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“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Prince,” I greet.
“Please call me Norris,” he says.
I nod. “Norris.”
Bran leads me deeper inside the building so I can check out their boat design.
“That’s brilliant,” I say as I look over the drawings.
“How do you think it’ll do against Bob’s design?” Bran asks.
I slide my eyes to him and grin. “Oh, no, I’m not giving up any secrets. I’m Switzerland in this competition,” I say.
He laughs.
“Do you mind if I get a few more pics for the magazine?”
“No, go right ahead.” He gives his permission.
I stay and watch them work. The skill they put into every piece of the model is impressive.
“You’ll have to send me a photo of the completed boat,” I request as Bran walks me out to the SUV.
“I’ll do that. It was nice meeting you and your daughter. You and Cobie have a safe trip.”
“Thanks, and merry Christmas.”
He and Norris stand in the doorway and wave until I make the turn toward downtown and lose sight of them.
I park in a lot a couple of blocks from the flower shop and step out onto the sidewalk. My footsteps echo down the deserted downtown streets as I walk. The shops that are usually bustling with life are silent and shrouded in darkness, their windows reflecting the falling snowflakes like stars in the night sky.
I pull my coat tighter around me, the chill of the winter night seeping through the fabric and into my bones.
When I make it to the door, I tug it gently to find it is still unlocked.
A bell chimes, and I fish my phone from my pocket and click the flashlight on so I can see to twist the dead bolt behind me.
I locate the staircase hidden behind the glass display case and take the steps two at a time until I reach a scarred wooden door.
I try the doorknob before knocking and find she’s left it unlocked for me as well.
I step inside the tiny studio apartment. There is a wide sectional sofa and ottoman to the left, and a small, round dining table with three mismatched chairs in front of a sleek kitchenette.
The glow from the white lights of the petite Christmas tree illuminates a silhouette curled in a ball on the queen-size bed that is propped against the far wall.
I tug off my coat and boots and set them by the door before going to her.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I commit the sight of her sleeping to memory.
Her long, dark lashes are resting against her pink cheeks. Light-brown hair is twisted into a messy knot, held in place on top of her head by a silk hair tie. Her mouth is parted and releases a light snore with every breath.
I have to resist the overwhelming urge to pull her into my lap and strip the oversize T-shirt she’s wearing from her body as I kiss the sleep from her eyes.
The jostle of my weight dipping the mattress causes her to rouse, and she blinks up at me.
“Isaac?”
Her voice is raspy from sleep, and I swear my body reacts to the sexy sound.
