Ten Good Reasons (7 page)

Forrest understood her need for alone time, her need to stay on top of her career. They gave each other the space they needed. She didn’t even mind that he left for Bora Bora three weeks ago, even though he
did
know she was dying to travel the world. He probably just didn’t want to interrupt her work.

Main Street was bustling on this Monday evening. She hobbled down the street from where she parked, visited with Mr. Hickle at the olive shop, showed him her idea for a company Facebook page and how they could have a contest to launch it, watched part of
Antiques Roadshow
with him because he missed his wife who had died three months ago, then limped back to her car as night began to fall. Mr. Hickle was so sweet, but by the time she got back behind the driver’s seat, her ankle was nearly twice its normal size. She sped home.

Once she pulled herself all the way up her apartment patio stairs, she saw another three shoe boxes from the postman piled on her porch. She sighed, reached for her apartment key in her purse, and realized . . . her
phone
. It wasn’t there.
Damn
. She plowed through her purse, hoping it would miraculously appear.
Damn again.

Her eyes drifted closed and she dropped her chin to her chest as the realization hit her:
the galley
. Her phone was sitting
on the countertop in the galley
. Would this day never end?

She
had
to get her phone. She needed to check for any messages from Elle, and communicate with Douglas and Stewey.

Moaning at the thought of saying good-bye to her hot shower and comfy pajamas, and trying not to think of the size her ankle must be by now, she headed back down the stairs.

By the time she arrived at the marina, night had fallen. Music drifted from one of the restaurants that had patio lights strung across the back—a pretty, jazzy number on guitar. Lia hobbled past, wincing at every-other step, and headed down the wooden planks of the boat docks, feeling for her extra dock key. Normally she could focus on the beauty of the music, making a miserable evening into something that had some merit, but she was at her wit’s end right now.

Drew’s boat looked dark and unfriendly at night, the cheerful blue cushions replaced with dark tarps that protected the boat from tossed beer cans and used condoms. She maneuvered through the tarps—which required a few un-snaps and re-snaps here and there—to the galley door. Cora and Evan did a great job closing up, she had to admit. At the door, she fiddled with the key the same way Douglas had—the thing always got stuck—and opened the door into the darkness, shuffling down the galley stairs by using both hands. When she got to the bottom, she fumbled for the light. As her hand made its way along the wall, a low sound came from the back of the galley:

“I’m here,” a deep whisper told her.

Her scream probably shattered the next song of the guitar player.

CHAPTER

“D
amn it! What are you doing here?” Lia’s whisper shot into the stillness.

She’d recognized Evan’s voice right away. A full day of listening for it and repeating it had left the footprint firmly in her mind.

“Resting,” he said.

Her hand crawled upward, grasping for the light. An image of him with the gun in his hand from this morning flashed through her mind. Blackness enshrouded her as she scrambled between wanting to look for the light and wanting to keep an eye toward him through the darkness.

“Could you not turn that on?” he drawled. “And not scream anymore? The harbormaster is patrolling. Your eyes will adjust in a second. I can see you perfectly. And don’t look so terrified; I’m just sitting here.”

Her breath returned in short gasps as she strained to see even an outline. He didn’t sound drunk. That was good. He sounded like perhaps he’d just awoken. She peeled herself off the wall as a bright searchlight crashed through the window—probably Harry James’s patrol boat—and swept the galley. As it bounced off the opposite wall, she caught a quick glimpse
of Evan, sitting on the edge of a cot across the room that had been pulled down like a Murphy bed. She hadn’t even known that cot was there. Huh. The light caught his posture, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, before it swept out of the room.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she managed to squeak out.

“Resting. Seriously. Come off that wall. You look like you’re trying to claw your way out of here.”

She forced her breathing back under control and stepped away. As her fear dissolved, the adrenaline crashed and her ankle pain spiked again, along with a healthy dose of anger. “Why are you resting
here
?”

“You didn’t wrap your ankle.” His voice was calming, quiet, the one that had described the whale calves earlier today.

“You’re not answering my question.”

“I’m here because the harbormaster was sweeping tonight, and a guy in a neighboring slip said I should make myself scarce if I didn’t want to get kicked out.”

“So you’re sleeping
here
?”

“No, I was going to head back around one. The guy said the sweep would be done by then.”

Lia opened her mouth to respond, but then pressed her lips together. Okay. So he was using the boat for a few hours. It
was
his brother’s boat, after all, and he
was
doing them a favor. Maybe this could be their way of paying him back.

“What are
you
doing here?” he mumbled.

“I forgot my phone.”

An outline of his nod started to materialize. The sound of the water lapping the side of the boat was the only sound for a minute.

“Sorry I scared you,” Evan said.

