Time After Time (Sweetbriar Cove #14) - Melody Grace Page 0,58
He grabbed his bag and stormed into the house, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Stella turned off the engine and sighed. Aidan was right.
Real life could definitely use some work.
14
‘There’s a dozen dirty plumbing jokes I could make, but you’re a classy lady, so I’ll hold my tongue.’
‘Try me ;)’
‘Are you busy today?’
‘I have some free time in my schedule this afternoon, around 2?’
‘See you then.’
Aidan tucked his phone away with a smile. He knew he was acting like a kid who’d just gotten his dream date to prom, but what could he say?
Last night had been spectacular.
He’d known from their dances that the chemistry with Stella was electric, and their kisses had only been a glimpse of what was possible, promising so much more. But still, the strength of their connection took his breath away. Feeling the curves of her naked body moving against him; hearing her ragged moans as she came undone…
Aidan had never felt a passion like that before. Never been so consumed with desire. And even though he’d tried to control it, restrain himself, watching her sweet torment of a striptease, he hadn’t been able to hold himself back. He’d lost himself in her arms, and now, he couldn’t wait for another taste.
She was fascinating. Intoxicating.
And also busy for the next six hours. Which meant he had to find some other way to distract himself until he could see her again. Aidan finished up his workout, showered, and then dragged his attention back to the seventeen feet of warped timber currently taking up residence in his garage. He’d finished cleaning off the boat, and carefully removed all the rotting beams and planks, moving it inside to protect from the autumn rains. Now, he walked a slow circle around the carcass, assessing his next steps. He could cut timber to size, and fill the gaps in the hull, but he’d have to research the best ways to make it watertight…
Aidan had to smile wryly, taking in the mess of tools and materials already spread across the huge, echoing space. The realtor had bragged about the size of the garage – just perfect for a trophy car collection. He was guessing they hadn’t pictured this old thing taking up room. And neither had he. This boat project had taken over more than just a casual corner; it was filling his days now.
When he wasn’t thinking about Stella, that was.
But Aidan enjoyed the purpose, and how every small, simple task got him one step closer to a sea-worthy vessel. Today, he spent a happy few hours carefully prying nails free from the old boards, and researching the best mast construction, lost in enthusiastic reports on a small shipbuilding message board online.
“She’s looking good.”
Aidan glanced up. Luke was in the garage doorway; he’d been so absorbed in his reading, he hadn’t even heard his brother arrive.
“Still a long way from being watertight,” Aidan said, stretching. “But we’ll get there, eventually.”
Luke came closer, inspecting some of Aidan’s basic handiwork.
“I know I’m just a beginner,” Aidan found himself saying. His brother was the craftsman of the family, but Luke smiled broadly.
“Are you kidding? You’re doing great. As long as she sails, it doesn’t have to be pretty.”
“That’s what I thought. I tried to match the tones of wood, here, so the new parts would blend in.” Aidan pointed out the first bit of patching he’d done. “But the original timber is so old, it’s impossible to make it look the same.”
Luke nodded. “You can’t fake that kind of aging. It’s why I salvage a lot of my materials for my furniture designs. You can sometimes find wood from a similar era,” he added, examining it thoughtfully. “Old railroad tracks, or barns. But then, the risk is, it’s got termite damage or won’t stand up to the water for long. I only need my furniture to look good, not stay afloat.” Luke grinned. “So, you’re probably better off with the new stuff, and then just staining it to match as close as possible.”
“That’s what I thought.” Aidan nodded. “And what BoatBuilder62 said. Turns out, there’s a whole community of people doing this, online,” he explained, when his brother raised an eyebrow.
Luke chuckled. “The great Aidan Kinsella, chatting with a bunch of grizzled old shipmen online. Now that’s something I would have bet good money against.”
Aidan gave a bashful smile. “I’m all about doing my research. And since I can’t exactly use a dozen fresh associates to work 24/7 at my beck and call…”