Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove)

by Donna Kauffman

  Logan lifted his gaze from the drawing and met hers. “Questionable,” he repeated. “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “We won’t know for sure until we look inside, but saving any part of it means a total renovation. Stripping it down to that sturdy frame and slanted foundation and rebuilding from scratch. I can get a second opinion, but—”

  “What’s your opinion?” he asked.

  “That Hank’s right, and your money would be better spent following up on his initial assessment than paying for another one.”

  “Then go with that.” Logan glanced away from her and looked at Brodie, who was standing at Alex’s other elbow. “What brings you out to the Point? Your expertise is boats, right?”

  “That it is, Chief.” Brodie’s grin was easy and open—which meant either he was oblivious to the tension Alex could feel all but choking the air between the three of them, or was doing a damn fine job of not letting it show.

  She wished she could say the same, and tried not to fidget.

  “I’m not here in a professional capacity. I came out to give Alexandra a lift back into town. We’ve our own business to discuss and I thought it would be nice to do so over dinner.” His grin was guileless, but Alex realized there was indeed more going on when he added, “Give her a break from doin’ all the cooking. All work, no play, our Alex. Of course, I’ve always said the best work is both.”

  Alex thought about exactly what kind of play she’d been up to with the man she was ostensibly working for and felt the flush begin at the base of her neck and start a slow but steady crawl northward to her cheeks.

  Unsure of exactly how she’d come to be the center of what felt like a very awkward and quickly escalating situation, she took a step back and hugged the clipboard to her chest like a shield. Favoring both men with a cool smile, she said, “I need to go talk to Hank, set up a meeting with him and Owen to nail down some quotes.” She looked at Brodie. “I have the quote and schedule already done for you. It’s out in my truck. I appreciate the offer of dinner, and I’m sorry you came all the way out here, but Logan and I have several hours of work ahead of us tonight and a lot to go over and decide on before our next round of appointments tomorrow, so that’s not going to be possible. But I appreciate the gesture.”

  “Some other time then,” Brodie said, his smile steady as ever as he took her refusal in stride. “I’ll meet you out by your truck.”

  “Give me ten minutes.” She turned to Logan. “Did you have any particular questions for Hank?”

  “Not until we go over things. I’ll go talk to Wade and Scotty. I think they’re off the roof now.”

  “Good, thanks.” She gave both men a polite nod. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  It took significant will not to look over her shoulder as she went around the corner of the cottage Hank had disappeared around moments before, probably continuing his assessment. What the hell had that been all about? She wasn’t blind or dumb—she realized Brodie had been making a play. He’d been making a play since the moment she’d first met him. But she was pretty sure he was simply wired that way. He seemed like the easy-come-easy-go type, so she doubted her refusal of his dinner offer would set him back. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had a dinner replacement lined up before he got back to Blueberry.

  What was more disconcerting to her was that, even with Brodie’s surprise appearance and his always sunny, flattering, overt flirtation, her thoughts had never strayed far from the man in uniform she’d just left standing on his side lawn.

  After the initial and quite tempestuous first few days spent in each other’s company, the opportunity for more frolicking hadn’t occurred. The first day—and night—or two, she’d figured Logan’s long hours away from the house had been work related. But two nights had become four, then six. Added to that was the fact that no matter what time she’d woken up, coffee had been brewed and waiting for her in the kitchen . . . and his truck had already been gone from the driveway.

  Most nights he’d come home at what seemed like a normal time, changed clothes, then headed out to work on the stacked stone wall until dark. If she happened to be somewhere in the house or outside where their paths would cross, he’d say hello, ask how things were going, if she needed anything, then would go on with what he was doing.

  His version of winging it, she gathered.

  She’d put something together for dinner, for which he’d thank her whenever he wandered back in. Then he’d fixed a plate and disappeared into his study with nothing more than an absently delivered, “If you need anything, let me know.”

  Last night she’d eaten in town at Delia’s and left him to his own devices for the evening meal, then had come in and gone straight to her room to finalize coordinating the information she knew the contractors would need for the first round of appointments, all the while telling herself that it was pretty obvious things had moved too far, too fast, and he was gently, but firmly putting some distance between himself and the woman he’d allowed to live under his roof.

  She got it. She even knew she should be grateful that at least one of them was being clearheaded about it. Apparently, he’d decided that even winging it came with too much potential for complications. She wished—desperately—she could agree with him on that, but just thinking about him made it quite clear that her body was not at all happy with the sudden return to drought time.

  Their only commitment—made in the heat of . . . frolicking—had been to not frolic elsewhere. So, she supposed, other than the formality of inquiring whether that agreement no longer required enforcement, there was nothing whatsoever stopping her from taking Brodie up on his next offer. He’d be exactly the type for a no-strings, short-term fling, and she had very little doubt that he would make it a fun adventure . . . if that’s what she really wanted.

  But it wasn’t Brodie’s dancing eyes and promising grin she saw when she closed her eyes at night. She knew she should be grateful Logan had given her something new to dream about. Her subconscious didn’t even have to work all that hard. She didn’t need to embellish or fantasize . . . all she had to do was remember what it had truly been like.

