Chapter 3 Kara #2
I huffed a soft laugh despite myself, shifting the supplies in my arms like I hadn’t just dropped all of them five seconds ago. “Wow. You’re really committed to the whole helpful but emotionally unavailable thing, huh?”
“What can I say? It’s a carefully maintained brand.”
“Oh yeah, I can tell.”
For a moment, we just stood there, the noise of the town moving around us while the wind carried that ever-present salt through the air. Then his gaze shifted, flicking upward toward the cliffs, his focus sharpening in a way that made me instinctively follow it.
“There’s a storm coming,” he said, his tone changing just slightly. “I assume your roof is intact.”
Well, that was a dangerous question now, wasn’t it? Because the answer was absolutely not. Not even a little, but there was no way in hell I was about to admit that.
“It’s in perfect condition,” I lied smoothly.
“Good,” he replied, though something in the way his eyes lingered on me made it very clear he didn’t believe me for a second.
“Then it looks like you might just survive your first Crescent Cove storm, though I have my doubts,” he said as he looked me up and down, like he wasn’t just judging my sweet, albeit disastrous, cottage, but judging me as well, like I was falling apart just as much as my home.
Though, if he could truly feel other people’s emotions and feelings, I’m sure he had all the evidence he needed as to why his statement was more true than I cared to admit.
I tightened my grip on the supplies and offered him a bright, entirely fake smile.
Sure, he was attractive, but he was also a bit insufferable and just a touch too observant for comfort.
Maybe that was why he didn’t get involved with clients.
Maybe once they got to know his sparkling personality, they decided they wanted nothing to do with him.
“I know a few people who could help you rebuild,” he continued, handing me another stray board from the ground. “There are a few sea nymphs I know who do structural work. They’re very efficient and pretty good at what they do. They could probably have everything repaired in a week.”
Of course they could. Of course this town had magically competent, ocean-born contractors just casually available, like that was a normal, everyday convenience.
“That’s okay,” I said quickly, hugging the supplies a little closer to my chest like they were somehow part of my argument. “I like the project. It’s... relaxing.”
His brow lifted slightly, just enough to make it clear he didn’t believe a word of that.
“Really,” he said, his tone dry enough to sand wood with, his tentacles giving a small, almost pointed twitch like they had judgment to spare as well. “Because when you came in last night, you didn’t seem particularly relaxed.”
I huffed a quiet laugh, shifting my weight. “Wow. So you’re judging me outside of business hours now too? That feels excessively rude.”
“No, just being observational,” he said, almost smugly.
I narrowed my eyes at him, though there was no real bite behind it. “You know, most people in your profession try to make their clients feel better, not incompetent.”
“Not my fault that’s how you perceived my statement, and as for feeling good, I believe I already accomplished that task,” he said simply.
“In fact, I offered you another session. So if letting go of a control freak personality and allowing professionals to handle it causes another bout of stress and worry to fill you up, I can always massage it away,” he paused for a moment, clearing his throat before adding, “for the right price, of course.”
So he was purposely trying to stress me out to make a quick buck.
Though, something about the way he said that first statement about massaging it away almost felt like he was looking forward to it.
And the way his tentacles swayed slightly behind him, almost like they had a mind of their own, looked suspiciously like they were excited.
Was he... flirting with me? Because that had almost sounded like flirting. Well, almost, if he hadn’t added that whole money comment, making it sound cheap and transactional.
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, ready to say something clever, but I remembered I was supposed to keep my head down, and a full-on verbal spat would definitely draw attention. Still, I didn’t want to let that last comment go.
“So,” I started, because I clearly couldn’t keep my mouth shut, “are you always this charming, or am I just getting special treatment?”
“Special treatment,” he said without hesitation.
I squinted at him. “That didn’t feel like a compliment.”
“It wasn’t intended to.”
I laughed despite myself, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. “Wow, you’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, you’re still here.”
I shifted the supplies again, trying very hard to ignore the way my stomach did something weird and inconvenient at his words.
“Anyway,” he continued, reaching into his pocket, “if you change your mind.” He held out a small card.
I hesitated for half a second before taking it, my fingers brushing his just briefly in the exchange, causing my skin to heat.
“And you decide you would prefer not to rebuild a structurally questionable cliffside cottage alone,” he went on, “call me. I can reach out to someone who actually knows what they’re doing. ”
“Sure,” I said, glancing down at the card before tucking it carefully into the pocket of my dress. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t trust my natural talents?”
“Not in the slightest,” he said bluntly.
What an ass.
And as if on cue, I immediately started dropping everything I had just gathered.
The supplies slipped from my grasp all at once, but before they could hit the ground, his tentacles shot out, catching every piece with effortless precision.
One curled around the loose boards, another scooped up the screws, and before I could even process what was happening, a third steadied me, wrapping just enough around my arm to keep me upright as gravity threatened to take me down with the rest of it.
My skin heated again because I could feel where his tentacles touched my bare skin.
One brushed lightly along my arm, smooth and warm against my flesh, while another rested at my back, tightening just slightly, like it didn’t quite want to let me go yet.
And immediately, my brain betrayed me, taking that very innocent, very necessary moment and dragging it straight into the gutter as I imagined what those tentacles would feel like on other areas of my bare skin.
I mentally slapped myself for those thoughts, but the damage had already been done. And judging by the sudden, very unsubtle shift in his expression... oh no—was that... was he blushing? And were his normally orangish tentacles taking on a similar pinkish hue?
My thoughts stumbled over themselves, spiraling into panic as the realization hit all at once. Could he... oh my god, could he feel that? Of course he could. He was touching me, after all, and I knew he could absorb stress and worry and fear, but could he feel... that too?
Oh, this was bad.
“I... uh... I should go,” I said quickly, stepping back as his tentacles retreated. He handed my supplies back, and I clutched them a little tighter, grinding my teeth against the embarrassment because he was still blushing, and now he looked just as flustered as I felt.
“Gotta check on that roof, you know,” I added, forcing out a nervous laugh. “Make sure my cottage doesn’t turn into the house at the end of Poltergeist.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” he said, his expression smoothing back into something neutral, though there was still the faintest hint of pink in his cheeks and tentacles.
“Thanks,” I rushed on, already moving, because if I stayed another second, I was going to combust on the spot. “For the advice and the help. And, um... the card.”
I didn’t look back as I hurried toward the path, because I was absolutely not ready to process whatever had just happened. Not even a little bit.