“Why are you fidgeting then?” I ask as he drives into his parking space at the shipyard, and we get out of the car.
Instead of answering, he walks up to the front door and opens it with the key. Once inside, we are greeted with thesoft hum of music and the clinking of tools. Turning, we both gaze over to the boat in the yard and see movement in the wheelhouse, a blonde head coming into sight before ducking down again. I smile at North, but he turns and heads toward the stairway to his office.
I make my way up the boat’s ladder and lean onto the side of the doorway of the wheelhouse, watching as she’s on her knees, bending forward and inspecting the boat’s electricity cables. Her ass is up in the air, and I can’t help but curse myself for not taking her like that when I had the chance.
The sight is stunning.
Next time.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I greet, but my grin falls right off my face when she startles, straightening and hitting her head on the wheel before turning to me with a pained expression.
“Fuck, Nash, a little warning would have been nice,” she mutters, rubbing her head.
I get to my knees in front of her, reaching out to hold her head in my hands and pulling her toward me to inspect if she broke the skin with the force of it.
“This is going to form a lump.” I cringe, stroking over the red spot. “I’m so sorry, Siren.”
“Sloan, my name is Sloan,” she grumbles, trying to pull her head away from me, but I just crouch down to be at eye level with her, refusing to let go.
“Are you going to be okay, Sloan?” I ask her honestly, still feeling bad she hurt herself because of me.
She looks me in the eyes for a second too long before she gulps. “Sure.”
I fucking knew it.
She’s not as unaffected as she pretends to be.
I stroke her cheek, gazing into her eyes, but then her gaze turns to my right, and she tries to smother a short laugh.
“What?” I ask, smiling to myself. It’s not the first time she’s done that. She’s a little weird, but it’s kind of adorable.
“Nothing,” she lies, pulling away from me and hugging herself.
“Does it hurt that badly?” I ask, concerned.
“Oh, no, don’t worry, I’m just cold. It feels like I’ll never get warm again.” She shudders, stroking her upper arms over her thin, white long-sleeved cropped top.
She always wears it with those blue overalls, and I have dreamed about peeling her out of them.
Sloan gets to her feet, and I do too, before I pull my hoodie over my head. Looking at me with wide eyes, I pull it over hers and down her body so she has to push her arms into the armholes. I see her frown start to waver, and she finally gives in to the warmth, hugging herself again and breathing deeply.
“Thank you,” she mutters. “It was spring when I started my road trip, and I didn’t have warm clothes in the first place. The temperatures here are nuts.”
“Where did you come from?” I ask, genuinely interested.
That’s a first.
“San Francisco.” She shrugs, but my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline.
She came here from all the way over there?
Here, of all places?
“Why would you give up big city life to live in Lubec?” I ask.
I don’t think a girl who is used to the Golden State would be anything but bored here.
“Well, I’m more stranded than anything.” She shrugs, and I want to ask further, but she ushers me away. “I need to get going again here, but thanks for the hoodie. Are you sure you’re not going to get cold out there?”
