It's in His Kiss
Page 57
It was Sam’s turn to sigh as he fished out his truck keys.
Mark grinned. “Thanks. Love ya.”
And then he was gone.
Much later, Sam looked up from the boat he was working on and blinked, realizing hours had gone by and he hadn’t been interrupted by a single thing. It had to be a record.
The phones had rung, but they’d been picked up. Apparently Becca was doing fine since she knew to call him if she needed anything.
She hadn’t.
Which was great. After all, the whole point of hiring her had been so that he could be left alone.
His favorite state.
But Cole and Tanner were still out, and she’d been on her own all day.
Maybe something was wrong. Maybe she’d fallen and hit her head.
Maybe he was an idiot.
“Shit.” He gave up wondering and headed toward the hut.
He heard her before he saw her, that bubbly, infectious laugh. When he turned the corner and saw the open hut, Becca was sitting behind the counter. She’d kicked off her sneakers and rolled her jeans into capris. She wore a red tank and a straw hat, which Sam recognized as the one Tanner occasionally wore in the bright afternoon sun, and a welcoming smile.
“That’s perfect, Yvonne,” she was saying to a customer. “You’ll have such a wonderful time. The guys are all so great, you’ll want to book another trip right away, I’m sure.” She pointed to a spot on the iPad screen in front of her—onto which she’d loaded all their forms. “And don’t forget to leave your email addy. You don’t want to miss any specials we have going on.”
She’d been right—she was a fast learner. She had a gift, a different one from anyone he’d ever met. She had the gift of curiosity and empathy, and of bringing people out of themselves, charming them, getting them to open up.
He knew that firsthand. He hated that she seemed to think her self-worth was wrapped up in her past, because that was bullshit. The smart, determined, resourceful Becca Thorpe could do anything she set her mind to.
He wished she knew that.
Yvonne was beaming when she walked away, and Becca immediately turned her attention to the next person waiting.
It was Anderson, the guy who ran the local hardware store. He was in his mid-thirties, and had been in Lucky Harbor since he was a kid. He was an okay guy, Sam supposed, but he was a known dog when it came to women. And sure enough, he leaned on the counter and flashed Becca his on-the-prowl smile like he was God’s gift. “Hey,” he said smoothly. “I know you. I sold you some stuff a few weeks back.”
“You most definitely did, thank you,” Becca said. “What can I sign you up for today? A snorkel? A deep-sea fishing expedition?”
“Which one of those do you do?”
“I take your money,” she said.
Anderson laughed. “How about I take you instead.”
“Um, what?” she asked.
“Out to dinner.” Anderson clarified this with a smile, leaning in closer.
“Like . . . on a date?” Becca asked.
“Yes,” Anderson said. “A date. What are you doing later?”
“She’s busy,” Sam said, stepping inside the hut and coming up behind Becca, laying a hand on her shoulder.
Anderson stopped drooling over Becca and straightened. “Hey there. I like your new front person. She’s a whole lot cuter than any of you three. No offense,” he said, and smiled.
Sam did not.
Anderson’s smile faded. “Right, well, okay then. I’ll just be on my way.”
When he was gone, Becca very slowly, very purposefully turned to Sam. “What was that?”
Sam shrugged. “He thinks you’re cute.”
“No, I meant what was that, as in what were you doing just now?”
“Stopped him from harassing you. I came up to see how you were feeling after last night. And to see. . .” What, genius? “How you’re working out.”
He knew his mistake immediately, even before she narrowed her eyes. “I’m working out just fine,” she said. “But you not so much.”
“Excuse me?”
She moved closer and lowered her voice without lowering her annoyance level, which was blasting from her eyes. “You just acted like . . . a caveman.”
“A caveman,” he repeated.
“Yes! You chased him away from asking me out. You might as well have dragged me back to your cave by the hair.”
He stared at her and then turned and tugged down the hut’s rolling door for privacy, intending to show her his inner caveman.
But though Becca’s eyes were still fiery, she took an immediate step back.
Sam swore beneath his breath and shoved the door back up again, giving her the space she clearly needed.
Becca held her own. She’d crossed her arms, but looked more pissed than anxious. Which was infinitely better, but not ideal. He still had no idea what made her tick. All he knew was that she made him tick.
And that was a first for him.
Also, he wanted a few minutes alone with whoever had made her anxious in small spaces. He wanted that badly. “Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re going to have to make a lot more sense for me here. Are you saying you actually wanted to go out with Anderson?”
“You’re missing my point on purpose.”
“Maybe because you’re not speaking English.” He dipped his head so that they were eye-to-eye. “Tell me in English, Becca.”
