Small-Town Girl (6 page)

Before he'd finished praying, Tony Castillo, who owned Castillo's Carrying, Brice's biggest competitor, had contacted him, offering Brice one of his big shipments. Castillo's barge was broken and the goods needed to get to Chicago in a hurry. The payment Tony quoted was better than anything that had come Brice's way in months, so of course he accepted it. He and his crew had scrambled to move around the shipments again to accommodate the job he'd taken from Castillo, and thankfully they'd made it out of dock just in time. As much as he respected Tony Castillo and didn't want to take work away from the man, with Atwood raising the docking prices again, Brice could use the extra business. Desperately.

God had taken care of his needs. Like always. But...why couldn't it happen a day or two before Brice was at the edge of despairing?

Brice stopped walking and Kendall ran right into his back. He turned around and crossed his arms. “If you've got things to do, I can drive you back to your office and I'll paint the boat on my own. I don't mind.”

“No.” She finally stowed her cell phone in her back pocket. “I got you into the cruising business, so I'll help make it ready.”

“The boat needed work either way.”

“Still.” She mimicked his pose. “I told you I'd help.”

“Listen. I'm offering an out if you want it.”

Kendall tilted her head, considering him for a moment. “I don't.”

“You sure?” He fought a smile. Her determination amid her obvious stress was cute.

She lifted her chin. “Positive.”

“All right, then.” He pushed the cart until they were next to the large tubs of paint suitable for using on the paddle wheeler.

The first sunset cruise was scheduled for Friday, leaving them only four more days to finish getting the boat into shape. He'd yet to iron out a deal with Sesser for a dock at the downtown pier, but they didn't want to hold up operations waiting on that.

“Which color do you think we should use?” Brice looked over his shoulder to meet Kendall's gaze. She seemed distracted this morning, her deep brown eyes full of emotion. He sensed her mood went beyond her stress. “Hey.” He dipped his head a little to be right on her level. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” Her smile looked forced. “Just distracted, is all. I never realized how much I'd have to accomplish every day to run a business.”

“It never really ends.” If he didn't write down every little thing, he'd lose track of the repairs his boats needed each week. But she didn't need to hear about how busy or stressed he was. Biting her lip, Kendall looked just as breakable as she had the night her mom showed up on the pier. A need to protect her filled his chest with so much force he took a step back, making the cart bump against the metal shelving with a loud
clang
. Where had that come from? The urge to protect wasn't foreign, but it usually only came around with such ferocity when his siblings were in danger.

Brice shook his head. He only felt that way because she was so petite and she'd confided to him that she didn't have any friends in town. And yes, he liked her smile and her laugh and the way she made him forget that he usually had a hard time talking to people.

He took another deep breath of the comforting warehouse air and then swallowed hard. “You'll do great.”

“I hope so.” Her tentative smile made his stomach kick. “Thank you, you know, for believing in me.”

“Know what? This paint will work.” He grabbed the first one he saw, heaved it into the cart and steered toward the checkout lanes as if he and Kendall were playing tag and he needed to run away from her.

Maybe they were, but he couldn't let her catch him. The situation with Audra had taught him that once he fell for someone, he fell hard. And Brice was done falling.

Chapter Five

P
aintbrush in hand, Kendall jogged over to the old-school boom box in Brice's warehouse and turned the music up. Dust motes trailed through the air in her wake. He'd left the building's huge rolling front doors open, so sunlight streamed in and a gentle but steady breeze wrapped them in air carrying a mix of fresh-caught fish, dampness from the lake, something frying at the nearest restaurant and oil. To her surprise, Kendall discovered the eclectic smell didn't bother her.

When they returned from the hardware store, his men had already moved the paddle wheeler inside to what Brice called a dry dock, which Kendall realized was exactly that. The boat was hoisted in the air inside the building so people could work on every inch of it and the paint on the bottom could dry. To her disappointment, Brice's crew had disassembled the paddles and repainted them the day before. She'd been looking forward to splashing them with bright red. Instead she and Brice were working on covering the bottom and lower sides in a respectable gleaming white. Boring. But he promised her they'd paint the top half a deep hunter green, so that had to count for something.

She fast-stepped to the beat back toward the boat and dipped her brush in the tub of paint on her way. “Don't you love this song?” she hollered to Brice as she applied a liberal amount of the white to the boat's side.

Brice had been quiet on the way back from the hardware store, which wasn't abnormal for him. In the past week she'd noticed that he tended to stay silent unless he had something important to say, but silence with Brice never felt awkward. Which was strange considering Kendall's normal propensity for filling every moment with conversation, but somehow Brice's desire to only speak words that mattered soothed her. She didn't feel pressure to say something entertaining or try to dazzle him. She could simply relax and be herself—a person she was only beginning to realize loved quiet and comfortable silence with another person.

