“Sounds like you had the kind of day I did. My mind won’t turn off.” He didn’t approach her, didn’t make any move other than pushing his hands into his own pockets to stop them from stiffening up. “I met with Gil today. To talk about the book.”
She nodded, looking past him to the ocean beyond.
“We talked about you a bit,” he added.
Now that caught her attention. His eyes had adjusted to the dark and he saw the flash of irritation in her eyes, saw her spine stiffen, only to soften moments later. “What about me?”
“Only that our arrival caught you by surprise and that I thought he should have given you some warning. He agreed.”
“Did he?” Kendall’s eyebrows lifted.
“He’ll be by to apologize. He should, anyway. I would if it were me.”
“You’re not Gil Hamilton,” Kendall said with a quick smile. “You were right the other night. I’ve been rude to both you and Phoebe, so it’s me who owes the apology.”
“Accepted.” The unspoken truce between them felt like the biggest hurdle he’d jumped yet. “We don’t want to get in your way, Kendall. I’m just here to do a job and hopefully show Phoebe there’s more to life than grief.”
“I know. It’s just...” She hesitated. “Children make me uneasy. I—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Kendall.” Although he was curious. Uneasy seemed an odd term to use. She hadn’t said she didn’t like children, or that she didn’t want to be around them. “On the bright side, you don’t have to worry about Phoebe talking your ear off.” His heart twisted. What he wouldn’t give to hear Phoebe’s nonstop chattering once more.
“Maybe it’s that she just waits until she has something important to say.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “Would you like to continue this conversation inside?” He pointed to the carriage house. “I don’t know about you, but I’m half frozen.”
“No, thank you.” Kendall took a step around him and shook her head. “Maybe another time. I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow and I need to try to get some sleep.”
“Fair enough.” Disappointment he didn’t expect slid through him. He couldn’t explain it, but he liked being around her, liked talking with her. “Maybe next time then. Good night, Kendall.”
“Good night, Hunter.”
* * *
“YOU JUST COULDN’T wait for me, could you?”
Kendall looked down from the second story of the scaffold she was building and found Frankie Bettencourt looking up at her, shielding her eyes against the morning sun. A sun that turned Frankie’s tied-down, fire-red hair to a color resembling molten lava. “Sorry. Got an earlier than expected start. Come on up.”
“Surprise, surprise.” Frankie set her coffee cup down, unzipped her sweatshirt and shrugged free, tossing it onto the workbench before she scrambled up the side rungs to join Kendall. “Nice job so far. Feels sturdy.”
They could have been twins, Kendall thought with something akin to humor shifting through her. Jeans, sneakers and tank tops were both their preferred attire. But while Kendall gravitated toward the grays and blacks of the spectrum, Frankie was a rainbow of contradictions. Even the bra strap that peeked out from under her sunshine-yellow tank was fluorescent pink. By comparison, however, Kendall looked as if she needed half a year’s worth of good meals and twice that much sleep. That said, Frankie was toned, muscular and more fit than most athletes. She had to be, given her job as a captain in the Butterfly Harbor Fire Department. She was also a good three inches taller than Kendall. So...maybe the twins idea didn’t fit, after all.
“How far up do you want to build this thing?” Frankie’s feet landed solidly on the plank platform. She gripped and shook one of the pipes and gave a nod of approval.
“No more than five, I think.” Kendall had been debating that for the last half hour. She had a sixty-foot extendable ladder she could use as backup to do the plastering and priming, but the idea of a scaffold made more sense. She could get more done in less time. “I’ve put braking wheels on the bottom so I can move it around easily. The connections are holding well, but I don’t want to stress it out.”
“We won’t. But given we don’t have this property marked as a construction zone, let’s not borrow trouble.” That was Frankie. Safety first. Well, prevention first. Chances were she’d seen a lot of preventable accidents as one of the town’s first responders. “So okay, boss. Put me to work.”
Kendall relaxed. This was why she liked working with no-nonsense Frankie. With little small talk and a make-the-most-of-every-moment attitude, jobs usually got done faster than expected.
With two of them now, they were able to alternate handing up the pipes and connectors, and within the space of a few hours, Kendall had a working, movable, practical device to reach all the cracks and wear on the exterior of the lighthouse.
“At this rate you’re going to be done with this before they even pour the first layer of foundation on the butterfly sanctuary.” Frankie grabbed a bottle of water from her backpack and drank. She fanned herself as Kendall climbed down and joined her.
“Have you been up there yet?” Kendall asked.
“Nope. Thought you might have been, though. You know, you could probably run the project yourself.”
“I work better alone.” Kendall grabbed her own bottle and toasted Frankie. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Appreciate that.” Frankie took a deep breath and wandered over to the edge of the cliff. “I don’t know how you don’t just stand here every moment of every day.” She shook her head. “I’d forgotten how beautiful this spot is. Such a shame the Liberty has been practically hidden all these years.”
Kendall agreed. To a point. That the overgrowth of trees, shrubs and various other fauna had obscured the initial view of the lighthouse from anyone driving past certainly didn’t pay this area justice. But from a purely selfish perspective, Kendall was grateful it was still private. She glanced over at the motor home wedged between the guest house and the grove of eucalyptus and redwoods. At least until recently.