Mark grinned. “Thanks. Love ya.”
And then he was gone.
Much later, Sam looked up from the boat he was working on and blinked, realizing hours had gone by and he hadn’t been interrupted by a single thing. It had to be a record.
The phones had rung, but they’d been picked up. Apparently Becca was doing fine since she knew to call him if she needed anything.
She hadn’t.
Which was great. After all, the whole point of hiring her had been so that he could be left alone.
His favorite state.
But Cole and Tanner were still out, and she’d been on her own all day.
Maybe something was wrong. Maybe she’d fallen and hit her head.
Maybe he was an idiot.
“Shit.” He gave up wondering and headed toward the hut.
He heard her before he saw her, that bubbly, infectious laugh. When he turned the corner and saw the open hut, Becca was sitting behind the counter. She’d kicked off her sneakers and rolled her jeans into capris. She wore a red tank and a straw hat, which Sam recognized as the one Tanner occasionally wore in the bright afternoon sun, and a welcoming smile.
“That’s perfect, Yvonne,” she was saying to a customer. “You’ll have such a wonderful time. The guys are all so great, you’ll want to book another trip right away, I’m sure.” She pointed to a spot on the iPad screen in front of her—onto which she’d loaded all their forms. “And don’t forget to leave your email addy. You don’t want to miss any specials we have going on.”
She’d been right—she was a fast learner. She had a gift, a different one from anyone he’d ever met. She had the gift of curiosity and empathy, and of bringing people out of themselves, charming them, getting them to open up.
He knew that firsthand. He hated that she seemed to think her self-worth was wrapped up in her past, because that was bullshit. The smart, determined, resourceful Becca Thorpe could do anything she set her mind to.
He wished she knew that.
Yvonne was beaming when she walked away, and Becca immediately turned her attention to the next person waiting.
It was Anderson, the guy who ran the local hardware store. He was in his mid-thirties, and had been in Lucky Harbor since he was a kid. He was an okay guy, Sam supposed, but he was a known dog when it came to women. And sure enough, he leaned on the counter and flashed Becca his on-the-prowl smile like he was God’s gift. “Hey,” he said smoothly. “I know you. I sold you some stuff a few weeks back.”
“You most definitely did, thank you,” Becca said. “What can I sign you up for today? A snorkel? A deep-sea fishing expedition?”
“Which one of those do you do?”
“I take your money,” she said.
Anderson laughed. “How about I take you instead.”
“Um, what?” she asked.
“Out to dinner.” Anderson clarified this with a smile, leaning in closer.
“Like . . . on a date?” Becca asked.
“Yes,” Anderson said. “A date. What are you doing later?”
“She’s busy,” Sam said, stepping inside the hut and coming up behind Becca, laying a hand on her shoulder.
Anderson stopped drooling over Becca and straightened. “Hey there. I like your new front person. She’s a whole lot cuter than any of you three. No offense,” he said, and smiled.
Sam did not.
Anderson’s smile faded. “Right, well, okay then. I’ll just be on my way.”
When he was gone, Becca very slowly, very purposefully turned to Sam. “What was that?”
Sam shrugged. “He thinks you’re cute.”
“No, I meant what was that, as in what were you doing just now?”
“Stopped him from harassing you. I came up to see how you were feeling after last night. And to see. . .” What, genius? “How you’re working out.”
He knew his mistake immediately, even before she narrowed her eyes. “I’m working out just fine,” she said. “But you not so much.”
“Excuse me?”
She moved closer and lowered her voice without lowering her annoyance level, which was blasting from her eyes. “You just acted like . . . a caveman.”
“A caveman,” he repeated.
“Yes! You chased him away from asking me out. You might as well have dragged me back to your cave by the hair.”
He stared at her and then turned and tugged down the hut’s rolling door for privacy, intending to show her his inner caveman.
But though Becca’s eyes were still fiery, she took an immediate step back.
Sam swore beneath his breath and shoved the door back up again, giving her the space she clearly needed.
Becca held her own. She’d crossed her arms, but looked more pissed than anxious. Which was infinitely better, but not ideal. He still had no idea what made her tick. All he knew was that she made him tick.
And that was a first for him.
Also, he wanted a few minutes alone with whoever had made her anxious in small spaces. He wanted that badly. “Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re going to have to make a lot more sense for me here. Are you saying you actually wanted to go out with Anderson?”
“You’re missing my point on purpose.”
“Maybe because you’re not speaking English.” He dipped his head so that they were eye-to-eye. “Tell me in English, Becca.”
