Hooked on You Page 4

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He rubs his stomach. “I want to.”

  I shake my head at him. “I can’t imagine a lobster fisherman wanting to eat lobster for dinner.”

  “Wait, you think I’m—”

  “What the hell?” someone yells, the screen door banging open. “Who the fuck tried to burn the place down?”

  “That would be Sam,” Nate says. “He’s loud, bat-shit crazy, funny, and swears like a sailor. You’re going to love him. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  Chapter Four

  Nate

  I climb from the shower and knot a towel around my waist before I make my way to my room at the end of the hall. The old house is big, with six bedrooms available for us, save for Gram’s. It has been vacant out of respect all this time, and it’s fitting that Gram’s granddaughter should occupy it now.

  The door to her room is cracked slightly, and I can’t help but glance in as I pass. I didn’t know Gram, but a floral bedspread with matching pillows and curtains, along with a wall full of paintings, is exactly how I’d expect her room to look. I’m about to walk past when heavy textbooks, stacks of paper, and three laptops on the bureau catch my eye. What the heck? Is Kira studying for some big exam?

  I move when footsteps sound on the creaky stairs. Sam chose that chore last week. I fully expect the stairs to be creak-free in a week or two. The fishermen who stay here are an honest, hard-working bunch, but I can understand Kira’s worry about sharing a home with a group of strange people. Running a B&B on the honor system is strange, for sure. I think it’ll take some time for her to wrap her brain around that, and I sense part of her is still grieving.

  The crew will have to find new accommodations after she sells the place, but I’m hoping to be in my home long before that. It’s late October, but we still have a few more weeks to break ground on the new plant, presuming we can secure the piece of land in the next couple of days and expedite the paperwork.

  In my room, I try not to think about Kira running into the kitchen half naked. Fuck, man, I thought she was cute when I met her earlier today, but seeing her long, wet, honey-blonde hair flirting with the two bumps hidden behind her thin cotton shirt and catching sight of her shapely legs and smooth, creamy skin…

  Jesus, she’s fucking gorgeous, and in that instant, I wanted her in the worst ways.

  I tug on a pair of jeans and a clean sweater. The Grand Banker isn’t a fancy place, but they have the best damn seafood in town. Shoes in hand, I head downstairs. One of Gram’s rules is no footwear in the house, and we all respect that.

  I peek into the kitchen, living room, and dining room but can’t find Kira anywhere. Her car is still out back, so she must be here somewhere. “Kira,” I call out.

  “In here.”

  I follow the sound and find her in the back den. The room is small—too small for a bedroom—and has no windows.

  “This is perfect,” she says, a smile lighting up her pretty face. She looks happy, in her comfort zone in the den.

  “Perfect for what?” An isolation chamber? A prisoner’s solitary confinement. I back out of the room, feeling claustrophobic.

  She blinks up at me with unsure eyes. “I’m going to claim this space if that’s okay with everyone.”

  “No one is using it, and you don’t have to ask. This is your place.”

  She frowns and looks down. “I don’t want to put anyone out, though.”

  “What is this room perfect for?” I ask.

  She picks up a stack of papers, taps the bottom edges on the desk a few times to arrange them, then sets the stack neatly near yet another laptop. How many computers does she need?

  “I just have some work to do while I’m here,” she says.

  I give her a second to elaborate, but whatever she’s working on is not my business, apparently. That’s okay. She’s entitled to her secret. Just like I’m entitled to mine. Bridgette’s boy. Christ, I could have throat punched Jason.

  I shove my hands into my pockets. “Hungry?”

  “I’m starving, actually.” Her focus moves to my sweater then sweeps the length of me. Damn, is she checking me out? “Am I dressed okay?” she asks.

  Guess not.

  Which is a good thing. I’m not about to start something with her.

  “The place isn’t elaborate, but the food is good. You’ll need a coat, though.” I walk to the front room and grab mine from the closet. She glances in before I shut the door behind me.

  “About that. I didn’t pack one. I was sure I did, but then I got distracted…” Her words fall off as she stops to examine a picture of a young girl hung near the front entrance.

  I walk up to her, put my mouth near her ear, and whisper, “Does that happen often?”

  She makes a high-pitched squeaking sound similar to the one she made today when I rolled her across the road. “For a big guy, you’re quite stealthy.”

  “You disappeared for a minute there.”

  “Just thinking,” she says. I drop my coat over her shoulders to keep her warm, and she stares at it like it might come alive and bite her. Jesus, could she be any more adorable?

  She begins to shrug out of it, but I stop her. “I can’t—”

  “There isn’t a guy in this house who will let you leave without proper gear. It’s a thing.”

  “What about you? I’m not about to—”

  “Jason, Sam, Cody,” I yell out. Cody had come home a bit later, and after a brief introduction to Kira, he went to his room, likely to play video games. Izzy was probably out knocking back a beer at the Anchor, the local watering hole. We all have our own way of winding down after a hard day.

  A chorus of, “What,” comes from upstairs.

  “Kira is trying to leave the house without a coat.”

