“Och, it’s notjustan adventure novel. You said it was historically accurate.”
“It is.”
“Then explain to me how a one-legged man manages to be the most competent person on an entire ship. Everyone else is falling over themselves, getting drunk, and making terrible decisions, and Silver’s just hopping around being all strategic and deadly. One leg, Agnes. On a rocking ship. In the 1700s.”
Agnes’s lips twitched. “Prosthetics were actually quite sophisticated by that era. And there are documented cases of amputee sailors who?—”
“You’re going to give me a history lecture, aren’t you?”
“You asked a question. This is what happens when you ask me questions.”
“I’m not complaining.” I was close, near enough to seethe flecks of gold in her eyes. “I like when you lecture me. You get this look on your face, like you’re genuinely baffled that everyone doesn’t find maritime history as fascinating as you do.”
“Maritime historyisfascinating. The Age of Sail shaped the entire modern world.”
“See? That look. Right there.” I tapped my finger against the counter, near her hand but not quite touching. “It’s very attractive, for the record.”
Agnes’s breath caught. I watched her throat work as she swallowed.
“Graham...”
“The soup’s getting cold,” I said, straightening. “Eat. Then you can tell me what else I should read.”
She hesitated, clearly torn between arguing and giving in. Finally, she reached for the container and peeled back the lid. The warm scent of creamy leek and pepper filled the small space.
“This is bribery,” she said, but she was already reaching for the spoon I’d packed.
“It’s lunch. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Bribery would imply I want something from you.” I moved around the counter, heading toward the back of the shop where I knew she kept the extra stock. “I’m just being a good friend.”
“Where are you going?”
“You’ve got a shipment that came in yesterday. I saw the boxes when I walked past this morning.” I glanced back over my shoulder. “I’m going to help you unpack it.”
“I don’t need help.” Agnes arched a brow at me.
“I know you don’t. You’re insanely capable. It’s one of your more intimidating qualities, but it doesn’t hurt to let people help you once in a while.”
“Says the man who only just hired part-time help at the pub.”
I skewered her with a look and went to find the stack of boxes. Hoisting two in my arms, I returned to the front and placed them down carefully. “But I’m here, and I’ve got an hour before I’m due back at the pub, so you might as well put me to work.”
Agnes stared at me, spoon halfway to her mouth. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“This.” She gestured vaguely with the spoon. “The soup. Helping with my boxes. Being...”
“Charming? Helpful? Devastatingly handsome?”
“Nurturing? Pushy? I can’t decide.” Agnes squinted at me but at last she spooned up more soup, so I was happy.
She wasn’t wrong…in some senses. She had been doing everything on her own for a long time and was supremely capable and my added commitment to herwasnew. But what Lachlan and Munroe said the other day made sense. Agnes hadn’t told me that she didn’t love me or that she didn’t want me. Which meant … I had a chance. And there was no way in hell I wasn’t going to take any opening. I had to at least try.There is something stopping us from becoming an us, but it’s not a lack of love.
“I know something’s bothering you, and even if you won’t let me help with whatever it is, I can at least make sure you’re eating and not buried under inventory.” I shrugged, professing nonchalance.