  “You’re just being perverse, wanting what you can’t have.”

  “Well, missy, I wish I could tell you otherwise, but truth is, it’s a miracle this place is still upright.”

  Unaware she’d spoken her thoughts out loud, Alex ducked her chin to hide her sudden blush as Hank continued his poking and prodding along the front of the cottage. He was focused on where the footing met the shake siding.

  Clueless to the fact she hadn’t been paying the least bit of attention to him, he moved to a spot next to the small, sagging front stoop, pulled the end of one loose piece out, and pointed to the exposed frame behind it. “See here? Original foundation. See those nails? Handmade. Every piece here was measured and cut exact to fit. Don’t see workmanship like that anymore. Takes too much time.”

  He moved the shake back into place and gave it a little pat. “But that’s why she’s still upright.” He pushed his floppy, dark blue wool captain’s cap back on his forehead and pushed the few thinning strands of white hair the wind kept catching away from his ruddy face. “It’s all gonna have to come straight down to the frame. And you’re going to need folks who know what to do with this kind of foundation. Can’t just let anybody with a hammer have at it.” He peered through one of the salt- and wind-blasted windows. “Can’t see much of what’s inside, but you’ll want to take care getting in there. Front door will be your best bet, though you’ll have to take it off at the hinges to get in. Then shore the doorframe before taking a step inside. You find anything in there worth storing for the duration, would be wise to make a plan now for where you’re going to put it. All that’ll have to get done before we start takin’ her apart. Won’t be able to start work until spring after the weather turns, so you have some time. If you want my company to do the work, I can put together a quote for you. I got some recommendations on who you can ge
t in to help with the specialized work. Not from the Cove, but local enough to be day laborers. We can go over scheduling, labor. You’d be smart to get this contracted now, so come spring you know you have things set to go. Otherwise other opportunities come up.” He lifted a beefy shoulder. “Folks’ll take ’em when they can get ’em.”

  Alex’s thoughts moved mercifully away from Logan and back to the job at hand. “I understand. That’s why I have you out here now. The plans said the shakes were last replaced in the seventies. Just patch jobs done since then. I know that was over forty years ago, but I had hoped more of it would be salvageable.”

  “Forty years in most places is doubled out here on the Point, with the effects of the weather and nothing to shelter the cottage other than the tower. Even then, winds moving north to south whip right through the passage between tower and cottage, so—”

  “No, no, I understand. I know what the weather can do, but even so, this is much worse degradation then you’d typically see in under a half century. Have there been more record storms than normal? More unusual or dramatic temperature swings? Warmer than usual weather can actually be more corrosive than the deep cold. I haven’t done a weather chart yet, but—”

  “Nothing that out of the ordinary, I don’t think. I’ve lived here all of my sixty-five years, so I’m a walking weather chart,” he added with a deep chuckle. “What I think is that substandard material was used last time, trying to shave some of the cost, but it allowed the weather to get in. Now the Chief is paying the price for decisions made by a past generation. Happens all the time.”

  Alex had lost track of what he’d said after the term substandard material. Not that it was at all surprising. Switching to low-grade shake shingles wasn’t in any way the same as switching to low-grade support iron and untested connective hardware that wouldn’t hold up under harsh weather conditions. No one was going to die because one of Logan’s relatives had decided to put up cheap siding. But with the lighthouse looming over her, literally a breath away from where she was standing, it was a trigger she couldn’t nimbly sidestep.

  Hank kept rambling, then finally realized she wasn’t following him as he was pointing to the rotting window frames and weather-cracked seals. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She swallowed past a particularly large knot of emotion and nodded. “Fine. It’s—getting dark. I really appreciate your coming out.”

  Hank nodded. “Happy to. There’s a few more things I want to check out while there’s still a little light left.”

  “Okay. I’m going to go catch up to Logan.” Alex turned and headed back around to the side of the cottage and main house, hoping her abrupt departure hadn’t seemed rude. Fortunately, Hank didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who paid much attention to social niceties.

  Logan was still talking to Wade and his brother. Brodie was nowhere to be seen.

  Oh, right. Her truck. The quote for the job he’d hired her to do. “I’m heading out front,” she said as she neared Logan. “Do you need anything else from me regarding the roofing on the house? Hank said we’d have to take the cottage down to the frame, so we’ll need to talk about that. But if everything is good here, then I’m ready for a roof estimate.” He didn’t say anything, so she turned to the brothers. “I already gave you that info on the specially treated shakes I want you to use, but I’m open to your recommendations on what to put under it.”

  Wade and Scotty nodded, smiles spreading on both of their faces. “We’ll get on it.”

  For his part, Logan just held her gaze. She couldn’t read his expression and the growing gloom didn’t help. There were floodlights on the side of the house, but they hadn’t been triggered on as yet.

