Lighthouse Reef (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 4) Page 11

  “Hmm, sounds like to me he’s trying to do a nice thing maybe to make up for it.”

  Was it just that simple, Kinsey wondered? She sighed. “I guess I’m showing my bitchy side because I didn’t get much sleep last night. But who knew the man even possessed a nice side? Did you know he barely says a word at dinner? He just sits there scowling at everyone.”

  “I thought you said he talks down to everybody? If he just sits there and doesn’t say anything how does he do that?”

  “Whose side are you on anyway?” Kinsey snapped in a huff. She blew out a breath. “I am being bitchy, aren’t I? Logan Donnelly did a nice thing and I’m giving him a hard time.”

  Lilly snickered. “The only thing I noticed about the man is that he’s fairly gorgeous.”

  “Just because he’s gorgeous doesn’t mean he should get a pass when he’s a jerk.”

  “Of course not but…those green eyes of his and that sexy hair would be enough if it was just those two things. But the guy looks like he’s been working out.” Lilly fanned her face. “He’s better looking in person than the photo on his website.”

  “Tell me, does hubby of less than a year know you routinely ogle sexy men with long hair?”

  “I’m married, not dead,” Lilly said by way of explanation. “Besides, who doesn’t look at a hunk like Logan? Because I happen to be one of those women who adore long hair on men, I look. Sue me. And Logan Donnelly has a mane of hair to die for. Can I help it if I snagged the only other man in town with long, sexy hair?”

  Kinsey harrumphed. “Wally is hot. I noticed that right off. He has that whole surfer look going for him, too.” She sighed again just thinking how long it had been since she’d last had sex. She thought it was right after her mother died. “So Logan came into town? You saw him earlier?”

  “He came in about two-thirty, talked to Wally for a bit about your car. They had their heads buried under the hood. I remember because it was the same time Donna Oden stopped in for gas. Donna took her sweet time watching Logan mill around your car. Anyway, Donna let me know you wowed everyone at The Pointe last night.”

  “I don’t know about that but Perry was very pleased because he got a booking for Abby’s wedding in June, Abby Pointer not Abby Anderson. Right now, Perry’s walking on air pretty much as high as Abby is at the prospect of such a huge event. He’s sure the entire town will turn out for it. Anyway, it seems when Paul Bonner got back from Afghanistan he finally popped the question to Abby.”

  “Oh that is so sweet. Abby and Paul should make their own little red-haired Colleen a flower girl,” Lilly suggested.

  “I think that’s the plan.”

  “See, things are already looking up for you, Kinsey. There will be other special events, too, an opportunity to make extra cash. Many of us around town have taken the pledge to look out for our own, help each other out more.”

  “Jordan said the same thing. She and Nick, Murphy, too, are committed.” But as she thought about that statement, Kinsey wondered about Logan. Would the man ever allow anyone to look out for him?

  Saturday night Logan was due to meet with the Lighthouse Preservation Commission for dinner at The Pointe. The representatives intended to bring him up to speed on what exactly he needed to do to bring the lighthouse back to the way it had looked in the beginning.

  Even though Logan had pored through massive amounts of old documents, including photographs, spent hours researching everything he could on the Smuggler’s Bay project, he had a pretty good idea what he needed to do. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep an open mind. Besides, he thought it best to form a partnership of sorts with the Commission. Their expertise on historical matters would be invaluable. Staying in their good graces, so to speak, would get him closer to his goal to accomplish what he wanted.

  That’s why he’d agreed to sit down over dinner, meet with them, and discuss his plans in detail.

  Once Logan walked inside the lobby at the restaurant, he spotted two men, both holding fat briefcases. Logan knew John Norris and Dan Sullivan on site by their descriptions they’d given him in the emails they’d exchanged over the past three months. John, the older of the two, had thinning black hair graying at the temples and looked to be in his late fifties, while Dan was a good twenty years younger. That might be why Dan came across as glib, always quick with a joke and not nearly as staid as his counterpart. Logan had been able to tell that much about both men from their back and forth online banter.

