2. Chapter Two #2
Funny, since coming to this beach town five years ago, he hadn’t felt compelled to extend a woman’s acquaintance beyond the half-hour lighthouse tour.
Easier to manage his own darkness without having to don a happy face for a ladylove.
But after just ten minutes with Addy, he was already dreading the moment she waved goodbye.
They stopped at each level so he could present, and Snoot could sniff, the storerooms, the keeper’s sleeping quarters, and the equipment room.
“Do you live up here?” she asked, eyeing the stiff, narrow cot.
“Thankfully, no. I’m in the little cottage at the base.”
“But you make the climb every day?”
“At least twenty times.”
And damn if her gaze didn’t skim down his body, lingering on his thighs. He bit back a grin.
“Probably more effective than running on the beach.”
“Is that what you do to keep so fit?” he asked.
She flashed a tilted grin and shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t get the chance very often. Mostly, I run around the base.”
“That military fort up north?”
“Joint Base Lewis-McChord, yeah.”
Not inclined to give up personal details easily, was she? He sat on the cot, and Snoot immediately hopped up beside him and nestled against his thigh.
“You’re a soldier, then?” he asked, stroking the dog’s thick fur.
She turned away to examine a row of old tintypes on the wall, faded images of solemn-faced lighthouse keepers and their sturdy wives.
“Listen, miss, if you’d rather I not ask personal questions, I’ll bite my tongue and get on with the tour. But I enjoy getting to know my visitors.” He raised his palms in a placating gesture. “I promise, I mean you no harm.”
Her expression softened. “It’s fine. It’s just that—” She sighed. “When I tell people what I do for a living, they tend to ask a lot of questions. Sometimes, it’s nice to be anonymous, you know?”
Was she some kind of spy or special ops assassin? Images of sexy, bad-ass movie heroines dazzled his imagination, but he tamped down his curiosity. “Sure, of course. Everyone’s entitled to a few secrets.”
And keeping his ugly secret from her was his only chance to enjoy her company a little longer. Once women found out about the disaster and its aftermath, they inevitably bailed.
“Thanks for understanding.” She crossed the narrow room and sat beside him on the squeaky cot. Sandwiched between them, the dog thumped the mattress with his tail and laid his head on her lap, eyeing Addy with heart-melting adoration. She absently stroked his fur and stared off into the distance.
“Most people wouldn’t thrive in this kind of isolation.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Do you?”
“Ah, who’s asking questions now?” he teased.
“Sorry, that was too personal, wasn’t it?” Her gaze dropped. “This is my week for asking hard questions, I guess. I find myself at a turning point, and there’s a lot I need to figure out pretty quickly.”
“Like whether you enjoy isolation?”
“Sort of. And whether I could thrive in a small town.”
“Small like Bumfuck, or like Trappers Cove?”
“Are they that different?”
“Very much so.” He slapped his thighs and pushed to his feet. “Well, Ms. Mystery, are you ready to go up topside?”
“Lead on, Lighthouse Keeper.”
At the top of the final staircase, Kieran opened the heavy metal door while Addy clipped the dog’s leash to his collar. “Heel, Snoot.”
Unlike many visitors, this beauty displayed not the least hesitation stepping onto the platform. And like the well-trained soldier he was, the dog glued himself to her side, calm despite the swooping seagulls overhead, and contented himself with sniffing the wind that lifted his mistress’s hair.
It was always interesting to see how people reacted to the view up here.
Some plastered themselves to the sturdy wall, jaws tight, lips bloodless.
Some giggled, made giddy by the height. Some winced at the wind’s power.
But not secretive Addy. She rested her hands lightly on the railing and slowly scanned the horizon.
“Wow,” she said at last, “I was about to turn back when Snoot tugged me toward this place. It’s…
” She sighed through a misty smile. “What an amazing view. Makes me feel like I’m above it all, you know?
All the petty day-to-day bullshit, the complications, the…
” She trailed off, spread her arms wide, and closed her eyes. “The wind blows it all away.”
Kieran stepped up beside her, awed by how perfectly she expressed the comfort he felt up here. “It’s an excellent place to have a think.”
She gifted him a brilliant smile. “You’re a lucky man, Kieran Gallagher.”
“I am today,” he agreed, drinking in the sight of her—jade eyes shining, dark hair whipping in the wind.
