Half Moon Harbor (28 page)

“Okay,” Grace said, letting out an unsteady breath. “Thank you.” She looked up at Delia and smiled. “I mean that.”

“I know you do,” Delia said with a sincere smile. “I'm glad you came in.” She looked over at the still packed tables, grabbed her order pad, and slid the pencil out from behind her ear. “The natives are getting restless. Talk to you soon.” Then she hustled off.

 

There was no music blaring as Grace stepped into the open doorway of Brodie's workshop. Big Brown was nowhere to be seen. She had stopped by her boathouse first and left her satchel and checked on Whomper, who was happily keeping the construction crew company as they worked on the roof and putting new shakes on the exterior. Apparently outside noise wasn't as scary as inside noise.

She leaned against the doorframe and watched Brodie do his version of inside work. He was in yet another pair of old jeans, sawdust-covered boat shoes, a long-sleeved tee. The hull of the sailboat he was building was taking shape, and she marveled that he'd constructed it by hand. It wasn't anywhere near as big as his two-master—he'd need the big boathouse for that—but it was gorgeous. The curve of the wood, the slope of the design seemed more like a piece of art, with the functional element a mere bonus. She hadn't talked to him about how he envisioned Monaghan's Shipbuilders as a company, moving forward. Was he planning to be a one-man crew, building boats to order? Or was he hoping to take on other craftsmen with like skills? Or teach them? She didn't know. In fact, there was far more about him that she didn't know, than that she did.

But she wanted to know. She wanted to know everything about him.

Specifically, she wanted to know everything about him and the Winstocks.

She waited to knock on the doorframe until he'd put down the hand lathe and picked up a towel to brush the sawdust from his forearms and chest before pulling off the work goggles he'd been wearing.

He glanced up, surprised to see her, a grin instantly creasing his face. “Top of the morning to ye.” He wiped his hands on the same cloth, then tossed it aside before walking over to her. He took her hand and gently tugged her closer. “I'd pull ye all the way in, but I'm no' exactly user-friendly at the moment.” He glanced down at his damp and dusty self.

She smiled, despite the butterflies in her stomach. Nervous ones. Not that she was worried he was going to tell her something that would change things between them, but she'd feel a lot better once she knew what was going on, what he hadn't told her. And why. She leaned in and kissed him, then moaned a little as he instantly claimed her mouth, taking the kiss deep and hot. Her entire body went up in flames as it always did with him. She wondered if that part would ever change . . . and couldn't imagine it would as long as both of them were still breathing.

“Hi,” she said, smiling, breathing a bit more heavily when he finally lifted his head.

He smiled right back into her upturned face. “Hi, yourself. To what do I owe the honor? I've been hearing the nail guns going all day. Shakes going up and on. That's good. Means you'll start on the real work soon, right?”

She nodded. “This week, if all goes well and no other catastrophe befalls me. I heard from Langston. He plans to come end of the week or beginning of next to help me plot the best course of action. I've got Owen compiling a list of various subcontractors for me.”

“New guy doing okay?”

She nodded, pleased that he remembered and thought to ask. “I don't think it's particularly challenging work today. Mostly just tedious and endless. I also heard from Shep, the guy who was injured. He's okay, just needed some stitches from a fall he took on the boat. Cut his head.” She smiled. “Apparently his is pretty hard. They say he didn't even have a concussion. He'll be back in a day or two providing he can keep it bandaged properly.”

Brodie gave her a look that told her what he thought about sissy things like bandages, but wisely said nothing on that. “Sounds like Owen is helping you out pretty well. He's a good man. And a walking encyclopedia of the locals and local history. He knows more about Monaghan Shipbuilders than I do.”

“He's been a huge help. A lifeline, really. I like him. Such a nice guy. Met his daughter, Lauren. She's home from college for the summer and working at the store with him.” Grace smiled. “She's nothing like him. He's this quiet, sort of nondescript, unassuming guy, and she's tall, vivacious, very outgoing, lots of laughter. Pretty blonde hair while his is kind of spongy red. I guess she must take after her mom. I really like her, too. They're good together, father and daughter, it seems. That's a really nice thing.”

“Aye, 'tis. He's been the sole parent to her after her mum passed when she was little. Happened long before I arrived, of course, but I've heard the story all the same. Cancer, I believe. And yes, apparently she was a stunner. Owen used to take a fair share of ribbing from what I've heard about how he managed to snag such a heavenly creature. But I think the envy went a lot further than her good looks. Apparently, they were childhood sweethearts whose bond only grew stronger with time.”

“That's so wonderful to hear. But all the more tragic then, that she died so young. I wonder if that's why he's never remarried.”

Brodie lifted a shoulder. “I couldn't say. He's been busy raising his daughter, so that could be the better part of it. He's done a good job of it, too, from what I know. She got a scholarship to university, full tuition, so clearly he did something right.”

Grace nodded, smiled, trying not to let her thoughts drift to her conversation with Ford—that he hadn't known she'd invited him to her college graduation . . . but that he'd been well aware of her path through school. She wasn't sure how she felt about all of that yet. It was good—great—to know he hadn't truly abandoned her, at least not from his perspective, and yet, at the same time, he'd never given her the comfort of knowing he was still invested, that he still cared. Cared at all. That anger-love thing boiled up all over again, confusing her. She really wanted to move beyond the emotional roller coaster of their past to start working on what came next . . . only it wasn't that simple or that easy.

Brodie's smile shifted and he tipped her chin up with a single fingertip. “What else is going on over there? You didn't come down to make idle chitchat or steal a kiss, did ye now?”

It was funny how much she didn't know about him . . . and yet how quickly they'd come to
know
each other. “Well, the kiss was pretty nice. I might have to find reasons to come down here more often.”

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.”