Page 53 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Thirty

Peeking in the front door of Emerald Cottage, Brec scanned the great room and kitchen, spying Molly reading a book on a chaise out on Miss Lilly’s deck. All but tiptoeing across the room into the kitchen, he opened one of the back sliding doors that overlooked the lake and popped his head out. “Where’s Aunt Lilly?”

Molly glanced up in surprise, obviously expecting a clothes horse like him to be gone longer when he said he was going shopping. “She left for pinochle at Mabel’s, remember? It’s the first Thursday of the month.”

“Good.” He started to close the door.

“Wait,” Molly said, “why are you back so early and why is it good Miss Lilly’s not home?”

“You’ll see,” he said, giving her a secret smile as he carefully shut the door. Striding through the house with purpose, he unloaded a huge box from his leased Range Rover Sport and carried it to the deck, where he set it down on Miss Lilly’s patio table.

“What on earth is that?” she said with mouth agape, looking so sexy in her short shorts and tank top on this unusually warm autumn day that he almost lost track of what he was doing.

Almost.

Grinning, he opened the box and proceeded to lay out its contents on the large wrought iron and glass patio table, prompting a soft gasp from Molly’s lips.

“Oh my gosh,” she said, the whites of her eyes expanding along with her mouth, “you bought scuba gear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Joy swelled in his chest over how tickled Aunt Lilly would be when he found more sunken treasure. “A complete scuba gear system from wetsuit, mask, fins, lamp, and air tank, to buoyancy control device, gauges, scuba computer, underwater camera, and everything in between.

Tossing her book aside, Molly jumped up, smile sagging as she hurried over to check everything out. “So you’re going diving in the lake?”

“Treasure hunting,” he corrected as he tweaked one of her blond curls, chest expanding over what a brilliant idea it was. His mouth slid sideways. Hers, actually, not his.

Fists raised, she actually squealed and hopped in the air before she threw her arms around him with a giggle. “Oh, Breccan Striker Man McGill—I could just kiss you!”

Fire flashed through him at the thought, the press of her body against his sparking dangerous ideas. A slow grin eased across his lips as he pushed her back, holding her at arm’s length while his gaze roamed to her lips and back. “Well, don’t let me stop you …”

Like the strike of a match, the heat pulsing through his veins instantly suffused in her beautiful face, prompting her to take a faltering step back. “Uh, I think a hug should do.”

“Speak for yourself,” he said, tone dry as he glanced at his watch. “What time is Miss Lilly back?”

“Not till dinner because the ladies have lunch, then play all afternoon, so is that enough time?”

“Yep. For now.” He grabbed the wet suit, tearing the plastic packing off with a wink. “Figured I could give her an early birthday present with a treasure chest sewing box.”

She did another adorable hop. “Oh my gosh, you’re a genius, Brec!”

“Thank you,” he said as he balled up the plastic wrapping. “But unfortunately I can’t take all the credit because it was actually your idea.”

“Mine?” She ducked her chin, face in a scrunch. “How you figure?” She grabbed the trash from his hand.

“Because you got that Nancy Drew look in your eyes after you talked to Cal the other night, so I knew you’d love for me to go down and take a look, eh?”

She blinked, then slowly grinned ear to ear. “Well, yes, I will admit I’ve been more suspicious lately since my nightmare. So much so that I’ve been nosing around when Cat and I take our walks, talking to as many neighbors as we can. But I never expected this,” she said, both hands outstretched toward the gear on the patio table.

She issued a contented sigh. “Thank you so much, Brec—this is awesome! Not only you treasure-hunting for Miss Lilly, mind you, but because I can’t help but feel there might be a connection between everything that’s happened here at Emerald Cottage and Roy’s murder, you know? That somehow everything is tied to Uncle Hal’s collection.” She shook her head, her eyes glowing with an admiration that could easily side-track him. “But it never occurred to me that we could dive down into the lake to check it out!”

He arched a brow. “We?”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh … yes, we! Who do you think is going to tend your line while you’re down there, mister—a sea gull? I don’t care how experienced you are, buster, I’m not letting you dive without a tender. We’re a team in caring for Miss Lilly, Brec, so it only makes sense that we work together on this too”—she smirked—“even if you’re the one who’s all wet.”

“Very funny. I’m going to change, so if you’ll be kind enough to take the plastic wrap off of everything and let the lift down for the dory, I’ll be ready to go in a jiff.”

By the time Brec had changed into the wetsuit, he was pretty sure she was more excited than him. Chattering nonstop, she all but bounced while she helped carry his equipment to the 22-foot C-dory boat Aunt Lilly said Uncle Hal bought especially for Brec. “Said he wanted something stable underneath his boy’s feet,” she’d told him once with a mist in her eyes, “especially since your dad capsized his fishing boat with a sewin’ box of doubloons.”

Cleaning and detailing the 2001 C-dory had been a labor of love he’d tackled the first month he’d arrived, every moment taking him back to wonderful memories with the man who was more like a grandfather than a great uncle. He’d nearly burst with pride at the look of awe on his aunt’s face when he took her for a ride, followed by a swift swell of tears in her gaze that threatened his own. Since then, the dory had been put to good use via fishing excursions with Molly and others, as well as sunset sails that always put a glimmer of mist in Aunt Lilly’s eyes.