He frowned. “He looked at the bottom of it?”
“Yes. Why?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I carve a symbol on the bottom of my work. Kind of my personal signature. The symbol is one I found in my grandmother’s old sketchbook.”
“So someone who knew of your work would know you do that?”
“I do it now on all my more recent carvings. But my older pieces, from when I was first starting out…”
A bit of a disgruntled look crept over his rugged features. And she’d swear a hint of anger flashed in his eyes before he let out a long sigh.
“You okay?”
“Yep, I’m fine.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry grin. “Just thinking about the follies of youth. The mistakes we make when we don’t know better.”
She was thoroughly confused by his cryptic answer but didn’t want to press him. He’d opened up to her, and she didn’t want to break the moment.
They sat on his deck, watching the breathtaking display as the setting sun painted the sky in magnificent streaks of orange and yellow. The colors danced and wove together, creating a mesmerizing view that stretched across the horizon.
She finally broke the comfortable silence and turned the conversation to Megan and Brooklyn, asking questions about them. He regaled her with stories of Brooklyn’s antics, and his love for his niece shone clearly in his eyes.
As the evening wore on, she finally looked at her watch. “Oh, it’s getting late. I should probably go,” she said reluctantly, not wanting the moment to end but knowing it was time to go.
Connor stood, his tall frame unfolding gracefully. “Here, I’ll walk you home.”
She stood up beside him and wondered where was the man who’d refused his sister’s request that he walk her home after their spaghetti dinner? He still had his hard edges. He still had an air of mystery about him. But there was a softer side to this man that hinted at a depth of character and a capacity for kindness that she felt herself drawn to.
They descended the steps together, their footsteps muffled by the soft sand beneath their feet. As they crossed the beach in the gathering darkness, he took her elbow, a touch that was both reassuring and electrifying.
They climbed the steps to her porch. Suddenly, the moon popped out from behind the clouds and threw silvery rays of light around them. He stood there in front of her. Just stood there. His eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.
She held her breath. A flutter of anticipation stirred in her chest.
“Good night, Amanda,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then with a slight nod, he turned and went down the steps before jogging across to his cottage.
Left alone in the moonlight, she gazed up at the stars. A question hung in the air as real as the breeze caressing her skin. Had Connor Dempsey been on the verge of kissing her?
And an even more intriguing question—had she wanted him to kiss her? The attraction between them was undeniable. At least, she thought it was. Maybe. As she slipped inside her cottage, the questions lingered, promising to occupy her thoughts long into the night.
Connor, buddy. What have you done?
Connor trudged up the steps to his cottage, retrieved their empty bottles, and walked inside. He put the bottles in the recycling, the sound of glass on glass breaking the silence of the cottage. He rinsed out his coffee cup from this morning and put it in the dishwasher. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he really should eat.
But instead, he found himself drawn back outside. The worn boards were smooth under his bare feet. The gentle breeze played with his hair. The stars stretched above him in a dance of constellations. All of it was so familiar—and yet so different.
Had he truly asked Amanda out on a date? The question hung in the air, twisting and spinning like the mobile he’d made for Brooklyn when she was a baby.
Did she think that’s what he’d done? Well, he kind of did, didn’t he?
She was just so effortless to be around. And he admired so many things about her. The way she organized this festival and didn’t seem to let anything ruffle her feathers. The way she seemed to enjoy Brooklyn’s boundless energy. The way she’d looked at him tonight…
And he’d felt an intimate connection with her when she sat there silently watching him work. He never allowed anyone to watch him work, guarding his solitude carefully. But tonight he’d glanced up a few times, seeing her eyes light up with recognition and appreciation of the craftsmanship of his work. And he’d been delighted when she realized he was carving a pelican with her keen observation and admiration.
He shoved his hand through his hair, looking out at the moonlight glistening on the waves, his mind in turmoil, surging like the tides.
Yes, Connor Dempsey. What have you done? What have you set in motion with this lowering of your carefully constructed walls of protection?
CHAPTER 16