He chuckled from his crouched position under the boat. “I can't say that I know it. But no one's ever accused me of being a music buff.” In his backward baseball hat, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and well-worn jeans, the man fit his environment perfectly.

“Don't know it?” She dropped her hand holding the brush so it rested on her side and then turned and gaped at him. “But this one's been on the radio basically on repeat for the past two months.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He shrugged and got to his feet.

She popped her hands to her hips. “Top five songs on your MP3 player?”

“Don't own one.”

“You're a rare man, Brice Daniels.”

“Is that a good rare or a ‘send this back to the kitchen to get cooked better' rare?”

“I wouldn't send you back.” She winked and then a tinge of embarrassment flushed her cheeks. She hadn't flirted that openly in a long time. And she really should stop. Teasing a man usually led to a date, and a few of those led to getting to know him more and then having to cut and run before the man realized she wasn't worth sticking around for. Really, all her ex-boyfriends should thank her. She'd saved them time in the end. They wouldn't have wanted to stick with her. No man did.

Stepping past her, Brice made his way to the paint tray and set his brush down. On his way back, he paused near her and Kendall looked up at his face. Wow. The man had such pretty eyes. They were an intense pale green. So similar to the underside of a leaf. Her fingers itched to touch the scar on his cheek, but she shook that thought away. Where had it even come from?

“Want to take a break?” He leaned close to her ear so she could hear him over the radio.

Her pulse thumbed hard against her veins. Maybe a reaction to the loud music? She took a step back and nodded.

He tossed her a rag and began wiping off his hands with another one before he motioned her to follow him. Along the far wall of the warehouse, at the top of a set of metal stairs, Brice held open a door that led to a small office. It was sparse. Basically only what needed to be there was there. An aged and worn desk, a lamp, two faded chairs. No knickknacks. A single, thriving plant near the bank of windows was the only thing about the room that didn't look straight from a furniture store's back discount room.

He reached into a cube fridge hidden in the closet and tossed her a bottle of water. “Catch.”

She caught it, twisted off the cap and gulped down a third of the bottle. Replacing the cap, she used the back of her hand to swipe at her mouth. A muscle in her arm pinched, making her wince. “Wow. All this bending and reaching.” She stretched her arms into the air, trying to figure out where she was the sorest. “It's working some muscles I didn't realize I even had.”

Bottle in hand, he watched her, smiling.

Nerves blossomed in her stomach under his inspection; she twisted the bottle around in her hands and then plopped into a nearby chair, which groaned in retaliation. “I saw your brother Evan last night.”

Brice quirked his eyebrows. “Has his woodworking been bothering you still? I could talk to him for—”

“It's not like that at all. He's fine. I just...” She looked down at the floor. Why had she started this conversation? Now she'd have to finish, or think of something to say, because the way Brice was leaning forward with his eyebrows raised left little room for anything else. She sucked in some lake-tinged air. “Did something happen between your brother and Claire Atwood?”

He fumbled his water bottle before setting it onto his desk. “What makes you ask?”

“No real reason.” Besides the strange way they both acted yesterday.

Brice lowered himself into his desk chair. He leaned back, the metal squeaking. “Are you interested in Evan?”

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “It's not like that at all.”

“Because if you are...” He adjusted his seat to lean forward. “I'm going to tell you right now that he's not interested.”

“Brice!” She dropped the lid to the water bottle. It bounced on the floor before rolling into Brice's shoe. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“Then why did you ask?” He rested his elbows onto his desk. “When we first met, you told me you dated a lot. Evan's my little brother and—”

“In the past, yes, I have.” Why was he even bringing that up? She should never have told him about her past. Now Brice thought she had her cap set on his brother and of course he was going to try to save Evan from the woman he considered a serial dater. After the nice time they'd spent together, Brice thought she was capable of using his brother? That hurt. “But that's not who I am any longer and that's not what this is about.”

“What happened in your relationships?” He pursed his lips before adding, “Why didn't any of them stick?”

Mental note: don't prod Brice for answers, because he only comes back with even tougher questions.

Kendall worked her jaw back and forth. How much should she tell him? “If you have to know, I've always been the one to break up with the guy. It just...” She shrugged and looked away.

“Just what?”

Fine. She'd give him the truth, because then everything would be out in the open and he'd know that she was only interested in friendship with both him and his brother. Saying something painful now would alleviate the need for an awkward conversation later—the conversation that eventually happened anytime she pursued a friendship with a man. The one where they tried to veer things onto a romantic path, a path she couldn't walk with a man on, no matter how much she wanted to.

“I think I always wanted to see if I was worth fighting to keep.” She stared down at where her fingers laced together and then added in a small voice, “Apparently I'm not.” Tears burned against her eyes, begging to be released. She swiped at her face, trying to compose herself.

When she met his gaze again, Brice was studying her in an open way.

