“You know, I’m not staying in the guest room anymore…”
The idea sends a small thrill through me that I try to suppress. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Why not?” Jared snags his jacket from the hook by the door.
“He already worries about taking up space in Kyle’s cabin.” I stack the lunch boxes. “Inviting him to stay here would just replace one concern with another.”
“But you want him to stay.”
My hands still on the counter. “What makes you say that?”
Jared shrugs, sliding his arms through his jacket sleeves. “The way you worry about him. The extra food you pack. How you light up when he visits you at the job site.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “He’s my friend.”
“He is.” Jared’s voice softens. “And he needs friends.”
I turn, facing the man who’s become my partner in every sense of the word over the summer. “I hope he stays. On the island, I mean. He seems… content there, and being close to Chloe is good for him.”
Jared smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Then we’ll do what we can to help him stay on the island.” He checks the time and fills our two thermoses with the remainder of the coffee. “We should head out if we want to catch the first water taxi.”
I nod, grateful for the change of subject. But as I gather our things, I can’t help wondering what it says about me that the thought of Grady staying close brings such immediate comfort.
Jared plucks the keys from the hook by the door and tucks both thermoses into the crook of his elbow to grab my tool bag from the floor. “I’ll drive. Finish your second cup of coffee. You were up late going over your checklist.”
I open my mouth to argue and close it.
“Fine.” I circle around to the passenger side of my truck and stow the lunch bags behind the seat. “But no radio.”
Jared laughs, tossing my tool bag in the center of the bench before he slides behind the wheel. “God forbid you have to endure country music before eight in the morning.”
The engine rumbles to life, and we pull away from the cottage, gravel crunching beneath the tires. I pop open the thermos nearest me and breathe in the fragrant, spiced steam.
“Mmm, when did you add the cinnamon?” I murmur as pines blur past the windows.
One corner of his mouth quirks. “I prepped the thermoses while you were in the shower.”
I take a sip, a contented purr rising from my chest. This is new to me, being taken care of in small ways. My entire life has been built around being the caretaker, the provider, the one who anticipates needs before they’re voiced. After Auren and his Alphas pushed me out, I rebuilt my life around my independence, convinced I didn’t need anyone to look after me.
But Jared slips past those defenses without even trying. He insists on driving so I can enjoy my coffee. He remembers to pack my favorite snacks when we work late. He massages the knots from my shoulders after a long day on site. Small acts of care that I’m still learning to accept without calculating what I owe in return.
The road curves toward town, and Pinecrest Harbor comes into view, the water glittering under the morning sun. Fishing boats dot the bay, their captains already out for the day’s catch.
“You’re quiet this morning,” Jared says, his attention shifting my way.
I sip my coffee. “Nothing wrong with quiet.”
“True.” His hand finds my knee, squeezing once before returning to the wheel. “You’re not actually worried about the inspection, are you?”
“No.” The answer comes easily because it’s true. “But I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
We pull into the dock parking lot, where several members of my crew have already gathered. They lean on bumpers or perch on the weathered wooden benches, thermal mugs in hand, lunch coolers at their feet. At the sight of my truck, a cheer rises from the group.
“There she is!” calls out Clint, my second in command, his gray beard gleaming in the sunlight. “The woman of the hour!”
Capping my thermos, I step out of the truck, tool bag in one hand and lunch bags in the other. “Save it until the inspection passes.”
“Whenit passes,” corrects Tim, our drywall expert. “Not if.”