Chapter One

Fiona

Working with my best friend, Drew, was both a blessing and a curse. Right now, it was definitely a curse. I stood atop a stepladder, waiting for him to pass me another can of paint so I could restock the top shelf. But the can never came.

I turned around to see what the hold up was. Drew’s lanky body was hunched over his phone, his thumbs tapping quickly on the screen. I couldn’t see his face, only the dark, tangled mess of his hair.

“Are you seriously texting right now?” I asked.

He grinned without looking up. “It’s an emergency.”

“Sure it is,” I said. “What’s her name?”

“Cordelia,” Drew said, drawing out her name like a sigh.

I rolled my eyes. “Are you sure she didn’t give you a fake name? Because that sounds fake as hell.”

His smiled widened. “I’m sure I don’t care. As long as she agrees to go out with me tonight, I’ll call her whatever she wants.”

“Well, do you think your flavor of the week can wait until we finish restocking the paint?” I asked.

“Love waits for nothing, Fiona,” he said.

I snorted. “Love? Like you’d know anything about that.”

Drew finally looked up then and raised an eyebrow at me. “Ouch. You know I’m a romantic at heart. You might be, too, if you got a little action every once in a while.”

I shook my head. “Getting laid and being in love are not the same thing. If you spent more than a week with a girl, you’d know that.”

He smiled at me. “Oh, Fee. I think you need to worry about your own love life instead of mine. Then you might actually have one.”

“I have a love life,” I said, but the words sounded unconvincing, even to me.

“One that’s not powered by batteries, I mean,” Drew said, shaking his head in mock sadness.

I was about to tease him right back, but I stopped myself. “Goddammit, Drew. You always do this.”

He looked at me innocently. “What? Bring up your vibrator? Not always. Maybe once a week, tops.”

“No,” I said. “You always find a way to sidetrack the conversation when I ask you to work.”

He made an offended sound. “That hurts. I’m just worried about you. Clearly, you’re all wound up and stressed. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be lashing out at me, your oldest and dearest friend in the world. Which is why I think you need to get laid. Not just for your sake, but for mine.”

I sighed. “You’re not wrong. I just—” I stopped short and groaned. “Dammit, you’re doing it again. Please stop distracting me. We need to get this done.”

Drew shook his head solemnly. “We need to get your life in order before we can even think about focusing on work.”

“Spoken like a model employee,” I said, grinning.

“I am a model employee, thank you very much. I’ll have you know I was Mystic Hardware’s employee of the month, every month, until I got you a job here.”

I laughed. “Until I started, you were the only employee here, besides the owner.”

“Still counts,” he said, grinning.

“Whatever. Can you just hand me some more paint so I can finish and get off this damn ladder?”

“Absolutely,” he said enthusiastically. “Right after my break.”

Drew strolled out the side door, already tapping away at his phone again. I couldn’t help but laugh as I climbed down the stepladder. Drew could be a little frustrating, but he was impossible to stay mad at.

Our fathers had been best friends when they were in high school, and we carried on the tradition. He was like a brother to me in every way that counted, shared gene pool aside. Drew and I were living proof that men and women could be friends without any romantic feelings whatsoever from either side.

Plus, he’d gotten me this job, which I loved. Despite the store’s name, Mystic Hardware didn’t sell wizarding supplies. Regardless, it still had a certain magic to it. I remembered coming in here with my father when I was a little girl, and I was amazed how little had changed since then.

The store had a creaking wooden floor. Dusty rays of sunshine shone lazily over the aisles stocked with tightly packed bags of soil, stacks of lumber, and everything in between.

The place smelled like an assortment of old spills, like somebody had kicked a can of paint thinner over in aisle four back in the eighties, and the faintly toxic aroma never quite left the air. It combined with the scent of metal nail dust, shiny tools, and plastic snow shovels.

The bell jingled over the door, signaling the arrival of a customer. I smoothed my apron and stepped to the front with a bright smile fixed on my face.

I froze, transfixed, rooted to the spot. One thing was certain: he was not from Mystic.

Okay, so maybe two things were certain: he wasn’t from Mystic, and he was freaking hot. Like the scorching kind of hot that sends your heart racing, making your mouth dry and other parts of your anatomy wet.

