Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove) (21 page)

Damn Cami and her insidious gossip. Logan would have never gone there if it hadn’t been for her planting the seeds. Why the hell was he letting it bother him? He had no claim on Alex. Not really. They’d had sex a few times and had agreed they’d keep that exclusive to each other while it lasted. But it would certainly be easy for her to end that agreement as swiftly and easily as she’d entered into it in the first place. Maybe her short time in Blueberry had been more restorative than he realized. Maybe she wanted to embrace a broader scope of things in her newfound life. And maybe that scope included Brodie Monaghan.

“And maybe you’re an even bigger idiot than you thought,” he muttered, and walked across the yard.

“N
ot yet,” Alex told Brodie. “It’s not a priority at the moment.” She congratulated herself for maintaining a steady hand on the clipboard, a steady note to her voice. Admittedly, it was a bit easier to do with Brodie’s megawatt smile and dancing green eyes providing a distraction from the tower looming behind him. But she could feel it standing watch over her—as she had every single minute she’d been out there. Mostly it felt good, comforting . . . as long as she didn’t think about going up inside it.

“I imagine watching the sunrise from the top is quite a spectacle.”

“It is.”

Alex’s gaze jerked to her right. She hadn’t seen Logan approaching.

“Sorry,” he said to her. “I got held up at the last second.”

“Not to worry,” Brodie told him, giving Logan a hearty, open-palmed slap on his shoulder. “From the looks of it, she’s got things well in hand.”

Logan’s gaze shifted to hers. “So I see.”

Alex wasn’t sure what was going on behind Logan’s enigmatic gaze, and she wasn’t quite certain she wanted to. She was pretty sure it might piss her off.

“Wade and Scotty have done the assessment on the roof,” she said, shifting the clipboard so he could see her notes. “It’s pretty much what I thought, but thankfully, not worse. So there’s that.” She nodded toward the side of the cottage. “Hank’s looking at the foundation and the exterior. He’s done some restoration work locally and knows his stuff. The good news is, despite the sinkage and resulting pitch issues, it’s salvageable and the frame is sturdy.” She flipped up several pages on the clipboard and tapped on a drawing she’d made earlier. “The bad news is that everything else is pretty much . . . questionable.”

Logan lifted his gaze from the drawing and met hers. “Questionable,” he repeated. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“We won’t know for sure until we look inside, but saving any part of it means a total renovation. Stripping it down to that sturdy frame and slanted foundation and rebuilding from scratch. I can get a second opinion, but—”

“What’s your opinion?” he asked.

“That Hank’s right, and your money would be better spent following up on his initial assessment than paying for another one.”

“Then go with that.” Logan glanced away from her and looked at Brodie, who was standing at Alex’s other elbow. “What brings you out to the Point? Your expertise is boats, right?”

“That it is, Chief.” Brodie’s grin was easy and open—which meant either he was oblivious to the tension Alex could feel all but choking the air between the three of them, or was doing a damn fine job of not letting it show.

She wished she could say the same, and tried not to fidget.

“I’m not here in a professional capacity. I came out to give Alexandra a lift back into town. We’ve our own business to discuss and I thought it would be nice to do so over dinner.” His grin was guileless, but Alex realized there was indeed more going on when he added, “Give her a break from doin’ all the cooking. All work, no play, our Alex. Of course, I’ve always said the best work is both.”

Alex thought about exactly what kind of play she’d been up to with the man she was ostensibly working for and felt the flush begin at the base of her neck and start a slow but steady crawl northward to her cheeks.

Unsure of exactly how she’d come to be the center of what felt like a very awkward and quickly escalating situation, she took a step back and hugged the clipboard to her chest like a shield. Favoring both men with a cool smile, she said, “I need to go talk to Hank, set up a meeting with him and Owen to nail down some quotes.” She looked at Brodie. “I have the quote and schedule already done for you. It’s out in my truck. I appreciate the offer of dinner, and I’m sorry you came all the way out here, but Logan and I have several hours of work ahead of us tonight and a lot to go over and decide on before our next round of appointments tomorrow, so that’s not going to be possible. But I appreciate the gesture.”

