsomest, coolest, sexiest guy in the senior class. She knew he’d slept with half the girls in high school, and a lot of older women, too. He was just awesome. Clare almost fainted whenever he nodded at her in the hallway.
    Now there he was, putting his arm around old Mrs. Gill and ushering her patiently up the ramp. The rain darkened Jesse’s blue jeans and plastered his Red Sox T-shirt against his chest. Lucky old Mrs. Gill!
    When they finally made it into the dry harbor of the cabin, Mrs. Gill wrenched her arm away from Jesse. “Get your hands off me, young man!” she snapped. “I don’t need your help!”
    Heads turned. You could tell right away who was an islander and who wasn’t. The tourists looked puzzled, but the islanders rolled their eyes. Some of them gave Jesse a thumbs-up.
    Mrs. Gill sidled over to a bench and plopped down. Immediately she began to dig around in the enormous plastic bag she carried with her everywhere.
    Jesse watched to be sure she was settled, then looked around the cabin.
    His eyes met Clare’s.
    He smiled.
    Clare smiled back.
    “Hey, Clare.” Jesse ambled over. “What’s up?” He dropped into the chair opposite her.
    Omigod omigod, Clare thought. He knew her name! Part of her was so overwhelmed by his presence she wanted to squeal. Jesse Gray coming over to talk to her?
    Snap out of it,
Clare told herself. “I just got my braces off.”
    “Let me see,” Jesse said, leaning forward.
    Nervously, she showed him her teeth.
    “Awesome. You’ve got a great smile.”
    “Thanks.” Her heart was triple-timing in her chest. “Why were you off-island?”
    “My truck. Had to take it to the Jeep place for an overhaul.”
    Clare grinned. Jesse’s truck, a 1975 Chevy pickup, was famous in town. “It must cost a lot to keep it going.”
    “You have no idea. My whole life’s devoted to that old gal. I’ve had to work after school and on weekends down at Don Allen Auto. I have the social life of a piece of wood.”
    “That’s not what I’ve heard,” Clare said, surprising herself with the flirtation in her tone. Without even thinking about it, she’d relaxed back into her chair with her arms crossed behind her neck, unconsciously sticking out her breasts. Flushing, she changed positions, digging around in her backpack for her water bottle, even though she wasn’t thirsty.
    “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Jesse told her. Raindrops dripped down from his hair onto his face and chest.
    Clare pulled a sweatshirt from her backpack. “You’re soaked. Put this on.”
    “Well, thanks, Mom,” Jesse said with a grin.
    Then he raised his arms and drew off his wet T-shirt, exposing his muscular chest. Blond hair lightly matted his skin and longer hair furred his armpits. He slid Clare’s sweatshirt over his head. Jesse was slender and not much taller than Clare; still the sweatshirt was ridiculously tight.
    He noticed Clare staring. “What do you think?”
    Her throat had gone dry. “About what?”
    He held up his arms as if he were a model. “A fashion statement?”
    “More like a fashion cry for help.”
    They both laughed.
    “Want some hot chocolate?” Jesse asked.
    Clare nodded. “Sure.” As Jesse walked to the snack bar, the ferry left the harbor for the open waters of the Sound. Jesse was going to sit with her for the whole trip!
Clare,
she ordered herself,
you are not allowed to act like a geek.
    Jesse returned with two paper cups of hot chocolate. They lifted the lids. Steam rolled up into the air.
    “So,” Jesse said, “are you contributing anything to the school literary review?”
    “Nope. Literature’s not my talent, even though my dad teaches English.”
    “Are you artistic?”
    So Jesse knew about her family. Jesse was
aware
of her.
    She shook her head. “Can’t draw, either.” She leaned forward. “You know what I can do? I can cook, and I

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