The simple sentence was the most empathetic thing Lia had heard from him, and seemed filled with so much sorrow. Sorrow that probably belonged to a great deal more than just scaring her tonight. Through the dark, Lia could vaguely see that he had his hands clasped in front of him, between his knees, and was staring at them. A lump formed in her throat for some reason, as if she knew a story here that she didn’t really know. Something that bespoke of enormous pain.

“Apology accepted,” she whispered. “So do you need a place to stay? Maybe we could ask Drew. He has a—”

“No,” Evan interjected. “I’m only staying a couple more days. Just until I get my motor fixed. They’re just a little strict here in Sandy Cove about liveaboards. You won’t need me past Thursday, right?”

She didn’t know. Early today, she’d wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible, but he’d actually pulled through for her. Now she sort of wanted him to stay. Someone would definitely have to cover Kyle’s charter next week. But clearly Evan wanted, and needed, to move on.

“I’ll keep working on finding another captain,” she said. Her disappointment caught her by surprise.

She moved toward the counter where she could see a few objects forming in the dark, including her phone. She snatched it up and punched in her screen code, but the phone began powering down. “Damn it!”

Lia always tried to keep upbeat, feeling like life was so much easier when you were, but this day was crushing her. Her skin was tight and uncomfortable from salt and sunburn, her eyes burned, her ankle throbbed, and her limbs hung heavy and sore. And now she’d need to drive home another ten miles to plug in her phone, learn what the Vampiress might need tonight, figure out how tomorrow would go and who may or may not show up—and all this before feeding Missy, showering, then crawling into bed. The fact that that could be hours away weakened her legs for a second.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Evan asked.

“If I sit, I won’t get up.”

“I think you need to relax.”

“I need to get home. I still have work to do.”

“I think you need to relax.”

She threw her phone in her purse. Her head fell against the cabinet. A guy like Evan would never understand.

The light slashed through the window again, revolving in the opposite direction. Harry’s patrol boat must be looping the marina. She sighed. Now she’d have to at least wait until the patrol boat left, or be prepared to answer a dozen questions about why she was slipping out of this catamaran with the
lights out this late at night, and why she had a stowaway aboard. Who had nowhere else to go. And she sure didn’t need Harry calling Drew about this.

She slumped against the counter. The patrol boat purred softly as it rounded theirs.

“Let me get you an Ace bandage,” he said gently. “I’m getting up, okay?”

“I can see you now.”

He nodded and shifted toward the counter where the first-aid kit was. As soon as he moved closer, threatening to overtake her space, she remembered why she needed to avoid him. His cedar scent drifted toward her, much stronger now, combined with freshly shampooed hair. She could see damp clumps hanging against his collar.

He rummaged through the cabinet until he found what he was looking for. “Have a seat.”

“I really don’t—”

“Rest, ice, compression, elevation—Since you refuse to rest, and you only allowed the ice for fifteen minutes, let’s at least try a little compression.” He motioned toward the dinette.

“I can do it at home.”

He shot her a look of impatience.

Finally, she gave in. She’d be strong. She’d pretend the cedar scent wasn’t sexy at all. And she’d refuse to look at his muscles. Plus, maybe he really did have some magic bandage-wrapping technique she didn’t know about: She couldn’t remember ever actually wrapping an ankle before, except once, a paw, for Missy when she’d skidded off a dresser.

Lia plopped at the end of the dinette.

Head bent, Evan knelt in front of her and rested her foot against his thigh. Lazy light from the marina came in through the window and cast a quiet, blue halo in his wet hair as it fell across his eyes. He unlaced her shoe, his fingers gripping the soft, swollen skin around her ankle both firmly and tenderly at the same time. As he pried off the shoe, he let her ankle bend ever so slightly.

She swallowed a few swear words.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, glancing up from beneath his bangs.

When the shoe was tossed aside, he gently replaced her foot against his jeans. His thigh muscles were warm and firm,
shifting beneath her bare foot. She swallowed hard and directed her eyes toward the ceiling. He unraveled the bandage.

“Come toward me.” He motioned with his fingertips, watching the angle of her ankle against his leg. He cupped her heel in the palm of his hand and began wrapping, cradling the arch of her foot with one hand and sweeping the bandage down in a figure eight with the other. His fingers were warm and intimate, pressing into her soft instep. Her stomach quivered.

Lia weakened immediately. She stared at his flexing forearm, bulging on the downward sweep, then becoming roped and taught as he pulled the bandage up. She didn’t know if it was the beauty of that uber-masculine muscle, the gentleness of his fingers, the warmth of his palm, the scowl of determination on his face, or simply her own fatigue, but all conspired to set a low heat simmering in her belly. It was a settled sort of warmth, the kind you feel when you’re cared for, wholly. It was a feeling of excessive vulnerability. It scared the hell out of her.

“I need to—” She yanked her foot away. The euphoria was making her light-headed.

“Wait,” Evan murmured, gripping her calf. “Almost done.”

She wriggled away.

“Seriously. Cinder—
Lia
, stop a sec.”

