It's in His Kiss (24 page)

And then he was gone.

Much later, Sam looked up from the boat he was working on and blinked, realizing hours had gone by and he hadn’t been interrupted by a single thing. It had to be a record.

The phones had rung, but they’d been picked up. Apparently Becca was doing fine since she knew to call him if she needed anything.

She hadn’t.

Which was great. After all, the whole point of hiring her had been so that he could be left alone.

His favorite state.

But Cole and Tanner were still out, and she’d been on her own all day.

Maybe something was wrong. Maybe she’d fallen and hit her head.

Maybe he was an idiot.

“Shit.” He gave up wondering and headed toward the hut.

He heard her before he saw her, that bubbly, infectious laugh. When he turned the corner and saw the open hut, Becca was sitting behind the counter. She’d kicked off her sneakers and rolled her jeans into capris. She wore a red tank and a straw hat, which Sam recognized as the one Tanner occasionally wore in the bright afternoon sun, and a welcoming smile.

“That’s perfect, Yvonne,” she was saying to a customer. “You’ll have such a wonderful time. The guys are all so great, you’ll want to book another trip right away, I’m sure.” She pointed to a spot on the iPad screen in front of her—onto which she’d loaded all their forms. “And don’t forget to leave your email addy. You don’t want to miss any specials we have going on.”

She’d been right—she was a fast learner. She had a gift, a different one from anyone he’d ever met. She had the gift of curiosity and empathy, and of bringing people out of themselves, charming them, getting them to open up.

He knew that firsthand. He hated that she seemed to think her self-worth was wrapped up in her past, because that was bullshit. The smart, determined, resourceful Becca Thorpe could do anything she set her mind to.

He wished she knew that.

Yvonne was beaming when she walked away, and Becca immediately turned her attention to the next person waiting.

It was Anderson, the guy who ran the local hardware store. He was in his mid-thirties, and had been in Lucky Harbor since he was a kid. He was an okay guy, Sam supposed, but he was a known dog when it came to women. And sure enough, he leaned on the counter and flashed Becca his on-the-prowl smile like he was God’s gift. “Hey,” he said smoothly. “I know you. I sold you some stuff a few weeks back.”

“You most definitely did, thank you,” Becca said. “What can I sign you up for today? A snorkel? A deep-sea fishing expedition?”

“Which one of those do
you
do?”

“I take your money,” she said.

Anderson laughed. “How about I take you instead.”

“Um, what?” she asked.

“Out to dinner.” Anderson clarified this with a smile, leaning in closer.

“Like . . . on a date?” Becca asked.

“Yes,” Anderson said. “A date. What are you doing later?”

“She’s busy,” Sam said, stepping inside the hut and coming up behind Becca, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Anderson stopped drooling over Becca and straightened. “Hey there. I like your new front person. She’s a whole lot cuter than any of you three. No offense,” he said, and smiled.

Sam did not.

Anderson’s smile faded. “Right, well, okay then. I’ll just be on my way.”

When he was gone, Becca very slowly, very purposefully turned to Sam. “What was that?”

Sam shrugged. “He thinks you’re cute.”

“No, I meant what was that, as in what were you doing just now?”

“Stopped him from harassing you. I came up to see how you were feeling after last night. And to see. . .” What, genius? “How you’re working out.”

He knew his mistake immediately, even before she narrowed her eyes. “I’m working out just fine,” she said. “But
you
not so much.”

“Excuse me?”

She moved closer and lowered her voice without lowering her annoyance level, which was blasting from her eyes. “You just acted like . . . a caveman.”

“A caveman,” he repeated.

“Yes! You chased him away from asking me out. You might as well have dragged me back to your cave by the hair.”

He stared at her and then turned and tugged down the hut’s rolling door for privacy, intending to show her his inner caveman.

But though Becca’s eyes were still fiery, she took an immediate step back.

Sam swore beneath his breath and shoved the door back up again, giving her the space she clearly needed.

Becca held her own. She’d crossed her arms, but looked more pissed than anxious. Which was infinitely better, but not ideal. He still had no idea what made her tick. All he knew was that she made
him
tick.

