Page 14 of The Lightkeeper

She beamed. “A northern moon snail. Well, the shell of one. I found it in the rocks yesterday,” she said as I turned it in my hand, examining the intricate whorls and vibrant coloration. “They’re not as commonly found in the intertidal areas, but I think with all the storms, it washed this one ashore.”

“Moon snail…” I ran my finger along the edge and then snapped my gaze to hers. “And it’s for me?”

“A peace offering.” Her smile widened, bringing out the dimples in her pink cheeks.

No. Absolutely not.

“A carcass,” I declared roughly.

“What?” Her jaw dropped.

“This is a carcass.” I rotated the shell in my fingers, pretending like my classification wasn’t exceptionally harsh. “You’re giving me a snail carcass as an apology.”

Her mouth opened and shut. I’d made her speechless, and I liked it. Almost as much as I liked the rich, almost-red blush on her cheeks… and being the reason for it. God, this woman was just as colorful as the world she was here to study.

“Well, I guess… technically… it’s a shell.” Her tongue swiped over her lips, wetting the pink flesh, and my dick started to leak in my jeans.Fucking hell.I should’ve worked one out last night, but it felt fucked up to do that in my brother’s barn.

“A carcass.” I grunted and set it down, moving back to my desk and replacing my log book in the drawer. “I have work to do.” Anything to make the torture stop. Anything to put a damn bit of space back between us.

When I looked back, I found Aurora staring at me with anexpression that drew a sensation up my spine that I didn’t care for.Not one bit.

“Mr. Kinkade, have I done something to upset you or to make you dislike me?” she asked softly.

I tensed.

Yes. You made me aware of your existence. Aware that my body was still capable of feeling, wanting, and aching for things the rest of me can’t have. And because you’re not leaving, I have no choice but to figure out how to handle… temptation.

“As you said, we both have worlds to watch, and you’re not a part of mine, Miss Cross, just as much as I’m not a part of yours.” I grabbed my cap from my back pocket, tugged it on my head, and then strode back outside. Drizzle be damned.

We could cohabitate the lighthouse the same way the fish and the fisherman cohabitated the sea, but that didn’t mean she was part of my world.

Chapter Four

Aurora

“Black coffee,please. Biggest one you have. And one of the cider donuts.” I pushed the hood of my yellow windbreaker back but made sure my cap stayed securely on my head. No one needed to see my hair after the morning I’d had. Missed alarm. Late shower. Rushed out into the rain.

Just another manic Monday.

“Absolutely.”The woman behind the counter smiled wide. She’d been working here every morning I’d been in for the last two weeks, usually with one or two other girls who normally took my order, but today she was alone.

Of course, I’d observed her all those mornings in action. Noted little details and facts. It was my habit—the way I engaged with my environment. I noted that her name was Lou. Her chestnut brown hair was always braided back either in a single braid or two braids down either side of her head. She knew almost everyone who came in by name. And her smile was the warmest,most welcoming thing about this place—like hot tea on a cold day.

“Thanks.” I wiped the wetness from my face.

For two weeks, I’d had nothing but sunny, brisk spring days to work with. The conditions were perfect to examine the numerous saltwater species living in the tide pools and rocky shoreline around the lighthouse. Mollusks. Echinoderms. And arthropods.Oh my!Their habitat—their existence—consumed me. I’d spent every minute of the growing daylight hours observing, recording notes, taking photographs, and collecting specimens, and then far too many minutes of my nights cataloging and collating, slowly building the framework for what would become my thesis.

How they existed, how they existed together, how they evolved… it fascinated me. But for some reason, it didn’t consume me like it normally would. Instead, if given just a moment for distraction, my mind went to a different speci-man—one who I swore had almost kissed me that morning.

Heat hummed along my spine, and my eyelids fluttered. If I let them shut, I knew I’d see his face just inches in front of mine. His gaze anchored to my mouth like it was the only thing keeping his mind from losing its moorings.

I was a smart woman. Not just in my field of study, but in general. I was observant. Patient. And quick to pick up on the slightest nuance of behavior.At least when it came to invertebrates.But it had to be the same for humans—for men, right? Unfortunately, my experience withthatspecies was the equivalent of abysmal.

“For here or to go?” She lifted both cup options.

“For—” I glanced over my shoulder and heaved an exhale, changing my mind. “For here.” Normally, I took my coffee to go, wanting to get to the lighthouse and to work as quickly as possible, but the rain made me hesitate.

It wasn’t a thunderstorm, but it was raining hard enough to make outdoor exploration a little too risky, which meant I’d be relegated to the indoors. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. I had plenty to do inside—plenty of live and dead specimens I’d found and preserved in jars that now covered the counter in the kitchen, including my prized pet, Stuart. A sea star who’d lost two arms and was in the process of regenerating them. However,insidewas Mr. Kinkade’s domain, and the rain would certainly trap us both there.

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