“Have at ’er, champ. Biyen will be dragging me over to Emma’s in—”
“Mo-om!” The door clunked open at the bottom of the stairs. “When can we leave?”
She bit back a sigh. “I haven’t had my shower, yet,” she leaned to call down the stairs.
He made a pained noise and slammed the door.
“I’ll walk him over. You can take your time,” Logan offered.
Everything in her pumped the breaks. Nolan was forever introducing Biyen to new women. Sophie was damned careful about confusing him with her own romantic interests. Of which there were none.
Logan was definitely not that. He was a houseguest who was offering a friendly gesture. Nevertheless, “You don’t have to. I’ll only be ten minutes.”
The door squeaked and Biyen’s steps clomp, clomp, clomped up to the top of the stairs.
“Mom,” he panted. “Gramps is putting the toys in his Gator. I’m going to ride over with him.”
“Okay. Did you get your burger from the freezer?”
“No.” Clomp, clomp, clomp as he descended. “Gramps!” The stair door banged again, followed by the door to the porch.
“I emptied the top two drawers.” Sophie pointed at the dresser. “Towels are in the closet downstairs, across from the bathroom. There’s a second toilet and sink in the shop. What else might you need?” She glanced around.
“Mom!” Clomp, clomp. Biyen stopped halfway up the stairs. “Gramps says buy more beer tomorrow because he’s taking the six pack from our fridge.”
“Roger that.”
Clomp, clomp, slam.
“Sometimes I envy people who do all of their communicating over text,” she said with a bemused smile. It was as close as she would come to apologizing for the chaos. If Logan didn’t like it, he could leave.
“Reid texts me so often, I want to slit my throat with my own smartphone. The grass is always greener.”
She had to give that one a small smirk.
Usually, on the rare occasions when Biyen and Art were both out, she reveled in the bliss of having the house to herself. Today, she was really, really aware that she was alone in the house with Logan. That she was heading into the shower where she would stand naked while he…
“I guess I’ll meet you over there? Er… I mean, unpack first if you want to.” She waved at the dresser again. “I’ll give you a key, not that we ever lock up. Gramps is always here and…” She shrugged. It was Raven’s Cove. If a local walked into your house, they needed what they came for and left a note telling you what they had borrowed. By the time strangers showed up in the summer, she was leaving all her windows open anyway, trying to catch a breeze.
Also, Gramps and Biyen were the only things Sophie truly valued. So long as they were safe, she didn’t care who stole her refurbished laptop or took the company four-by-four for a joyride.
“Thanks.” Logan moved his duffel to the bed and opened it. “I’ll get the beer tomorrow when I pick up my groceries.”
That made her feel churlish, especially when she was being invited to eat with his family today.
“There’s no sense cooking two meals,” she grumbled. “The dishes alone will become a nuisance. We don’t have a dishwasher. Buy whatever you plan to make and we’ll take turns.”
“If that works for you, sure.”
“It does.” God, this was going to be awful. She could tell. “I’ll see you over there.”
“Copy that.”
She thumped down the stairs and hit the shower. A cold one.
*
Sophie left her hair down to dry and smeared on sunscreen that Emma had given her. It doubled as a moisturizer, was reef safe, and didn’t feel like a coat of paint, which was the reason she had always resisted wearing sunscreen in the past—and wound up lobster red beneath her freckles as a result.
She pulled on her best pair of shorts and a ribbed tank top, then tied a flannel around her waist, anticipating the temperature would drop with the sun.
As she came out to the kitchen, she found Logan rinsing the draining tray after putting away the dishes.
“What are you doing?”
“Crew not cargo, baby.”
“Heh. That comes straight out of your dad’s Handbook for Evaluating Humans,” she said with a wistful chuckle.
She missed Wilf Fraser. A lot. He had been a very flawed man, one who had never made a politically correct joke in his life. In his view, if he had hired a woman, he couldn’t possibly be sexist. One of his son’s mothers was Indigenous, so how could he be racist?
Wilf had dreamed bigger than he could accomplish with his limited education and complete disregard for the reality of his finances. He had started more jobs than any one person could finish in a lifetime, and he had never, ever cleaned up after himself. Back when the boys were young, he would say, That’s why I had three sons.
Boy oh boy, had that brag come home to roost.
Working for him had been a challenge on many fronts, especially after Tiffany moved in with him, but Wilf had earned Sophie’s undying loyalty after he had hired her with only one year of apprentice training under her belt. She hadn’t even had to ask him for a job. He’d offered it. That had allowed her to leave Nolan and get on her feet as a single parent.
Wilf had also said, “You’re a smart girl, Soph. I never understood how you wound up rowing around cargo like that piece of shit.” Wilf had paid for the rest of her certification and, after Gramps had retired, left the running of the marina largely in her hands. Every time she asked for a raise, he gave her one without any quibbling.
