Gull Harbor (7 page)

Confusion clouded her features. “Will it take that long?”

The way he felt right now, he’d be lucky if he lasted ten minutes. The idea of not making love to her today was excruciating. But he fought to inject a reasonable tone into his rough voice. “No, honey, that’s not it. You deserve a memorable night, not a quickie between classes. Your first time should be romantic.”

She shrugged. “So light a candle.”

He laughed gruffly. “I don’t think I can, right at the moment.”

“Then make love to me,” she said simply, her eyes glowing. “I want you. It’s snowing outside and we’re warm beneath the covers. We love each other. That’s all the romance I need.”

God, he loved her. She was right about that. He smoothed back her hair, kissed her throat. “Are you sure?”

She nodded solemnly. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

The last of his resolve broke apart, shattered by his powerful need for her. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He spent as much time as he could making sure she was ready, and then he pushed himself into her gradually, cursing silently when he met the slight resistance. In one swift move, he plunged through it, tearing the thin membrane of skin. Her breath caught, but she didn’t cry out, and he dropped his forehead to hers. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Now we’re truly together. It feels right. It feels perfect.”

He let her set the rhythm, and she drove him almost mad with desire as she began to lose herself in the pleasure. Gripping the cheap wooden frame of the dormitory bed, he fought to wait for her to climax. When she did, her thighs shook and she called his name. He joined her in an instant, driving himself deeply into her with his release.

They lay tangled together, their heavy breathing the only sound in the small room. He could feel her heart pound beneath his, and he held himself on top of her until his arms began to tremble from his effort not to crush her. Shifting off of her, he pulled her head onto his chest and smoothed her hair.

“This was the best day ever,” she said, splaying her hand across his abdomen.

“Agreed,” he murmured, squeezing her tightly.

The snow turned to ice, tapping against the window. She snuggled closer to him. “Maybe we miss class, just this one time,” she suggested.

Chapter 9

“It’s a boat!” she said, slapping her hand down on the counter. “Sorry,” she mumbled as the other customers turned to stare. Lowering her voice, she repeated, “The
Barracuda
—it’s a boat.”

“How do you know?” Dan asked, filling up a mug of coffee for her.

“I saw it, like in a dream. But it wasn’t a dream; it was one of Maria’s memories. I’m certain of it.” Claire bounced in her seat with excitement. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.

“What do you think it means?”

Her smile faltered. “Well, for now, all it means is that I’m not completely crazy. It’s a bit disconcerting to hear a random word like that in your head. At least now I know it’s the name of a boat.” She took a sip of coffee. “In general, maybe it means I’m making progress. She showed me something from her life. Maybe it’s a breakthrough of sorts.”

The door jingled, and she turned to see Max’s tall form enter the diner. Warmth flooded her cheeks as last night’s steamy kiss leapt to the forefront of her mind.

She yanked her attention back to the present. There was no time to worry about the kiss right now. She needed to ask Dan something, and she didn’t want to explain to Max. Dan was going to give her enough grief.

Max stopped to talk to a couple at a table, and she leaned across the counter toward Dan. “Um, listen…do you have any big cardboard boxes in the back that I could borrow?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I have tons. Can I ask what it’s for?”

“It’s no big deal,” Claire said hurriedly. “I need some cardboard to cover a window that broke.”

Dan’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “What?”

It was too late. Max lowered himself onto the stool beside her. Claire shook her head slightly but Dan pressed on.

“How did a window break?”

Max’s expression grew stony. “What happened?” he practically growled.

She sighed. “It’s no big deal. I woke up in the middle of the night and she was there. I caught an image—a boat, with the name
Barracuda
on the side—and I asked her what it meant. I guess she didn’t like that, because the next thing I knew a rock went through the window.”

Both men stared at her. She fidgeted under their combined scrutiny. “I’m fine,” she pointed out. “And now I know there’s a boat involved somehow.”

“That hardly seems worth the risk. Did the rock come near you?” asked Dan.

