Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove) (22 page)

She was an adult, in charge of her own company, albeit a company of one, and that’s where she needed to focus her energies. The best thing to do was to officially end whatever they weren’t actively having anymore and move on to a strictly business arrangement. She realized that he’d likely assumed they’d already done that, but because she really didn’t know how they’d gone from playful, toe-curling
frolicking
to his pretending she didn’t exist, she wanted it stated clearly, so there would be no ambiguity. Then maybe he could stop hiding in his study in the evenings and they could manage to eat breakfast at the same time in the same room on occasion.

Given the intensity that seemed to naturally exist between them, it was definitely for the best. It had only been a week since the last time they’d ended up in bed—or the shower, as had been the case—and she was already spending way too much time thinking about him, worrying about what was or wasn’t going on between them. If that were true this early on, she could well imagine what would happen if she stayed intimately involved with him for any real length of time.

Besides, even if she wanted to risk that, wanted to go for it all . . . there was no future in it. If she got the contract to manage the restoration project for all three buildings, which was looking more and more promising, it was still a short-term situation. A year or two at best. Then it would be on to the next job. That was the nature of her work.

Logan didn’t have to come out and state that his life was in the Cove. That much was clear. His roots were deep, and she respected him and envied him for it. She also admired him for continuing onward in the place he loved, despite the huge losses he’d suffered. The last thing he’d want was someone who was already set up to leave Blueberry Cove.

If they nipped things in the bud, kept their relationship business only—“Yeah, maybe I’d have a chance in hell of not falling for him anyway,” she muttered. She was trying to work the math on what it would take for her to relocate to a place in town—maybe she could lease out a little loft space or even just a room—while overseeing the restoration, when she walked straight into Brodie.

“Earth to Alexandra,” he chuckled, reaching for her arms to help her get her balance. “Ye work too hard, lass. Head always filled with numbers and lists on top of lists.” He pushed her knit cap up where it had slid over her eyebrows, then bent down to peer into her eyes, his own merry green ones twinkling with mischief. “Sure and I can’t talk you into a quick bite? I promise no’ to keep you too long.”

“Brodie, it’s nice of you to offer, but—”

“Take him up on it if you’d like.” Logan stepped out of the darkness and walked to the driver side door of his SUV, which was parked directly behind hers. “I’ve been called back to the station.” He opened the door, climbed in, then glanced over at them, which was when she realized how it must look. She was all but standing in Brodie’s arms.

She wasn’t sure what it was, pride maybe, stubbornness, but she didn’t pull away or try to explain. Besides, what business was it of his anyway? He’d made his position pretty clear over the past week.

“Make whatever appointments you feel necessary,” Logan told her. “And contact Owen, get him out here tomorrow as well if you can.”

“Owen? But why would—”

“He’s the closest we’ve got to a lighthouse expert in the Cove. We’ve got some answers on the house and cottage. Tomorrow we’ll start dealing with the tower.” His gaze shifted to Brodie. “Find out if she’s still seaworthy.” Then he closed the door and started up the engine.

Her mouth was still hanging open as he backed out, turned, and drove off. She looked back at Brodie to find him studying her.

“Is there something more between you two then? Other than business?”

She worked to mentally regroup from Logan’s sudden appearance to the announcement that she’d be expected to go inside the tower. Tomorrow.
Well, we’ll see about that.
“Just business,” she said flatly, hoping he didn’t hear the slight tremble in the words. The tremble of fear . . . and fury. “But I’m here to work, so—”

“All work and no play, lass, no’ a good thing, no’ a’ tall.”

“It’s a big job and it’s important to me.” She mustered up a smile. “Like you said, the best work is both. I need—to focus.”

He rubbed her arms, then gave her a wink as he tugged at her knit cap, and let her go. “Aye, that I can see.”

“Let me get your quote.” She fumbled with the door handle, swore under her breath when it stuck, then finally got it open. She snatched the estimate sheet from the passenger seat and handed it to him. “Go over it, ask me to clarify anything that doesn’t make sense or seems out of order. I’ll be in town around noon tomorrow, so I can come by then and we can set up a start date and go over what will need to happen before the laborers get started.”

