Pirate's Persuasion - Lisa Kessler Page 0,11

dinners pale in comparison.

“Enjoy your meal. I’ll be back soon.” She started to reach for her hooded cape but stopped herself.

Unlike last night, she wasn’t in a hurry to find anyone. If people stared, let them. In the bathroom, she brushed her long silver hair into a ponytail and swiped a light, frosted-pink gloss over her lips, all while convincing herself it had nothing to do with knowing now that Drake and Bob were friends, or that maybe Drake might be visiting Bob’s Seafood tonight, too.

She rolled her eyes.

Thanks for planting that romance idea in my head, Queenie.

…

Drake finished his beer and set the empty mug on the bar.

One-Eyed Bob wandered over with a white hand towel draped over his shoulder, concern lining his good eye. “You sure you don’t want to talk?”

Drake lifted his gaze, shaking his head. “Nothing to talk about, just having trouble sleeping.”

Bob placed a fresh mug in front of him. “Heard you got a call from a banshee last night.”

“Colton has a big mouth.” Drake swiped the mug off the bar. He bit back the frustration building in his gut. He wanted to confide in someone, but even after more than two hundred years, the sick pit of guilt still ate at his insides. Speaking the words out loud was impossible.

Maybe part of him welcomed the burden of his private hell.

You don’t deserve forgiveness or mercy.

The door opened behind him before he could examine the source of the statement. He glanced over his shoulder to find Heather coming inside. She wore a long purple crushed-velvet skirt, with a formfitting black top. Her hair was pulled back, exposing her long neck and the soft features of her face. This might’ve been the first time he’d ever seen her in such a well-lit place, but hell, she was beautiful no matter where she was or how her hair was styled.

“Drake?” Her smile called to him like a siren.

He turned all the way around on the stool. “What are you doing here?”

She chuckled with a shrug of her creamy shoulders. “Hopefully eating?”

He smacked his forehead, wishing like hell he was better at small talk. Glancing past her, the knot in his gut eased. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.” Her gaze swept up and down the bar. “You?”

“Aye.” He gestured to the stool next to him. “You’re welcome to join me.”

One-Eyed Bob shooed them with his gnarled hands. “That empty booth over there is calling your names. I’ll bring a fresh plate of shrimp and hush puppies.”

Drake shot him a look, but Bob didn’t seem to notice as he spun on his heel, heading for the kitchen. The elderly pirate was developing a habit of playing matchmaker. Already, three of his crewmates had found women worthy of joining their crew. Hell, Colton just got married.

“I’m piss-poor company.” Drake glanced at the booth. “But there’s shrimp and hush puppies in it for us, so…”

“You make it sound promising.” She raised a teasing brow. “But I wouldn’t want to interrupt a brooding session—”

“Brooding?” Laughter burst from his lips, surprising him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. “Do you always call it as you see it?”

“Well, you’re not the first brooder I’ve ever met.” Her lopsided smile spoke of secrets he ached to discover. “You’d think I would learn.”

An unfamiliar flame sparked in his soul at her declaration. The thought of another man hurting her…it pissed him off. Which made no sense. Neither did stepping in front of an armed man, but he’d done that for her, too.

What was it about this woman?

At the booth, he took a seat across from her and glanced at the empty doorway to the kitchen. Satisfied they were alone, he cleared his throat and found…nothing to say. “No cape tonight?”

Inwardly, he cursed himself for such a sad excuse at conversation with her, but he couldn’t reel the words back now.

“Nope.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “No tool belt tonight?”

“No.” He chuckled, amazed again at how deftly she crept underneath the suffocating blanket of guilt and spread her light. She was magic. “If Bob needs something fixed, he’ll have to handle it his own damned self.”

She grinned, her laughter warming him all over. “After last night’s…attack, or whatever it was, I’m glad to see you’re taking some time off.” She sobered. “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty, if you want an honest answer.” His admission shocked him.

“Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“You could say that.” He frowned. Had Colton been right? Did