“Ayuh. Happy to.”
What?Remy thought.
“And can you buy me some decent clothes?” Jonah asked. “Last night I wore pajamas with red and black checks on them. I’m brave. But not brave enough to deal with physical agonyandred-and-black-checkered pajama pants.”
Cackle. “You don’t seem to be inthatbad of shape—”
“I’m in black and red pajama pants shape, Leigh.”
“I’ll do my best.”
ConfoundedJonahhad made a conquest ofherfriend.
“How about we ask some of the island’s male residents if they’ll lend you clothes?” Remy called out. The median age of their population was fifty-five and most of the men she knew were either much larger around the waist than Jonah or shorter than Jonah. But beggars can’t be choosers and the residents of Islehaven were a generous group.
“Definitely no to that, too,” he said.
Apparently borrowed clothes weren’t acceptable for the Duke of Nowhere.
Remy watched as Leigh crossed into the bathroom.
Remy followed her in, closing the door behind them. “Were you coming in here to run the tub?”
“I was.”
“Here. Let me.” You had to open the left knob a tiny amount and the right knob a tremendous amount to achieve the correct temperature, plus the plug was wonky if not positioned just so, and one had to make a wish with her eyes closed for the faucet to work properly.
Knowing the water sound was loud enough to mask their voices, Remy whispered, “Did you just agree to sell his watch?”
“To ease his mind. I’m not going to sell it. The watch might have—”
“Sentimental value,” they both said in unison.
“When I come back, I’ll pretend I sold it and give him some clothes and cash,” Leigh said. “That’ll help him feel a little more in control of a terrible situation.”
“You’re more noble than I am. Do you want to take him?”
Leigh winked. “If only I could.”
While he bathed, the two women stripped the sheets and pillowcases and put on a clean, alternate set. He was going to come back to the bed salt-free, so they wanted him to have salt-free sheets.
After that, Remy busied herself in her studio but found she couldn’t tap into the vast concentration she usually accessed when working. Instead, she used the time to straighten up, then to sharpen, clean, and organize her tools.
After a time, Leigh ducked in to say that she was heading to the mainland. Remy walked her out, then peeked in on Jonah.
He was sleeping.
Amber afternoon light burnished his skin and picked out different shades in his damp, finger-combed hair. Thanks to her years on the island, she was well acquainted with the look of at-home haircuts. His haircut was not that. It was fashionable and had been accomplished by a professional who knew exactly what they were doing.
He was still reclining on pillows, but Leigh must have helped him into his windbreaker because its collar now framed his jawline. Even from here, she could smell the scent of the lemongrass, pine, and sage soap she kept near the tub.
His profile—which was turned to the side—was an artist’s master class in firm, decisive lines. If those angles told the full story, his face would be one of empty handsomeness. She wished that were the case. Instead, his face held an endearing quality she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
It might be the softness of his lips. Or his slightly overlong lashes. Or the set of his hooded eyes.
Whatever it was, that quality gave his face poetry.
The air seemed to thicken.
