Half Moon Harbor

by Donna Kauffman

He traced that same finger along her jaw and dipped his head to kiss her again. It wasn’t that all-claiming, all-consuming kind of carnal kiss. It was tender, sweet, which she hadn’t honestly thought he had in him. Of course, he did. It unraveled her in completely different, yet far more powerful ways. The man she was coming to know, falling for, had a heart as big as the moon. He’d been so good at spreading it around and over everyone he knew, he had never focused on only one person. Her heart squeezed tightly with the realization of just how much she wanted to be that one person.

  “That’s all the reason I’ll ever need,” he told her, lifting his head, something deep and sparkling in his eyes. Now that was new. “So . . . what is it that’s got you concerned?”

  The corners of her mouth curved and her eyebrow lifted. “How do you know it’s something concerning?”

  “Because there’s a bit of worry dimming the light in your eyes. Is it something to do with your brother? Do ye need to go back out to the island?”

  “No, no. Nothing about him. Well, that’s not entirely true. I did . . . I met someone this morning who knows him. Knew him. Well, I guess she still knows him. We’re going to talk more later.”

  Brodie’s eyebrows rose. “A woman, is it? They were close, you say?”

  “Once upon a time, I think so, yes. He mentioned her name, and . . . it’s a long story. But it’s Delia. O’Reilly. She’s—”

  “Owner of the diner, and a finer woman you’ll never know.” Brodie said it matter-of-factly and quite sincerely, though his expression was still one of concern for Grace.

  Grace flashed a grin at that. “Aye, and she thinks pretty highly of you as well, laddie,” she said, doing her best Irish brogue. She reached around and pinched his butt. “She likes the low parts, too. Just sayin’.” Her face split wide as she watched him actually squirm ever so slightly and get a hint of color in his tanned cheeks. “Why, Brodie Monaghan, I didn’t know you could blush.”

  “It’s no’ a blush, it’s . . .” He chuckled then, but looked even more disconcerted. “It’s a fine woman she is, and I’ve flirted shamelessly with her I have, but she’s rather like . . . well, no’ a sister, perhaps, but she reminds me of a lot of the women in my family back home. She’s family to me. Or has felt as such. So . . .”

  “Yeah,” Grace finished. “Maybe a little bit awkward.”

  Brodie held his forefinger and thumb close together. “Wee bit,” he said, with a grin and a little wince.

  She laughed at his aggrieved expression. “I’m sorry. I’d say I wish I hadn’t told you, because I truly don’t want to make things uncomfortable between you. I like her a lot, too, and I hope there’s a friendship there for me. But seeing you squirm a little might almost be worth it. And I’m betting Delia would agree.”

  “Och, don’t go tellin’ her now. I’ll never hear the end. The woman is as bold as she is loyal. You’ve got to swear on it.”

  Grace started to grin, then saw he was quite serious and laughed outright. “You are so adorable right now.” Her breath came out of her on a whoosh, followed by a squeal and choking laughter when he scooped her right over his shoulder and carted her out on the docks.

  “Adorable am I?” he asked, but she was laughing too hard to respond.

  “You can’t just cart me off to your sailboat cave every time I—Brodie, I’m serious. Put me down.” But her laughter hardly made the threat carry any weight. Unlike him, who seemed to have no problem whatsoever carrying her. “You realize the whole town knows about us. They know you came out to get me yesterday.”

  “So?” He paused before stopping entirely and sliding her down his body until her feet touched the pier. “Is that a concern for you? I should have thought. I’d never want to make ye feel compromised or—”

  She cupped his face and looked into his eyes, surprised by what she saw there. “Do you think I’m, what, ashamed of being with you? Because you have some reputation as a ladies’ man? No. No, I don’t care what anyone else thinks. They’ll say what they’re going to say. Honestly, your reputation only adds to your considerable charm. If anything, I’ll be more the target of envy than anything else.” She smiled. “I can live with that.”

  He smiled, but it was clear he was still thinking about what she’d said.