And that was a first for him.

Also, he wanted a few minutes alone with whoever had made her anxious in small spaces. He wanted that badly. “Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re going to have to make a lot more sense for me here. Are you saying you actually
wanted
to go out with Anderson?”

“You’re missing my point on purpose.”

“Maybe because you’re not speaking English.” He dipped his head so that they were eye-to-eye. “Tell me in English, Becca.”

“All right,” she said, nose-to-nose with him, toe-to-toe. “I want to date
you
, you big, stubborn lug. But you don’t want to date me back. You have all these. . .” She waved a hand. “Stupid rules.”

“No, just the one,” he said. “And it’s not stupid. It’s to protect you.”

“From what?” she demanded, then blew out a breath when he just looked at her. “Whatever,” she said, unimpressed
as she tossed up her hands. Then she drew in a deep breath, like she was searching for patience, which was a new one for him. Normally
he
was the one searching for patience. And here she was looking at him like
he
drove
her
crazy. Which made no sense since he was being perfectly reasonable and she was not.

“I’m new to town,” she finally said. “You know this.”

“Yeah,” he said. “So?”

“So maybe I’m lonely.”

He stared at her, and he could admit, that hadn’t occurred to him. He liked to be alone.

But this sweet, tough, beautiful woman in front of him wasn’t wired the same as he was, and he should have gotten that. “Becca.”

“Oh, no.” She waggled a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I’m a big girl, and I take care of myself. You don’t want to be with me that way, I get it. We did it once, and maybe it was so awful for you that you can’t bear to repeat it, maybe—”

“You
know
that’s not the case.”

“Fine. But it doesn’t matter. You won’t
let
yourself be with me, for whatever secret reason—”

“It’s not a secret, Becca.”

“Yes, it is. I mean, you
say
it’s because I work for you, and also because you think I’m not ready, but you know what I think? I think that’s just an excuse. Which leaves me to believe you’re afraid of me and what we had during our one night together.”

He let out a low laugh. “I’m not afraid of shit.”

“No?” she challenged, hands on hips. “Then prove it.”

He stared at her and then drew in a deep breath and tried again. “I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“Great. But if you could not put on your scary alpha-man face and shoo away the next person who might want to be my friend, that would be great, too.”

She couldn’t be that naive. Could she? “Becca, Anderson didn’t want to be your
friend
. He wanted to be in your pants.”

She lost some of her bluster at that. “Well . . . that was for
me
to decide.”

“So you
do
want to go out with him.”

“Nooooo,” she said slowly and clearly, as if he was a huge idiot. “As already established, I want to go out with
you
. But you’re turning out to be an ass, and I try very hard not to date asses anymore.”

“Anymore?” he asked.

And just like that, her expression closed. This got to him, in a bad way. “I think it’s time we talk about you,” he said quietly.

She turned away.

Reaching out, he gently snagged her hand and pulled her back around.

“I’m on the clock,” she said. “We’re not talking about this now.”

“Becca—”

“Or ever.”

He disagreed, vehemently, and began to reel her in, but her cell phone rang. It was sitting on the counter, which is how he saw it was a FaceTime call from Jase.

Becca stared at the thing as if it were a snake poised to strike.

“You going to answer?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sure.” Taking a deep breath, she slid her thumb across the screen to answer. “Hey, Jase,” she said, back
to her friendly smile. It was the one she gave out to his clients, Sam realized, which was different from the smiles she gave him. The smiles for him were . . . real.

“Becca.” A guy’s face filled the screen. He looked like Becca, with the same big, soulful brown eyes and easy smile. He also looked incredibly relieved. “You’re hard to get ahold of.”

“Yes,” she said. “I know.”

“Too busy to call me back?”

Becca didn’t look at Sam. “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks were red. Her ears were red, too. Her eyes weren’t. They were just plain unhappy.

Jase’s smile faded as he took in this fact as well. “Bex,” he said, until he caught sight of Sam. “Who’s that?”

“He’s my boss,” Becca said before Sam could answer. “I. . .got a job.”

Jase’s gaze came back to Becca. “A job?”

“Yes.”