Why had she phrased her answer that way? Now he pitied her and she didn't want that. She'd only wanted him to know that she was damaged goods when it came to relationships. To shut the door on any possibility of something growing between them that she'd never be able to follow through on. And she needed to, because she already felt a pull toward him...a desire to get to know him more and spend time with him. But if he pursued her, she'd wind up hurting him or breaking up with him when the relationship started to feel too real—too lasting. She'd run before he could.

Evidently she was like her father that way. The realization stung.

Brice rubbed his jaw. “Ken—”

His phone interrupted whatever he was going to say. Instead of picking it up, Brice glared at his telephone as if it were a monster in need of slaying.

“I can leave if you want to answer that.” Kendall grabbed her water bottle and started to stand.

Brice motioned for her to sit back down and then he snagged the receiver and answered the phone. After only a minute he swiveled his chair so his back was facing her. The phone cord wrapped around his side as it pulled taut.

“What? I have a hard time believing— You can't do this to us. You can't keep squeezing the last penny out of every person who rents at your dock. Someday you'll have competition. Someday—” Brice scrubbed his hand down his face, turned around and slammed the phone back down.

“Bad news?” Kendall offered an apologetic smile.

His gaze bounced back to her and he schooled his expression, dropping the snarl that had pulled at his lips so his mouth relaxed. “How do you even know the Atwoods?”

Oh. So he was launching right back into their conversation about Evan. She didn't want to lie but also couldn't share about her partnership—the whole reason she knew Claire. “Claire stopped by Love on a Dime the other day.”

“Of course she did.” Brice snorted. “Right in front of Evan.”

Okay, this line of conversation was going nowhere fast.
For future reference, don't ask Brice about Evan. It doesn't go well.

Redirect him.
“Are you having problems with the dockyard?”

He laced his fingers together and put them behind his head. “He's jacked up the prices again. How does he expect any of us to make a living if he keeps finding loopholes in the contract so he can up our fees?”

Kendall twisted the water bottle around and around in her hands as she spoke. “If you don't like the terms for this dock, can you move your boats somewhere else?”

“Not if I want to stay in Goose Harbor.” He dropped his hands to his sides, and his shoulders slumped. “He owns all the docks.”

“All the docks?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I find that hard to believe. There are docks all along the shoreline.”

“Private, residential docks, yes. But I can't work out of those. There are laws and codes that have to be followed. Besides, none of those docks are dug deep enough for these bigger ships.”

That made sense. “I guess I don't know a lot about shipping.”

He tugged off his baseball hat and ran his fingers over his close-cropped hair. “If I had my way and enough money, I'd petition the city board for the right to dig another dock and I'd charge better, fairer fees to anyone who wanted to dock their boats there.”

“Then why don't you?”

“Like I said, money. But these cruise tours are going to help. I have a good feeling about them.” He used his baseball hat to point at her. “You just might be the key to reaching my dream.”

Kendall's breath caught. He was only talking about his desire to build an additional pier, but still, warmth curled in her chest at the thought of being a vital piece to anyone's dreams.

* * *

Seated behind the steering wheel of the freshly painted paddle wheeler, Brice watched as Kendall ushered in the guests for their first-ever sunset cruise. She'd asked him to dress nice, so he'd worn a starched button-up with his least-worn-out pair of jeans and the leather shoes he usually reserved for church. He'd even cracked open the hairstyling gel his sister had given him last Christmas. When he left his cabin, he'd thought he fit what Kendall wanted.

Then he saw Kendall.

On clicking heels she seemed to all but float from guest to guest, complimenting them and making sure they were comfortable before the boat left port. Her hair was curled in a way that made her look like a movie star, and she wore a black dress that whispered back and forth against her knees as she walked. Dangling bracelets and a long necklace completed her look, but she hadn't needed the adornments to catch his eye. Brice could hardly look away.

Earlier in the day they'd met and he'd set up chairs and a food table while Kendall hung paper lanterns from the ceiling and arranged flowers on smaller tables that she deemed private sitting areas. She'd been in shorts and a T-shirt while they worked and he'd considered her beautiful then. Granted, she was the type of woman who would look beautiful in baggy sweatpants on a sick day. But she didn't act as if she knew how pretty she was. Perhaps she didn't realize it. Which only added to her appeal.

She stepped beside him, the hem of her dress brushing his leg as she leaned close and covered his hand with hers for the space of a heartbeat.

When his sister was younger, she used to love the cartoon princess movies and often begged her brothers to watch them with her. Brice had given in more often than Andrew and Evan had, so he knew all the stories by heart now. Brice's eyes met Kendall's deep brown ones. So this was how Prince Eric felt in his sister's favorite cartoon movie about the mermaid who turned into a woman? When Laura was little she used to dance around their house singing a song about kissing.

Kiss her.
His mouth went dry.

“We're ready for liftoff.” Kendall squeezed his hand and returned to their cruise guests.