  Hands still framing his face, she tipped his chin down so she could look squarely into his eyes. “What we have, or whatever we will have, is ours. No one else’s. If you’re okay with that, I’m okay with that. Unless you think it will harm your business interests, or mine. Frankly, if this town is that small-minded, maybe I need to rethink my business plan.”

  “No, they’re lovely folks here. They welcomed me, and from what I can see, they’ve welcomed you just as heartily. They’ll talk and they love their gossip, but no. Ye don’t have to worry about that, I don’t think.”

  The actual reason she’d come to see him came back to mind, and she couldn’t believe she’d gotten so sidetracked. Well, she could, but still. “Actually, that is partly what I came to talk to you about. Now, don’t hold this against Delia. She assumed since you told me about Alex, that you told me about this, but—”

  “How on earth does Delia O’Reilly know what I did or didn’t tell you about Alex?”

  Grace’s cheeks warmed a little. “Uh, because I might have mentioned it.”

  To her surprise, he grinned. “Getting quite cozy, the two of you.”

  “Why are you grinning like that?”

  “Well, knowing Delia, she grilled ye a bit on the goings-on between us, if, as you say, tongues have been wagging. I’m no’ unhappy for her to know and spread about that there’s something more between us than there might have been for me before.”

  “How do you know that’s what I told her?”

  He reached around and pinched her butt, making her squeak, but she was grinning. “Okay, okay. So maybe Delia did immediately jump to that conclusion. But then that led her to also mention—”

  “Camille.” Brodie’s expression immediately changed to one of dawning understanding. “Christ.”

  “Well, she used somewhat different words to describe her, but yes.”

  He lifted his eyebrows and let out a short laugh. “Well, as I said, Delia is loyal to those she cares about, and that care doesn’t extend much to the Winstocks.” He sighed in resignation. “What else did she tell you?”

  “Not much, just that you are in some kind of new business deal with Cami’s father.”

  “Aye. That was what I meant to tell you on the boat yesterday, only we got sidetracked—” He paused and took in Grace’s unabashed grin and the tension seemed to ease in him. He ducked in and bussed her fast and hard on the mouth.

  “What was that for? Not that I minded. I just want to make sure I do it more often,” she said, echoing his earlier words.

  “For being open and honest. No games with you, Grace. If you feel it, you show it. It’s a help to me, a small guidance, perhaps, since I’m sure I’ll screw up more often than no’. And you came here and are giving me the benefit of the doubt. I’m certain you’ve more than a few doubts where I’m concerned. But you always ask first before you decide what’s what, and then you listen to what I have to say. It’s a rare commodity, to be sure. It doesn’t go unnoticed.”

  She didn’t blush but she might have glowed a bit more brightly. “Well . . . thank you. I—maybe it comes from what I used to do for a living. Listening was oftentimes ninety percent of the battle. Figuring what’s really important to people. So that’s . . . thank you.”

  He laughed then, tugged her more fully into his arms and to hell with his messy shirt. He smiled down at her as she tipped her head back to look into his eyes. “You confound me, Grace Maddox. All ballsy straight talk one moment, then flustered the next, as if you’re no’ used to hearing about your good points.”

  “It’s not that, it’s just . . . well, maybe I’m not used to caring about who it is I’m hearing them from.” She grinned then. “Now who’s blushing?”r />
  He just shook his head, kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose, then her forehead, then drew her against him and wrapped his arms around her fully. She tucked her cheek to his chest, not caring or even noticing the sawdust, too caught up in the soap and sweat smell of the man. Her man.

  Hmm. My man. Is he?

  She wanted him to be. I think I really do.

  “About the deal with Winstock, and Cami . . . I hadn’t the heart to wake you. Then you had work issues. After so much in one day, you looked a bit flat on your feet. I thought we could talk of it later today. I was going to make you dinner. I should have known in twenty-four hours someone else would mention it before I could. I’m sorry you heard of it that way. I’m guessing you have questions.”

