Read Online Stranded With Her Ex by Jill Sorenson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jill Sorenson
Tags: Suspense
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be the least of my worries.” As if the conversation were finished, she opened her book and resumed reading. Water Birds of the Pacific Coast, ironically enough.
It took him a second to realize he’d been snubbed. Elizabeth was a cool customer, and Sean had been amused by Jason’s attempts to woo her over the past few days. She’d shot him down a number of times.
Sean hadn’t expected to get the same treatment.
He ducked his head, smothering a self-deprecating laugh. If he wanted to talk to a woman, he could at least find a willing one—like Taryn. “I’m on shark watch,” he said, muttering goodbye as he headed out the door.
The hike up to the tower was daunting.
A zigzagged path dealt with the sharp rise in elevation, and traversing it was akin to walking up a thousand stairs. The most dangerous area, a narrow space at the outer edge of the cliff, had a sturdy wooden handrail for additional support. A sheer drop on that side careened down the cliff at almost fifty feet, ending at a section of water they called the Washtub. Incoming waves converged there in a swirl of powerful currents.
The safety rail didn’t calm Daniela’s nerves. She could easily imagine flipping over it, falling into the treacherous waters below.
Once they reached the summit, and she had her feet planted on stable ground, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her chest was heaving and her leg muscles burned from exertion, but these were pleasant aches.
Perspiration covered her face like a fine sea mist.
The lighthouse tower afforded a three hundred and sixty degree view of the island, which made it an ideal location for shark watch. Sean was standing there now, binoculars poised. The tower itself was empty, its upper floors barred to keep out wild animals. Near the edge of the cliff, an unsightly metal structure housed the automated beacon. A flashing blip had replaced the bright lamps of the past, and the high-powered Fresnel lens had long since been retired to the mainland.
The scientists’ duties didn’t include guiding passing ships in the night.
Before the U.S. Coast Guard took over, a light keeper had kept the lamps going by hand. In the past, hundreds of people had stayed on Southeast Farallon, but few had considered it home. Early hunters had visited seasonally, sleeping in sealskin tents. Egg collectors, who raided murre nests for a meager wage during a time when chickens were scarce in San Francisco, rarely battled the elements to attempt permanent lodgings.
After the lighthouse was constructed, entire families had lived here. It was a hard life for men, even more so for women and children. The only fresh water came from a trickling ravine, dripping down over the face of the cliff like sweat from a wrung-out towel. When the weather was bad, no supplies could be brought in, and food was scarce.
With unreliable access to medical care, many sick children died of curable illnesses.
Daniela had learned all of this last night in the history book, which had offered an unflinching depiction of the island’s quality of life. The author of the text hadn’t romanticized the harsh conditions in any way.
And yet, standing atop the lighthouse hill, with the enormity of the Pacific Ocean around her and the immensity of the blue sky above, she was…exhilarated. Yes, this place was intimidating, even scary, but there was a strange, stark beauty here, too.
It was sort of like climbing Mount Everest. Few people had earned this opportunity. She felt as though she was on top of the world.
Taryn’s expression was proud. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Daniela admitted, looking out at the dark blue horizon. It was a cold day, brisk and invigorating, a pleasant mix of clouds and sun. Early fall was her favorite time of year.
Or, it used to be.
“Sea Lion Cove is just there,” Taryn said, pointing down the opposite side of the hill. “There are a number of convenient haul-outs.”
Daniela could see dozens of tawny bodies, fat
It took him a second to realize he’d been snubbed. Elizabeth was a cool customer, and Sean had been amused by Jason’s attempts to woo her over the past few days. She’d shot him down a number of times.
Sean hadn’t expected to get the same treatment.
He ducked his head, smothering a self-deprecating laugh. If he wanted to talk to a woman, he could at least find a willing one—like Taryn. “I’m on shark watch,” he said, muttering goodbye as he headed out the door.
The hike up to the tower was daunting.
A zigzagged path dealt with the sharp rise in elevation, and traversing it was akin to walking up a thousand stairs. The most dangerous area, a narrow space at the outer edge of the cliff, had a sturdy wooden handrail for additional support. A sheer drop on that side careened down the cliff at almost fifty feet, ending at a section of water they called the Washtub. Incoming waves converged there in a swirl of powerful currents.
The safety rail didn’t calm Daniela’s nerves. She could easily imagine flipping over it, falling into the treacherous waters below.
Once they reached the summit, and she had her feet planted on stable ground, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her chest was heaving and her leg muscles burned from exertion, but these were pleasant aches.
Perspiration covered her face like a fine sea mist.
The lighthouse tower afforded a three hundred and sixty degree view of the island, which made it an ideal location for shark watch. Sean was standing there now, binoculars poised. The tower itself was empty, its upper floors barred to keep out wild animals. Near the edge of the cliff, an unsightly metal structure housed the automated beacon. A flashing blip had replaced the bright lamps of the past, and the high-powered Fresnel lens had long since been retired to the mainland.
The scientists’ duties didn’t include guiding passing ships in the night.
Before the U.S. Coast Guard took over, a light keeper had kept the lamps going by hand. In the past, hundreds of people had stayed on Southeast Farallon, but few had considered it home. Early hunters had visited seasonally, sleeping in sealskin tents. Egg collectors, who raided murre nests for a meager wage during a time when chickens were scarce in San Francisco, rarely battled the elements to attempt permanent lodgings.
After the lighthouse was constructed, entire families had lived here. It was a hard life for men, even more so for women and children. The only fresh water came from a trickling ravine, dripping down over the face of the cliff like sweat from a wrung-out towel. When the weather was bad, no supplies could be brought in, and food was scarce.
With unreliable access to medical care, many sick children died of curable illnesses.
Daniela had learned all of this last night in the history book, which had offered an unflinching depiction of the island’s quality of life. The author of the text hadn’t romanticized the harsh conditions in any way.
And yet, standing atop the lighthouse hill, with the enormity of the Pacific Ocean around her and the immensity of the blue sky above, she was…exhilarated. Yes, this place was intimidating, even scary, but there was a strange, stark beauty here, too.
It was sort of like climbing Mount Everest. Few people had earned this opportunity. She felt as though she was on top of the world.
Taryn’s expression was proud. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Daniela admitted, looking out at the dark blue horizon. It was a cold day, brisk and invigorating, a pleasant mix of clouds and sun. Early fall was her favorite time of year.
Or, it used to be.
“Sea Lion Cove is just there,” Taryn said, pointing down the opposite side of the hill. “There are a number of convenient haul-outs.”
Daniela could see dozens of tawny bodies, fat