My gut tightens at the sadness in her tone. Fuck, maybe I should buy it, keep it in the family for her. Wait, what the hell am I saying? I’m not about to own or run a B&B. As soon as the plant is done, I’m out of here, on to the next operation. She’ll likely do the same. Someone will offer her the right price, and she’ll pocket the money and put the town in her rearview mirror. When push comes to shove people take care of themselves first.
“Your Gram will live on in the local art galleries,” I say.
She turns to me and smiles, and the warmth and sweetness behind it washes over me, seeps under my skin. The fire lights her body as she steps up to it and takes a sip of tea.
It’s all I can do not to lean into her, taste those damp lips. Would she taste like cupcakes? I can only fucking imagine that she would.
“Since I’m up, I think I’ll go to my study, do a little bit of work.”
“Are you a student?” I ask, even though she made it clear she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Something like that.”
At that non-answer, I say, “I should get to bed. Six o’clock comes early.”
Another gust of wind washes over the house and she hugs herself. “I think Frank’s knees might be onto something. It sounds like there’s a storm coming.”
I pull open the curtain and from our perch on the hill, we have a view of the ocean. It’s dark, but if I listen carefully, I can hear the surf, the waves crashing against the docks.
“Will it be safe to be on the boats tomorrow?”
Her concern for my men does something weird to me. “Hard to keep a good lobster fisherman down,” I say. “But our company has strict criteria, if it’s too dangerous, the boats don’t go out.”
“That’s obviously changed since I was a child.”
Her soft smile draws me in and before I realize what I’m doing, I take a step toward her. “Have you ever thought about buying the place yourself.”
She gives a laugh that comes out sounding like a snort. “Even if I could afford a down payment, I don’t belong here, Nate. My life is on the other side of the country.”
“Okay,” I say, totally understanding where she’s coming from. I don’t belong here, either. I set my tea down, stretch my arms over my head and her eyes drop, move over my bare chest. She takes a small breath, almost too quiet for me to hear, and I rub the back of my neck, wanting to stand here with her longer, continue the conversation—or maybe take her to my bed. I dip my head, and run my tongue over my bottom lip, dying for a taste of her. I swallow against a dry throat that scratches like I haven’t had a drink in ages. The log in the fire cracks, snaps some sense back into me, and breaks the trance between us. “I uh, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night,” she says quietly, breathlessly.
I turn, take the stairs two at a time, and flop on my bed. I leave my door cracked, in case Kira needs me to collect her mouse trap, or anything else she might need. Like a hot tumble between my sheets. Warmth from the fire downstairs rushes up, and I roll, trying not to think about how close I was to kissing her. Christ, what would she have done? Introduce my balls to my gut with her foot?
Or would she have kissed me back?
Groaning, I roll, tug the blankets to my chin, and the next thing I know, my alarm goes off and the smell of bacon reaches my nostrils. I stretch out and glance out the window to find a light dusting of snow on the ground, but the winds are still high, the top branches of the trees batting against the side of the house.
I dress and step into the hall. The doors around me all open, save for Izzy, she does not