Page 38 of Shallow Remains

“That sounds nice.”

He lifted a broad shoulder. “They like it. We spend the holidays together and talk on the phone about once a week. I think my dad misses life on the island though.”

She nodded. “How old are you? And Grey?”

He didn’t so much as blink at the abrupt shift in topic. “Thirty-three. Grey’s two years younger.”

“I’m twenty-seven.” She figured he would want to know and would save him the trouble of asking.

A spark of humor glinted in his eyes. “Good to know. How did you get into IT?”

“I’ve always liked computers. They make sense to me. I understand them.” Coding. The language. The capabilities and limitations. “People, not so much.”

He grinned. “Yeah, people can be confusing.”

“Computers can be too. But people are messy. I have a hard time with the messy part.”

She would have sworn that was tenderness she read in his eyes. “How did you end up working for a military contractor overseas?”

She’d expected this to come up at some point. Had mentally prepared for it. Still, she wasn’t comfortable with telling him everything. Didn’t want to dwell on the things she was trying her best to move past, incident at the dock an hour ago notwithstanding.

“Money. The pay was too good to pass up. And maybe there was a rebellious piece of me that wanted to leave home and show my parents I could make something of myself without them.” The joke was on her.

“Is that where you met Blaine?”

“Yes. He was my boss. We worked together for more than a year. There’s nothing going on between us, by the way, and there never was. We’re just friends.” She wanted to make that clear.

Lachlan smiled a little. “I know.”

Right, of course. Because Blaine was with Xanthe now.

Their food arrived, saving her from having to answer more questions for the time being. Before starting, Maddy picked up her fork and carefully moved all the prawns to the edge of the bowl. She glanced up, saw Lachlan watching her.

“I don’t like my meat and vegetables to touch,” she explained with a shrug. He’d wanted to get to know her better. This was her being herself, and she refused to hide or apologize for it. “It’s a neurodivergent thing.”

“I don’t like it when most hot and cold foods touch. Like, gravy should never ever touch salad or fruit.” He made a face.

She grinned, her tension melting away. He was sweet to try and put her at ease in the face of her differences. “Exactly.”

The rest of the lunch was easy. Their conversation didn’t feel the least bit forced. She didn’t have to search for things to ask him or talk about. The words just flowed without effort.

It was liberating.

They lingered over crème brûlée and finished the pot of peppermint tea while they talked. When everything was finished, he paid the bill before she could argue and escorted her back to the boat, bright autumn sunshine glinting off the water, his hand warm and solid against the small of her back. Spreading more warmth through her veins.

He kept her beside him in the pilothouse on the trip back. Shielded from the wind and the cold salt spray, she stood close enough that their sides brushed every time the hull hit a wave. They talked for the first few minutes, then lapsed into silence, comfortable in each other’s presence and enjoying the stunning scenery.

By the time they made it back to Skelly, the sun was sinking into the western horizon, and she was sad their time together was over.

While he got everything squared away onboard, she took off her suit, stowed it neatly in the bin, and watched as he finished tying the lines. As he straightened and turned to face her, the deep coral sunlight slanted through the clouds, lighting his face and creating fiery highlights in his deep brown hair and beard.

He took her breath away.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head, hardly daring to believe he was real. “You are so handsome,” she said in awe.

Surprise flashed across his face. Then he sighed. “Now, see, what am I supposed to do with that?”