"You draw."
She shifted with discomfort. "Um, yeah."
"These are really good." He gestured at a character study—a woman with wild hair and a sword. "What are they for?"
She set the bowls down, gritting her teeth against his natural curiosity. "Comics. I write and illustrate a webcomic. I doubt you've heard of it. It's sort of, niche."
"Try me. I might surprise you."
"Okay, it's called Tidal Lock."
His face lit up. "Hold up, I know that comic." His gaze suddenly narrowed. "You're C.H.Winters?"
The shock rippled through her. She wasn't exactly a household name. "You've read it?"
"Yeah, actually. Me and my sister. She's obsessed and then got me hooked, too. It's really good. Funny as hell."
Despite herself, pride tickled her spine. "Thanks."
"Yeah, I mean, it's kinda kooky but that's part of its charm. Marina and the sea witch…the dialogue is sharp and funny, but then, every now and again, there's some really deep snippet that comes out of nowhere but really hits home." He shook his head. "I can't believe I'm sitting in C.H. Winters' lighthouse."
"Yeah, the coincidence is wild for me, too. I'm not used to my work being known."
"My sister is going to flip when she finds out. She's truly a fan. Not like in a weird way but she did briefly consider a tattoo of the sea witch on her bicep."
"Seriously?" Clara grinned, ridiculously tickled by the idea that someone out there in the wild loved her work so much they wanted to permanently mark their body with her IP.
"Yeah, but I talked her out of it," Jack admitted. "I reminded her of the time I got a tattoo of a gecko on my ankle when I turned eighteen because I thought the insurance commercials were funny."
"You have a tattoo of the GEICO insurance gecko?"
"Used to. I had it removed. That process hurt more than the actual tattoo but I learned a valuable lesson."
"Which was?"
"Put more thought into what you put onto your body."
"To be fair, the sea witch is infinitely cooler than the insurance mascot but to each their own," she said.
Clara watched him from beneath her lashes, noting the color slowly returning to his face, which only made him more attractive. But good-looking men were an immediate red flag in her book. They got away with more than they should, which created an entitlement that made them act like baboons.
She eyed the dark clouds outside. Summer storms usually blew through quickly. But not today. Argh. Her plans for the day had not included entertaining a half-drowned unscheduled guest but learning to pivot was a skillset she'd learned back in her advertising days.
"Here's the deal. The storm isn't going anywhere fast, and you need to rest. Almost drowning takes a lot out of a body."
"I'm fine?—"
"You're shaking." She nodded toward his hands, still trembling around the mug. "Hopefully you didn'tswallow too much seawater, otherwise pneumonia is going to come knocking." She paused, assessing his frame against her furniture. "My spare bedroom is storage and the couch is too short for you, so you can take my bed."
"No, I don't feel right about putting you out like that. I can make do with the couch."
"It won't be the first time I've fallen asleep on the couch. I'll be fine. Besides, you look like hell. Once the adrenaline fades, you'll be thankful for a soft bed."
He opened his mouth, then closed it. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She rose and took their bowls to the sink to wash later. "A few ground rules though…please don't touch anything. Everything is where I like it and I don't like having to search for things that have been moved."
He lifted his hands in compliance, promising, "I won't mess with your system."
