Page 34 of Here & There

“You okay?” Mac asks from behind.

I turn around. “Totally. So long as it’s bear free around here.” I look up at his beautiful house. “You have a gorgeous home, Mac. Like, really nice.”

Like I could see myself down by that fire pit in the summer. Or curled up on that couch by the fireplace inside in the winter. Which is ridiculous, because I’m staying here for a week in April.

“I can’t believe you did all this yourself. You have really good style.”

Mac’s jaw pulses, and he folds his arms.

“What’s that look for?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing!” My cheeks heat. “I just thought…”

“That I’d live in a little log cabin? With a woodstove?”

My mouth twists to hide a smile. “Maybe.” From my first glimpse of this man—who looks like a seafaring lumberjack and runs a worn, wood-and-brass pub—to this? “I’m just surprised you haven’t modernized the Dinghy yourself.”

His brow drops. “I’m not looking to turn it into a mini-Vancouver. I don’t want the pub to look like it doesn’t belong here. What I want is to have the place appeal to touristsandlocals. I want to bring them together.”

“So you want a blend of old and new, like your home? Modern touches that complement the older features?”

“Yeah, but my home is for me. The bar—I have customers to please.”

A silence hangs between us as I consider his words.

Now he looks embarrassed. “What?” he grunts.

“Mac, this is great. What you just said is exactly what I needed to hear to help you. I’m going to need you to do a lot more talking like this when we sit down to start mapping out the future of the Rusty Dinghy.”

He grimaces, like he regrets opening his mouth.

I laugh. I move to stand next to him like I do my clients, letting them know through my body language that I’m on their side. But I immediately regret it, because now I’m standing right next to him, so close I can feel the heat of him.

It makes me feel like I did in his truck. Like I did after, when he had his hands wrapped around me.

This man is a gentle beast, and it stirs something in my insides.

I take a step back, pulling my sweater around me. But because it’s his, it’s like leaning into him. I let it go again.

“Mac, are you sure you’re okay with this? With me being here?”

AmIokay with it?

“I don’t make offers I can’t follow through on.”

“That doesn’t exactly answer the question.”

“I kind of insisted you stay here,” he says. Mac reaches up, scraping his hand around the back of his neck. “And I guess…I’m glad you washed up on my beach. I’ve been wanting to bring the bar to its full potential for years. Now I have someone to help me do it.”

My chest warms with his surprise confession. “Well, that’s good,” I say, smiling.

He’s still looking down, his thick lashes hiding his eyes. But the moment he looks up, my breath catches in my throat. We lock eyes, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. It’s like I’ve got aninstrument in my chest and he just plucked a string. Why is he looking at me like this? Do I have something stuck in my teeth?

Or is he really looking at me like he’s…attracted to me?

Impossible. Besides, I have no idea what that looks like, honestly. Richard and I met at my parents’ yacht club. He was at the next table over; my father introduced us. He smiled at me, but I didn’t feel like he was burning me alive with his gaze.

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