  “Logan Donnelly, I’d know that face from the Internet,” John said, offering his hand in greeting.

  “And you’re John Norris. Good of you to drive all this way. I appreciate it. You, too, Dan.”

  “No problem. We’ve both been here several times before on trips to check out the lighthouse. We were ecstatic to learn someone had finally recognized its potential and finally snapped it up. Plus, it gave us an excuse to head here. Perry Altman runs a quality establishment,” John added. “I always stuff myself.”

  “Don’t know about you guys but I’ve been craving the lobster for a hundred miles,” Dan said about the same time Jolene picked up menus to direct them to their table.

  Behind the Steinway, Kinsey spotted Logan sit down with two men in the dining room, watched as Perry personally came over to fuss over the trio. From three tables away she could hear Perry pandering to Logan by telling him what a big fan he was of the man’s work.

  Typical, she thought, as she went into her renditions of Chopin’s Nocturnes. About that time, the music must have caught Logan’s attention because he looked over in the direction of the piano—and did a double-take.

  Kinsey saw his jaw drop open, stay that way until one of the men he was sitting with said something to him. When he leaned to his right to reply, she noted his eyes were still on her.

  Logan couldn’t stop staring at Kinsey, or the green dress she wore with the simple matching velvet choker wrapped around her sexy throat. She’d twisted up her caramel hair again in a knot similar to the way it had been last night, but this time soft wisps curled around her face and neck. He found himself itching to remove those pins holding it all up. He purposely had to focus on the lilting notes coming from the piano and not on her long legs which ended in matching opened-toed pumps. This time, her toenails glittered green. No woman’s feet had ever looked so inviting.

  Logan scrubbed his good hand over his face. Jesus, he needed to muzzle on his libido. After several long seconds, his two dinner companions followed Logan’s eyes to the woman.

  “Wow, she plays really well. She wasn’t here the last time I dined at The Pointe. I’d remember,” John commented.

  “Hey Perry,” Dan said, motioning for the owner to come back over. “Who’s the good-looking piano player?”

  But Logan didn’t wait for Perry to answer. “That’s Kinsey Wyatt. And she’s supposedly an attorney by day.” He was beginning to wonder if that were true. The woman looked perfectly at ease letting loose her passion for Chopin’s weeping tempo.

  “Really? I think I might need the services of a lawyer before I leave town,” Dan cracked as he patted his own chest.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Logan continued to watch the way Kinsey’s long slim fingers gracefully moved over the keys. Resentment built in him. She could have simply shared this with him last night but for some reason had chosen not to. But it wasn’t just that. Logan had prepared for this meeting with John and Dan for months. Now in the span of a few minutes, all his effort had been for nothing because he struggled to get his attention off Kinsey Wyatt. Why did the woman pull at him so? And why did he keep letting her?

  When their food arrived, Logan forced Kinsey into the background and did his best to focus on the list of recommendations from John and Dan, things about the lighthouse he hadn’t even considered. The Commission already had a team in place that specialized in the type of masonry work the lighthouse required. If he wanted the best, Logan should consider bringing them onboard. The crew had finished a similar projec
t in Oregon two weeks earlier and was available for immediate assignment.

  It sounded good to Logan. After the three men spent another hour going over all the details that would work best on the outside of the lighthouse, the ironwork, the craftsmanship it would take, after comparing notes on the history they had painstakingly dug up online, Logan watched John and Dan pack up their notes to leave.

  Logan headed to the bar, ordered a beer and sat there waiting for Kinsey to take her break. But to his surprise for the next several hours, the woman didn’t so much as budge to go to the bathroom. Stubbornly, he decided if he had to, he’d wait for the restaurant to close. Because he intended to stick until Kinsey got off work.

