No need to spook him with my concern when he’s already carrying enough tension in those broad shoulders to snap a lesser man in half.
Surprise flickers in Leif’s periwinkle eyes. “I don’t have to clean, and there’s always a continental breakfast in the morning to get out the door faster.” He hesitates, scuffing his shoe in the gravel. “Though I’ll admit I’m looking forward to having my own space again.”
“I bet. Hotels make everything feel temporary,” I say, remembering my own hotel stay before I moved in with Emily. I lean on the dock railing, giving Leif space while still inviting conversation. “Are you excited for island life?”
“It will take some getting adjusted to, but yes.” A hint of genuine anticipation lifts his voice. “The Wright Pack has been incredibly generous with their accommodations.”
“They’re good people.”
“They are.” Leif’s focus shifts to the water, where the taxi grows larger as it approaches. “I hope Quinn’s excited about starting school today.”
“It’s a big milestone.” I study his profile. The mention of school brings a subtle tightening around his eyes that most people would miss. But I’ve spent my life compensating for not being able to smell emotions based on pheromones as other Alphas can and learned to read the physical signs instead. “You’ve prepared her well.”
Leif’s hands slide into his pockets. “I hope so. The transition from homeschooling to a classroom environment can be challenging, even for a child without anxiety.”
If I could scent pheromones, I imagine Leif’s would be sharp with anxiety of his own right now. Instead, I note how he leans away from me in a subtle defensive posture he probably doesn’t realize he’s doing.
Whatever’s bothering him about Quinn starting school, it goes deeper than normal first-day jitters.
I think of Carson Whitaker’s calculated smile at the party, how Leif disappeared the moment the man arrived, and the dots connect themselves, but I don’t push. Emily would tell me to wait, to let Leif share in his own time rather than forcing a conversation he’s not ready to have.
“Well, she’s got you in her corner,” I say instead. “That’s a pretty good advantage.”
Leif turns to study me, and his posture relaxes. “Thank you.”
The water taxi’s engine grows louder as Kyle guides it into the dock with practiced ease. I move toward the mooring posts, stepping into the familiar rhythm of docking procedures I’ve performed hundreds of times.
“Need help?” Leif offers, taking a step forward.
“I’ve got it,” I assure him, catching the first rope Kyle tosses over. My hands move on autopilot, securing the bow line with a quick series of loops and a final tug to test the tension.
Kyle brings the stern around, cutting the engine as the boat glides the final few feet into position. The taxi rocks against the rubber bumpers as I secure the second line, the knot forming between my fingers without conscious thought.
“Perfect timing, Leif,” Kyle calls out, his scally cap pulled low to block the strengthening morning sun. “Got your precious cargo ready for delivery.”
On the deck, Quinn bounces on her toes, a bright orange life jacket swamping her small frame while one hand clutches Sprinkles’s leash and the other waves.
The massive Newfoundland sits beside her, his service vest gleaming with a newly polished tag. Blake stands behind them, his hand resting on Quinn’s shoulder to keep her from bouncing right off the boat.
“Mr. Jared!” Quinn calls, her shout carrying across the water. “Guess what? I saw a seal this morning! It waved at me!”
I grin back at her. “That’s awesome. Did Sprinkles see it, too?”
“No, he was too busy watching for birds.” She rolls her eyes with the exaggerated disappointment only a child can manage. “Uncle Blake saw it, though, right, Uncle Blake?”
“Sure did, princess.” The wind from the crossing had tugged free strands of long hair from his bun, and they catch in his bushy beard. “Biggest seal I’ve ever seen.”
I secure the gangplank between the dock and the boat, locking it into position.
“All set,” I announce, stepping back to allow their disembarkation.
Leif moves forward, extending a hand toward Quinn. “Ready for our big adventure, Miss Quinn?”
Quinn beams up at him, though her smile wobbles a little. “Do you think the school will have a playground? With swings?” She fidgets with the hem of the shirt that peeks out beneath the life vest as Leif helps her navigate the gangplank, his large hand steady around her much smaller one.
“Most schools do,” Leif says, gentle but encouraging. “And you’ll meet lots of other kids to play with.”
She straightens her shoulders. “I got this.”