Chapter Eleven
A large portion of Sophie’s Monday was spent kneeling in bilge water, working to get a pleasure cruiser on its way.
When she was done, she threw her filthy coveralls into the soiled laundry and had a quick shower in the cubicle off the locker room next to the machine shop. She dressed in a clean tank, cycling shorts, and the old boots she kept in her locker for exactly this situation. She grabbed clean covvies from the rack and carried them up to the hook by the office, hoping she wouldn’t need them until tomorrow, but they were there if she got another call to the wharf.
When she pushed into the office, she found Logan in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. He was staring at the wall. Not at the nautical map of the central coast that hung over the coffeepot and not at the computer where she and Randy logged work orders. He was staring at the empty space between those two things.
He glanced at her and the clash happened, the one where she felt his presence down to her toes. His gaze went from her bare shoulders and arms, down to her bare legs, and landed on her heavy boots.
In all these weeks since his return to Raven’s Cove, her antipathy toward him had acted as a force field, allowing her to deflect this intense awareness of him, but that protection had been eroded by his apology. She couldn’t seem to hate him as much as she used to. That meant all those other feelings—the old infatuation and her newer, growing admiration for the way he was stepping up here at work and with his sister—were surfacing. It made her movements feel uncoordinated and filled her with a suffocated, restless sensation.
“That valve replacement turned into a bubble bath in the bowels of hell,” she said as explanation for her wardrobe change. She moved in front of him and slipped onto the stool to log her time. “What are you doing? Practicing how to be mad?”
“Reid said we’re likely to make a deal on the MissionaryII .”
“That’s cool.” She swung around on the stool. “How were you thinking of approaching the restoration?”
“As a rule, the right way. Invariably, that’s the expensive way. I need to run some numbers, but I need an office. I’ve been trying to do my design work off my laptop since I got here and it’s hell on my eyes. I bought a desk and a couple of extra monitors, but there’s nowhere at the house to set it up. I keep getting kicked out. I’d rather work here.”
“I sense an eviction coming. Are you going to send me back to doing paperwork behind the counter in the hardware store? Because that’s a lot of interruptions, which means mistakes. Also, sometimes people are listening to calls they shouldn’t be privy to.”
“No, you and I talk too much about day-to-day stuff. I don’t want to have to walk downstairs every time I want your two cents.”
“I have a solution for that.” She waved at the desk. “We have these things called telephones. They’re a primitive technology, but they still work in a pinch.”
“So you don’t mind walking upstairs every time I call and tell you I need to talk to you?”
She walked up and down those stairs a thousand times a day, but point taken. She would kill him if he called her more than once a week.
“What did you have in mind?” She glanced around. “Taking out that coffee shelf isn’t going to give you much room for your own desk.”
“No, but there’s a supply closet on the other side of that wall. It’s for all those reams of paper no one uses anymore.”
“And a photocopier that’s been broken for years.”
“It doesn’t even work?”
“The fax machine part does.”
“That’s useful,” he snorted.
“There’s a recycle place in Bella Bella. I’ve been suggesting for ages that it would make a good school fundraiser for the company to cover the cost of shipping a pallet over. No one wants to pack their old TV across on the seabus, but they’ll pay a few bucks to add it to a pile of electronics that’s already going.”
“That’s a good idea. Make it happen.”
“Awesome.” She had a broken VCR she’d been trying to get out of the house for years. She turned back to finish logging her hours.
He stretched out his arms in a rough measure of six feet.
“I am compelled to point out”—she spun around again—“if your goal is to add expense to the restoration, an office reno definitely nails it.”
“As always, I appreciate your input.” He didn’t look appreciative.
“Well, it seems like a lot of effort unless you’re planning to stick around longer than the end of summer?” Why did that thought unfurl such a sense of promise inside her?
“It’s a workspace, not a homestead.” He pulled the tacks from the corners of the map and started rolling it.
“What’s really eating you?” she asked.
“I need a space that’s mine .” He set the map aside. “I’m leaving your place at the end of the week to go back to a room that wasn’t even mine when I was a kid.”
He retrieved the sledgehammer she used as a doorstop.
“Logan! You have to warn accounting. You’ll scare the hell out them if you crash through that wall like the Kool-Aid guy. You’re not even wearing your goggles. What if there’s electrical inside that wall? Safety first!”
He sent her a deadpan look as he lay the hammer in the middle of the floor, perpendicular to the wall. He stood and stretched out his arms, measuring a rough six feet again, then nudged the hammer a little farther, providing a sense of how far a wall might come out.