  She lifted her head and looked up at him. “Delia mentioned there was a business deal with Cami’s father, but when she saw I had no idea what she was talking about, she stopped and said it would be better coming from you. She also mentioned that Cami has a grudge of some kind with you, which I took to mean she might not be so happy with me now, either. Brodie, honestly, I’m not worried about any of it. I just . . . it sounded like it might be something I should know.”

  “It is. And I should have told you about why Cami sold you my boathouse in the first place, straight out. I just . . . didn’t think it had so much to do with you as with me. But then we weren’t an us and now—”

  Grace wove her hands around Brodie’s neck, aware in a way she’d never been before of the statement she was really making, standing out in the open as they were in plain sight on the main Monaghan pier where more than likely several sets of eyes were on them, intentionally or not. She’d meant what she’d said about not caring who knew she was spending time with him . . . but hearing him say the same thing was also something she wanted. “And now we are.” She didn’t make it a question, but held his gaze as she said it all the same.

  “Aye,” he said on a short breath as if he’d been holding it. “That we are.” She saw relief, a sort of abashed pride, a bit of stunned happiness . . . and still a thread of concern. She took that last bit to be about whatever it was he had to tell her—not about them personally or where they stood—and her trembling new confidence in wanting to be part of an us grew a little steadier and stronger.

  “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it,” she said. “I thought I’d give that together part a try,” she added with a laugh.

  “Together.” He held her gaze, then his handsome face split into that sexy grin that made his dimples wink out and his eyes twinkle. “I know this was my idea, but hearing you say it . . . any other time in my life, that word would have scared me senseless.”

  “And now?” she asked, thinking that just because she wanted it, wanted him, didn’t mean she wasn’t still scared. Maybe more so now. But that’s what risking it was all about.

  “Now I’m still scared out of me mind . . . but it’s all for a greater good, so what choice to I have but to go with it?”

  “Exactly what I was thinking. You know,” she added, marveling a bit at the step they were trying to take toward each other, toward being together. “Langston has been married a bunch of times, and yet he’s constantly giving me relationship advice, encouraging me to go for it, to take bigger risks. He claims he’s been head over heels every time he’s said his vows, as hard and deep as if it were the best thing he’d ever had. I didn’t really get how that was possible, though I believed he felt that way. But he said something to me that I understand now. He said, ‘if you’re not scared out of your mind, then you’re not really in—’ ” Too late she realized what she’d been about to say and broke off. Not that saying it was saying she loved Brodie, but he might think that’s what she was saying.

  Would that be such a bad thing? Do I love him?

  She looked at him, blinked, certain she looked a bit poleaxed. Sensible or not, rational or not . . . she was pretty sure that even if she couldn’t say those words to him right that second, she was well on her way to a place where not saying them would be almost impossible.

  Chapter 20

  Brodie was glad Grace stopped speaking when she did . . . because his heart pretty much stopped beating right at that point. He had no idea how he’d feel if she’d said those words to him. And he wasn’t ready yet to find out. From the look on her face, she wasn’t ready yet, either. Thank the saints.

  He didn’t know what else to do, so he kissed her. She took the out. Quite fervently, if the way her fingers dug into the back of his neck was any indication. He was smiling as he lifted his head. They were a pair, that they were.

  “Let’s go up to the boathouse. I’ll show you the plans for the schooner I’m to build for Brooks Winstock.” He turned, arm around her shoulders, and headed up the pier.

  She slid her arm around his waist, leaned into him, matching his stride, as if they’d walked many a mile together. “Schooner. Like your two-master, you mean? Wow, that will be quite some undertaking. Where would you build it? Will you renovate the main boathouse for that?”

  He shook his head. “The main boathouse isn’t really a boathouse, it was the lumber mill, amongst other things, for the shipyard. Part of why the company ended up failing was because when the shipbuilding shifted from wood to steel, they didn’t shift with it.”

  “Aren’t you planning on building wood-hull boats as your new business? I mean, what you’re building out in your workshop is wood hull.”