He was still studying her with that perpetual sunny smile of his. But a closer look at his eyes said he probably saw a lot more than his devil-may-care disposition would seem to indicate. “I understand about work and focus, but if it’s no’ a flirtation you’re up for, perhaps you’d accept something else instead.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“The offer of friendship. We’re both new to the Cove. Couldn’t hurt to have an ally who’s not otherwise umbilically attached to the place.”

She simply smiled at that.

“Och, now you’ve gone and hurt me feelings. Ye think I can’t be but a friend?”

“I think if I honestly asked you to give me a list of female friends you’d never gotten into bed or at least tried your damndest to, it would be a very, very short list.”

He hooted out a surprised laugh at that, and she laughed too. He was . . . infectious. And pretty damn easy on the eyes. Another time, another place, maybe she’d have reconsidered. Or at least been more open to his playful, flirty banter. But her plate was full enough, and more confusing emotions she did not need.

“A woman who speaks plain and direct,” he said, when his laughter subsided. “You have my full admiration, lass, that you do.” He picked up her hand and gave the back of her fingerless glove a loud kiss. Then looked up through thick lashes and winked. “And ye’d have been right about that list, too. But that doesn’t mean I’m no’ up for being reformed.” He straightened, let his fingers trail lightly over her bare ones, before letting her hand drop. “If there was a woman alive who could do it, my money would be on you.”

She laughed again. “Thanks, but I already have a full-time job.”

That set him off again and they both laughed until she had to put her hand to her waist to help catch her breath. “Go on with ye now,” she said in perfect imitation of her grandfather’s brogue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He clutched his heart in dramatic fashion, then gave her a smart salute, and thankfully did as she asked. The floodlights came on as he was pulling out. She framed her forehead with her hand and blinked a few times to adjust her vision, then lowered it in time to see Hank, Wade, and Scotty headed across the drive as well.

“I’ll have some information for you by beginning of next week,” Hank said, then handed her a sheet of paper. “I’ll need to make some calls, get some numbers, but that’s a base list of the work that needs to be done. Let me know if you’re interested in continuing.”

“Logan said he wanted to hire local where we can, and I couldn’t agree more. We do have a few other quotes to discuss and there may be some overlap we’d have to work out, but if you all are open to working with me on that, then I know I’m interested.”

Wade and Scotty shared a quick grin and Wade handed her a sheaf of papers, too. “Same as Hank. We need to crunch some numbers, but that’s the outline. Let us know when you want to talk schedules and money.” Scotty elbowed him at that last part, but Wade just grinned. “She’s okay. She gets business talk.”

“I do,” she assured them. “I’ll be in touch in the next day or two. Thanks, you guys, for coming out and getting going on this. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, our pleasure. This being one of the oldest places on Pelican Bay, it’s an honor and privilege to get to work on it. I imagine anyone else you get out here from the area will tell you the same. It matters to us, seeing this place preserved,” Scotty said. “Please tell the chief thanks for considering us.”

“I will. I know it means a lot to him, too. I should warn you, I’m not sure if that will be the case with the lighthouse. Hiring local, I mean,” she told them, figuring it best to get the word out on that sooner than later. “Some of that work is specialized and I’m not sure we can find the right experts locally.”

Hank lifted his hand. “We understand that. Wouldn’t know the first thing about what to tell you to do with that monstrosity. Wish you the best with it, though. If you need anything basic—wiring, electric, plumbing, what have you—well, we can help you with that.”

She smiled, relieved that they already seemed to know that part of the job wasn’t likely to be up for grabs. “Good to know. And thanks.” She shook hands with each of them, then waved as they climbed in their trucks and headed out.

She walked back up to the house and paused to look up at the looming shadow of the lighthouse tower on the far side of the cottage. She felt immense relief at how well things were going so far. She was very grateful to Logan for making it clear to the local contractors that she was heading up the job and had the power to hire—and fire. That he’d given her his blessing had clearly held major sway. Any issues she feared might crop up, either because of her gender or her being the new face in town, hadn’t happened. So far, anyway. She was hopeful that the project would continue on as it had begun.

