Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I sigh and then use some of that oil cleanser to wash the blood off my face.
When I use the towel again, that’s when my brain figures something out.
The monogram on the towel is one of a star and rope intertwined.
The symbol matches the one on the blanket I found on me this morning.
I burst out of the washroom to find him placing two coffees on the table.
“Everything alright?” he asks.
“Did you put that blanket on me last night?” I blurt out.
“I did,” he confirms without skipping a beat. He sits down in a chair and gestures to the couch beside him. “Have a seat.”
I do as he says, and he slides the mug of coffee toward me. Black, just the way I like it, though I notice he drinks his with cream.
“Everly told me what happened,” he says, having a sip of his. I’m only now noticing that he’s taken his coat off, so he’s wearing just a navy blue Henley that shows off the muscles of his biceps, the width and firmness of his chest and shoulders. I have to pry my eyes away from his body and focus on his face, which of course isn’t a hardship.
“But it happened so late,” I say. “She said she was going to bed.”
“We have a WhatsApp group chat here,” he says dryly. “Some nights, I can’t get an honest sleep without someone alerting me about something.”
Alerting you about what? I want to ask, but I need to stay on track.
“So Everly told me what happened, more or less, and I figured I would go check on you,” he says, swallowing down his coffee. “I found you in the common room, sprawled out on the couch and snoring away.”
Oh god. How sexy of me.
“I went back to the boat, grabbed a blanket, and put it on you,” he says, his palm cradling his mug. “Figured you must have been cold, and I couldn’t figure out if I should wake you or not.”
“So you were watching me sleep?” That should sound creepy, but somehow, it doesn’t.
He lets out a huff of amusement through his nose, his eyes mischievous. “I prefer the term observing. A doctor observing his patient, making sure she’s sleeping soundly.”
I take a sip of my coffee, and he gestures to it with his chin.
“Sorry it isn’t espresso,” he says. “The machine is broken, and I haven’t had time yet to take it to a repair shop. They aren’t easy to come by around here.”
“No, the coffee is fine. I like it black.”
“Right,” he says, scratching at his jaw. “I should have asked you if you wanted cream and sugar with yours. I’m sorry.”
“It’s perfect,” I assure him. “Anyway, well, I guess thank you for looking out for me. My guardian not-angel.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle, and he gives me a closed-mouth smile as he stares at me, unabashed. Sometimes he reminds me of a hero from a Victorian novel, the classic features of his face, the timeless quality of that jaw and those high cheekbones, combined with the reservation of a man who’s seen a lot but rarely talks about it.
“What?” I ask, feeling myself get pulled into those grey eyes. It’s like being lost in the fog.
Careful. Don’t keep making the same mistakes. Don’t let history repeat.
“Nothing,” he says softly.
Man, his psychologist mind must work overtime with me.
“Are you married?” I ask. Like a gun, point-blank, like I should have asked Professor Edwards instead of assuming.
He blinks but doesn’t seem taken aback. “No.”
“Girlfriend?”
He gives his head a small shake. “No.”
“Boyfriend?”
A smile. “No.”
Relief floods my veins, though it still doesn’t explain the lipstick.
Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one-night stands. You’re probably not the first student who wanted to jump him. There was probably a girl just like you.
I push that voice away.
“I did have a fiancé many years ago,” he says, his voice a little gruff now. “Keiko Lynn. But when I started here, she couldn’t handle it. She thought she could, but this wasn’t the life for her. Living on a boat in one of the most remote locations on the coast. The isolation, the fog, the rain. My work. She broke it off and moved back to Japan.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, feeling dumb now.
He shrugs lightly. “Nothing to be sorry about. Everything happens for a reason. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious,” I tell him. “You’re a neurosurgeon. That’s quite the catch. You’re also someone who says he used to wander but now…doesn’t. I just wondered if you had a family somewhere. Michael had mentioned he has a house in—”
“When did you speak to Michael?” Kincaid says abruptly, his eyes blazing.
“Uh, last night. When I went to see Everly.”
His jaw clenches, his fingers start picking at some tape at the corner of the table where a crack in the wood has formed.