I blink hard and peer up at the man. “Sorry. That’s me. You’re Reynolds?”
“Doc,” he says. “Doc Reynolds.” He offers me his hand, and I place my fingers in his. They’re warm, his grip strong.
I risk a quick glance up at his eyes. Dark blue with copper flecks. There’s almost no emotion in them. Like he’s shut down. Like he’sbeenshut down for a long time. I know the feeling.
“You’re at Campsite Four…Doc. I hope you managed to fit a tent in that ru—err, backpack. Because all we provide is a fire pit and a single electrical hookup.”
His smile fades, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. “Got all I need. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll be out of your way.”
Well, that’s a dismissal if I’ve ever heard one. I shouldn’t be relieved. Not with the way his chest fills out that t-shirt.
Or maybe that’s exactly why Ishouldbe relieved.
“Follow the path down to the water. Each campsite is clearly marked. You’ll find a canoe propped against a huge piece of driftwood between sites three and four. Paddles and life vests are in the boathouse here. Bathrooms and showers are around the back.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder and catch sight of Gladys.
My God. She’s practically drooling.
“If you find yourself in need, young man,” she says, straightening to her full height, which still leaves her almost a foot shorter than me, “you call the number you got from Clancy. Nat will take care of you.”
It’s been forever since I’ve blushed—since I’ve had an excuse to—but two minutes with the handsome “Doc” and I might as well be a teenager again. My body’s reaction pisses me off. I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts and stare down at Doc’s hiking boots.
“That number is for emergencies only,” I mutter, then thrust a map at the man. “Clancy doesn’t pay me enough to teach you how to build a fire or stake your tent. You don’t know the basics, you’re on your own.”
“I can handle myself,” he says, an edge to his tone. He nods at Gladys. “Ma’am.” Turning, he glances back over his shoulder briefly. “Nat.”
I’ve never called a man’s voice “growly” before, but…whoa. I need a minute. Or…longer. Even if he is an ass.
Gladys sidles up to me, and we watch him head down the path in silence. He’s built like a grizzly bear—barrel chest, strong biceps, a long, loping gait. Too bad his ruck is so big it mostly hides his ass. I’d bet it’s a damn fine ass. With a pair of green feet tattooed on one of those tight butt cheeks. PJ tradition.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Gladys says. “Go after him!”
“Wh-what?” I sputter.
“I swear, it’s like you’retryingto be alone for the rest of your life. That man is afox.”
With a huff, I turn away. “Fox or not, he’s a camper. He’ll only be here forty-eight hours. And I’m not looking for anything. You know that.”
“He’s a doctor.”
My brows shoot up toward my hairline. “He said his name was Doc.For all you know, his parents could have been fans of Bugs Bunny.”
Gladys takes me by the arms, but I jerk back. I’m not big on human contact. Not anymore. Too many years without more than a handshake.
“Baby girl.” Her use of the term of endearment drags me back to the present, and I meet her tired, hazel eyes. “That man is lonely. And so are you.”
“I’m not?—”
“Bullshit. You’ve been on this island for years. And I’m the only one you talk to.”
No one fucks with Gladys when she’s in full “mama bear” mode, so I stay quiet and let her say her piece.
“This is my home. Where Donald and I were supposed to live out our days together, sittin’ on our porch with our morning coffee, watching the cruise ships go by.” Her tone turns wistful, and her gnarled fingers run over her wedding ring—the one she’s never taken off, even more than two decades after her husband’s death. “But he went and had a heart attack at fifty-three. Round about the same age as that silver fox you just let walk away, I reckon.”
Her gaze softens as she sinks back down into her creaky, wooden deck chair. “I don’t know what brought you here, Nat. Why you stay in that big house all alone, fixing shit Clancy shoulda’ taken care of a long damn time ago. He’s lucky to have you. So am I. But you’re too young to give up on life, and that’s exactly what you’re doin’.”
My shoulders stiffen, annoyance prickling along my spine. “I haven’tgiven upon anything. I like it here. I like my privacy. And I’m not interested in a one-night stand. Even if the guy is hotter than the surface of the sun. My Magic Bullet does me just fine.”
She huffs. “Shitsicles. That toy won’t keep you warm at night. Or make you chicken soup when you’re sick.”
