Sea Glass Sunrise (14 page)

“Is, ah—” She had to pause, clear the hoarseness from her throat. “Is that what they teach you in humanitarian school?”

“Acupressure school, actually,” he said. “I learned it to help the horses. They weren’t in great shape.”

She melted, there was no help for it. She turned to face him. “Seriously, stop it.”

“You have something against using acupressure on livestock?”

No. I have something against you being wonderful, against the things you’re making me feel.
She turned away again, thinking she needed to simply walk back to the pub, snag the first set of keys she could find, drive out to the Point, and not leave again until Calder Blue had left Blueberry Cove and headed back home to his river and his farm. She had so much to figure out. She needed a clear head for that. Phone calls from jerks like Garrison made it hard enough, but Calder . . . he made clear thinking close to impossible.
Okay, all the way impossible.

“No,” she managed finally. “Of course not. It sounds like those horses won the lottery jackpot.”
Time to go home, Hannah. Wherever the hell that’s going to be.
She slid his jacket off her shoulders and turned to hand it back to him. “Thank you. For . . . everything. Good luck with your meeting. I need to get back to my family.”

To his credit, he seemed to know when it was time to stop pushing. He didn’t follow her. In fact, she made it halfway up the steep road leading back to the Rusty Puffin before he called out, “Miz Scarlett?”

She shouldn’t have smiled. She shouldn’t have had even that brief moment of thinking,
Yes!
She shouldn’t have. But she did. She turned. “Yes, Mr. Blue?” she replied, a bit of Southern accent sliding into the words to match his.
So unwise.

“You ever have a hankering to ride a horse?”

“I try not to hanker, Mr. Blue.”
Liar. You’re hankering something fierce at the moment.
“I’m learning life is simpler that way.”
Or will be. Just as soon as you cut that out.

“I’m talking about the kind that come with four shoes and a saddle, not a gas pedal and a stick shift,” he added, as if she hadn’t said anything. “In case there was some confusion on that point.” She could see his grin flash, even in the dim glow of the pier lights.

“I’m afraid I’m quite busy with a wedding at the moment. And don’t you have a little yacht club or something you need to build?”

“Wedding will be over in a few days. Ground won’t be broken on the club until Winstock and I haggle out the details.”

“I wasn’t aware there was haggling yet to be done.”

“Until there are signatures on the dotted line, there’s always haggling to be done.”

“Hope you have a good attorney then.”

He walked up the hill toward her, his long legs eating up the distance more quickly than his casual stride made it seem possible. He stopped in front of her. “Don’t think I need one.” He smiled. “But in case I do . . . know any good ones?”

“Contract law isn’t my forte.”

“Right. You take down the bad guys.”

“I make sure my clients get as fair a deal as possible.”

His expression shifted to one of surprise. “You represent the bad guys?”

“I represent folks who pay my law firm to secure the best legal representation they can get. In my line of work, it’s not about guilt or innocence. It’s about achieving justice as defined by the letter of the law. You try and screw over one of my clients, I will do everything in my power to yank the screw free, and find a nice tender spot in which to return it.”

He let out a low whistle, but otherwise said nothing.

She smiled, but felt the chill return. The internal one. “Rethinking your opinion on how cold my stones are?”

He let out a bark of laughter at that. “No. In the courtroom, I have no doubt you could strike fear into the slimiest of corporate snakes.” He surprised her and stepped in, not aggressively, but as smoothly and easily, as if deep in her personal space was the most natural spot in the world for him. He didn’t touch her, he just moved his body close enough that she had to tip up her chin to see his eyes. It was as intimate a position as two people could be in without actually touching. She couldn’t help it; she liked how his superior height and breadth of frame—well, those shoulders anyway—made her feel sheltered. And not just from the harbor breeze.
Don’t romanticize him. Or this. Any of this. He parried, and you thrusted. Now it’s time to end this little flirtship. Go home, Hannah.

“Outside the courtroom,” he said, “I’m betting that’s another story.”

The comment wasn’t delivered in the way sleazy Garrison had said it. Calder didn’t even know about that, about what had happened. Still, her thoughts went there, and she stiffened, she couldn’t help it. It was an ingrained response by now. She stepped back, but he took her elbow—gently, but with intent.

“Hey. I’m sorry. I—that sounded—” He stopped, swore under his breath. “I was going to say I’m not an asshole like that jerk on the phone. But that’s exactly what it sounded like to you, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know how else I could have taken it.” She didn’t say it stiffly, but there was distance now. And a coolness in her tone. She couldn’t help that either. Her self-defense mechanisms had taken some time to kick in back in D.C., but once they had, she shored them up as fast as she could. It didn’t make it hurt any less, but it did help ensure nothing could hurt her anymore. Nothing. And no one.