“Some other time then,” Brodie said, his smile steady as ever as he took her refusal in stride. “I’ll meet you out by your truck.”

“Give me ten minutes.” She turned to Logan. “Did you have any particular questions for Hank?”

“Not until we go over things. I’ll go talk to Wade and Scotty. I think they’re off the roof now.”

“Good, thanks.” She gave both men a polite nod. “If you’ll excuse me.”

It took significant will not to look over her shoulder as she went around the corner of the cottage Hank had disappeared around moments before, probably continuing his assessment.
What the hell had that been all about?
She wasn’t blind or dumb—she realized Brodie had been making a play. He’d been making a play since the moment she’d first met him. But she was pretty sure he was simply wired that way. He seemed like the easy-come-easy-go type, so she doubted her refusal of his dinner offer would set him back. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had a dinner replacement lined up before he got back to Blueberry.

What was more disconcerting to her was that, even with Brodie’s surprise appearance and his always sunny, flattering, overt flirtation, her thoughts had never strayed far from the man in uniform she’d just left standing on his side lawn.

After the initial and quite tempestuous first few days spent in each other’s company, the opportunity for more frolicking hadn’t occurred. The first day—and night—or two, she’d figured Logan’s long hours away from the house had been work related. But two nights had become four, then six. Added to that was the fact that no matter what time she’d woken up, coffee had been brewed and waiting for her in the kitchen . . . and his truck had already been gone from the driveway.

Most nights he’d come home at what seemed like a normal time, changed clothes, then headed out to work on the stacked stone wall until dark. If she happened to be somewhere in the house or outside where their paths would cross, he’d say hello, ask how things were going, if she needed anything, then would go on with what he was doing.

His version of winging it, she gathered.

She’d put something together for dinner, for which he’d thank her whenever he wandered back in. Then he’d fixed a plate and disappeared into his study with nothing more than an absently delivered, “If you need anything, let me know.”

Last night she’d eaten in town at Delia’s and left him to his own devices for the evening meal, then had come in and gone straight to her room to finalize coordinating the information she knew the contractors would need for the first round of appointments, all the while telling herself that it was pretty obvious things had moved too far, too fast, and he was gently, but firmly putting some distance between himself and the woman he’d allowed to live under his roof.

She got it. She even knew she should be grateful that at least one of them was being clearheaded about it. Apparently, he’d decided that even winging it came with too much potential for complications. She wished—desperately—she could agree with him on that, but just thinking about him made it quite clear that her body was not at all happy with the sudden return to drought time.

Their only commitment—made in the heat of . . . frolicking—had been to not frolic elsewhere. So, she supposed, other than the formality of inquiring whether that agreement no longer required enforcement, there was nothing whatsoever stopping her from taking Brodie up on his next offer. He’d be exactly the type for a no-strings, short-term fling, and she had very little doubt that he would make it a fun adventure . . . if that’s what she really wanted.

But it wasn’t Brodie’s dancing eyes and promising grin she saw when she closed her eyes at night. She knew she should be grateful Logan had given her something new to dream about. Her subconscious didn’t even have to work all that hard. She didn’t need to embellish or fantasize . . . all she had to do was remember what it had truly been like.

“You’re just being perverse, wanting what you can’t have.”

“Well, missy, I wish I could tell you otherwise, but truth is, it’s a miracle this place is still upright.”

Unaware she’d spoken her thoughts out loud, Alex ducked her chin to hide her sudden blush as Hank continued his poking and prodding along the front of the cottage. He was focused on where the footing met the shake siding.

Clueless to the fact she hadn’t been paying the least bit of attention to him, he moved to a spot next to the small, sagging front stoop, pulled the end of one loose piece out, and pointed to the exposed frame behind it. “See here? Original foundation. See those nails? Handmade. Every piece here was measured and cut exact to fit. Don’t see workmanship like that anymore. Takes too much time.”

