Page 65 of Bracing The Storm

“I’m what?” Suddenly self-conscious, I push my feet under the table, out of his sight.

Strange. Can’t measure up to all the attractive women he probably meets on a daily basis?

His glance moves up my legs slowly, slowly taking me in, and finally settles on my lips.

“Different. Gorgeous. Amazing,” he whispers under his breath.

My body warms up as if his eyes are caressing it. “I’m happy you like my sense of style.”

“It’s not your style I like. It’s you. You are different and beautiful, Lori.”

The sudden change in mood doesn’t escape me.

He’s dead serious as he takes a seat across me. For a few second, silence fills the air though his gaze remains focused on me, making me nervous.

I decide to broach the subject before morning dawns on us. While he might have all night, I’d rather get a few hours’ sleep. Looking like a raccoon with dark circles framing my eyes isn’t a good look on me.

“You said you wanted to talk.” I leave the “now would be a good time” part unspoken.

“Yes.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, hesitating, seemingly fighting for words. “You probably won’t like what I have to say, but I need you to keep an open mind. I want you to try and understand where I’m coming from.”

The “keep an open mind” thing puts me on edge. Sounds like a good primer to bad news if I ever heard one.

“I will certainly try,” I say. Can’t promise anything, though.

Patrick’s sudden grim look tells me my answer is not what he was hoping to hear. I lean forward as his eyes focus on me—two dark spots that seem to be tormented by something. He openshis mouth to say something when a phone starts ringing, the sudden intrusive noise making me flinch.

Oh, come on!

This is the epitome of bad timing. If it were my cell I’d probably toss it across the room right now. But, as much as my frustration makes me want to, I can’t damage his phone, aka his property. Of course, Patrick seizes the opportunity to postpone being the bearer of bad news and fishes it out of his pocket. He looks at the caller ID, then picks up, muttering in my direction, “Sorry. I need to take this.”

“Sure.” I force an understanding smile to my face, but it’s so strained I wouldn’t be surprised to find it snapping.

He hesitates for a moment, as though he’s waiting for me to give him privacy.

I’m already a nervous wreck. If he thinks I’ll be leaving the room he’s sorely mistaken. I’ll probably come to regret it, but there’s no way in hell he’s getting rid of me. Not when I don’t know what he was about to tell me. I can’t stand being kept in the dark. I’d rather deal with the worst and be done with it than sense something’s wrong and fret about it. My mind always excels at going in circles and picturing the worst-case scenarios possible.

Noise carries over from the cell’s speaker, but the voice is too drowned out to make out the words.

“He’s been gone sincewhen?” Patrick asks, frowning.

I fight the impulse to inch forward a little to tune into the conversation. Even though I can’t make out the words, I can tell the voice is female. There’s an urgency about it that makes me think something’s happened.

“Are you sure he’s not sleeping off a hangover in someone’s barn? It wouldn’t be the first time.” Patrick pauses, listening, then nods his head gravely, and his expression turns a few shades darker. “The boat’s not there. I see. I’m sure there’s areasonable explanation for that. No need to panic just yet, Patty. You get the girls over and make yourself a good cup of tea while we go find him. I’ll keep you updated.”

He ends the call and lowers his head for a few moments. In spite of his reassuring tone, the strain in his shoulders is obvious. Whatever’s going on, he’s more worried than he let on to Patty.

I get up from my seat and go over to him. If I knew where we’re standing I’d wrap my arms around him. Instead, I settle for placing my hand on his upper arm and giving it a soft, encouraging squeeze as I ask, “What happened?”

“Seamus, one of the local fishermen, hasn’t come home. His wife, Patty, is calling around whether anyone’s seen him. No one has and the boat’s gone.” He grimaces. “The weather’s been too bad to head out on a boat, but Seamus has never been one to heed a warning. I’m going to help with the search mission. We’ll have to postpone our conversation.”

“Of course.”

His gaze locks with mine, and for a moment something like a soft smile spreads across his lips. “I’m glad you’re here.” His arms circle my waist as he pulls me against him. I part my lips in anticipation and when his mouth finds mine, the kiss is warm and tender.

My heart does a little somersault.

He’s not breaking up! In fact, this feels like we’ve just moved a step in the right direction, which is?—

---