Crystal Blue (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 3) John Cunningham (psychology books to read TXT) 📖

He didn’t say a word, but his mouth hung open as Avery stepped around him and hugged me.

“Sorry I’m a day late,” I said.

“Yeah, thanks for leaving me stranded in such a lousy place.” She winked and scanned me from my wet hair to my sandy feet. She was in beige linen shorts and an orange top that set off her fresh tan. But I knew she’d get soaked wading out to the plane.

We started back down the beach and she hung onto my arm.

“You’ll have to carry me,” she said.

From some celebrities this might have been condescending, but I could tell Avery thought the situation was funny. A quick glimpse back toward the restaurant revealed General Manager Lander on his cell phone, no doubt calling the police to verify my identity. The crowd from the beach followed after us, people whispering and pointing at Avery.

We walked up to where the Beast was anchored, her nose pointed out into the Caribbean Sea. It would have made a great picture if I’d owned a camera.

“I was worried you forgot about me, Buck.”

“I was unavoidably detained.”

I again removed my shirt stepped into the warm water and she followed me up to her knees. I turned around and bent down so she could climb into my arms. Her smile was broad, her teeth white and straight as a picket fence and her eyes darted down at my chest.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life,” she said.

“Well, it’s not like—”

She put her hand over my mouth as I carried her toward the Beast’s open hatch.

“It’s the moment, Buck. Don’t spoil my fantasy, okay?”

Someone on the beach started clapping. The rest of the group picked it up, and I knew damn well somebody had to be videoing us with their cell phone. I just hoped it didn’t show up on Entertainment Tonight.

Avery was looking at the Beast. “This totally reminds me of Jimmy Buffett’s old plane,” she said. Did she mean his old Widgeon, the one I acquired after he wrecked it off Nantucket and renamed Betty? “Too bad he parked it in his restaurant in Orlando.” Ah, the Hemisphere Dancer, Buffett’s Albatross.

“This is a Goose, it’s a lot smaller than the Albatross. I call her the Beast. She’s kind of a work in progress, you might say.”

“Once you get her painted she’ll be a beauty. Are you going to keep her black?”

I was up to my waist now and struggling to lift Avery high enough to stay dry and get her up near the open hatch. She took hold of the handle inside the hatch and pulled herself up.

“I haven’t decided. I’m still getting to know her.” I looked back to the beach and saw Lander headed our way. Time to pull the rear anchor, fast.

“Go ahead and climb in the right seat.”

Once I collected the aft Danforth I dumped the anchor inside and climbed aboard. I flipped on the magnetos, batteries, pulled the chokes, and powered up the port engine, then did the same for the starboard engine.

“You can wear that headset so we can talk while in flight.” I hunched down and got ready to crawl between our seats. “I need to pull the forward anchor, be right back.”

My arm and shoulder brushed against her thigh as I slid between the seats, and she held it firm rather than sliding her legs to the side to let me pass. Why don’t things like this happen when I have more time? I tugged slowly on the anchor rope, which drew the Beast out deeper into the channel. When the rope was nearly straight down I pulled it up fast, stowed it, closed the hatch, and scurried back into the cabin. Tight as it is between the seats, I had nowhere to put my left hand to pull myself up other than on Avery’s knee.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“No worries, Captain.”

As I ran through an expedited version of the take-off checklist, the cell phone rang from the side pocket next to my seat. I glanced at the screen: Ray. I didn’t want to talk right now but couldn’t afford to risk missing any important updates.

“Where are you, Ray?”

“What happened to you last night? We were on St. John like you said, but you never posted.”

“I had a little diversion but I’m back on track.”

“What was her name?”

“Funny, Ray. I’m just leaving Peter Island, headed to Jost Van Dyke—”

“We’re back on St. John.” His voice lifted. “Lenny’s in love with Faith Hill—”

“Ray’s got man-love for Brad Pitt!” Lenny’s voice boomed in the background.

I checked my watch. “I’ll meet you at the Beach Bar tonight—and, Ray? I need you to make a call for me.”

I shoved the throttles forward, which pushed Avery back in her seat. I finished with Ray, disconnected and took in a deep breath. The day was half over and I still had a lot of water to cover. The RPMs climbed steadily and we bounced and shimmied over the low rolling waves, jarring enough for Avery to reach out and grab my forearm. We lifted off the water and climbed at a steady rate before I banked north.

“Woo-hoo!”

This girl liked to have fun and didn’t mind showing it.

Lander’s revelation that a boat was missing could mean several things. I wondered if Booth knew—but he’d fired me, so screw him. We climbed to a thousand feet and I had an exchange with Air Traffic Control out of Tortola, who again demanded I steer toward St. Thomas or return to Beef Island. I explained that I had permission from the FAA to make water landings in the USVI and that the same permission had been allowed by Duncan Mather of the Royal Virgin Islands Police, but they said he had no jurisdiction over BVI airspace. Made sense, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I was admonished not to make further water landings before I shut my radio off.

Avery gave me a