He moved the shake back into place and gave it a little pat. “But that’s why she’s still upright.” He pushed his floppy, dark blue wool captain’s cap back on his forehead and pushed the few thinning strands of white hair the wind kept catching away from his ruddy face. “It’s all gonna have to come straight down to the frame. And you’re going to need folks who know what to do with this kind of foundation. Can’t just let anybody with a hammer have at it.” He peered through one of the salt- and wind-blasted windows. “Can’t see much of what’s inside, but you’ll want to take care getting in there. Front door will be your best bet, though you’ll have to take it off at the hinges to get in. Then shore the doorframe before taking a step inside. You find anything in there worth storing for the duration, would be wise to make a plan now for where you’re going to put it. All that’ll have to get done before we start takin’ her apart. Won’t be able to start work until spring after the weather turns, so you have some time. If you want my company to do the work, I can put together a quote for you. I got some recommendations on who you can get in to help with the specialized work. Not from the Cove, but local enough to be day laborers. We can go over scheduling, labor. You’d be smart to get this contracted now, so come spring you know you have things set to go. Otherwise other opportunities come up.” He lifted a beefy shoulder. “Folks’ll take ’em when they can get ’em.”

Alex’s thoughts moved mercifully away from Logan and back to the job at hand. “I understand. That’s why I have you out here now. The plans said the shakes were last replaced in the seventies. Just patch jobs done since then. I know that was over forty years ago, but I had hoped more of it would be salvageable.”

“Forty years in most places is doubled out here on the Point, with the effects of the weather and nothing to shelter the cottage other than the tower. Even then, winds moving north to south whip right through the passage between tower and cottage, so—”

“No, no, I understand. I know what the weather can do, but even so, this is much worse degradation then you’d typically see in under a half century. Have there been more record storms than normal? More unusual or dramatic temperature swings? Warmer than usual weather can actually be more corrosive than the deep cold. I haven’t done a weather chart yet, but—”

“Nothing that out of the ordinary, I don’t think. I’ve lived here all of my sixty-five years, so I’m a walking weather chart,” he added with a deep chuckle. “What I think is that substandard material was used last time, trying to shave some of the cost, but it allowed the weather to get in. Now the Chief is paying the price for decisions made by a past generation. Happens all the time.”

Alex had lost track of what he’d said after the term
substandard material
. Not that it was at all surprising. Switching to low-grade shake shingles wasn’t in any way the same as switching to low-grade support iron and untested connective hardware that wouldn’t hold up under harsh weather conditions. No one was going to die because one of Logan’s relatives had decided to put up cheap siding. But with the lighthouse looming over her, literally a breath away from where she was standing, it was a trigger she couldn’t nimbly sidestep.

Hank kept rambling, then finally realized she wasn’t following him as he was pointing to the rotting window frames and weather-cracked seals. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She swallowed past a particularly large knot of emotion and nodded. “Fine. It’s—getting dark. I really appreciate your coming out.”

Hank nodded. “Happy to. There’s a few more things I want to check out while there’s still a little light left.”

“Okay. I’m going to go catch up to Logan.” Alex turned and headed back around to the side of the cottage and main house, hoping her abrupt departure hadn’t seemed rude. Fortunately, Hank didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who paid much attention to social niceties.

Logan was still talking to Wade and his brother. Brodie was nowhere to be seen.

Oh, right. Her truck. The quote for the job he’d hired her to do. “I’m heading out front,” she said as she neared Logan. “Do you need anything else from me regarding the roofing on the house? Hank said we’d have to take the cottage down to the frame, so we’ll need to talk about that. But if everything is good here, then I’m ready for a roof estimate.” He didn’t say anything, so she turned to the brothers. “I already gave you that info on the specially treated shakes I want you to use, but I’m open to your recommendations on what to put under it.”

Wade and Scotty nodded, smiles spreading on both of their faces. “We’ll get on it.”

For his part, Logan just held her gaze. She couldn’t read his expression and the growing gloom didn’t help. There were floodlights on the side of the house, but they hadn’t been triggered on as yet.

Annoyed, she kept her gaze on Wade and Scotty. “Good, good. I’ll look forward to receiving your quote.” She clasped her clipboard close and continued on toward the driveway without another glance at Logan. She supposed she needed to just up and admit to herself that she needed to talk to him and put what was bugging her directly on the table. She wasn’t cut out for winging it, after all. Not with him, not with anyone. She might have had a summer romance or two in her early twenties while on jobs in other countries, but this was not anything like that. Hell, she didn’t even know what
this
was.