“When I said that, I wasn’t thinking about the way you tasted, or the look in your eyes when I kissed you,” he said, and her gaze flew back to his, but there wasn’t anything aggressive or even suggestive in his gaze. It was simply direct, open. Honest.

“I was thinking about how you defended your sister, the honest love you have for her, even though she clearly drives you crazy. I was thinking about the clear affection in your eyes when I mentioned Owen Hartley’s comments about you. And just now, the way you came to the defense of your hometown, your neighbors, their way of life. What used to be your way of life.” He lifted a hand, caught a wayward strand of hair the breeze had kicked up, tucked it behind her ear, barely brushing his fingertips over the sensitive curve.

Her body wanted to get all wobbly again, wanted to lean toward him, but he’d already dropped his hand away.

“That’s what I meant. You might be aggressive and all powerful when you’re on the clock, fighting for your clients. But to do that, you have to have passion, and not just for the job, or justice. You have to care about . . . something. Deeply.”

She looked at him, studied him, but she’d be damned if she could read him. “You don’t know me.”

“Am I wrong? About any of that?”

She paused, then said, “So what, did they also teach you people-whisperer skills in humanitarian school?”

He grinned at that. It was slow and wide, and made him even more attractive, but there was nothing overtly seductive about it, or even flirtatious. She knew that much; she’d seen that look from him, too. It was . . . potent. Turned out so was this one. It was . . . friendly. Honest. Like a man enjoying a good conversation with someone he liked.
Someone whose pants he wants to get into.

She wanted to shove that thought aside, reject it out of hand. It seemed wrong. Unfair.
Don’t blame all men for the sins of one
, she reminded herself. Only . . . that didn’t mean that only one man was capable of committing that particular sin. In her work, she’d learned to listen to her gut, trust her instincts. Tim had taken that ability away from her, too, shattered it. It was, she’d realized, the cruelest twist of all. Losing faith in herself.

He tapped a fingertip to her temple, gently, then ran it softly along her cheekbone. “So much going on in there,” he murmured. “Do you ever take a break?”

She felt wobbly again. She needed to go home. She needed to get away from him. Far, far away from him. Because this, him, all of it . . . felt good. Easy. Helpful. Nice. She couldn’t afford to accept any of those things from him.
Stick with what you know, and who you know. That’s the only way you’ll relearn the ability to trust in yourself again.

“That’s why I’m here,” she said, finally looking away, moving back a step.

He smiled. “And how’s that working out for you so far?”

What was it about him that made it impossible for her to get a decent mad on and hang on to it for more than ten seconds? “Can I get back to you on that?”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

She held his gaze a moment longer, then gave him a brief nod. “Good night, Mr. Blue.”

“Night, Miz Scarlett.”

She turned then, but he didn’t let her get even five feet this time.

“Hannah.”

He’d said it quietly, all teasing gone from his voice.

And because she apparently couldn’t stop herself from responding to him, she turned. She’d intended to simply look at him, but, just as quietly, she said, “Calder.”

His eyes did flare, just for a brief second, but it made something flare inside of her. He was the one to look away then, a brief glance down the hill, toward the harbor, out across the water. She didn’t know what he was seeing in his mind’s eye, but she doubted he was seeing anything in that harbor.

“How long are you here?” he asked quietly. “And—don’t evade, just . . . how long?”

“What does it matter?” she replied, not defensively, simply asking.

“I—” He broke off, let out a self-deprecating laugh and looked skyward as he shook his head. “I have no idea.” He shifted his gaze back to hers, his own eyes intent, searching hers. For what, she didn’t know. “It just does.”

Then she was searching his gaze, wishing she didn’t understand, wishing his interest in her was the complete mystery it should be. But it wasn’t, because she felt drawn to him in that exact same, nonsensical, why-can’t-I-just-walk-away-I’ve-got-too-many-things-going-on-and-you’re- a-complete-stranger kind of way.

“Calder, I—” But she never got the chance to finish the sentence, because at that exact moment, a small boathouse at the end of one of Blue’s smaller piers exploded into a ball of flames.

Chapter Nine

Calder whipped his head around in the exact same instant he instinctively pulled Hannah into his arms and shielded her with his body. “What the—”

She squirmed in his arms. “Calder, let go. I need to—”

He set her away from him. “You okay? Call nine-one-one, or you probably know the entire fire crew by name. Get them here. Then stay here. I’ll be back.”