“Oh.”
“What do you think? We could put a wall here to separate my desk from yours and a door here. That computer goes into the nook it creates over there.”
“I can see it.” They discussed a few other fine points.
“There’s a window from Dad’s we could reuse. That would give me some natural light and a sense of space. Also, neither of us would have to get up when we need to talk.”
“You could pass me the good coffee from the break room, like I’m at a drive-thru window,” she said brightly. “But back up there, slick. ‘We’?”
“What else are you doing while Biyen’s away this weekend? You already told Randy you’d be on call. If I’m paying you for that, I might as well put you to work.”
“Being on call is a flat two hours. You know I get overtime if I do actual work,” she reminded him.
“I will pay you straight time and you can bank the hours to take as paid time off later.”
The yard work was mostly caught up, thanks to Logan and Trystan pitching in. What would she do all weekend?
“Deal,” she agreed, telling herself it was about the money and had nothing to do with seeing more of Logan.
*
Logan was some kind of masochist. First thing Thursday morning, he started working alongside Sophie in the close confines of the supply closet.
Randy was handling any urgent repairs down at the wharf. Sophie had caught up the paperwork backlog yesterday while Logan and Reid had carried out the broken photocopier. Accounting had finished sorting the boxes of records that had been stored in here, sending most of it to shredding, so the shelves were empty.
Sophie was suited up in goggles and her steel-toed work boots with a snug T-shirt and baggy cargo shorts. Her arms and legs held a hint of toasted gold beneath her all-over freckles. Her hair was a skein of autumn-red twine.
She used a cordless drill to begin pulling screws from the brackets that held the shelves and Logan nearly swallowed his tongue.
“What?” she asked when he stood there like a tool.
“Nothing.” He took the first shelf she freed and started a stack in the hallway.
By the time she was on the floor on her back, reaching under the lowest shelf, with one knee crooked and a light sheen of sweat sitting on her skin, he was biting back a groan of pure lust.
“You guys are making way too much noise.” Reid came to the doorway, gaze landing with amusement on Sophie. “Did you pull the short straw, Soph?”
“Logan’s afraid to get his clothes dirty.”
“Yeah, he’s—What?” Reid frowned.
Logan tried to erase whatever atavistic snarl had taken over his expression.
“Nothing. I said we’d get it done by Monday. That means starting today.” He shifted to block Reid’s view of Sophie’s legs and felt about fourteen years old as he did it.
“I know.” Reid was wearing his What the fuck is wrong with you? face. For once, Logan probably deserved it. “I told everyone to leave early and work from home tomorrow so they don’t have to listen to this.”
“What time is it?” Sophie sat up.
“Ten thirty.” Reid shifted so he could see her. “I’m heading home to help Emma get everyone packed and ready to go.”
“You probably wanted to spend the morning with Biyen,” Logan realized. “Why didn’t you say?”
“He was tying flies with Nolan. I’ll take this last shelf out, then head home, not that he could care less whether he sees me. He was packed before bed last night and is bouncing off the walls for this trip. Good luck, pal,” she said to Reid.
“Do I look scared? I’ll see you at the wharf in an hour.” He walked away.
“Oh the hubris of a man who has never been on a school field trip.” Sophie lowered down onto her back and went back to removing screws.
*
An hour later, Sophie hugged Biyen on the wharf. His wiry arms squeezed her waist, then abruptly dropped away.
“’Kay. Bye Mom!” He stepped aboard the seabus.
“I’ll text when we land in Vancouver,” Emma promised wryly as Sophie relayed Biyen’s backpack to Reid.
Logan came to stand beside her, a cardboard box full of pub fare in his hands.
“These two are for me and Sophie.” He took two burgers off the top and handed the box to Reid. “You guys have fun. I’m gonna miss you kids,” he told Imogen and Cooper, giving the boy a fist bump. “Gonna miss you, too, brat.” He kissed Storm’s cheek and nodded at Delta. “Hope to see you back here soon.”
“I’m sure it will be a regular event,” Delta promised with what looked like a sincere smile.
There was more waving as the seabus chugged away.
Sophie ate her burger while she watched it putter out of the cove. Logan patiently waited beside her until she crumpled her wrapper and sighed.
“Is this his first time away from you?”
“On a big trip, yeah. He’s spent a night with Nolan’s mom a few times, but I was always at your mom’s a few streets away. I’ve been trying to work out how to take him to that exhibit, though. Summer is so busy here, it’s impossible to get away. I’m glad he’ll be able see it, and he really loves those kids. He’s going to miss them.”