Coming back from her walk last night and finding Hunter standing on the cliff edge, looking as if he belonged there, had thrown her off-kilter. The peace she’d found during her walk and contemplative mingling with the elements had been replaced with a bout of nerves that she’d struggled to get under control. It had been so much easier, Kendall thought, being rude. But since when did Kendall do anything the easy way?
“You have company?” Frankie gestured to the motor home.
“A writer of some kind. Hunter Mac something.” The sound of his name on her tongue gave her chills. “I guess Gil hired him to write a book on the town’s restoration process.”
“Wait, Hunter MacBride?” Frankie grabbed Kendall’s arm like a besotted schoolgirl spotting a crush. “The Hunter MacBride?”
“Um, yes.” Kendall frowned. “Should I know who he is?”
“Only if you paid attention to the news about three or four years ago. Let me get my phone. Hang on.”
The past reached its clawed talons up around Kendall’s throat and squeezed. Three or four years ago the last thing she’d been doing was paying attention to the news. She’d still been reeling from Sam’s death and dealing with injuries that had left her laid up in the burn unit of the VA for more than four months. Whatever professional sweet spot Hunter had hit had coincided with the worst time of her life.
“Here. Look.” Frankie returned with her phone, tapping through images as she held it out for Kendall to see. “He got the cover of America News for this photo of our soldiers on the ground in Syria. And here, from Afghanistan. People thought he might get the Pulitzer for his piece on Sudan. He should have, if you ask me. The guy’s got a good eye and even better voice when it comes to telling the real story behind the images.”
Kendall shoved her hands de
ep into her back pockets, hating to see but unable to look away from the black-and-white photograph of a Syrian mother clinging to her severely injured child, and the American Marine huddled around them trying to protect them from an attack.
Above the roaring of the waves and the constant cawing of seagulls, Kendall could feel the ground shaking beneath her feet as dirt, shrapnel and blood rained down around her.
“Hey, you okay?” Frankie tucked her phone away and laid a gentle hand on Kendall’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have remembered—”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Kendall winced and cleared her throat; if only she could clear her mind as easily. Even now she could feel the sensation of flames licking at her skin as she’d clung to life. “It’s fine, Frankie. I didn’t realize he’d done something so...” So what? So affecting? So dangerous? So... important. That mental door she’d slammed shut creaked open ever so slightly.
“You know if you ever want to talk about anything, I’ve got pretty good ears.” Frankie released her hold. “I can shut up better than a lot of people, too.”
“I know.” But the truth was she’d never been able to talk about what had happened to her with anyone. Not even Matt, and he’d been a big part of her time in Afghanistan. In an odd way, she’d been prepared for that kind of tragedy; it was part of the job.
“So what’s next on the agenda? You get started on the inside yet?” Frankie turned back to the lighthouse with what even Kendall could see was forced cheerfulness.
“Some.” But she was going to have to kick things into high gear soon. “I keep meaning to visit the library and do research on the place, but so far I’ve had other things to keep me busy.”
“Probably have a good chance to do that later this week.” Frankie had another long gulp of water. “Storm’s coming in. A big one. Sweet time to hunker down and chill.”
“Now?” Kendall glanced toward the horizon.
“Soon. You know what they say about April bringing showers. Gonna tick Xander off to no end. His company is ready to start on the sanctuary’s foundation later this week. Now they’ll have to wait until they know it’ll be dry conditions for a bit. Hey, you wanna play hooky for a few hours and go see what’s happening up there? It’s not often I get a full day off and I want to make the most of it.”
It was no secret Bud Granger, the fire chief, was getting ready to retire. As Frankie had been his number two for the past year and a half, she was at the station almost 24/7 gearing up to take over the position. On more than one occasion, Frankie had told Kendall it was the only job she’d ever wanted since she was a little girl. And finally, after all these years, she was getting her shot.
It was on the tip of Kendall’s tongue to say yes to the idea of checking out the property, but her new timetable didn’t allow for slacking. “I really can’t. If a storm’s coming in, I should get those cracks plastered and sealed sooner than later.” And now that she had a stable scaffold, she could do just that.
“Your loss. Xander Costas does make for a beautiful view.” Frankie grinned and waggled her eyebrows, teasing.
“Don’t let Calliope hear you talk about her husband that way,” Kendall warned. “She’ll sic her army of bees after you.”
“Would be totally worth it. Besides, he has a construction crew, too. You need anything?” Walking backward, she retrieved her sweatshirt and empty coffee cup. “I can stop by again later.”
“I’m good, thanks.” The sooner she started putting some distance between herself and the friends she’d made here, the easier it would be to leave. “Have fun ogling the architect.”
Frankie zipped up her sweatshirt and gave Kendall a fingertip wave as she left.
* * *
HUNTER WAS SO immersed in old issues of the Monarch Gazette that when Phoebe tugged on his sleeve, he felt as if he were being dragged up from the depths of the ocean. “Hey, kiddo.” He reached for his pen to make some notes, then clicked a picture of the paper’s article with his phone. “What’s up?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Hungry? So soon after—” He glanced at the clock situated above the checkout desk and inwardly cringed. “Oh, wow. Okay. Definitely time for lunch.”
