to bar. With his fondness for expensive scotch, the bars are as good a place as any to start. I know walking into one of the local establishments and finding him lounging at the counter, looking for other lives to screw with, is a long shot. But I have to try.
By closing time, all I’ve found is frustration. I walk down by the wharfs and drink in the calm, cool early morning air. The boats creak against their restraints as briny gusts rattle the rigging stretched along their masts. I perch on the edge of the weathered pier and dangle my legs.
Leah seems to lack the ability to identify danger, wanting to see the good in everything around her—even where it doesn’t exist. Peril could walk right up to her and blow smoke in her face, and she would wish him a nice day. Lydia was the same. She saw the good in me, and look what it cost her.
As the night relinquishes control to the coming day, the fishing boats around me sputter and roar to life, shaking me from my dark thoughts. The boats exit the mouth of the harbor and press on toward the open sea. I wonder how I can possibly manage to keep Leah safe.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“T hanks for doing this for me today,” Ed says as he slides a stack of books onto the counter.
Yesterday, Ed requested a favor. He asks so little of me that I couldn’t say no. So today, a sunny Saturday, I showed up to work in old jeans, ready to paint the storefront of Rare Books a bright, cheerful yellow—Sally’s choice, for sure. I didn’t have any plans anyway. Three words assassinated my schemes: Looming. Art. Assignment. I feel better knowing Leah’s safely barricaded in her dorm room for a few days.
“No problem.” I grab the paint cans and metal scraper Ed left by the door.
Outside, I climb the ladder and begin scraping away years of built-up layers of paint and grime. My motorcycle parked across the street seems to watch my slow progress and beg for an afternoon ride.
Unfortunately, the repetitive work leaves my mind free to wander. At first, I’m able to concentrate my thoughts on the flurry of paint flakes making speckled puddles along the sidewalk, but soon enough, my mind wanders back to Leah. I miss her more than I should.
Close to one o’clock in the afternoon, Leah’s voice sings out from below. “Hey, just the guy I was looking for.” Her face shines up at me, brighter than the early June sun.
“I was going to call you this afternoon, but I don’t have your number,” she continues. “I was hoping I could coax it out of your boss.”
“Were you?” I have no doubt Ed would’ve handed over the keys to the castle if she asked in that tone followed by that smile.
“What are you doing tomorrow? It’s supposed to be brutal. Record-breaking temperatures, according to the weatherman. A bunch of us are heading to the beach.”
“I’m supposed to paint.”
Disappointment replaces her smile.
“But I can get out of it.”
Her smile returns. “I’m not going until the afternoon because of that assignment.”
“Brilliant. I’ll paint in the morning and go in the afternoon.” And keep an eye on you for the rest of the day. The blue-eyed devil won’t get within a hundred yards of her, not if I have anything to say about it.
“Okay, I can give you a ride. I was thinking of leaving around two. Or will that be too early?” Leah studies my face while waiting for my answer.
I point at the glimmer of black across the street. “I got my own wheels. So maybe you can ride with me.”
“You’ve got a motorcycle! Oh my word, I love riding. My dad had a Harley. He adored that bike. Called it Babe.”
The thought of having Leah’s arms around me is more than I can resist. “If you’d like, I could take you on a short ride now. I was about to take my lunch break.”
“That would be awesome.” She sighs. “But I should get back and work on that stupid assignment.”
“A ride might clear your head.”
“Okay. Twist my arm.”
“I have to put this stuff
By closing time, all I’ve found is frustration. I walk down by the wharfs and drink in the calm, cool early morning air. The boats creak against their restraints as briny gusts rattle the rigging stretched along their masts. I perch on the edge of the weathered pier and dangle my legs.
Leah seems to lack the ability to identify danger, wanting to see the good in everything around her—even where it doesn’t exist. Peril could walk right up to her and blow smoke in her face, and she would wish him a nice day. Lydia was the same. She saw the good in me, and look what it cost her.
As the night relinquishes control to the coming day, the fishing boats around me sputter and roar to life, shaking me from my dark thoughts. The boats exit the mouth of the harbor and press on toward the open sea. I wonder how I can possibly manage to keep Leah safe.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“T hanks for doing this for me today,” Ed says as he slides a stack of books onto the counter.
Yesterday, Ed requested a favor. He asks so little of me that I couldn’t say no. So today, a sunny Saturday, I showed up to work in old jeans, ready to paint the storefront of Rare Books a bright, cheerful yellow—Sally’s choice, for sure. I didn’t have any plans anyway. Three words assassinated my schemes: Looming. Art. Assignment. I feel better knowing Leah’s safely barricaded in her dorm room for a few days.
“No problem.” I grab the paint cans and metal scraper Ed left by the door.
Outside, I climb the ladder and begin scraping away years of built-up layers of paint and grime. My motorcycle parked across the street seems to watch my slow progress and beg for an afternoon ride.
Unfortunately, the repetitive work leaves my mind free to wander. At first, I’m able to concentrate my thoughts on the flurry of paint flakes making speckled puddles along the sidewalk, but soon enough, my mind wanders back to Leah. I miss her more than I should.
Close to one o’clock in the afternoon, Leah’s voice sings out from below. “Hey, just the guy I was looking for.” Her face shines up at me, brighter than the early June sun.
“I was going to call you this afternoon, but I don’t have your number,” she continues. “I was hoping I could coax it out of your boss.”
“Were you?” I have no doubt Ed would’ve handed over the keys to the castle if she asked in that tone followed by that smile.
“What are you doing tomorrow? It’s supposed to be brutal. Record-breaking temperatures, according to the weatherman. A bunch of us are heading to the beach.”
“I’m supposed to paint.”
Disappointment replaces her smile.
“But I can get out of it.”
Her smile returns. “I’m not going until the afternoon because of that assignment.”
“Brilliant. I’ll paint in the morning and go in the afternoon.” And keep an eye on you for the rest of the day. The blue-eyed devil won’t get within a hundred yards of her, not if I have anything to say about it.
“Okay, I can give you a ride. I was thinking of leaving around two. Or will that be too early?” Leah studies my face while waiting for my answer.
I point at the glimmer of black across the street. “I got my own wheels. So maybe you can ride with me.”
“You’ve got a motorcycle! Oh my word, I love riding. My dad had a Harley. He adored that bike. Called it Babe.”
The thought of having Leah’s arms around me is more than I can resist. “If you’d like, I could take you on a short ride now. I was about to take my lunch break.”
“That would be awesome.” She sighs. “But I should get back and work on that stupid assignment.”
“A ride might clear your head.”
“Okay. Twist my arm.”
“I have to put this stuff
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