  He told himself he wanted to make sure she had a way back to Promise Cove. But it wasn’t the truth. While he might not want to leave her without a ride—even though she had certainly found her own way back to the B & B the previous night without him—they needed to clear the air.

  Around eleven-fifteen the place started to empty out. Busboys began to clear and stack dishes, wipe down tables. The wait staff began to tally their tips. Kinsey stood up and stretched her back. One glance at her tip jar and she knew it had been another good night. As she counted out her money, minus the cut she gave the wait staff, she made a mad dash to the restroom. To get there she had to go through the bar area. Since only the die-hards lingered, it wasn’t difficult to spot Logan sitting by himself at a pub table nursing what looked like a soft drink. She quickly slipped into the bathroom and was back in ten minutes, fresh lipstick in place. It was time to deal with Mr. Donnelly.

  “So you had my car towed, did you?” Kinsey declared, hands on her hips.

  He’d wondered if Kinsey meant to avoid him since he’d watched her duck into the ladies’ room. But here she was looking bright as a California poppy, standing right in front of him as if ready to do battle. That was fine by him. “Why did you let me think you had a date last night? Why didn’t you just tell me you played piano here?”

  Kinsey pulled out a chair and sat down. “You seemed to have it all figured out so—I thought—” She lifted a shoulder. “Why burst your bubble? By the way, thanks for taking the initiative to call Wally. I didn’t get to the car thing until after I got off work late afternoonish.” She grinned. “Which meant Wally probably wouldn’t have ordered the parts until Monday. This way, I get to pick it up sometime late morning. Thank you.”

  Even though he wondered if she had the cash to pay for the repairs, he said nothing. “I thought you might be mad.”

  “I was—for about five minutes—then it occurred to me you did something nice. Besides, Lilly sort of reminded me that it’s one of the perks of small towns. We should do nice things for each other more often.”

  About that time Perry came over. “I hate to break up this cozy little scene and shoo you two out of here, but we’re closed. Everyone’s ready to go home. We’re all just exhausted. It’s been a busy night.” He pointed a finger at Logan. “Don’t forget what you promised me. But if you do anything to hurt my piano player, I know people that will hunt you down and stalk you at art shows, even leave bad reviews for your work under all manner of unknown socks you’ll never be able to trace. Never mess with my restaurant or my piano player. Now scoot, both of you. Unless of course this handsome guy doesn’t intend to offer you a ride back to Promise Cove?” Perry lifted a brow in question.

  “I’ll see she gets home,” Logan replied.

  “Thanks,” Kinsey piped up. “I appreciate it.”

  “Hear that. Now get out of here and go someplace dark and romantic to do whatever it is young people do on such a beautiful moonlit night. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked as he led them out to the lobby and the double front doors.

  The minute they stepped outside, Logan pointed to his truck. “I’m parked over here.” He watched as Kinsey slipped off her shoes.

  After being cooped up for hours, she drew in deep breaths of the cool night air, and said, “Perry’s right, it is a gorgeous evening.”

  When she looked up at him, once again Logan had to fight that urge to run his fingers through all that hair.

  “Wait! Do you hear that? You can hear the surf from this spot.”

  Just as she’d done when they’d walked down to the cove a couple of days earlier, Kinsey all but skipped across the dark lot. He knew she’d gotten up very early that morning. She’d stood on her feet at Murphy’s Market for eight hours only to clock out there and put in another five more hours at the restaurant. Granted, she’d been sitting on her butt, but it still took a lot of energy to keep up the oomph enough to play like she did. And yet, to Logan she didn’t seem ready to fade. Kinsey, the livewire, reminded him of a Barbie version of the Energizer Bunny.

  Once they got on the road, Logan muted the ear-splitting Wasting Arrows CD he’d been listening to on the drive into town so they could have a conversation.

  “What did Perry mean back there when he said you promised him something?”

  “As soon as I’m out of this.” Logan held up his cast. “As soon as I’m able to start to work again, Perry wants to put on a show of my latest work in the gallery he owns in Santa Cruz.”