She tossed off a laugh. “Are you flirting with me, sir?”
“Just a wee bit, ma’am. Do you mind?”
Her gaze held a playful twinkle. “I suppose not. What happens at the beach stays at the beach, right?”
He inched closer. “And how long might you be staying at the beach?”
“A week.”
A grin stretched his lips. “You’ll be here for Halloween, then. Might even see the ghost.”
She rolled her eyes. “Pfft. Save your blarney for the tourists.”
He gripped the railing, his hand mere inches from hers. “No blarney, my lovely skeptic. I doubted too, when I first arrived, but I’ve seen her with my own eyes and shivered at the sound of her voice.”
She arched one dark eyebrow. “A talking ghost?”
“Mary Darrow, wife of Jonathan Darrow, captain of the Ivanova.” He pointed to a rocky outcropping barely visible beneath the surf.
“Her husband’s vessel ran aground in 1822, returning from Alaska with a cargo of furs.
I’m sure you’ve heard how treacherous these waters can be near the mouth of the Columbia.
Everyone aboard perished. But when the moon is full, you can still see her, a ragged ship with glowing sails. ”
Okay, that part was a local legend—he’d yet to see a ghostly ship, and not for lack of trying.
“And down below,” he pointed to the tower’s base, “the captain’s widow paces the shore, a spyglass in her hand, watching for her husband’s return.”
That part was real enough. The first time he’d seen the mournful spirit, he’d stood frozen in place as the misty outline solidified into a woman with upswept hair and long, wind-blown skirts, a lantern in one hand and an old-fashioned spy glass in the other.
Movie ghosts floated gracefully, but this phantom’s movements were jerky and agitated as she searched the horizon.
And when she turned to look right at him, a wave of sadness chilled him to the marrow.
“Jonathan?” she cried, her anxious voice somehow ringing inside his skull. Her dark eyes wide, she stepped toward him. Panicked, he stumbled backward, and when he looked again, she was gone.
Since then, he’d seen her a dozen times, usually from the safety of the lighthouse gallery. Poor, restless spirit, endlessly searching for her lost love.
Addy’s shoulders rose and fell on a deep inhalation. “A ghost, huh? I carry around a lot of those.”
Well, shite, he’d hoped to entice her into another visit, and instead he’d brought up bad memories.
Down below, a minivan rolled into the parking lot and disgorged two men and four stair-step children. An SUV followed, and a Tesla.
Kieran rubbed his palms together. “Time to get to work. Tell you what, Ms. Addy—we’re expecting clear skies tonight.
Full moon too. I’m making the best pumpkin soup you’ve ever tasted, and a pie from apples grown right there.
” He pointed over his shoulder toward Oscar and Evelyn’s orchard.
“There’ll be plenty to share if you care to come by and watch for the White Widow.
Or we can stay inside if that doesn’t appeal to your sense of adventure. ”
His gamble paid off, judging by the sparkle in her smile.
“Sense of adventure, eh? I used to have one of those.” She crouched to scratch her dog’s jaw. “What do you say, Snoot? Do we trust this guy?”
Tongue lolling, the Lab leaned against Kieran’s leg and gave a happy doggy groan.
“Seems you’ve made a friend, Keeper. All righty then—I guess we’ll see you tonight.”
“Excellent. Around six?” That’d give him time to defrost the soup he’d made last week after going nuts at the Trappers Cove farmers market—and bake one of the pies he’d frozen. Thanking the heavens for his foresight, he scooped the pup into his arms. “Down we go, buddy.”
Addy’s eyebrows flicked up. “After you, Keeper Kieran.”
Oho, he liked the sound of that—and the idea she might be checking out his rear view as well.
His luck was definitely looking up.
At the base of the stairs, he bent to ruffle the dog’s fur and accept a slobbery kiss.
“Snoot, don’t be gross,” she admonished and gripped the beast’s collar to pull him away. “Sorry.”
He chuckled. “I’ll take my kisses where I can get them.”
And damn if she didn’t bite her lip again, tempering a saucy grin. “No promises, but if your apple pie is good enough, you might get a few more.”
Addy reattached the dog’s leash and sashayed toward the beach, her trim hips swaying.
Kieran raised his eyes heavenward. “Whatever angel’s watching out for me, thank you.”