More like almost time for dinner, Hunter had to admit. He’d fallen in love with the library the instant he’d stepped foot inside. The building itself was one of the town’s oldest, with magnificent architectural touches and attention to detail. He’d started making a list of the other buildings from around the same period so he could get an idea as to a timeline of the town’s creation. Special touches and details weren’t only reserved for the exterior of the building but had been carried inside, too, with intricate crown molding outlining the ceiling and an enormous carved ceiling plate depicting images of the ocean and seafarers of old. He’d have to ask about getting permission to come in either before or after hours to photograph the place in different types of light. The shadows cast by the giant arched pane-glass windows made him feel as if he were in one of the old British college libraries. And don’t even get him started on all the books.
Near as he could tell, Phoebe was in seventh heaven with a stack of books on either side of her chair on the long, sturdy, hand-carved table.
The library had a steady of stream of customers throughout the day, keeping the two women wielding the computer wands busy and entertained.
“You want to hit the diner again?” he asked Phoebe as he began gathering up his things.
Phoebe shrugged.
“We can play it by ear. You should have reminded me sooner about eating. Sorry about that.”
Phoebe shrugged again before her attention was pulled toward the double glass doors at the far end of the room. The same kids who had been at the diner last week warmed inside, with a little redheaded pigtailed girl in the lead. She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulders and waved enthusiastically to the librarians. She and her friends claimed a table near the front, keeping their voices respectably low. Then they each boomeranged out in different directions in the stacks.
Hunter noticed his niece, who once again seemed intrigued by the group of children. But not, Hunter realized with a sigh, enough to make an effort to speak to them.
“You want to check any of those out?” Hunter asked as she retrieved her bag. Phoebe’s big eyes considered the stacks of books, placing some gently aside and making another, then she handed a pile of four to him. “Let’s see what we have. Little Women. A Little Princess. The Secret Garden... Hey, I know these books.” Clearly she’d found the classics section. “Don’t you think they’re a little old for—”
Phoebe folded her arms across her chest and huffed out a breath.
“Okay, okay,” Hunter chuckled. “You know what you can handle. Tom Sawyer. Kiddo, you are a girl after my own heart. This was one of my favorite books when I was your age. Well, I was a little older than you. A lot older than you.”
Phoebe grinned and puffed out her chest.
“I think Sebastian was right.” Hunter helped her with her bag again and handed her the books. “It’s time you got your own library card. We’ll be here long enough for you to enjoy it.”
A few minutes later, stomach growling, Hunter watched as Phoebe carefully filled out her own application, guided by a patient and impressed Mrs. Bumble, aptly named with her round figure and beehive hairdo.
“Hi!” exclaimed the pigtailed little redhead in overalls grinning up at him. “Are you the man writing the book on Butterfly Harbor?”
“I am. Hunter MacBride.” He held out his hand, and, after a minute and an incredibly cheeky grin, she shook it.
“I’m Charlie Bradley. We’ve all been talking, and we wanted to make sure you knew about the magic wishing box.”
“The wishing box?” Hunter’s interest piqued. “I don’t think I’ve heard about that.”
“Charlie’s the resident ex
pert,” Mrs. Bumble told him. “Nearly drowned herself trying to find it.”
“Well, that part was an accident.” Charlie’s face scrunched with something akin to guilt, but the way her green eyes sparkled, he suspected there wasn’t much. “But it worked! I got my wish. I wanted a dad. Now I have one.” She grinned up at Hunter. “He’s a deputy.”
“Matt Knight?”
“Nah. Fletcher Bradley. He adopted me. Just like I wished for. So I know the magic is real.”
Phoebe stopped writing and turned around, backing up closer to Hunter.
“There are magic caves down at the ocean,” Charlie went on. “We can show you sometime if you want.”
“I’ll check my schedule. But that sounds like something I should absolutely include.” He made a mental note to do an online search. “What do you think, Phoebe?”
Phoebe looked as if she wasn’t entirely sure what to think.
“Hi.” Charlie moved in closer to Phoebe. “I’m Charlie.”
Phoebe raised her hand in a bit of a wave.
“Phoebe doesn’t like to talk,” Hunter explained.
“Oh.” Charlie shrugged. “Okay. Mom says I talk enough for everyone, anyway, so that’s cool. Maybe we’ll see you around sometime.”
Phoebe grabbed hold of Hunter’s jacket and snuggled closer.
“Maybe,” Hunter told Charlie. “Thank you for introducing yourself.”
“No problem. I know everyone in town. It’s kind of my job. I’m gonna be a deputy like my dad, so I need to pay attention. But don’t tell my mom. It’s a surprise.”
“I’ll bet it is.” Hunter tried his best not to laugh, especially at Mrs. Bumble’s overarched brows.
“’Kay, bye.” Charlie returned to her friends, and they immediately bundled their heads together to talk.
Safe in His Arms--A Clean Romance Page 6