And he would deserve it.
CHAPTER13
“Winnie, are you decent? I have news.”
Mack’s voice roused Winnie from her restless sleep. She jolted upright; a quick glance at herself in the dim light made her groan. Mack’s shirt had ridden up in her sleep, barely covering the tops of her thighs, and at some point, she had kicked off his coat.
“A few minutes, please.”
She scrambled to her feet, relieved when her ankle only gave a small twinge of discomfort. The night’s rest had done her good, but she dreaded putting on her heel-less boot. She grimaced as she quickly donned her damp clothing, then twisted her runaway hair into a simple top knot and swung the door open.
Mack’s tall frame filled the small shed, warming the air and her insides alike. Flat cap in hand, his hair flopped charmingly over his forehead, and his cheeks glowed from the fresh air of dawn. It wasn’t fair to look so appealing in the morning.
“Where have you been?”
She held her breath, wondering if he would mention what had happened between them last night. They had snapped at each other like cranky children and then attacked each other like lusty adults. Though she was no doe-eyed sexual ingénue, her daring had taken her by surprise. Perhaps it was the tantalizing knowledge that they were utterly alone in the wilderness. The untimely interruption had brought her senses hurtling back, and she’d gone on the defensive.
But she needn’t have bothered. Mack’s fervent pledge had rattled in her brain for hours, even after she’d feigned falling sleep. But now, in the light of day, there was no avoiding the truth. God help her, shewantedto be claimed. At least once. Maybe then she would be able to get past this absurd obsession that had her on edge.
She realized Mack was waiting expectantly. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I said I explored our surroundings, and you’ll be happy with the peace offering I found.” He waggled his eyebrows for emphasis. “The beach.”
“All islands have beaches…”
He chuckled, stepping further into the shed. “This beach is less than a ten-minute walk from here, and from what I can tell, it is teeming with our breakfast.” He crossed to the pile of farming equipment and picked up the infamous garden hoe. “Ever been clamming?”
Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and she coughed to cover the sound. “Of course. I’m from Massachusetts.”
Mack paused. “I didn’t know that, but I’ll add the detail to your folder.”
“My what?”
“A folder where I keep all the details of Mrs. Winnifred West.”
“You do not. Where is this atrocious folder?”
He tapped his temple. “In here, Bobcat. You’ll never be able to destroy it.”
She rolled her eyes, unwilling to be dragged into a nonsensical argument with an empty stomach, and examined the tools herself before selecting a much smaller trowel and bucket. “Lead the way, Mr. Donnelly, before I make a folder onyou.”
Walking slowly and carefully, they soon stood atop a sloping dune. The sun had barely crested the calm ocean waves, and the sky was a brilliant purple interspersed with orange and pink hues. The coastline was shrouded in shadows that hinted of cliffs and outcroppings in either direction. A tall sea wall to the west protected the abundant grasses waving gently in the morning breeze, and the beach was littered with twisted driftwood.
“It’s lovely.”
“Yes.” Mack’s voice was soft, thoughtful. “Lovely.”
She tore her eyes from the water to find him studying her, and a smile rose unbidden to her lips. Somehow, despite her rumpled clothing and tangled hair, he made her feel beautiful. Relieved the new day had put them both back to rights, she tied her skirts into a loose knot between her legs, revealing her boots and stockinged calves, and gave him a jaunty grin. “May the best clammer win.”
A half hour later, Winnie looked up for her seat on the narrow, rocky beach and spied on Mack. A few yards away, he crouched barefoot in the sand, his pant legs rolled to his knees. The transformation from stern editor into relaxed beachcomber was enchanting.
“You would make a happy castaway.”
Mack glanced up, his lips quirking. “Then it will come as no surprise that I playacted that very scene as a boy. My father portrayed the bumbling cook.”
She pounced on the opportunity to unearth another clue to explain his perplexing nature. “You aren’t from Seattle?”
“I was born there, but my father’s sister has lived on Whidbey ever since I can remember. My father always wanted to escape the city, so we visited whenever we got the chance.”
