Читать книгу Safe In His Arms - Anna Stewart J. - Страница 16

WITH PHOEBE ENSCONCED in bed, Hunter slipped out of the carriage house and closed the door behind him. He found the darkness both captivating and intimidating with only a solitary light burning in the window of the cottage breaking through the night. He shivered against the cold, and considered going back for a sweatshirt, but the ear-thrumming pounding of the waves at the base of the cliffs pushed his discomfort aside. It was too late for coffee if he hoped to sleep tonight, and he was not a tea kind of guy, but a steaming mug of hot chocolate sure sounded good about now. He made a mental note to add some to the grocery list.

His shoes crunched along the gravel path. He was amazed at how the spinning thoughts that kept him awake faded into silence beneath the sound of the ocean breaking against the shoreline.

There was little, he supposed, more powerful than nature at its freest. His fingers itched to return for his camera, but photographing at night took a bit of preparation and planning. As he stood there, above the crashing waves and beneath the steadfast lighthouse that had overseen this shore for longer than he’d been alive, he knew this would be the perfect shot, the perfect image for the story he’d been hired to write. And the emotion he hoped to convey with his words. He stooped down, scooped up a handful of pebbles and let them trickle through his fingers. Hunter could barely hear them drop back onto the ground above the waves, but there was something connective about being out here, in the darkness, seeing this scene in the same way as people had decades before. No blinding lights to distract, no sounds of technology blaring in his ears. Only the water and the rush of wind and the smell of the sea to fill his senses.

He felt her presence before he spotted her, that spark of energy that crackled whenever Kendall was around. Hunter looked over his shoulder as she stepped out of the grove of trees on the far side of the cottage. He couldn’t explain it. He hadn’t tried to, but that energy called to him, perhaps even more strongly than the tide had called to him tonight.

Hunter knew the instant she noticed him. She hunched her shoulders, tipped her chin down and huddled into the thin zip-up gray hoodie she wore, as if she could withdraw like a turtle into her shell.

She could have gone around him; he half expected her to when she missed a step and almost stumbled. But she kept on her path toward the keeper’s house. “Nice night for a walk,” he called out to her when she drew close.

“Yes, it is.” She offered a quick smile before glancing at the carriage house. “Is Phoebe...?”

“She’s asleep. Or she’s supposed to be. I’d lay even odds she’s huddled under the covers with a flashlight and her book.” Growing up, his sister used to do the same thing, which was one reason he didn’t make a fuss about it. “She thinks I don’t know she does that most nights.”

Kendall lifted her face into the moonlight and he caught the flash of what wasn’t exactly humor, but understanding. “She thinks she’s putting one over on you.”

“Probably.” Hunter dusted off his hands and stood. “The last thing I’m ever going to be upset about is her reading.” Even if it was the same book, day after day, night after night. “Do you walk out here every night?”

Hands shoved deep into her pockets, Kendall rocked back on her heels. How was she not shivering to death? he wondered.

“Most nights. I’m not the best sleeper.” She winced as if the conversation took effort. Still, she didn’t seem in too much of a rush to head inside and he took that as progress. “There’s an outlook about a mile and half that way.” She jerked her chin in the direction she’d come from. “I found it a few days after I got here. There isn’t a path or anything to it, it’s just one of those places that helps shake loose the day.”

“Sounds like you had the kind of day I did. My mind won’t turn off.” He didn’t approach her, didn’t make any move other than pushing his hands into his own pockets to stop them from stiffening up. “I met with Gil today. To talk about the book.”

She nodded, looking past him to the ocean beyond.

“We talked about you a bit,” he added.

Now that caught her attention. His eyes had adjusted to the dark and he saw the flash of irritation in her eyes, saw her spine stiffen, only to soften moments later. “What about me?”

“Only that our arrival caught you by surprise and that I thought he should have given you some warning. He agreed.”

“Did he?” Kendall’s eyebrows lifted.

“He’ll be by to apologize. He should, anyway. I would if it were me.”

“You’re not Gil Hamilton,” Kendall said with a quick smile. “You were right the other night. I’ve been rude to both you and Phoebe, so it’s me who owes the apology.”

“Accepted.” The unspoken truce between them felt like the biggest hurdle he’d jumped yet. “We don’t want to get in your way, Kendall. I’m just here to do a job and hopefully show Phoebe there’s more to life than grief.”

“I know. It’s just...” She hesitated. “Children make me uneasy. I—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Kendall.” Although he was curious. Uneasy seemed an odd term to use. She hadn’t said she didn’t like children, or that she didn’t want to be around them. “On the bright side, you don’t have to worry about Phoebe talking your ear off.” His heart twisted. What he wouldn’t give to hear Phoebe’s nonstop chattering once more.

“Maybe it’s that she just waits until she has something important to say.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Would you like to continue this conversation inside?” He pointed to the carriage house. “I don’t know about you, but I’m half frozen.”

“No, thank you.” Kendall took a step around him and shook her head. “Maybe another time. I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow and I need to try to get some sleep.”

“Fair enough.” Disappointment he didn’t expect slid through him. He couldn’t explain it, but he liked being around her, liked talking with her. “Maybe next time then. Good night, Kendall.”

“Good night, Hunter.”

“YOU JUST COULDN’T wait for me, could you?”

Kendall looked down from the second story of the scaffold she was building and found Frankie Bettencourt looking up at her, shielding her eyes against the morning sun. A sun that turned Frankie’s tied-down, fire-red hair to a color resembling molten lava. “Sorry. Got an earlier than expected start. Come on up.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Frankie set her coffee cup down, unzipped her sweatshirt and shrugged free, tossing it onto the workbench before she scrambled up the side rungs to join Kendall. “Nice job so far. Feels sturdy.”

They could have been twins, Kendall thought with something akin to humor shifting through her. Jeans, sneakers and tank tops were both their preferred attire. But while Kendall gravitated toward the grays and blacks of the spectrum, Frankie was a rainbow of contradictions. Even the bra strap that peeked out from under her sunshine-yellow tank was fluorescent pink. By comparison, however, Kendall looked as if she needed half a year’s worth of good meals and twice that much sleep. That said, Frankie was toned, muscular and more fit than most athletes. She had to be, given her job as a captain in the Butterfly Harbor Fire Department. She was also a good three inches taller than Kendall. So...maybe the twins idea didn’t fit, after all.