She went in through the mudroom door, thinking she’d heat up some of the spaghetti and meatballs she’d made two days before, which reminded her she needed to e-mail Delia her dad’s meatball recipe. She smiled, thinking of the trim, outspoken, forty-something redhead who ran the local diner. Delia served locals, tourists, dockworkers, and fisherman alike with the same direct, no-nonsense flair that almost always included her opinion on all manner of things personal and professional. The first time Alex had eaten there, she’d had to hide her constantly climbing eyebrows behind the monitor of her laptop, but Delia, of course, had noticed anyway, and called her straight out on it.

Blushing to her roots, Alex had stammered an apology, then complimented her on making the best seafood omelet she’d ever tasted—which had been the truth—after which Delia had laughed, then parked herself in the booth across from Alex and proceeded to grill her like a hard-boiled police detective from one of those late-night cable shows. Since then, Alex had been welcomed like a native—which also made her fair game for any of Delia’s observations or advice.

Alex had taken in stride the wiggled eyebrows Delia had served up along with her world famous chowder, laughing along as she’d been teased about the exact nature of the work she’d been doing for Brodie Monaghan. At the time, she’d figured it couldn’t hurt if the town was thinking there was something there as it would keep the attention off what was actually going on out at the Point. Except nothing had been going on there, either. She wondered if perhaps the teasing had spawned talk of an entirely different and far less flattering nature.

It wasn’t until she was seated at the small kitchen table, laptop open, notepad by its side as she worked through a bowl of spaghetti, that it struck her that Logan hadn’t been wearing his uniform when he’d left. He must have gone in and changed right after she’d left him, before being called away. Conveniently keeping them apart for yet another evening.

Of course, if there was chatter making the rounds about her and Brodie, then surely he’d have heard about it. She’d like to think he had more sense than to believe idle gossip, or at least come out and ask, but she honestly didn’t know him well enough to know how he’d handle it. She supposed it depended on who had told him what. Nor, she reasoned, did he know her well enough to know what kinds of choices she would make. Not really.

However, they had an agreement, so she hoped he’d expect her, at the very least, to terminate what was between them decisively and directly and not just let him assume she’d done so simply because he’d gone out of his way to steer clear of her for the past week. She propped her elbows on the table, pressed her face against her hands, and groaned. “Why does this have to be so complicated?”

“It doesn’t. Or it shouldn’t be.”

She startled, then clutched her heart and grabbed her glass of wine before she sent it flying to the linoleum covered floor. “Holy—you scared me half to death. I didn’t hear you come in.” She steadied the wineglass, then looked over to where he was leaning in the doorframe. He was wearing a soft blue button-up shirt tucked into jeans that had long since made themselves perfectly at home on his long, lean, larger-than-life frame. Add to that a pair of worn leather hiking boots and a worn leather bomber jacket, and she wanted him so badly it made her teeth ache. “I thought you got called back into work.”

“I lied.”

That surprised a wide-eyed look from her. “Why? Where did you go?”

“I promised Fergus I’d get into town more often. Get a life he thinks I don’t have. With good reason, I suppose.”

“So you were at the Puffin? Why didn’t you just say—never mind. It’s not my business.”

“You didn’t go to dinner.”

“No, I never planned to.” She gestured to her plate. “I’m a good cook. Apparently the whole town knows.”

“Delia mentioned you owed her a recipe. I’m guessing that’s the source of the rumor.” At Alex’s questioning look, he added, “She stopped in the pub as I was leaving.”

“You didn’t stay long.”

“It wasn’t where I wanted to be.”

She was still annoyed with him about the weird tension with Brodie and about the one-eighty his interest had taken since the beginning of the week. She didn’t owe him an explanation, and yet she heard herself say, “An evening out with Brodie Monaghan wasn’t where I wanted to be, either.” A little of the irritated edge crept in as she added, “I’m having enough trouble with one boss as it is.”