“Mom would say it’s healthy for him to learn that you only leave him with people you trust.”
“She would say that to me .” She tipped an askance look up to him. “When would she have said that to you ?”
“When I left Storm with her while Reid and Emma were on their cruise.”
“It’s true.” She threw her wrapper in a litter bin on the way to the ramp from the wharf up to the graveled verge.
“I should have asked if Art needed a burger. What’s he doing for dinner?”
“Opening a can of soup and enjoying the silence,” she said wryly. “Biyen’s away, you’ve moved out, even Nolan’s gone. I think he’s secretly thrilled I’m working all weekend. He likes kids, but it’s been a lot with the birthday party and everything. He needs to sit and recharge.” She hoped that’s all he needed.
“Did you make him a doctor appointment?” He held the door into the marina building for her.
“Next Thursday. But I’ll use some of these hours I’m about to bank and take him myself. I want to hear what they say.” She spoke over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.
“Sure. Let me know if something changes.”
“Oh.” She paused inside the door as she stepped into the office. “You got a lot done after I went home.”
He had moved the computer and file cabinet, removed the coffee shelf and covered her desk with a drop sheet. A number of tools were laid out, including a reciprocating saw.
“Ready to rumble?” He slipped on a pair of safety goggles and a dust mask.
Sophie pulled on gloves, goggles, and a dust mask, then plugged in the saw. As she did, she noticed Logan watching her.
What was that look? Approval? Something more…interested?
“What?” she asked, finger tracing the on switch.
“Nothing. There’s an electrical outlet on the other side of the wall near here.” He tapped a claw hammer into the bottom of the wall, punching small holes. He then used the claw to pull away drywall and bent to peer inside the gap he’d made. “Looks like the wires go that way.” He pointed away from her and up. “You should be okay to start over there.”
She followed his direction, but as she was about to set blade to wall, she realized he was watching her again.
“ What. ” There was too much anticipation in the air. More awareness than usual. Maybe because she knew the offices on the other side of this wall were empty? It made this feel really intimate, and she couldn’t understand why. “Is this going to be weird? Us working together all weekend?”
“No. We just shared a house for three weeks. It was fine, wasn’t it? We’re fine. Aren’t we?”
Absolutely not.
“I guess.” She scratched inside her collar, then adjusted her mask, and put in some ear plugs. She turned on the high-pitched whine of the saw.
While she cut long paths down and across the drywall, he tap-tapped , dropping a trail of gypsum as he followed the wiring.
She caught him glancing at her several times, though.
“Am I not doing it right?” she demanded, voice hollow because she still wore her mask.
“You’re doing great.”
“For a girl? Don’t be patronizing.” She turned off the saw and set it aside to wrangle a big section of drywall off the studs.
“I’m not.”
“You’re something. What is it?”
He muttered something under his breath. “Okay, look.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked. Stared. Watched him lift his mask to give the golden stubble on his jaw a brief rub. He seemed genuinely uncomfortable.
“I’m trying to decide if I should tell you something. Is this a safe space? Are we friends this weekend or boss and employee or what?”
“I don’t know what we are.” She yanked another chunk of drywall free and stuffed it into the heavy-duty disposal bag. “Being friends doesn’t seem realistic. There’s too much history that’s too…” Sexual? Ugh. “There’s also too much interconnection to simply be boss and employee. Neighbors?” she suggested facetiously. “Why? Because if you have a big secret, am I really the person you want to confide in? Isn’t there someone else? Maybe start a diary.”
He sent her a disgruntled look, then bent to pop another dotted line with the hammer before he used the claw to join them.
“You’re probably the only person I’ve ever really confided in,” he surprised her by saying. “I think it’s because you were always here. At the marina, I mean. You had a front row seat to whatever was going on with Dad or my brothers. Those were the things that really stirred me up and there was no point trying to hide any of it from you. You never judged me for it, either. In fact… Do you realize you were the first person I ever said, ‘I want to build boats’ to? You said, ‘I know.’ I didn’t even know until I said it out loud.” His smile kicked up on one side, rueful.
“Really? It was so obvious! You love everything about boats.” She broke off a few more jagged edges of drywall.
“It’s still a big jump from wanting to do something and being able to do it. You believed I was capable. That was the beginning of me believing it.”
He was watching her again. It was strange. She felt as though a huge spotlight was on her. As if she had way more importance in his life than could be real. It made her heart quiver uncertainly in her chest.
“Is that what you wanted to tell me? Because it’s not exactly a secret that you like designing boats.” She carried the saw to another expanse of wall, tugging the extension cord behind her.