She’d already been trying to dig her phone out of her jeans pocket. “I’m on it, but—”

He leaned in, eyes right on hers, and kissed her, banged-up lip and all. “Stay here. Please.” Then he turned and took off at a run toward the docks.

“Calder!” she shouted after him. “What are you—don’t go down there! You don’t know what else might—”

He looked over his shoulder just long enough to make sure she wasn’t running after him, saw that she had the phone to her ear and was talking into it, presumably to the dispatcher, and let out a sigh of relief.

Then he turned back and focused on the burning boathouse, which looked like nothing more than a Norse effigy at this point, as parts of it sank into the still, dark waters of the harbor.
Please let everyone be safe.
It was past midnight now, so hopefully the boathouse had been empty. Things could be replaced. People could not. Family could not.

He heard the wail of sirens just as his work boots hit the main pier. It was a maze getting out to the smaller piers, but the blaze lighting up the night sky illuminated everything in a wash of flickering gold. “Jonah!” he shouted as he closed in on the main boathouse, the one Jonah had walked back to after their conversation. “Fire!” he shouted. “Jonah!” He banged a flat palm on the heavy wood panel door that closed off the end of the boathouse. He had no idea if the old man lived out here or if it was just the business part of the operation, but he couldn’t take any chances. The explosion should have woken up anyone within a mile of the place, but—his thoughts broke off when a light came blazing on in the upper level of the boathouse.
Thank God.

He turned back to look at the fire, which was still five or six short connecting pier lengths away, and as far out into the harbor as any of the piers went. He had no idea what might have set it off—could be any number of things, fuel tank, faulty wiring, anything. But his gut told him that it was no accident. He hoped like hell his gut was wrong.

There was a metal clanging sound on the other side of the wide panel door, then a loud groan and screech as the heavy wood door was dragged open along the metal tracks it was connected to overhead. “What in the name of God Almighty—” Jonah’s gruff voice, made even more gravelly by sleep, broke off as he looked past Calder’s shoulder. “No.” He said it like a command. As if he could simply order the fire not to be happening. “Goddammit!”

That’s more like it.
“Emergency vehicles are already—”

“I can hear that,” he barked. “I’m not deaf.”

Calder didn’t point out that he clearly hadn’t heard the explosion, which had to have rocked the pier they were presently standing on. “Was there anyone down there?”

“What?” Jonah’s gaze was fixed on the fire; then he spared a brief glance at Calder. “No. Tools and supplies.” He looked back out to the burning boathouse and Calder saw a bleak expression enter his eyes.

Not a small amount of tools and supplies, he gathered.

Catching Calder’s gaze, his expression went hard. He drew himself up to his full height, which, even in an old white T-shirt and frayed pajama bottoms, was impressively imposing. “Thought I told you to stay off this property.”

“Fine,” Calder barked right back at him. “Next time I’ll let your ornery ass hide burn along with your precious property.”

“Grandpa?”

Both men went momentarily still, then Calder looked down to find a tiny wisp of a thing clutching at Jonah’s meaty paw. She couldn’t be more than five, Calder guessed. Soft, dark curls tousled around the face of a pouty, sleepy angel.

“It’s all right, Little Bit,” Jonah told her, his voice as gruff as always, but with a thread of love running through it. “You go on back to bed now.”

“Pawpaw, look,” she said, her eyes growing wider as she came more awake. She pointed past him, at the glow of the fire.

The boathouse was a skeleton now, the roof gone and the vertical boards that had comprised the walls nothing more than a row of burning spears, like a black spiked fence, holding the fire within them. One by one, they were collapsing and falling in on themselves.

There was a thundering sound and all three of them turned as a team of five firemen came pounding down the pier in a regimented run, pulling hoses behind them. At the same instant, there came a horn blast from out in the harbor, and as the whine of the sirens died down, Calder heard the loud thrumming engine of what proved to be a Coast Guard vessel. They were spraying the surface of the water while the fire crews put out what was left of the blaze.

“Keeping the fire from picking up on any fuel in the water from the boat engines,” Jonah said, apparently seeing the questioning look on Calder’s face as he watched the Coast Guard crew.

“Holy sh—” He broke off, looked down at the little girl. He’d been thinking that the entire pier the boathouse had been connected to might have gone up and had envisioned the fire racing through the piers like a giant domino board set into motion. It hadn’t occurred to him that it could literally light the harbor itself on fire.

He looked back at Jonah. “I’ll go talk to them.”

Jonah looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Like hell you will.”

Calder dipped a chin toward his great-granddaughter. “Is there anyone else here to look after her?”

