Chapter Five

Tim sat on his deck, kicking back, and scowled at his camera, willing it to work with him and start taking the kinds of pictures he used to take.

He picked up the ice cold, condensation beaded bottle of Thunder Hole Stout and drank deep, the bubbles prickling down his throat. He welcomed the discomfort. The sea was mirror still and a placid shade of blue. If he kept his gaze trained out to the horizon, he might catch a glimpse of a herd of whales or dolphins.

He heard some commotion from Angie’s patio. Glancing over, he saw her limping and carrying a beach chair down her steps. She also muttered some terse French words that sounded like curses.

She put her chair down where the waves broke against the beach and lowered herself onto the chair, wincing as she did. Kicking her feet into the surf, she let her head drop against the seat back.

Tim didn’t even think. He just picked up his camera and started clicking away. The ethereal light created a perfect backdrop for this goddess kicking in the foamy water then burying her feet in the ocean-cooled sand.

Clad in a pair of shorts and a red bikini top, Angie practically vibrated against the perfect blue of the water. Of course, he was photographing her from the back but that dark hair of hers flew in the light wind.

Standing up, Chester padded over to Tim and put his head on Tim’s thigh, pitiful brown eyes begging for permission to go out and say hello to his new friend.

Well, it was only the neighborly thing to do, right?

Tim would find out.

****

Angelique sat on her beach chair, inhaling the June breeze that always carried the taste of salt. Of course that salt wasn’t doing her hair and complexion any favors.

Her feet felt a lot better than they had when she’d hobbled out of the Sea Crest Inn. Still, a good soak in the ocean and some of the foot balm she had for after a long day walking the runway should do the trick.

“Hey!”

Oh, look. Her handsome neighbor, Tim, with his very large dog.

They stood at the bottom of their stairs watching her with matching grins. Well, not quite matching. The dog’s tongue stuck out of his mouth while Tim kept his in his mouth.

“Hey,” she called back. She stood, only wincing a little bit. “Out for a walk?”

He held up the leash. “Yep. Want to come along?”

She hid a grimace that threatened to spread all over her face. “Uh, no thank you. I’m happy to stay right here for now. It’s a pretty and restful view.”

“That it is.” He looked out to the distance. “So, Miss Angie No Last Name, what did you do today?” He smiled at her. “Or maybe you can let me know your last name.”

Angelique’s breath hitched. She’d give him the name she’d put on those tax forms she had to fill out. “Doucette. Angie Doucette.”

He raised his brows. “Doosit? Angie Doosit? That’s not a name you hear around these parts. But then, your accent is a big clue that you’re from somewhere warmer.”

“That’s true.” She looked out over the water. “But I like it here. Lobster Cove is very charming and low key. The people are friendly.”

He put the hand she’d released into his cargo shorts pocket. “Low key is good. People pretty much leave you alone if you don’t want to socialize.”

“It’s definitely a plus.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

He bent down and picked up a sizeable piece of driftwood. “Hey! Chester!” He threw the stick. “Fetch!”

The dog woofed and galloped after it.

“He’s not as scary when he’s not running at top speed, mouth open to show those big teeth, and barking up a storm.”

Tim laughed. “He’s a good dog.” Chester skidded to a halt in front of him and dropped the piece of wood on Tim’s feet. He picked up the stick and threw it again. Chester took off like the Tazmanian Devil from the Bugs Bunny cartoons.

“We had another Dobie when I was growing up, a character named Ruffie. Every day me or my dad would take him for a walk. Ruffie made it his job to pick out one piece of driftwood. It had to be the biggest piece. Then he carried it back to the cottage.” He chuckled. “People started calling him ‘the log dog.’ When he died, we didn’t have to buy any firewood for a year and a half.” He shook his head. “Crazy dog.”

“We never had any pets. Well, not unless you counted the gators.” Truly, the gators were everywhere on the bayou where she grew up.

His eyes widened. “Gators, huh? That’s too bad. Dogs are great.” He clapped his hands as Chester careened back with the stick. Tim took it and threw it again. The dog whooped with joy and ran to get it. “His idea of heaven. Except he practically swoons when you scratch behind his ears.”

Angelique could imagine Tim’s fingers rubbing behind her ears, massaging her scalp, running his fingers through her hair. “I can imagine. And don’t underestimate the love of a good gator.”

He laughed and it felt somewhat intimate. Uh-oh. Another reason she should go into her house along with the fact that the liniment for her feet was calling her name. But she didn’t want to.

The man she wished was playing with her hair had a lot to do with it.

Besides, the sun was about to set, the colors just beginning to bloom over the horizon.

So beautiful. Why had she never taken time to notice before?

She’d spent too much time looking into a mirror, worshiping her own likeness. Honing her own beauty to perfection.

Well, her beauty was no longer perfect. The scar on her cheek gave proof of that.

Still, when he looked at her, she saw something in his eyes that she never expected to see again.

Desire.

She’d have none of that; she couldn’t, so she cleared her throat. “I should go on up. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Okay.” He whistled. “Chester!”

“You don’t need to come back with me. I’m a big girl.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He reached out, gently took her hand, and tugged her out of her chair then picked it up. “Let me get this for you.”

He held her so lightly she could have easily pulled her hand away, but she didn’t. Their connection felt right.

Intimate.

Both desire and fear skittered up her spine as they climbed her stairs together in silence. They reached her door and he put down the chair, took her other hand, and turned to face her. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Yes. Yes she did. But…”I’d like that, but no big deal, okay? Someplace quiet? Off the beaten path?” Someplace where no one would recognize her.

He smiled. “I think I can manage that. How about I come get you around seven o’clock?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Until tomorrow then.” He lifted her hands to his mouth and placed a soft kiss in each palm then curled her fingers over her palms. “Good night. Come on, Chester.”

He left, his dog following him.

She sat on her stoop and looked out over the water until the stars began to sparkle.

Whatever she’d expected when she sought refuge here in Lobster Cove, a man like Tim was nowhere on the list.