“You said no more than a week.”
“I just got here.”
“Can’t you fly back just for the wedding? You know how busy he is. He’s in demand all around the world. He’s doing us a huge favor by squeezing us in.”
“Am I supposed to be honored by that? He’s squeezing us in for the most important day of our lives?”
“Yes, exactly. But he can’t actually be there in person. It will have to be online.”
Ethan ground his teeth together, determined to hold back the argument that was just dying to burst out. If this was what Charley wanted, why not just do it? How much did it really matter if Dr. McGee was just a bunch of pixels at the wedding? Maybe it would be better that way. The man got on his nerves.
“I’ll think about it,” he managed.
“What’s there to think about? This is a life-changing opportunity.”
He clenched his jaw so tight the muscle twanged. “Fine.”
“You don’t sound thrilled.”
“I’m working on it.”
“You’re working on being thrilled?”
“That’s as good as it’s going to get, sorry.”
“Honestly, Ethan, you can be so passive-aggressive sometimes.” Her cool critique made him want to bang his phone against the window. “I’ll tell him you’re working on being thrilled. Just let me know if you achieve it.”
Before he could get in another word, she ended the call.
He stared at the phone, wondering where he’d gone wrong. What exactly was passive-aggressive, anyway? He’d been aiming for honest-without-offending-her. Apparently he’d missed.
A knock sounded at the door.
He tossed the phone aside, aiming for the bed. “What?”
Jessica stood in the hallway, as fresh as a just-rinsed summer peach. Her white tank top clung to the firm curves of her waist and chest. He forced his gaze away from her breasts. “Just letting you know that the hot shower is now fully operational and that I recommend you skip on in there if you want to beat Old Crow.”
“Old Crow?”
“He’s one of our local fisherman. He rents a room here one day a month so he can get his personal grooming done.”
Amusement lifted his mood, like the first light of dawn on the horizon. “Once a month, huh?”
“Yes.” She used her shoulder to flick away a long strand of coppery hair that had fallen from her ponytail. “As you can imagine, it takes a while. I just wanted to give you a heads up about that. Sorry to disturb you.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I just…got some news I’m still trying to wrap my head around.”
Her expression softened from wary to sympathetic. “Sorry. If there’s anything you need, either me or my staff will be happy to help. I always find there’s nothing like a beach walk to help process bad news. It’s only one block away, and you can walk for miles in either direction, depending on just how bad the news is.”
“It’s not bad, per se. It’s more a…decision I have to make. About the wedding.”
Her face shifted, as if a window curtain had drawn halfway closed. “I see. Well, whenever I have to make a tough decision…” She drew her lower lip between her teeth. “Never mind. I’m sure you’ll make the right choice. Enjoy that shower.”
She hurried down the hallway, as if fleeing from having to explain her method for making tough decisions.
Probably a good thing, because he was one hundred percent sure he would find her method ridiculous.
He allowed himself one quick glance at the sight of her disappearing around the corner to the stairs—those work boots really set off her long legs, and her cutoffs hugged her rear to perfection.
By now he was too distracted to absorb the rest of Maya’s theories about S.G., so he grabbed his travel bag and the folded towel left on the bed and hurried into the bathroom.
The faint scent of cinnamon still hovered in the air, left by Jessica, no doubt. The floor was sparkling clean. The ancient hot water heater in the corner had been put back together with no sign that it had ever been dismantled.
He had to hand it to her; she had some skills along with her weird beliefs.
The hot shower was pure perfection. It felt so good to get the grime of jail and travel off his body. His leg appreciated it too; nothing worked quite like hot water to make the tightness of his scar tissue ease. He soaped himself vigorously, whistling a cheerful tune, shoving all stressful thoughts of weddings and mentors and runaways behind him.
A happy, carefree mood stole over him, for the first time since…maybe since his near-drowning. This trip might be mostly a disaster so far, but at least the pastries were good and the showers were hot and—
The bathroom door flung open. For a wild moment he thought maybe Jessica was back. Maybe she was going to strip off that wet tank top and step into the claw-foot tub with him.
But it wasn’t Jessica’s merry voice he heard out there—it was a deep male growl. It was accompanied by a rank stench that blocked out the scent of cinnamon. He identified notes of dead fish and several weeks’ worth of sweat.
“Who’s in my shower?” the intruder roared. “Get out or I’ll toss you to the fishies and they’ll use your bones for a playground!”
And thus, the disaster that was his trip to Lost Harbor continued.
Chapter Six
Jessica believed that she was mostly a good person. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a petty side. That side wished that she’d left her phone on record in the bathroom to capture the moment Old Crow scared the attitude out of Ethan James.
She’d just have to picture it in her imagination, savoring every delicious moment.
Unfortunately, that involved the image of a naked Ethan, which was regrettable. His forearms were temptation enough without throwing in a bare chest and muscular ass.
Also, regrettable in an entirely different way—a naked Old Crow. He always dumped his clothes outside in the hallway, in a garbage bag that he would then haul either to the dump or to the laundromat, depending on how disgustingly fishy they were.
No doubt, Ethan was currently experiencing a genuinely authentic Lost Harbor experience.
He’d mentioned sightseeing, after all. Well, he was definitely getting an eyeful.
Giggling to herself, she holed up in the tiny back office to run the day’s accounting. A good day, overall. The summer was their busiest time, and this promised to be one of their best summers ever.
Her mood dimmed when she caught sight of that damn certified letter that had arrived from her mother. She couldn’t put off reading it forever.
Big news, Japonica! Prince Cruise Lines is ready to make an offer for the bakery. Can you believe it??? Location, location, location. Of course they want to tear it down and start from scratch, but the place is falling apart anyway. This is it, sweetie!!! We could both walk away with a huge check. Huge!!! We’re sending this certified because you keep ignoring our calls and emails.
Gary had also scrawled a note. Need a decision ASAP. Exciting opportunity. We could use the funds. So can you. Listen to your mother on this one. Don’t be foolish.
“Of course I need the funds, Gary,” she told the letter—out loud, because why not. “And I’ll be foolish if I want to.”