She gave a flourish of her hands. “Thank you.”
Deciding to steer the conversation away from the murky topics that left him unsettled, he asked her about the island. “Any favorite views or lookouts we should find?”
“All of the views are my favorite,” she replied instantly. “The horizon or the island, doesn’t matter. Don’t forget the marshes.”
“Not a chance.” He was sure she was thinking about their first kiss on the boardwalk. The view of marsh grasses stretching to the horizon as twilight fell was permanently etched in his memory. He moved out toward open water, focused on his real purpose. “When was the last time you saw the Hideaway from the ocean?”
“It’s been a few years,” she admitted, glancing around. “Is it unethical to do some long-distance snooping at the construction site? It’s impossible to see much from the street. And well, I’ve learned my lesson about trespassing.”
He laughed, hoping she meant it. “I brought binoculars.” He toed the bag. “Help yourself.”
“I should’ve known you’d be prepared.” Her smile made him feel as if he’d aced an important test. She put the binoculars to her eyes. “These are awesome, though they won’t be enough to tell me what I really want to know.”
Maybe he should’ve brought the drone along. “What’s that?”
“If my con man ex-husband has any part in that Indigo Reef development. Celeste told me again today to forget about it, but that’s like asking the sun to stop rising.”
Trent held his tongue. Any thoughts of getting those answers for her would have to wait for both more intel and better timing.
With a shake of her head, she lowered the binoculars to her lap. “He isn’t relevant, especially not today. Do you ever do any birdwatching?”
He reached a point that gave them a good view of both the Hideaway and the construction on the neighboring property and set the motor to idle. A boat this size, floating off-shore, wouldn’t raise any suspicions. Anyone who noticed them would assume they were fishing or hanging out enjoying the sunset. And if Royer was close enough to suffer some anxiety, Trent couldn’t be sorry about it.
“Never got into it. Except for one local pelican.”
Her mouth curled into a sweet smile. “Everyone loves the pub.”
“No. Not the pub.Yourpelican,” he clarified. “That sculpture is beautiful and whimsical. A joy and discovery from every angle. Brookwell was right to commission those pieces. Your talent, Natalie, is breathtaking. The way you see the world and express that vision is so unique.”
“Thank you.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “You may have missed your calling as an art critic.”
“You’re blushing,” he noticed.
“That was high praise.” She fanned her face. “Go me!”
“How long were you married?” She’d mentioned spring break to winter holidays. “If that’s not being too nosy.”
Her eyebrows knitted. “Nine months, give or take.”
Trent was sure she knew the exact number of months, days, and hours between saying her vows and finalizing the divorce. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault I got swept off my feet. Really, my ex is an entire cautionary tale and I’m better for the experience. Stronger, too.”
Maybe. He had serious questions about how her ex had hurt her, but pushing her for information felt all wrong. Especiallywhen he hoped to make this evening a fun date with a little recon. So he’d settle for the vague crumbs she offered.
“Ever been married?” she queried, lifting the binoculars again. “Or close?”
He was happy to play this game. “No and no.” She made a small humming sound he took as approval. “Are you expecting to see your ex on the site?”
“No.” She sighed, giving up on her long-distance snooping. “Jackson schemes. Honest labor—the potential of working up a sweat—is not his thing. If he’s over there,” her tone dropped to a grumble, “it’s only to bluster about investors and resale values and get in the way.” She leaned back, tipping her face to the sky. “His loose connection to the developers frustrates me. I know what he’s capable of. I need to let it go. I’ve only seen him here once.”
“One time too many?” he asked, scanning the shoreline in search of Royer’s kayak.
“Exactly.” She pushed to her feet. “Want a drink?”
“Sure. I’ll take a Coke, please.”
She returned with two cans of soda. He lowered the binoculars, frustrated that he had yet to find a likely spot for Royer to be hiding. Could be the man was out, working on his next step in either escaping or causing more trouble. “Thanks,” he said, taking the Coke.
