different reasons. Jack used to say her brother was worse than her mother. At least her mother was strong, determined, driven. In Maisey’s mind, though, “strong, determined and driven” couldn’t make up for being narcissistic and insufferable.
That was what she normally thought, anyway. Right now “weak” and “unable to cope” frustrated and disappointed her just as much.
Opening her eyes, she kicked her suitcase. She must’ve been remembering Keith in a far more favorable light when she’d raced back to Fairham.
But that didn’t mean she could bear to see him hurt...
With a sigh, she checked her phone again. Still nothing. Which meant she couldn’t save her brother if he was in trouble again; she had no way to track him down. With the friends he found online, playing interactive video games and gambling, he could be anywhere. No one had guessed he’d wind up in New Orleans the last time. She could only pray he wouldn’t do anything like what he’d tried there...
She could also get herself situated, so she wouldn’t end up sleeping on the beach again. Last night, after she’d realized she was stranded, she’d gone over to Unit 9 to see what, exactly, was there and found only large furniture, all of it stacked up and too heavy to move alone. That included the mattresses propped up on their sides, squeezed in behind all the furniture.
But she had more time, energy and sunlight today. She could pick out exactly what she wanted and then see if Rafe would help her move it, even though she’d told him she didn’t need his assistance.
She planned to use the internet on her cell phone to look up the number for Smitty’s in Keys Crossing. The store sold groceries, fishing paraphernalia and sundries, and the goods they carried were eclectic enough that she’d probably find bedding, towels and washcloths. Maybe she could order what she needed and pay one of Smitty’s baggers to deliver it—if they still had baggers and those baggers had vehicles. Not everyone on the island drove cars. Most preferred scooters.
One way or the other, there were solutions. She just had to be determined and creative.
But...first things first. After sleeping on the beach, she desperately wanted a shower.
She was standing under the spray, reveling in the simple luxury of hot water, when she heard someone banging on the front door. Hoping it was her brother, she rinsed the soap from her hair and jumped out.
She had to use one of her skirts to dry off. She didn’t have any towels, which gave her a new appreciation for terry cloth. Her skin was still damp, making it a challenge to pull on a pair of cutoffs and the tank top she normally reserved for yoga class. But if Keith had come back, she didn’t want to miss him.
“Let it be him,” she mumbled, and hurried to the door.
It wasn’t Keith; it was Rafe. He kept turning up—but then that was to be expected. They were living next door to each other and were currently the only occupants of Smuggler’s Cove. There was bound to be some interaction. Besides, she couldn’t consider his appearance a bad thing. Since she’d have to humble herself and ask for a hand with the furniture, this would give her the perfect opportunity. She just wished he’d come fifteen or twenty minutes later. She’d scrambled out of the shower so fast she hadn’t put on a bra or combed her hair, which was sopping wet.
Cracking open the door, she stood in the gap. “Hello.”
He was freshly showered, too—but further along in the process. Although his hair was still wet, it was combed, he was fully dressed in a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt and work boots and, once again, he smelled as good as he looked.
“You never returned my key last night,” he said.
“Oh, my gosh! I’m sorry!” Because she’d been afraid he’d catch her on his porch and come out, she’d decided to wait until he was more likely to be asleep. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him for fear he’d ask how the move went, didn’t want him to know that Keith had left her in such an impossible situation. Then she’d become so absorbed in her own misery she’d forgotten. And, as luck would have it, he’d caught her sleeping on the beach, anyway.
“Here, I’ll get it.” She opened the door wider and started to turn, then hesitated. If she was planning to ask for his help, she had nothing to gain by putting it off. “Actually, if you’re on your way there now, would you mind if I tagged along?”
He scowled as he looked past her, into the house. “You don’t have any furniture yet?”
“No, not yet.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he said, “Don’t tell me you’re planning to get it by yourself...” She could hear the skepticism in his voice.
“Maybe, if you have the time, you and I could lift the heavier stuff into your truck?”
A bemused expression appeared on his face. “Didn’t I offer to do that yesterday?”
“Yes. And it was very nice of you.”
“Even though my offer was rejected, along with my invitation to dinner.”
She ignored the dinner part. “Something came up for Keith that...unexpectedly took him away.”
He scratched his head. “Must’ve been pretty important, since he left you stranded.”
“Oh, it was. He wouldn’t have abandoned me unless...unless he had to. Anyway, I appreciate you helping me out. I’ll try not to hold you up.”
“No problem.”
“Great.” She wished she had time to dry her hair, but she hated to make him wait. He had to be on his way to work, or he wouldn’t have needed the key she’d forgotten to return. “I’ll just grab my shoes.”
He took hold of her wrist and, when she frowned up at him, lowered his gaze to her chest. “Unless you want me to drive into a tree or something, you might want to change your shirt, too.”
She looked down at where her hair had soaked her tank and realized why he’d made that suggestion. “Oh. Of course.”
He’d let go almost as soon as he touched her, but he didn’t glance away, and he didn’t try to hide the fact that he liked what he saw.
A sexy smile curved his lips as Maisey quickly folded her arms to cover herself. Apparently he enjoyed throwing her off balance. “I can’t believe you’d point that out and embarrass us both,” she said.
He raised his eyes to meet hers. “I’m not sure embarrassed would be the right word for me.”
She was more flattered than offended, and that took Maisey by surprise. So did the warmth pouring through her. She hadn’t been aroused since before Ellie died. Not that she was willing to admit to being aroused. Surely it couldn’t happen that fast or that easily with someone she barely knew, not after she’d struggled for months to fulfill her husband’s sexual needs without feeling so much as a twinge of desire. “I mean...most men would simply pretend they didn’t notice.”
“Have you ever tested that theory?” he asked dryly. “Because I’m guessing those would be men who’ve made love to a woman far more recently than I have.”
She hadn’t
