It read:Īsk “Can I help you?” in a tone that suggests you actually mean it, and not that you’d like to rip the head off whoever’s interrupting you. There was a brief pause, a hesitation that made him feel like a jackass as his gaze skimmed the big sign that Cole had taped above the phone for Sam’s benefit alone. Besides, Sam knew damn well it amused the hell out of them to make him answer the phone.įinally he snatched the phone just to shut it up and snarled, “Lucky Harbor Charters.”

No, for his two partners to get something, they had to be hit over the head with it. But neither Cole nor Tanner was good at hints.

He’d been ignoring the calls while trying to work, figuring one of the guys would get the hint and pick up.

The phone rang again, and the accompanying red lights gave him an eye twitch. Still, Sam should’ve bought the thing himself just to keep it empty. The place had been up for sale for years now, but no one in Lucky Harbor was stupid enough to sink any equity into that money pit. Not his call, of course, but he didn’t like that the landlord had put her in there, alone. The warehouse she’d rented was a complete piece of shit, cold in the winter, hot in the summer, not easily secured or safe. She had a backbone, but she also had those warm, soulful brown eyes, and one of those smiles that could draw a man right in.Īnd a sassiness that could hold him there. If his childhood hadn’t drilled it into him, then working on an oil rig for seven years-where paying attention meant the difference between life and death-had certainly done so.īut damn if not two seconds later his gaze flickered to the window again. He turned his concentration back to the hull. The sky was a kaleidoscope of colors as the sun vanished, but he could still see the quiet, industrial street, and the backside of Tough Girl as she walked off.Īnd walking off was just as he wanted her, too. Sam Brody lifted his head from the boat he was building and let his gaze drift to the north-facing window. And if that thought caused a little pang of loneliness inside her still-hurting heart, she shoved it deep and ignored it, because now wasn’t the time to give in to the magnitude of what she’d done. He plugged the planer in and flicked it on again. Then he nodded and moved back to his work. Lucky Harbor is sort of a pit stop for me at the moment.” “Depends on how long you’re staying,” he said. “What do you need with that place?” he asked.

It's in His Kiss by Jill Shalvis