“But you have a job in New Orleans, close to home.”

“I lied when I told you I’d taken a leave of absence,” she said. “The truth is, I quit. And now I. . .answer phones.”

“I’d have given you money,” Jase said. “Bex, you should be playing, going for your dream of music. Not . . . answering someone’s phones. Jesus.”

“It’s more than phones,” Sam said. “She’s running a charter company.”

Jase didn’t look impressed, nor did he take his eyes off Becca. “Let me help you—”

“No.
No
,” she repeated, more gently, reaching behind her to give Sam a shove. “I told you when I left. I’ll worry about me. You worry about you.”

“There was a time when we worried about each other,” he said sadly.

Becca shook her head. “I can’t do that anymore, Jase. You know that.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know that. I miss you, Bex.”

“Jase—”

“No, I get it.” Jase’s face closed up, much as his sister’s had. “You have to worry about you.”

“Jase,” she said again, more softly now.

But the connection had ended. Becca went still for a minute, then pulled her heels up to her chair, hugging her bent legs and dropping her forehead to her knees.

Sam slid a hand down her back.

“I’m okay,” she said.

“Yeah. That’s why you’re curled in a protective ball.”

Closing her eyes, she shivered at his touch, and hoping that meant he was doing the right thing, Sam curved his palm around the nape of her neck and crouched at her side. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine.”

Amelia had long ago schooled him in the fine art of
fine
. He knew that if a woman used the word
fine
, it actually meant the polar opposite of
fine
.

“You made it sound like I was running the free universe, rather than basically being a gofer,” she said.

“You’re more than a gofer, Becca. But Jase is right. You should be doing something with your talent, your dream—”

She lifted her head and leveled him—slayed him—with her big, luminous eyes. “You firing me?”

“No, of course not.”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out again, purposefully,
like she was releasing some tension. “You should know that, while I find your whole caveman thing really annoying, I realize you were just trying to protect me. For some reason, that’s . . . arousing, but I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” Sam paused. “Arousing?”

She snorted and turned her head to look at him. “Is that all you heard?”

“I’m a guy.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve noticed.”

Before Sam could even begin to interpret that statement, Cole strode in.

Looking like she’d been given a reprieve from her own execution, Becca jumped up. Sam snagged her wrist before she could move off and put his mouth to her ear. “We’re not done.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she muttered, giving him a shoulder nudge that didn’t need translation—she wanted space.

Cole, one of the most intuitive people Sam knew, took in both Sam and Becca and stopped short. “What did I interrupt?”

“Just a little show of Neanderthalism, that’s all,” Becca said.

Cole grinned. “He dragging his knuckles again?”

Becca slid Sam a look. “Just a little.”

Cole nodded. “Runs in the family, along with our good looks.”

“She knows we’re not real brothers,” Sam said.

“Hell if we’re not,” Cole said, losing his good humor. “When you first came to stay at my house—what were we, thirteen? You were a stick, half-starved and always
sick, but you still beat the shit out of those assholes who kept jumping me after school. You said we were brothers, and no one messed with your brother.”

Damn. Cole was even touchier than Amelia about this family shit. “Listen, I just meant—”

“You said it, man.” Cole turned to Becca, who was probably soaking up this new information like a dry sponge. “And then our first year on the Gulf,” Cole went on, “that massive storm hit, remember?”

“I remember,” Sam said. “You don’t need to—”

“We huddled in that fucking tiny room the size of a postage stamp, the four of us,” Cole said. “And when that lantern fell and hit Gil on the head and sliced Tanner’s leg, I got cut trying to clear the glass. We were bleeding like stuck pigs. Tanner decided we were all going to die, and we were trying to keep him from bleeding out—”

“Jesus,” Sam said. “Dramatic much?”

“You kept your head,” Cole said. “Even when the blood was everywhere, even when you slashed open your hand trying to get the glass out of Gil. You got us through that night, and the next morning when we got outta that shithole, we all had each other’s blood on us and you”—He jabbed a finger at Sam like there might be any question of who he was talking to—“you said again that we were blood brothers. So go ahead, say we’re not.”