Page 9 of Christmas Harbor Secrets
“What were you doing?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.
“Al was helping me with something,” she said, setting her papers down.
Rone’s mouth tightened. “First thing to know around here—don’t trust anyone. Especially someone who’s overly friendly.”
She arched a brow. “Funny, he told me to watch out for cranky men who think too much of themselves. What do you want?”
He gave her a look—half warning, half reluctant amusement—but said nothing. “Told you I’d help.”
The sun slid lower, spilling gold and rose across the rippling water. The boat creaked softly against the dock as the humid airthickened, holding the day’s heat captive. Sweat gathered at her temples, but she didn’t mind. She could tough out the sticky air—it didn’t mean anything. Not danger. Not memory. Just Florida being Florida.
Rone stood on the dock like part of it, arms folded, Echo parked at his heel with that too-smart squint. “You should go to a hotel,” he said, voice steady as the tide. “One night. Two. I’ll work onFamily Firstafter hours. Get you to listing shape.”
Isobel stared past him at the little box of a motel sign glowing up the road and tasted humiliation in the back of her throat. Leave the boat because a stranger told you to.Her father… Shade, would’ve laughed until his shoulders shook. If he was still the man she remembered from all those years ago. A man who once schooled a local boater on the merits of proper waste disposal.
“No. I’m not leaving.” She crossed her own arms, shielding herself from his shocked and somewhat defeated expression. “Funny how you keep insisting I leave my boat, though.”
“Not that again. If you don’t trust me, trust Echo.”
The dog lifted his nose and blinked like an angel at her. “Not fair bringing his cuteness into it.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think the dog smiled at her.
“Besides the dog, I couldn’t have untied your lines. I have an alibi. Was working on Hollywood’s boat.”
She chuckled. “Does everyone have a Dock name?”
He didn’t nibble at her question. All business, as she was quickly discovering, was his defense mechanism. No personal info given, just orders. “He’s in slip C6, go ask him.”
“Fine. For now, though. I’m staying.”
Rone didn’t flinch. “Storm season’s mean, dock rumors are worse, and someone’s already been on your deck. If you won’t go for you, go for the fact that A/C is a luxury you don’t have yetand sleeping with your windows open when someone’s already threatened you wouldn’t be the wisest move.”
“I’ll get the A/C on.” She forced her gaze to the shore-power pedestal. She’d gotten the sequence wrong twice; had to be something with the inverter inside, or a breaker. She’d get it right a third time. “I’m not paying for a hotel.”
“I’ll pay.”
Echo groaned and plopped down as if this conversation bored him. But Rone’s offer wasn’t lost on her. She didn’t have the money to stay anywhere but on this boat, but it would be easier to stay in a hotel at night and work on the boat in the morning and evening. It would be safer, too. “I’m not taking charity.”
“I didn’t offer charity.” He tipped his chin at the hotel sign. “A loan. You pay me back when you sell the boat.”
Echo, dramatic as an actor, slid a look up at him—side-eye that somehow carried the weight of a bank ledger. Even Isobel read it. She almost smiled before she caught herself.
“Your dog just called you a liar,” she said.
“He called me optimistic.” The barest twitch of his mouth. “Loan stands.”
“No.” The word came out softer, more personal. It surprised her. “I’m staying. I’ve stayed through worse.”
Worse was a couch in a one-bedroom over a laundromat in Atlanta when the dryers ran all night, and the man she was meeting for coffee left her with the bill and a sermon about women who “lead men on.” Worse was at the age of ten, the first time she’d asked her mother about the day her father had left, hearing “You wouldn’t understand” like that was an answer.
They always had a pleasant but somewhat forced relationship. She loved her mother and knew she loved her back, but there had been a secret too big to accept that had put a wedgebetween them. Her one regret was not fixing it before her mother passed.
Rone studied her. It should have made her bristle. Instead, something in her ribs unclenched. He could have pushed harder. He didn’t.
“Then we make it tolerable,” he said, like he was accepting orders on a job. “Power first. A/C. Then we see if she’ll turn over.”
He stepped onto the deck, and she followed, the boat’s subtle shift greeting them like a breath held and released. Echo hopped aboard as if he paid slip fees.