The sun caught his deep chestnut hair, revealing a slightly red tinge to it. It was cut shorter on the sides than the top and fell just so over his right eye. He had the most brilliant emerald-colored eyes I’d ever seen. They burned with a rare intensity and radiated with power, the likes of which we didn’t often get to see in Mystic.

He moved with confident, long-legged strides that ate up the distance between us in no time. The Henley shirt he wore hugged a figure that betrayed many hours dedicated to maintaining it and that deserved to be worshiped.

I was overcome with the urge to do just that when he came to a stop, so close to me that I caught a whiff of his clean, masculine scent. It was divine.

He cleared his throat, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Shit! He’d totally busted me staring at him like I wanted to eat him. Which I kind of did, but that was irrelevant. Embarrassment flooded over me. I was not the kind of girl who gets weak at the knees and falls all over every hot guy she comes into contact with. I had to redeem myself.

“Welcome to Mystic Hardware,” I said. “What can we help you with today?”

Whew. At least my voice sounded cool and professional.

“I’m building a boat. If you could point me in the right direction, I’d appreciate it.”

Holy orgasm, Batman! That voice sent a shudder through me. The man was built for sex, all the way down to his deliciously deep voice that rang with quiet authority.

I ordered my wildly beating heart to calm down and tried to ignore the ache rising between my legs. I really did need to get laid if my body was having this kind of a reaction to a customer asking me about boats.

“Sure, right this way,” I said, forcing my voice to sound calm as I led him toward the back of the store. “Are you interested in a kit? Sometimes, first-time builders find that easier.”

“It’s not my first time,” he said, smirking as he walked beside me. Suddenly, there was mischief in his eyes. “Far from it, I assure you.”

Was that a double entendre I heard? No. It couldn’t be. I had to get my mind out of the damn gutter when it came to this guy. The aisle seemed too narrow all of a sudden, forcing us closer together as we walked. Being that near to him didn’t help my uncontrollable thoughts.

I had to get my head in the game. “Okay, what design are you interested in?”

A sexy smile tugged at the edges of his mouth but he smoothed it out and was dead serious when he answered my question. “I’m suddenly thinking Nymph.”

Okay, it wasn’t just my sex-starved body causing my mind to play tricks on me. He was definitely flirting with me. Well, I could give as good as I got.

“I thought you said this wasn’t your first time?” I raised an eyebrow at him. The Nymph design was often favored by first-timers, even though it could take a while to complete.

“Oh, I don’t think a Nymph is really appropriate for a first time, even if many first-timers think they can handle one.” He smirked again.

“Many people would argue that a Nymph is perfect for your first time,” I countered.

“Maybe so,” he conceded. “But they would be wrong. A Nymph needs an experienced hand to be properly mastered.”

His words sent heat flashing through me, making me feel dizzy. I forced myself to keep it together and raised a manicured brow at him.

“And your hands are experienced?” I asked.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well, all right then. Here we are. If you’re so experienced, you won’t need my help in choosing your equipment.”

I pointed to the wall beside us at the back of the store. It held everything he needed. He carefully started looking over his options, picked up a thick tube of marine adhesive, and eyed the label.

I turned to head back to the paint section, and he grabbed my wrist gently. “But if you leave, whoever will argue that I’m choosing wrong?”

“You seem quite confident that you’re right… even when you really aren’t.” I smiled and glanced down at the glue he was holding.

He released my wrist. “Is that so?” he asked, a playful grin on his lips.

“It is. For example, that adhesive you just chose won’t be effective in the long run.”

Something flashed in his eyes. “I have used this glue for a long time, and all my boats are still perfectly fine. I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

I shrugged, not appreciating his dismissive comment. “If you say so. But can you tell me with absolute certainty that none of them are leaking like sieves when you get them wet?”

“Trust me, sweetheart. I know what I’m doing when it comes to getting them wet.”

I bristled at his words, partly from his dismissive tone and partly because of the dizzying wave of arousal they sent through me. I knew what I was talking about when it came to every piece of equipment that the store stocked, and I had grown up building boats with my dad at the marina.

Who the hell did he think he was, strolling into my store and telling me that I was wrong? And then trying to flirt with me as he did it?

Condescending much? Lucky for me, my father hadn’t raised a girl who would let any man talk down to her.

