Page 17 of The Lightkeeper

“Thank you.” I smiled, wishing it was always this easy to make friends.

I could’ve stayed longer. It probably would’ve been smarter since it was still raining outside. But I found myself bundling back up and calling a cab. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know more about Mr. Kinkade.

Kit.

I wanted to know more about Kit.

And the only way to do that was by going back to the lighthouse.

Goodness, it was really coming down.I’d spent that extra time at the Maine Squeeze thinking it would give the storm longer to pass through. Instead, it only gave it time to worsen.

“You sure you want to be here, miss?” my taxi driver asked.

“Yes.” I gripped the door handle and then flung it open, rushing out into the rain before I had another chance to think better of it.

Head down, I sprinted until I reached the house and barreled inside, the door rattling as I pressed my back to it and heaved an exhale of relief.

I opened my eyes, and the first thing they focused on was him.

Mr. Kinkade.Kit.

He stood in the kitchen, elbows propped on the counter as he examined one of my glass jars that held the purple sea star. His eyes snapped up, their warm brown instantly growing darker.Hewasn’t expecting me.Slowly, he straightened, the edge of his jaw hardening underneath the coat of his beard.

“I figured the rain would keep you away.”

I knew it.

“Oh, no. I’m not afraid of the rain, and I still have plenty to do.” I unzipped my trench coat and slid my arms from the sleeves. Carefully, I hung it on the nail next to the one that held his massive brown jacket, shivering when I felt his gaze lock on my back.

When I turned, his head dropped back to the jar in his hand, and he quickly replaced it on the counter as though he’d forgotten for a second that he was holding it.

“Solaster endeca.” I walked over, keeping the counter between us as I picked up the same jar, the glass still warm from his hold. “Purple sun star.”

He grunted.

“There aren’t very many sea star species that survive in colder waters, but this guy is one of them.” I turned the glass as I spoke. “Everyone is always attracted to the color on the top of sea stars. The scales. The exoskeleton and spine. But I find the underside the most fascinating.” Spinning the container, I held it out for him to take a closer look.

He didn’t. So, I held it for him.

“Sea stars have hundreds of tube feet on their bottom surface. It’s how they move. How they hold their prey.” I pointed all along the bottom of the arms. “But here is their mouth in the center,” I said. “The way sea stars eat is by holding onto their prey—some kind of mussel usually—and pushing their stomach through their mouth. They digest their food outside of their body and then slide their stomach back in.” Without thinking, I made a slurping noise with my mouth.Crap.My cheeks flamed, and I quickly barreled on. “It’s one of the most fascinating characteristics theyhave because it allows them to eat prey larger than would actually fit in their mouth.”

My eyelids fluttered, and I hazarded his gaze for a single second and prepared myself for another one of hisrough edges. But when I looked up, he was closer than before. We were both hunched over the counter, staring at the sea star floating in the glass.

“So, I guess they never bite off more than they can chew.” His deep voice rumbled.

My head snapped up, eyes wide.Was that… had he… just joked?For a split second, I swore he was going to smile. The movement of his lips was less of a twitch and more of a tug, and my breath caught in anticipation.As though I were about to watch him push out something vulnerable through the hard, immovable layers of his shell.

But just as quickly as I noticed it, the tug was gone.

“Don’t move.”

Before I could ask why, his fingers pinched the arms of my glasses and carefully pulled them off my face. Instantly, the world was a blur, and he moved like a giant blob over to the sink.

“What…” I trailed off when I heard the rip of a paper towel.

Seconds later, he returned and aligned my glasses to my face, sliding them onto my nose. Slowly, the blob of him came back into focus. The frown lines on the weathered skin of his forehead. The dark hairs of his beard where they tried to hide the curves of his lips.

This close, I could see he had nice lips. Full, but still able to be obscured by his beard. And soft. Surprisingly, for all the hard words that came out of his mouth, his lips looked so soft.

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