She gulped her coffee. “No. It was thrown from inside the room. It landed in the yard.”

The muscles along Max’s arm tightened as his fingers curled into a fist. “Claire, that’s worse. What you’re saying is that there was a ghost, in your room, carrying a rock. Do you not see the problem with that?”

“It’s no different from when she launched my iPod dock into the picture above my bed,” Claire said with a shrug. “She’s trying to scare me away, not hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” countered Max.

“I do. I feel it. Anyway, can I help myself to one of those boxes, Dan?” she asked, her tone slightly accusatory.

“Of course,” he called, drifting back into the kitchen.

A tense silence spun out between them until Max announced, “I’ll help you fix the window.”

“I can handle it,” she said.

Dan hurried by, dropping off her fruit plate. She’d lost her appetite, but she couldn’t afford to order food and not eat it. Picking up her fork, she speared a pineapple chunk.

“Claire, I know you can handle it,” Max said carefully. “But I want to help you. And then I can take measurements to order you a replacement.”

“I can’t pay for a replacement,” she said, shaking her head.

“My buddy owns the local building store. I got him a huge contract with some luxury homes going up on a golf course—he made a killing. He owes me.”

“You’re not calling in favors to repair my window. But thanks anyway.”

Max blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ve seen the inside of the house, Claire—it’s trashed. You deserve to at least have a bedroom that doesn’t feature boarded-up windows.” He threw his hand up to stop her from interrupting. “If you don’t want to accept the help for yourself, think about the Llewellyns. Sooner or later you’ll get rid of this ghost, and they’ll move back in. If I don’t fix it, they’ll have to spend their money on the repair.”

He had her now. She knew the Llewellyn’s financial situation, and she was going to feel guilty enough just taking her fee from them, assuming she managed to earn it. If there were repairs she could make to the house for free, what choice did she have?

“Fine,” she said, cutting off a slice of cantaloupe with more force than necessary.

“I’ll meet you at your house in about an hour.” Max stood up, gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder, and left.

“Who died and left you in charge?” she mumbled around a mouthful of fruit. Then the anger drained out of her as she remembered someone
had
died, and her lonely spirit was trapped and frightened. Claire pushed the rest of her food away and went to check the storage room for boxes.

****

She was outside picking shards of glass off the ground when a motorcycle roared up to the house. It took her a minute to realize it was Max. Her heart gave an annoying flutter as he swung off the bike and crossed the yard.

“So now you’re a biker?” she asked, eyebrow cocked.

He shrugged. “It’s easier. I only drive my truck if I have to haul something. Or in really bad weather.”

“Talk about dangerous. You’ll kill yourself on that thing.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “And that concerns you?”

Damn. “No,” she snapped, bending back over to retrieve more glass.

He chuckled. “I’ll get started, if that’s okay with you.”

She nodded, tugging the thin strap of her tank top back into place. “It’s the room at the top of the stairs, to the right.”

“The one with the broken window?” he asked innocently.

She resisted the urge to stab him with a jagged piece of glass. Her brain was constantly fuzzy these days; it wasn’t fair that she was being forced to interact with people who were actually allowed to sleep through the night. “That’s the one,” she replied, ignoring his teasing tone.

After tossing the bag of glass in the trash, she found Max in her bedroom, taping cardboard to the window frame with duct tape. A box cutter and a measuring tape lay on her bed next to his black leather jacket. She perched on the other corner, watching him.

“Are you sure you can get a new window for free?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “My friend made more money in six months off the deal I set up than he had in the past two years. He kept trying to give me a cut of his profits, which obviously I wouldn’t take. He’ll be thrilled when I tell him I need a favor.”

“That was nice of you to help him out. I guess you know a lot of people around here.”

“Comes with the business. Can you hand me that box cutter?” he asked, gesturing with his chin toward the bed.

She picked it up and carried it over. “How did you end up in Gull Harbor, anyway?”

“I had to move away from the city, and this seemed like as good a place as any.” He took the tool from her and sliced through the duct tape.