  “Aye, I am. But my focus will be entirely different from my ancestors’. I’ll be going more for small, specially designed pleasure craft. Boats, mostly sail, for owners who want the art put into the design as much as the finesse and polish of the finished product.”

  She grinned. “I was thinking that same thing when I stepped into your workshop today—that what you do is truly art. It’s a bonus that it happens to be functional art.”

  He looked down at her, inordinately pleased by her compliment. “Thank you.”

  She laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. You know you’re good.”

  He chuckled, then squeezed her briefly against him and bumped hips. “I know my worth, but it’s good to know ye see it, too.”

  She rolled her eyes and nudged him back. “So, will you build this on your own? I know you did your two-master, but you said you had help. Even then it had to have been an enormous undertaking.”

  “She’s what I truly learned it all on, aye. She’ll always be me first love. They’re the most special.” As soon as he said the words, he experienced momentary brain freeze. Gawd, can I not just steer clear of the L word today?

  Instead of reading anything into his remark, or making some kind of joke, she answered quite honestly. “I didn’t build my scull by hand, but after renting them for years, the day I bought my very own . . . yeah.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, her voice softening. “It’s a standout moment that you can’t really repeat. Something about firsts, I guess.”

  That was his moment. With nothing more important going on than walking the short steps to his boathouse and sliding open the panel door, fate didn’t care what you were doing when the inevitable sank in. When she’d said “something about firsts, I guess,” Brodie’s instinctive, gut reaction was aye, like how I feel about you.

  “Well, I’m about to tackle a very different kind of first.” He winced inwardly again at the double meaning as he stepped back and let her enter before him. “I’m no’ quite sure how as yet, and we’ve not finalized the deal.” He wasn’t entirely sure that was because Brooks needed to look over the plans longer . . . or whether it was because he needed to consult with his daughter, and let her know that Brodie had been less than enthusiastic about her role in their deal. In fact, he’d made it rather clear she would have no role in their plan.

  If they still had one.

  Grace glanced at him expectantly. He motioned her over to his drafting table, and as soon as he lifted the cover sheet on the plans, she gasped. Her gaze immediately flew to his, then bac
k to the scale drawing of the eighteenth-century, three-masted schooner.

  “Brodie,” she said on a hushed breath. “This is . . . are you serious?” She looked at him again. “I—how would you even do that?”

  He smiled. “Well, my ancestors did it. Many times. Right out there on that hill. Someone built those ships, you know.”

  “I mean, of course, but . . . I guess I never thought about how they did it. This is, it’s . . . stunning. I’ve seen paintings of tall ships and models of them, but that . . .” She trailed off, shook her head, and went back to looking at the drawing. Really looking at it.

  Brodie felt a simultaneous swell of pride . . . and gut-notching fear. Because he was still wondering the very same thing. How in the hell am I going to build that ship?

  “What is Mr. Winstock going to do with it?”

  Brodie’s mind was still on the enormous challenge in front of him and answered absently. “He wants to run day tours out in Pelican Bay. There are other port towns that use modern-day versions of historic tall ships for tourist purposes.” He looked at his plans. “This will have some minor modifications for modern facilities, auxiliary power, communication, for safety and comfort purposes, but the ship itself will be an exact replica of the wood-hull schooners my ancestors built right here in Blueberry Cove. The modernized ones used today are usually built with a steel hull. Winstock realizes there will be longevity issues with such an actual replication, but is willing to make the investment in order to have something no one else has. I—” Brodie broke off as he glanced up and caught her looking at him. Staring at him.

  “Brooks Winstock is going to run tours in Pelican Bay. Tourist-type tours.” She spoke as if she were trying to get that to sink in.

  Brodie grinned. “It won’t be happening anytime soon, but the time it takes me to build the ship will allow him months to plan and market the business, so, in the end, it all dovetails nicely. And yes, allow you time to finish your inn. To be ready made for the influx of visitors.”

  She was still staring. “He’s going to run it out of Half Moon Harbor,” she said. “Right? Where else could a ship that size go, anyway?”