I glance down at my dress in horror, but apart from a faint stain from the vodka tonic, it’s dry and opaque once again.
“Shit,” I murmur.
“Hey, if you’re worried about Woody, don’t be. He’s been through a lot worse than having some guy try and start a fight with him before. Alotworse.”
Something in Declan’s words makes me lift my eyes to study his face. He runs a hand around the back of his neck like he’s said too much.
“But look, if you want to go and tell him you appreciate him looking out for you, then he’ll probably be at the old bungalow at the far end of the beach checking it’s all locked up for the night. I can show you where it is if you like?”
Mel meets my eyes, and I know she’s dying to ask me what I meant in the bar when I snapped at Woody about how he’s twenty hours too late. But Declan’s been with us ever since, and she’s too good of a friend to ask me what I meant in front of him.
“No, thanks. I know where it is. I’ll be fine from here,” I tell Declan.
Mel’s brows shoot up as she takes my admission as a confession about last night. I give her a subtle nod and she presses her lips together hard like she’s having to physically restrain herself from jumping at me with a barrage of questions.
“I’ll walk you back,” Declan tells Mel.
“Okay, thanks.”
She looks at me for clarification.
“Go, I’ll be fine,” I assure her.
The two of them head in the opposite direction, but she swivels her head back toward me.
Pierced?she mouths.
I nod.
She raises her brows, mouthing her next question.Big?
I sigh.
Huge, I mouth back, shaking my head at the way her face splits in half with a grin.
Declan was right. This must be where he is. There’s a faint glow coming from the old bungalow, like a small lamp is on inside. It’s only when I inch open the door and peer inside that I see it’s a single candle in a glass hurricane jar.
“Isn’t that a fire hazard with all the wood?”
He turns as soon as he hears my voice.
“What’s the worst that can happen? I get burned alive?”
I step inside and push the door closed behind me.
“Such a weird response. I shouldn’t expect anything else from you though, should I?” I fold my arms and lean back against the inside of the door.
“Thought you’d be with your new friend.” He sniffs, picking up some wood and tossing it gently into a pile.
“The atmosphere went south after you came over,” I reply, choosing to look more closely around the space than at him.
The light’s too low to see much further past what would have been the bungalow’s main bedroom area. But what I can see is still pretty impressive. Piles of driftwood, some part worked on, others not. A myriad of ocean animals filling some thick wooden shelves on the wall. And a giant sheet of glass propped up against one wall.
“What’s that for?” I tip my head toward it.
“A table.” He grunts.
“You make furniture too?”