Cinder-lia?
She squirmed again while he secured the bandage with two small latches, then she wriggled out of his grip and launched herself in a lopsided hop across the room.

He let out an expulsion of air.

“Too tight?” He inspected his handiwork from across the room.

Part of her wanted to say yes. Part of her wanted to give an excuse that would allow her to sit back down, have his warm hands back around her foot, have that wave of euphoria tingle back up through her scalp again. But another part of her pointed out that she was crazy.
This was Drew’s “messed up” brother.
That feeling of euphoria should
not
be coming from this man’s deft hands on her. He was not her type. He was some ne’er-do-well who traveled the seas alone and without purpose. He didn’t shave. He didn’t cut his hair. He slept with a gun. She had a
boyfriend
. Or . . . well, not exactly a serious
boyfriend, but a man who might make decent serious-boyfriend material someday. A man with a job at least.

“It’s fine.” Her voice sounded funny and tight.

Evan glanced at her suspiciously and rose to put the first-aid kit away.

“Why are you calling me Cinderella?” she blurted.

The anger that lay in the accusation was misplaced, she knew, but creating a simmering anger was better than allowing a simmering heat.

He paused for a minute to glance at her, then set the kit down on the countertop and began rewinding the remaining bandage. “Did I?”

“Yes, for the second time. And you’re very good at evading questions. But I just want to know why you’re calling me that.”

“Slip of the tongue.”

“See? You’re evading again.”

He stuffed the leftover bandage back into the box. “Maybe I’m just not good at answering a lot of questions.”

“All that sailing around the world by yourself, maybe? It’s made you a curmudgeon?”

He gave a tired smile.

“Can you give me
one
straight answer?”

He seemed to think that over as he reached for the cabinet doors. “Shoot.”

“Why ‘Cinderella’?”

Balancing the box above his head, he rearranged a few things inside the cabinet. “Just me being an ass.”

“So it’s not a compliment?”

“It wasn’t. But maybe it should have been.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means originally it was because of your overoptimistic attitude—you seemed like there should be birds singing at your shoulder—but now I see you’re tired, and your foot is probably throbbing, but you’re still hanging in there. And I’m kind of impressed. So now it’s a compliment.”

“You were making fun of me?”

“I’m an ass. Let’s just get that out of the way.”

Lia bit her lip and peered at him through the dark. So that crazy moment in the cabin wasn’t attraction after all. Cora was wrong. But this made more sense.

Even though her head settled this, though—and told her it was a good thing—some crazy part of her felt disappointed. But, just in case—

“I have a boyfriend,” she blurted next.

Oh, God.
Did she always have to blurt out every thought she was having? It worked with the Vampiress, who seemed to have an appreciation for directness, but with everyone else it just left her embarrassed.

Even through the dark, she could see his eyebrow rise. The side of his mouth followed in an upward quirk. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“So . . . is this boyfriend able to come pick you up right now? It might be best if you didn’t drive. You should try to elevate that foot.”

“No, he can’t. He’s . . . well, he’s out of the country.”

The darkness couldn’t hide Evan’s next frown, as he was probably trying to figure out the strange turns this conversation was taking.

“I . . . I need to leave,” she said. She’d embarrassed herself enough. She couldn’t figure out why her heart was pounding, why his tenderness a minute ago settled a euphoria over her shoulders, why his smoldering look through the darkness was making other body parts come alive, and all while she didn’t want to be attracted to him. Had she
no control
?

In her haste toward the door, she banged her hip against the dinette. When had she ever thought Drew’s galley was
spacious
? Right now it seemed like a closet. Her hand was on the brass handle, the door already ajar, when the overly bright patrol light came crashing through the window.

A megaphone blared through the silent harbor.
“STOP! Come out slowly with your hands up. . . .”

Panic shot through her as she sucked herself back into the galley. The searchlight stopped right in front of the door, illuminating the covered deck, trying to capture her in its beam.

“It’s okay,” Evan said. He pulled the curtain back at the window. “Just do what they say. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Lia’s heart thundered. He nodded his encouragement, and she hobbled into the searchlight beam, her hands up, squinting forward:
You’re not doing anything wrong. It’s going to be
okay. It’s going to be okay . . .
But the blinding light and surrounding darkness made her body shake. The patrol boat puttered up beside the cat.

“
Put your bag on the deck,”
the voice, still disembodied, shouted at her over the laps of the harbor water.

She shakily set her purse down.

“Move to the edge of the deck, toward my voice.”

She scooted closer, squinting into the light, dragging her bad foot.

Blinded, she felt the back end of the catamaran dip and heard at least two sets of footsteps, then tensed in case they grabbed her. But, at the same time, she sensed Evan coming through the galley door. Hands still over her head, heart pounding, she glanced back over her shoulder to see him, caught in the beam . . . um . . .
buttoning his shirt
? His hair was mussed in a way she hadn’t seen before, standing up on end.