  “I didn’t even know Perry owned a gallery in Santa Cruz. That’s fantastic.”

  “I’ll have to contact my agent, make sure Valerie sees to all the details.”

  “You don’t seem…too excited about it. You know, Perry Altman didn’t live here when you were a boy, Logan,” she pointed out.

  “I’m aware of that,” he uttered. “But since I only have a few pieces on hand, that isn’t enough for a show. There’s a fair amount of pressure in getting work done and ready to exhibit. And I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. It could be next spring or beyond before I get to work again.”

  “For an artist that must…I don’t know, cause you a certain amount of heartache when you can’t create.”

  That surprised him. Not many people understood that the creative process could be long and arduous but when it was taken away it left an emptiness inside that couldn’t be filled or replaced with anything else but that specific outlet.

  “How did you hurt it, your hand?”

  “It’s a long story. Could we talk about something else?”

  “Sure. I’ve read about temperamental artists and their moods. Never met one though until you, although I did know a guy in high school who went on to be a screenwriter.”

  “Maybe you should enlighten me about moods.”

  “I’m sorry you’re so unhappy here, Logan. I read on the Internet about your recent divorce. You must miss her,” Kinsey said softly.

  Logan took his eyes off the road long enough to give her a long hard look. “Who? My ex-wife? Are you nuts? I almost allowed that succubus to drain my creativity. I almost lost my heart and soul to that witch.”

  “Wow! Bitter much? But Fiona Perez is so…beautiful. All those photos online of the both of you—”

  “Showed a very troubled couple,” Logan finished. “And those were the good days. What Fiona Perez excelled at was lying and manipulation. She could teach a course in how both are done to perfection.”

  “I see.”

  “And?”

  “It explains why you spend much of your time putting up a wall so that the outside world doesn’t see how unhappy you are about things or how much you’re hurting.”

  “I’ve got news for you, I’m over Fiona Perez.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Fiona.”

  “Psychoanalyzing me after four days is a little presumptive on your part, don’t you think? We’ve had what, three conversations? You know nothing about me except what a million other people have read on some professional website.”

  “Right. That’s my point. People know what you want them to know but nothing substantive or true.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I didn’t know you once lived in Pelican Pointe. I don’t think anyone knows that. You keep t
hings close to the vest, hoping no one gets to the real Logan Donnelly.”

  “Look, we all didn’t grow up cheery and bubbly like Kinsey Wyatt.”

  “Boy, are you way off. You’re entitled to your privacy. Everyone is. But you do not have to yell at me to get your point across. It’s unnecessary. There’s not a thing wrong with my ears.”

  He puffed out a breath. “You’re right. For a long time it seemed like I was on the receiving end of shouting matches so often that yelling and screaming in public—fighting over the least little thing—has become a bad habit. It takes a while to leave that behavior in the dust, to remember normal people don’t usually act like that. But then normal wasn’t in Fiona’s vocabulary. I admit to picking up some other bad habits along the way. Self-preservation, I guess. It will take some time to get back to myself.”

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “Worse. I’m trying to put a pretty spin on it here. Weren’t you ever in love with someone or thought you were and then realized too late you’d hooked up with a very nasty person?”

  “Not really. Unless you count tenth grade when I thought I’d fallen in love with Jimmy Trammell only to find out he was sneaking around with Beth Thurman every chance he got behind my back.”

  “Are you always so happy?”

  “What’s wrong with happy? Just because I don’t snap at everyone around me doesn’t mean I don’t have my fair share of problems.”

  He recalled the conversation at breakfast with Jordan. “You’re right,” he muttered as he took the turn into Promise Cove.

  “What was that?” She cupped her ear. “Say that a little louder.”

  “Kinsey Wyatt, smartass extraordinaire, who knew?”

  “I’m a woman with many talents.”

  “I’ve noticed. And secretive.”

  “Says the man who refuses to talk about his past.”