Jonah looked down at her and Calder saw his expression tighten. It wasn’t anger directed at the little girl for being an imposition. He was pretty sure it was anger that she could have been hurt, or worse. Anger possibly directed at himself, since it had taken Calder to wake him up to the situation.

“I can watch her,” Calder offered. “I have nieces her age,” he added, thinking how it had affected him to see Jonah as more than the stubborn family figurehead, to see him as Pawpaw. Maybe if Jonah knew he came from a real, whole family, too, he’d see Calder in a new light. “I’m a stranger, though, so . . .” He looked back at the boathouse, now reduced mostly to embers. “Let me go let them know you’re all right. I’ll send whoever is in charge directly here to you.”

Jonah looked lost again as he stared at the smoke and embers, then shook it off and glared at Calder. “I’ll thank you to get off my property,” he said shortly, and so coldly, Calder felt his hackles rise. Jonah might have just suffered a shock and what appeared to be no small setback to his business, but he seemed well in command of his thoughts now.

“Do we really need to—”

“Leave now, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. I expect you’ll be getting a visit from one of our boys in blue regardless. So don’t leave town.” He didn’t wait for a response, but hiked his great-granddaughter up into his arms so she straddled his hip. “Come on inside now,” he said to her, gentling his tone slightly. “We’ve got to make a few calls.”

A moment later, the boathouse door was shoved closed again with a resounding clang, right in Calder’s face.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, then propped one hand on his hip and scrubbed the back of his neck with the other. Not that it did any good. He had a sick feeling that while the fire had been put out, the repercussions of the blaze had just begun. And somehow he’d just landed himself square in the middle of it.

“Calder!”

He turned to find Hannah running down the pier toward him. “Hannah, you shouldn’t—”

“Is everyone okay? Jonah? Bett?”

He reached out and caught her by the elbows as she all but skidded to a stop in front of him. “They’re safe, they’re fine.”

“Oh, thank God. Did you talk to Jonah? What did he say? Was it some kind of fuel leak or something?”

Calder took a moment to look past her at the crews working on cleanup now that the fire was out. The Coast Guard boat had also ceased its operations and was chugging back to its pier, which was just around the harbor on the other side of Blue’s, alongside the piers where the harbor tugboats were docked. He’d noticed them on his first drive through town and recalled thinking how smart it was to have them all in a central location together.

“I—uh, I don’t know,” he said, pulling his thoughts back to Hannah. “I haven’t been over to talk to the firemen. I came straight to the main boathouse.”

“I should go find Jonah. Logan is down here somewhere, too. I called Fi right after I dialed nine-one-one and she said he was being radioed about it as we were talking.”

“Maybe you should go back up to the pub, with your family. Tell them no one was hurt. I’m sure your brother will have the full report as soon as they know what actually happened.”

She finally turned her own distracted gaze away from the activity on the far pier, and looked back at him. “What aren’t you telling me? Where’s Jonah? Is he over there? Who’s watching Bett?”

He cocked one eyebrow at that. “Why do you think I’m not telling you everything? I don’t know anything else. Jonah is inside.” He nodded toward the boathouse behind him. “With his great-granddaughter. He said he had some calls to make. Possibly to get someone to watch her so he can go handle the fallout. I offered to—”

“You did?”

That same eyebrow went from cocked to arched. “Yes. I have two nieces about her age. Two more a few years younger. They happen to like me a lot. I’m great with kids.”

“What aren’t you great with?” she said under her breath, but he caught it just the same.

“What’s wrong?” She started to pull out of his grasp, her attention once again on the far pier, but he tugged her back to face him. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, flipping her question back at her.

She sighed impatiently. “Something else is going on here and if you’re not going to tell me, I’ll go find out myself. I know you think I’m fragile from the accident and—I don’t know what else. But I’m not. I’ve handled cases that would make your blood run cold. I can handle a simple dock fire.”

He held on again when she tried to shrug free, but before she could light into him with the full force of her litigator’s awesome fury, he said, “That’s just it. I don’t think it was a simple dock fire. And neither does Jonah.”

She stopped pulling at his hands. “What? Why?”

He started to explain, then thought better of it. “Not here.”

“Why?” She didn’t fall into step beside him, forcing him to stop or he’d be dragging her along.

“Let’s get off Jonah’s pier. I think you should hear what I have to say. So you can decide.”

“Decide what?” she asked.

“If you’d be willing to represent me. I’m pretty sure Jonah’s in there right now, talking to God knows who, claiming this was an act of arson—which I think is right. Only I’m pretty sure he’s also painting me as the number-one suspect.”