Half Moon Harbor by Donna Kauffman Read Free Book Online Page A

could tell, but hospitality—or her stench—won out. “Help yourself to the shower. I left a pair of track pants, a tee, and a jumper in there for you. You’ll likely—”
    â€œJumper?”
    â€œOh, erm, a sweater, yes.”
    â€œAh. And track pants. Like a sweat suit, then.”
    â€œAye. They’ll swim on you to be certain, but you needed something to wear. I put a large plastic dustbin liner in there to put your smelly things in.”
    â€œThank you,” she said, giving herself an internal eye roll as she thought how she’d been drooling over his sea of a bed and imagining the two of them rolling in those white linen sheets . . . all while he’d been thinking of her as a “smelly thing.” Which she was. Yeah, it’s past the time to get your head back where it needs to be. On business. And business only.
    She turned and climbed up the stairs again, wincing as she grabbed on to the railing with her splintered palm. “I won’t be but a few minutes. Then we can make the calls—”
    â€œHere, let’s have another look,” he said, taking her good hand before she could dodge the assist and helping her step up onto the loft floor.
    â€œIt’s okay,” she said, damning the hint of breathlessness in her voice. It didn’t help that not only was he wearing even less than the last time he’d touched her, but he was framed by the impossibly wide expanse of bed behind him. Made even more inviting by the rumpled pile of old, faded quilts and oversized pillows. Eyes on the splinters, not on the bed. Or the towel. And for God’s sake, stop thinking about what’s under it.
    â€œCome on into the bathroom with me. I’ve got tweezers there.” At her arched eyebrow, he grinned and it so effortlessly transformed him from brooding Irishman back into irrepressible charmer, she couldn’t help but be a bit transfixed by the glow of it. He wiggled his dark eyebrows. “I don’t tweeze me brows if that’s what yer thinkin’. When you live on the docks, splinters are a part of life.”
    â€œI bet,” she managed, trying to ignore how dry her throat was. And how it was pretty much the only dry part she had left. She slid her hand free. Not touching was a good idea. Getting some distance was even better. “I’ll find them. Just wait here and I’ll be out fast.” She didn’t want him phoning anyone while she was cleaning up, but she couldn’t stand the smell of herself another second. That he was all clean and soapy-smelling, and it appeared he’d shaved while he was in there, only made her feel more gross and uncomfortable.
    â€œMedicine cabinet, top shelf for the tweezers, bottom shelf for the alcohol. It’ll go faster if you allow me.” He nodded to her injured left hand. “You’re left-handed.”
    â€œHow did you—”
    â€œI tend to notice details. It’s part of my craft.”
    Disconcerted that he’d been paying that close attention, she stammered, “Right. Shipbuilding. Boats by hand. I saw the sign when I came in.”
    â€œAnd yet you didn’t notice it when you were off buying up a piece of my property.”
    â€œI—the first thing I looked at was the boathouse at the other end. It sits apart a little and has its”—she broke off, not wanting to get into the part where she also owned one of his piers—“other selling points. The big boathouse in the middle blocked yours from view, so I didn’t see it, or that it had obviously been renovated.” She thought back, wondering how she could have missed it, and realized that Cami might have steered her specifically to keep her view of Brodie’s place blocked. But she wasn’t entirely sure. She waved a quick hand. “What you’ve done is amazing. And the sign outside—that’s impressive artwork. Yours?”
    He shook his head.