Youaredesperate, huh?
Strangely, the irritation I’d been dealing with for weeks, the itchy-all-over feeling, wasn’t as bad tonight. But as we worked together, I could tell that Jocelyn wasn’t nearly as pleased by this arrangement as myKteerapparently was. Each time the thunder clashed, she glanced toward the window, and I could smell her discomfort.
Was she nervous about being here? Or about me?
Well, fuck that.
I plunked the spaghetti down on the table, took the salad out of her hand and put it down too. Jocelyn seemed awkward, standing there with her hands out, so I took them. I think I was just as surprised as she was.
“Kitten, you remember what I told you that first night at that bar?” Her wide eyes stared up at me in confusion, the pulse in her throat beating too quickly. “That you had to tell me what you wanted? Still true. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”
Slowly, tension seemed to seep out of her shoulders. She still stared up at me, but now I felt her hands lightly squeeze mine. I tried a grin.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want to have sex with you again, Joss. But if you don’t want that, we won’t.”
“You said…” She swallowed. “You said it was one night only.”
I shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
That was the wrong thing to say, judging from the way her expression suddenly shuttered. She pulled her hands from mine, and her shoulders hunched up around her ears again like she was trying to protect herself.
With a sigh, I shook my head at my own stupidity. “I mean it. I’m not going to push you, and I’ll ask you every step.” I wasn’t telling her I wasn’t going totry, though. “You can feel safe here, Joss.”
She peeked up at me, and I nodded to let her know it was the truth.
“You want a beer? Or something stronger?”
“Water’s fine.”
Guess she didn’t want to let her guard down around me. Wasn’t a great feeling.
But as dinner went on, Jocelyndidlet her guard down. We sipped our water and chuckled at how it was impossible to eat spaghetti politely—especially when she was sitting in a folding chair that was too low for her—and compared favorite salad dressings.
As the storm raged outside, I turned the topic to the lighthouse project.
And Jocelyn blew my mind.
Turned out that my little kitten had strong opinions about the harm our project was going to do. When I pushed her, she launched into an explanation into how historic buildings were moved—swear to the gods, she said they just pick up and move an entire building! It was fascinating, and I must’ve asked her a million questions.
“How do you know all this?”
“I did my thesis work on the Lobster Point Lighthouse in Massachusetts. Up there, there’ve been probably a dozen lighthouses that have had to be moved due to erosion, so there’s a whole system in place. It just happened that I was lucky enough to work on that one the year I was doing my thesis.”
“Thesis?” I pointed my fork at her. “Thesis in what?”
“I got my master’s degree in archaeology. My parents called it useless, but I think it’s cool. Granted, moving a lighthouse is more historical preservation, which is different from archaeology, but the buildings’ original sites are always opportunities for cool digs around the foundations—artifacts to be found.”
My brows raised, thinking of the old buildings I’d worked on over the years. “You think there’s anything cool around the foundation of Eastshore Lighthouse?”
She shrugged and glanced out the window. “This storm isn’t doing it any favors, that’s for sure. It’ll cause more erosion, and the lighthouse is going to be ever more unstable.”
“Maybe you could poke around the base tomorrow, see what you can find. I can’t imagine we’ll be running the heavy equipment tomorrow, not with this storm.”
She winced and pushed away her empty plate. “I hoped to be home by tonight. My boss didn’t even want to give me these two days off.”
With a hum, I pulled out my phone to check messages. “Cairo says…” My eyes scanned the message. “Dravik’s got the part if we need it, but he won’t know until he can tow your car and pop the hood.”
Which wouldn’t be tonight, not in this weather.