  Footsteps pound on the wooden stairs, and I grin as big brown eyes take in the most blatant display of machismo I’ve ever seen. Unlike any other fishing village I’ve been in, Lunenburg has a sense of family, everyone looking out for everyone else. Kira doesn’t stand a chance of getting out of here underdressed.

  “I forgot my coat.” She waves a dismissive hand that is lost on these guys. “It’s no big deal. I don’t plan to be around for the snow, so I don’t want to waste money buying one when I have a perfectly good coat back home.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll start a coat fund,” Jason says, his head bobbing.

  “Yeah, good plan. I’ll grab a pickle jar from the shed,” Sam says, looking at Jason.

  “Good idea,” Cody pipes in, and pulls a ten spot from his pocket. “I’ll donate first.”

  “I’m right here,” Kira blurts out. “And I’m not a charity case. You guys don’t have to look out for me. I can buy my own coat. I just don’t need one yet.”

  “Your Gram was our Gram, too,” Jason says, jabbing his thumb into his chest. “The way I see it, that makes you our sister. You’ve got four big brothers, Kira, whether you like it or not.”

  Four? I’m not so sure I think of her as my sister. Actually, yeah, no. I don’t. I don’t think of her that way at all.

  “And a sister,” Sam says. “Wait until you meet Izzy.”

  The guys laugh, and she says, “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing’s funny,” I say. Izzy is one of the toughest members of our crew, but underneath it all, she has a heart of gold. She’s going to take Kira under her wing whether Kira likes it or not. It’s clear she’s a girl who can take care of herself—hell, she drove across the country in a rental, and that’s no small feat—but these folks will wear her down, and I get the sense that, deep inside, she might just like being a part of the B&B family. As for me, I’m their roommate and their boss—a Lancaster at heart—which means there will always be a degree of separation.

  Kira bites her lip, but there is a wistfulness about her.
I have no doubt her layers go deep, and damned if something inside me doesn’t want to peel them away, discover all her little secrets. I’m not about to go down that road, but that still doesn’t stop my dick from twitching, its half-cocked pea brain envisioning those layers as clothes and stripping Kira down to her bare skin. She might be small, but that T-shirt showcased breasts that would fit perfectly in my palms, my mouth.

  Shit, get it together, dude.

  “We watch out for each other here. If Gram knew I’d let you out of here without a coat…” Sam tugs on his nuts and makes scissor actions with his other hand.

  “I think she gets it, Sam,” I say. “We could have done without the visual.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll wear it.” She tucks her arms into the coat, and the three guys fold their barrel arms across their chests and watch.

  I give her a small nudge to set her into motion. “Come on, I’ll drive. I know which streets to take to avoid Eddie.”

  “I heard about that,” Cody says. “Good thing Bridgette’s boy here was quick on his feet.” He taps his head. “He’s not always so quick up here.”

  I eye Cody with a warning glare, and he just gives me a grin, the same one that has the girls around town dropping their panties. But it’s all in good fun. I might be their boss, but I think they appreciate that I’m not afraid to spend a day on the boat, work my ass off with the rest of them.

  “More lies,” I whisper into Kira’s ear, and she chuckles as I open the back door for her. I love that the guys took an instant liking to her and seem ready to treat her like a sister. They’d expect me to do the same and probably wouldn’t like the dirty thoughts running around my head.

  She steps past me. Once again, I catch her sweet vanilla scent, reminding me of cupcakes. Damn, I might have one for dessert later. Or better yet…

  Nope, nope, not going to go there.

  I pull out of the driveway. “How long has it been since you’ve been back?” I ask, casting her a fast glance.

  She puckers her lips and stares straight out the window. “Eight years. I wanted to come back earlier. I’ve just been busy.” She turns to look out the passenger side window, and I go quiet, sensing she has something on her mind. Something she’d rather not share.

  I ease my big truck between two vehicles and kill the ignition. “All set?”

  She opens her door, and I circle the vehicle to meet her. I look left and then right and give her a wink. “All clear. No assholes out tonight.”

  Wind from the ocean rushes onto the land and swirls around us. A gust catches Kira’s too-big coat and turns it into a parachute. She yelps as it pushes her forward until her feet are practically airborne. I run and catch her, throwing my arm around her and dragging her to me before she blows away.

  “I got you,” I say, trying to ignore how nice it is to have her body close to mine.

  “Thanks,” she mumbles.

  We hurry up the steps to the restaurant, and heat blasts us as I pull open the door. The bell overhead jingles to alert staff to our presence as Kira tugs down the hood and shakes her head, her long hair falling over her shoulders and cheeks.

  “It’s freezing out,” she says, blowing the wayward curls from her face. I can’t help but smile. Her hair is all over the place, some curls standing straight up from static electricity, and she’s not dashing to the bathroom to fix it. She looks sweet, not at all like the other women I’ve dated, and she’s definitely a breath of fresh air.

  “Once the sun goes down, it cools off quickly,” I inform her as she shrugs out of the coat and puts it over her arm.

  The hostess comes and gives us a seat by the window, overlooking the ocean with the golf course off in the distance. Kira smiles as she takes in the view.

  “I think this is the best seat in the place,” she says as she glances around the nearly empty establishment. It’s still early, but things will pick up later.