Anger flared inside her, hot and bitter. She should have realized where this conversation would go; her exhausted mind had failed her again. Now it was too late. “Oh, that’s right. I suppose it was important to find a remote location, in case I tried to look for you.”

“Claire—”

“It’s fine, I get it.”

He set the box cutter on the window sill and turned slowly. “No, you don’t get it. You couldn’t possibly.”

“You’re right, I don’t get it. I’ll never understand how you could betray me like that. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

His blue eyes flashed as he took a step toward her. “I do, actually.”

She stood her ground. After he’d left her, she’d gone over every minute of their time together in a desperate attempt to find a reason for his behavior. She was confident she’d done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. “I was never anything but loyal to you, Max,” she said defiantly.

“Why him?”

“You’re not making any sense.” But a strange sense of foreboding was settling over her.

“I came back to find you,” he said, his voice like steel.

“What are you talking about? You didn’t need to find me, you knew exactly where I was! Right where you left me.”

“I saw you with Keith. You were kissing him, holding his hand.” He grabbed her arms, pressing his calloused fingers into her flesh. “Why him?”

Her skin burned under his touch even as fury pounded through her veins. “How are you turning this around on me?
You
left me—and Keith! He didn’t even get a stupid note and he was your best friend. You deserted both of us, and we turned to each other for support. Anything else we did is none of your business!”

His grip loosened and he ran his palms down her arms before letting them drop to his sides. “I had no choice,” he said cryptically. His eyes darkened like shuttered windows as he stepped back.

She drew in a ragged breath. “There’s always a choice.” But even as she spoke the words, doubt pricked holes in her conviction. Could there be a legitimate reason for what he did? She felt strangely adrift, as though she were caught up in a riptide of past events that she didn’t quite understand.

The smoke alarm blared, and she lurched forward in shock. His hands shot out to catch her, and he pulled her into a protective embrace.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

She allowed her forehead to rest on his chest for a brief moment. The piercing beeps felt like ice picks to her temple. “I just need some rest. I have to get out of here…I’m going to the beach, maybe I can sleep there.” Untangling herself from his arms, she retrieved her beach bag from the corner.

He reached up to reset the smoke detector. “I’m guessing it’s a false alarm, but I’ll check the house anyway.”

She nodded, backing out the bedroom door. The urge to escape this place was suddenly overwhelming. “I have to go…but, thanks.” She fled down the noisy staircase and out into the bright June sunshine.

Chapter 10

Max was immersed in the final verse of a song when Katie’s frantic waving caught his attention. Since it was Friday night, he’d given in to the requests for another set, despite the fact that it was almost closing time. He shook his head imperceptibly, but she continued to gesture, pointing at the phone in her hand.

He improvised a quick ending and stood up. “Excuse me folks, I have to take a quick break,” he said, setting his guitar in the corner.

Katie rushed over and thrust the phone into his hand. “Sorry, but it’s about Claire,” she said breathlessly.

Adrenaline spilled into his veins. “Claire?” he said into the phone.

“No, Max…it’s Mike, over at The Scrimshaw,” a deep voice replied.

He frowned at Katie. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“Hi Max!” someone yelled in the background. Claire. He could hear her giggling.

“No problem,” said Mike. “Your girlfriend’s here at the bar, and she’s pretty wrecked.”

“I’m not his girlfriend!” Claire called out. “Just let me talk to him.”

“She can’t drive,” Mike finished, handing the phone over to Claire.

“I wanted to call Dan, but then I realized I don’t actually know his number,” she said with a laugh. “And I’m sure he’s asleep. I figured you’d be at work still, so Mike said he’d call you. Would you mind giving me a ride home?”

“I think the more important question is, what are you doing at The Scrimshaw? Never mind, I can guess. Claire, the crowd that hangs out there is pretty rough.” His disapproval was met with a single hiccup. “Where are you right now?” he demanded.

A sigh and another hiccup. “I’m at The Scrimshaw. Didn’t we just go over that?”