Page 3 of Enemies to Lobsters
“No!” I shriek. I open my phone, swiping with shaky fingers to turn on my flashlight. I shake my pathetic light through the window, desperate to get their attention. “Argh. I’m up here,” I whine uselessly as the third man climbs back into the truck.The wheels are rolling. I continue waving my flashlight in the window in a frantic, pitiful arc. “Don’t leave!”
The truck stops. The third man climbs out, his hands on his hips as he takes a few steps closer to the rocky shore. Then he darts back to the truck.
“Thank goodness,” I breathe, tucking my phone into my dress pocket.Salvation.
The three men slosh through the shallow water toward the island.
“No!” I yell. “Bring the ladder!” I don’t know why I keep trying to communicate from up here. Desperation is making me an idiot.
I step carefully to the edge of the stairs just as the men reach the entrance to the tower.
“Whoa,” one of them says with a chuckle at the sight of the mangled staircase.
The second lets out a long whistle. “Salt air and iron’ll do that. Only a matter of time—”
“Diana?” the third man calls up the tower.
Oh no. Anyone but him.
I creep as close to the railing as I dare to get a look. Sure enough, Ike Wentworth is down there.
Ike. Freaking. Wentworth.
I’m certain that must be his full legal name.
I almost wouldn’t recognize him in his navy blue t-shirt and firefighting trousers, except for his arrogant profile. I’d know that perfect light brown hair and those soulful eyes anywhere. The beard is new, though, as are the obnoxiously broad shoulders.
“Ugh. You’re a firefighter now, too?” I yell down at him, my nostrils flaring. Of course he is.
The blond guy answers for him. “He’s a volunteer—”
“There’s no time for this. The tide is coming in.” Ike hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “Run and grab the ladder before we’re all stuck out here,” he instructs the other men. “I’ll deal with this.” He gestures to the wreckage in their way.
They leave and he surveys the mess where the staircase used to stand. He exhales with an annoyed gust. Then he starts moving the mess out of the way—entire, huge sections of an iron staircase. I don’t know how much the thing weighs, but I am transfixed. What he’s doing shouldn’t be possible. He grunts as he uses a long bar as a lever to shift another portion to the side.
I have to know. “What kind of steroids are you on?” I call from my perch.
He ignores my question. “You’re going to have to come down. Get as close to the bottom as possible.” He tosses a chunk of iron out of the way. “The ladder that fits through the door isn’t that long.”
“No.” I barely glance at the remaining staircase. “That thing almost killed me. That isn’t happening.”
“You’re going to have to, Princess,” he grunts, lifting another section with a lever. “Or you’re sleeping up there.”
My nails dig into my palms. I hate when he calls me that.Princess York. Ice Princess.Princess Diana.Princess Leia.I hated that one the most. But every one of his old sarcastic nicknames makes me want to… Well, I don’t know what I’d do. I’ve never been a violent person.
Except when Ike Wentworth is involved.
Chapter 3
Ike
I’m trying to play it cool and failing. Princess Diana is at the top of our lighthouse, and the staircase is in pieces on the floor. I keep having visions of the both of us trapped under a pile of rubble. Shewouldbring the whole thing down. That’s her MO when it comes to this town—pop in, leave a wide path of destruction, and move on. The corner of my mouth hitches at a few memories.
“Just take it slow.” The guys are splashing through the water toward us. She doesn’t have time to take it slow. The tide tends to sneak in out here—I’ve learned that the hard way. “I’ll talk you through it.”
She snorts and the sound bounces through the tower. “That wouldn’t exactly help me stay calm,” she mumbles. I don’t think she knows I can hear every word—and snort—from down here.
For the briefest moment I’m tempted to let her figure it out on her own, but I’ve never been that guy. I can’t leave people hanging—literally or figuratively. Not even Diana York. “Stick close to the center pillar.” I’ve almost cleared a path to the broken edge of the stairs. So close. I push more iron rubble aside. “It’ll be sturdier there.”