“No, that was me working out in real time why I find you so easy to talk to, even when you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t trust you.”
And now there was another of those awkward, heavy silences.
She ran the saw a few minutes, suspecting she’d hurt his feelings. That didn’t sit well. She set it aside to pull the sections away.
“What about your Mom? She’s a good listener. Can’t you confide in her?” she asked.
“This is not Mom conversation,” he assured her dryly.
“Why not? Is it about sex?” A bubble of excited laughter rose in her throat. “What is it? Tell me. ”
“Now you’re interested in my deep dark secrets? That says more about you than it does about me, you know.”
“It means I smell a reason to mock you.”
“No mocking. If I tell you, it goes in the vault, and we never mention it again. Especially not to my brothers.” He pointed a warning finger at her.
“Five minutes of mocking,” she countered.
“I am trying to repair our relationship, Sophie. I’m offering to be vulnerable . It’s a trust fall.”
“Have my five minutes of mocking started yet? Because I can tell you’re messing with me, saying shit like that.”
“All right, I’ll say it. You can have your fun, then we’ll never mention it again.”
She waited. Rolled her wrist to insist he continued.
“I think women using tools is a very sexy look.”
“Are you still messing with me?” She looked down at her coveralls.
“No. I think it was all those power tool pinup calendars that Dad and Art used to hang.”
“The ones with women in bikinis and leather aprons holding a belt sander? They were sexist and objectifying. The tool manufacturers had to stop making them.”
“As they should. They were completely inappropriate.” His disapproval was deeply insincere. “But they made an impression during my formative years.”
“Why would you tell me this?” She was perplexed. Flattered? No. That would be wrong.
“I knew you would laugh at me. I’m not proud of it.”
“Wait. Are you saying you get turned on when you watch me work? I should take that to HR.”
“I’ve never acted on it. I don’t stand around perving at you.”
“You just did! A minute ago!”
His hammer thwack was followed by the trickling sound of gypsum falling to the floor.
“I’m not ogling. It’s like when you see a pretty woman in a sexy dress. You glance over and think, She looks hot. Then you get on with your day.”
“You think I look hot while I’m using this reciprocating saw?”
“Maybe.”
What was she supposed to do with this information?
“Don’t you enjoy seeing a hot guy doing sweaty work?” he challenged.
“Find me a hot guy. I’ll let you know.”
He gave her a very watch-me look as he replaced his mask and came to take the saw. He gave the cord a rippling snap to bring it with him to his end of the wall. The tool whined and, oh damn, his biceps flexed. His snug Raven’s Cove T-shirt strained across his pecs and shifted across his shoulders. His blue jeans were faded along the top of his thighs and the demin clung to his ass as he bent.
He was undeniably hot as he worked.
He turned off the saw and cocked a brow at her.
“Maybe if you were in a bikini?”
“Budgie smugglers? That’s what does it for you?” He set aside the saw, and his muscles bunched while he pulled away a huge section of drywall. He snapped it in half across his knee so it would fit into the bag.
She swallowed. “I’m more about good posture and legible penmanship.”
“Really,” he challenged pithily.
“No.”
“What then?”
He shouldn’t have to ask. He had been the strongest influence on her sexual interest during her formative years, practically imprinting her to only desire him.
“I don’t know how to get turned on anymore,” she dismissed, taking up the saw. “Nolan was the last guy I slept with. That was four years ago and very forgettable.”
“Sophie.” Logan paused, hammer dangling from his loose grip. “Are you serious?”
“Why is that shocking? Once a slut always a slut?”
“Do not call yourself that. You don’t really believe that, do you?”
She turned on the saw, finding satisfaction in the effort required to push horizontal and vertical lines through the wall, but any toughness she felt in those moments dissipated with the noise when she turned it off. Now she just felt flimsy and transparent again.
“What is the appropriate amount of sex that I should have, Logan? And why would you even care?”
“I don’t care how much sex you have. I mean, I care. I think you should have exactly as much sex as you want and that it should be great every time, but I hope you don’t judge yourself over your own history. I hope you’re not denying yourself so you can punish yourself. You shouldn’t.”
Was that what she was doing? Maybe a little.
“If a guy comes along who is worth wrecking my life over—and wrecking my son’s life—I might consider it. I haven’t met anyone worth the risk, though.”
“That’s how it seems to you? That sex would wreck your life?”
“It did before. Are you paying me to talk or work?”
His brows went up at her snark, but he picked up the saw with a pensive expression and got back to work.