  “You were going to buy lobster, so I take it you like seafood.”

  “I do. I eat a lot of fish.”

  “You know, come to think of it. Gram has a few old winter coats in the hall closet. They might be out-of-date, but I’m sure one would work.”

  She gives me a small smile. “I’ll check it out. I actually thought I had a coat with me. We rarely need a heavy one in British Columbia.”

  “Nova Scotia is an entirely different story.” I flip open my menu, but already know what I’m ordering. “We had snow last week.”

  She crinkles up her nose. “Yuck.”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  She leans toward me, in an almost conspiratorial way. “I’ve seen lots of snow in other places, but we don’t get a lot of it, and when it does fall, it rarely lasts. It mostly rains where I live.”

  “You’ve never visited Gram in the winter?”

  She shakes her head, and wisps of hair fall into her eyes. She blows them away and tucks the loose strands behind her ears. “I spent many summers here when I was young. I think Mom and Dad wanted me out from underfoot. When I got older, more independent, they didn’t need to send me away. Then there was work and school.”

  She shrugs like it’s nothing, but to me it’s a fucking tragedy. What the hell do I say to that?

  “Then you never played in the snow? No snowball fights? No sledding?”

  Jenny, the waitress who’s served me a thousand times appears at the table. She pulls out her pen and notebook. “Can I start you guys off with drinks?”

  I hand Kira the drink menu, and she gives it a quick scan.

  “What would you like?” I ask.

  “I’ll have house white wine, please.” She hands the menu back to me, but I just set it aside.

  “Sounds good. How about you, Nate?”

  “I’ll have a beer, whatever’s on tap.”

  She nods and heads off. Kira looks over her food menu, and the dim light catches the speck of green in her dark eyes, giving her an ethereal, innocent quality.

  “Wait—you’re old enough to drink, aren’t you?”

  Her lips pucker like she’d just sucked on something sour, and she gives a hard eye roll. “I’m twenty-seven. Old enough to do a lot of things.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she sits up a bit straighter, and a sexy, pink flush crawls up her neck. “I mean…”

  “Like rent a car and drive it across the country?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Why not fly?”

  “My idea of a good time is not climbing into a soup can and catapulting through space.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly catapulting through space.”

  She shakes her head like she refuses to hear differently. Honestly, this girl is all kinds of interesting. “What is your idea of a good time?” I ask.

  Before she can answer, Jenny comes back with our drinks. “Did you have enough time with the menu?”

  “What are you thinking?” I ask Kira.

  She closes her menu. “I think I’ll have the seafood chowder.”

  “Always a fan favorite,” Jenny says. She glances at me. “The usual?”

  “You know it.”

  We hand her our menus, and Kira is watching me. “You come here often?”

  I nod and turn the conversation back to her. “Are your folks out in British Columbia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Brothers or sisters?” I ask, but I’m guessing the answer is no.

  For a brief second, she draws in her bottom lip and casts her eyes downward. “No, it was just the three of us. We’re not close.” Her head lifts, and she looks off into the distance as she fiddles with the stem of her wineglass.

  “But you want to be,” I say, and instantly wish I hadn’t.

  The sadness that comes over her hits like a punch. I’m delving into the personal here, and these questions are none of my business.


  “What makes you say that?” she asks.

  Wanting to lighten the mood, I say, “Don’t play poker—you have tells.” I take a big drink of beer, draining almost half the glass.

  “I do not.” Her chin lifts, her look indignant.

  “Fine, then. Strip poker later,” I tease.

  “No, I am not playing any kind of poker with you. I’m not interested in taking your money or your clothes.”

  A woman not interested in my money or my clothes—now that’s a new one. Oh right, she thinks I’m a lobster fisherman, not a CEO. I need to straighten her out on that. But I do kind of like her not knowing. Conversation has been easy between us, no stress, no awkward moments, but that can change on a dime once a woman discovers I’m a multi-millionaire.

  Not that I ever bring it up. I’m not a complete asshole, and I don’t want to come off as some boastful jerk. But in this situation, I should broach the subject at some point tonight.

  But just now, I wiggle my brow. “Ooh, braver words have never been spoken.”

  She lifts her chin. “Words I can back up, mind you.”

  I do love a woman with confidence. I smile at her, realizing I’m having a good time. I haven’t dated in so long that I’d forgotten what it was like. Not that we’re dating. I’m not trying to start anything personal with her. “It’s on.”

  She takes a sip of wine. “You were warned.”

  I laugh. “Listen, about what I do—”

  She lifts her hand to stop me. “Can we please not talk about work? I rather talk about anything else. Why don’t you tell me about your family, how long you’ve been fishing?”

  “I’ve been fishing my entire life,” I say honestly. “I think I had a rod in my hand before a spoon. We all did.”

  “We?”

  “I have three older brothers.”

  That wistfulness comes over her again. “That sounds wonderful. I would have killed for a brother or sister.”

  “You have a houseful now, or did you forget? You might come to regret it, though. Speaking of killed, I’m lucky to have made it out of childhood alive.”

  She’d picked up her glass to take another drink, but it stills inches from her mouth. “What?”