  Annoyed, she kept her gaze on Wade and Scotty. “Good, good. I’ll look forward to receiving your quote.” She clasped her clipboard close and continued on toward the driveway without another glance at Logan. She supposed she needed to just up and admit to herself that she needed to talk to him and put what was bugging her directly on the table. She wasn’t cut out for winging it, after all. Not with him, not with anyone. She might have had a summer romance or two in her early twenties while on jobs in other countries, but this was not anything like that. Hell, she didn’t even know what this was.

  She was an adult, in charge of her own company, albeit a company of one, and that’s where she needed to focus her energies. The best thing to do was to officially end whatever they weren’t actively having anymore and move on to a strictly business arrangement. She realized that he’d likely assumed they’d already done that, but because she really didn’t know how they’d gone from playful, toe-curling frolicking to his pretending she didn’t exist, she wanted it stated clearly, so there would be no ambiguity. Then maybe he could stop hiding in his study in the evenings and they could manage to eat breakfast at the same time in the same room on occasion.

  Given the intensity that seemed to naturally exist between them, it was definitely for the best. It had only been a week since the last time they’d ended up in bed—or the shower, as had been the case—and she was already spending way too much time thinking about him, worrying about what was or wasn’t going on between them. If that were true this early on, she could well imagine what would happen if she stayed intimately involved with him for any real length of time.

  Besides, even if she wanted to risk that, wanted to go for it all . . . there was no future in it. If she got the contract to manage the restoration project for all three buildings, which was looking more and more promising, it was still a short-term situation. A year or two at best. Then it would be on to the next job. That was the nature of her work.

  Logan didn’t have to come out and state that his life was in the Cove. That much was clear. His roots were deep, and she respected him and envied him for it. She also admired him for continuing onward in the place he loved, despite the huge losses he’d suffered. The last thing he’d want was someone who was already set up to leave Blueberry Cove.

  If they nipped things in the bud, kept their relationship business only—“Yeah, maybe I’d have a chance in hell of not falling for him anyway,” she muttered. She was trying to work the math on what it would take for her to relocate to a place in town—maybe she could lease out a little loft space or even just a room—while overseeing the restoration, when she walked straight into Brodie.

  “Earth to Alexandra,” he chuckled, reaching for her arms to help her get her balance. “Ye work too hard, lass. Head always filled with numbers and lists on top of lists.” He pushed her knit cap up where it had slid over her eyebrows, then bent down to peer into her eyes, his own merry green ones twinkling with mischief. “Sure and I can’t talk you into a quick bite? I promise no’ to keep you too long.”

  “Brodie, it’s nice of you to offer, but—”

  “Take him up on it if you’d like.” Logan stepped out of the darkness and walked to the driver side door of his SUV, which was parked directly behind hers. “I’ve been called back to the station.” He opened the door, climbed in, then glanced over at them, which was when she realized how it must look. She was all but standing in Brodie’s arms.

  She wasn’t sure what it was, pride maybe, stubbornness, but she didn’t pull away or try to explain. Besides, what business was it of his anyway? He’d made his position pretty clear over the past week.

  “Make whatever appointments you feel necessary,” Logan told her. “And contact Owen, get him out here tomorrow as well if you can.”

  “Owen? But why would—”

  “He’s the closest we’ve got to a lighthouse expert in the Cove. We’ve got some answers on the house and cottage. Tomorrow we’ll start dealing with the tower.” His gaze shifted to Brodie. “Find out if she’s still seaworthy.” Then he closed the door and started up the engine.

  Her mouth was still hanging open as he backed out, turned, and drove off. She looked back at Brodie to find him studying her.

  “Is there something more between you
two then? Other than business?”

  She worked to mentally regroup from Logan’s sudden appearance to the announcement that she’d be expected to go inside the tower. Tomorrow. Well, we’ll see about that. “Just business,” she said flatly, hoping he didn’t hear the slight tremble in the words. The tremble of fear . . . and fury. “But I’m here to work, so—”

  “All work and no play, lass, no’ a good thing, no’ a’ tall.”

  “It’s a big job and it’s important to me.” She mustered up a smile. “Like you said, the best work is both. I need—to focus.”

  He rubbed her arms, then gave her a wink as he tugged at her knit cap, and let her go. “Aye, that I can see.”

  “Let me get your quote.” She fumbled with the door handle, swore under her breath when it stuck, then finally got it open. She snatched the estimate sheet from the passenger seat and handed it to him. “Go over it, ask me to clarify anything that doesn’t make sense or seems out of order. I’ll be in town around noon tomorrow, so I can come by then and we can set up a start date and go over what will need to happen before the laborers get started.”

  He was still studying her with that perpetual sunny smile of his. But a closer look at his eyes said he probably saw a lot more than his devil-may-care disposition would seem to indicate. “I understand about work and focus, but if it’s no’ a flirtation you’re up for, perhaps you’d accept something else instead.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Such as?”

  “The offer of friendship. We’re both new to the Cove. Couldn’t hurt to have an ally who’s not otherwise umbilically attached to the place.”

  She simply smiled at that.

  “Och, now you’ve gone and hurt me feelings. Ye think I can’t be but a friend?”

  “I think if I honestly asked you to give me a list of female friends you’d never gotten into bed or at least tried your damndest to, it would be a very, very short list.”