“See, I don’t think that you know what you’re doing,” I said. “That glue will dissolve in the elements in less than five years, which means that when your hull hits the water any time after that, it’ll leak like a rusty screen door.”

I abandoned the subtext and insinuations that had colored our conversation. I knew boats and I knew equipment, and I wasn’t going to let him brush that knowledge aside because he thought a girl couldn’t know that kind of stuff better than he did.

And he called me sweetheart. The nerve! I was nobody’s sweetheart.

Whoever he was, he had the good sense to look taken aback for a moment. He clenched his jaw and turned to face me directly. “No rusty screen doors to be found at any of my places, I assure you.”

Any of his places? So, he wasn’t from Mystic. I was right. People from my hometown were generally more laid back. This guy was polished and on edge. Even in his jeans and his Henley, he moved with the precision and lethal grace of a fighter pilot. There was nothing laid back about him.

“When was the last time you tested your hypothesis?” I challenged.

If he had been referring to his having a place in Mystic, it was unlikely that he’d been there for a long time, at least, not since I started working at the hardware store. I would’ve remembered him if he’d been in before.

It occurred to me that there were plenty of people in Mystic that I didn’t know. I also knew that Drew, or even the owner, might have assisted him if he had been in previously. But I wasn’t going to let those technicalities get in my way. The hardware store and everything it stocked was my turf. I was right about the glue, whether he was ready to face that fact or not.

“How long it’s been is irrelevant,” he shot back. “I only build things that last. It would take more than crappy glue to poke holes in anything that I’ve had a hand in.”

Wow. Shots fired. It seemed I’d struck a nerve. His beautiful face turned to stone. His eyes, so playful moments before, were now colder than ice. Like frozen pools reflecting the light of the forest surrounding it.

I shuddered unexpectedly at the change, but I wasn’t about to back down. “The elements don’t poke holes. It’s a subtler process of corrosion.”

“Subtlety isn’t my thing.” He fixed me with his intent gaze, rooting me to the spot once more. His stance was stubborn, legs spread wide and his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

Suddenly, the only two words left in my head were control and dominance. It had the strangest effect on my body. Alarm bells blared in my mind. Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!

“I can see that,” I breathed, forcing aside the images that my mind conjured up of what it would be like to have a man like that in my bed.

Not happening.

Some of the ice in his eyes melted at my words, but the tension and challenge was still there in his stance. In the set of his shoulders. In the square line formed by his jaw.

“Smart girl,” he said more quietly. Almost as if in contemplation.

“I am. Smart enough to ask you to leave. I think it might be best if you picked up your supplies elsewhere.” The store was my home turf. I would protect it, and my knowledge of its stock, with everything that I had.

Or maybe that was just a lame excuse. This man had me reeling. He made no secret that he wanted me. His confident swagger and suggestive comments were beyond inappropriate.

Even then, he wasn’t the first customer who’d ever hit on me. He was just the first one who made me want him back. He awoke a raw, instant desire in me, and it shook me to my core.

We locked eyes as the bell above the door jingled again. Drew came sauntering in, stopping when he noticed us locked in silent battle. The stranger gave a slight shake of his head, nodded once, and left.

“Who was that?” Drew asked, watching the guy’s back as he retreated toward the marina and down the bustling street.

“No idea,” I answered, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of his eyes on mine and his delicious scent hanging in the air.

Drew surveyed me carefully, his head tilted in curiosity. “He from around here?”

“Nope, don’t think so,” I replied softly, staring at the spot on the corner where he was waiting to cross the street.

“Yeah, I don’t think so either. Everything okay? You look kind of flustered.” Drew smirked.

He knew me way too well. I flipped him off and ignored his knowing smirk. We walked back to the paint aisle to finish up. But Drew wasn’t the one distracting me now. My thoughts were consumed by the mystery man.

As infuriating as the guy had been, there was something about him. Something that I couldn’t shake or, try as I might, forget.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I stocked shelves, rang up customers, and talked with Drew but all of it felt like I was sleepwalking. Dirty thoughts kept flashing through my head every time I thought about the sexy stranger.

The daydream kept replaying in my mind until later on that night when I finally gave into the urge and discovered that the batteries of my vibrator had long since died.

Fuck my life.