Nick regretted the words the second they left his mouth. Yeah, for Mike’s sake he needed her to go, but this wasn’t the way to do it. He opened his mouth to smooth over his gaffe, expecting those big blue eyes to brim over with tears.
Instead he found himself open-mouthed when the coolly elegant blonde let out a snort of exasperation.
“I doubt that that line has ever worked, so let’s just get to the point, shall we?” She spoke slowly, her accent thick, but Nick was rapidly coming to see that that didn’t mean she was stupid. “Y’all are…what? His business partner? I’m doubting that you don’t have at least an inkling of where the man is today.”
Ouch. Direct hit—that line actually hadn’t ever worked. Not that he needed a line to convince a willing woman to warm his bed. He was decent-looking enough, so all he had to say was “artist” and he had it made. Or, he supposed, laid. In any case, he had just enough ego that Emma calling him on his bullshit stung. Smirking back at the woman who looked so damn sweet and was clearly anything but, he crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking her stance.
“Maybe I do know. Doesn’t mean I’m obliged to tell you.” He arched an eyebrow. “And seems to me that you can wait a few more days. After all, you’re what, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? You’ve hardly hurried to introduce yourself.”
“I’m twenty-six!” She sank her teeth into her lower lip, clearly thinking hard, and he jerked his stare away—what the hell was his fascination with her lips about? “And I didn’t know he existed until four days ago, so sorry for not coming calling sooner.”
Oh, shit. He’d stepped in it again. He opened his mouth to speak, but she steamrolled right over him.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask for a little empathy from y’all, so I’ll be going.” Lifting her chin, she somehow managed to look down her nose at him, even though he had a good six inches on her. “And here I thought Canadians had a reputation for being nice.”
With that she was gone, turning on the heel of boots that were in no way made for the snow. She exited the garage, right back into the weather that she was in no way dressed for. Where did she think she was going to go? The studio wasn’t within walking distance of anything.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, he weighed his options. Okay. So he owed Mike the loyalty of his friendship. But even if the other man didn’t know about Emma yet, wouldn’t he want Nick to treat his daughter with respect?
Snagging his phone and an old jacket of his from the hook by the open door, he called a cab as he chased Emma down the gravel drive. How the hell was she moving so fast in those boots?
“Hey! Wait up!” Cab ordered and call ended, he tucked his phone in his pocket. Hand held out like he was approaching a wild deer, he slowly closed the distance between himself and where Emma stood at the end of the driveway, shoulders hunched as she shivered.
“I am fit to be tied right now, so just leave me alone.” The South in her voice thickened when she was upset, and damn if that didn’t tug at his heart a bit.
“You’re going to get sick if you run around without a winter coat. You’re not in the South anymore.” He draped the jacket over her shoulders, expecting her to protest, but instead she sighed with relief at the warmth, her shivers less visible. “Consider this my way of saying sorry.”
“Are you always an ass?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” No point in lying. “Look, I’m just a little protective of Mike, okay? He’s a good friend. But that’s no reason to be a dick.”
She didn’t respond, simply looked at him sidelong from beneath a thick fringe of lashes far darker than her ponytail. He got the point.
“Mike’s on a backcountry camping trip,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest. Salt Spring Island was mild compared to some of the places he’d lived, but it was still December and he was wearing only an undershirt. “He’ll be gone for a few more days.”
“What on earth is a backcountry camping trip?” Her words dripped with suspicion, as though she was certain that he was making up an excuse. “There’s snow on the ground.”
“There is,” he agreed, entertained by the surprise on her face. “Lots of people around here like to do the whole communing with nature thing. They head off into the woods and hang out for a while. Even in the snow.”
“Why?” Her tone was horrified, and Nick couldn’t hold back a laugh. While she’d inherited her father’s looks, it was clear to him that the similarities stopped there.
He shrugged and, because he could, reached out to tug at a ribbon of her blond ponytail. She reached up to bat him away, but then their stares met and she stopped moving.
Click. A connection, one he couldn’t explain, snapped into place so firmly that Nick could almost hear it. Yeah, there was something here—that inexplicable something that drew certain people together.
He wanted to kiss her. The realization was strange. He liked to spend time with women; he certainly enjoyed having them in his bed, but he wasn’t all that big on kissing—it was usually all about a means to an end for him.
But this woman? He wanted, really wanted, the taste of her lips on his own. It was just his luck that she was his best friend’s daughter.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel grated in the still air, dissolving the moment. Turning away, he raked a hand through his hair as the cab he’d called pulled up in front of the studio.
“You’re insane, Nick!” The driver was Meg, a twenty-something single mom who had her toddler daughter Lily strapped in the backseat. “Don’t you know it’s winter? Put some clothes on! We know you’re sexy, already!”
He barked out a laugh, not entirely disappointed by the slight stiffening of Emma’s spine. She felt it, too, that thread between them—he knew she did.
Both of them ignored it as he jogged back down the driveway to retrieve her suitcase and stuff it in the trunk. Meg waited as Emma, her expression comical, slid into the backseat beside the sleeping toddler.
“Sorry I couldn’t be more help.” What he was really sorry for was not giving her that kiss, but he again pictured Mike and kept that thought to himself, watching as she settled back in her seat. At the last moment she bolted back up, opening the door.
“Your jacket. Here.” She started to tug on the sleeves, but he shook his head.
“Nah, it’s just an old thing.” He waved a hand in the air. “You keep it. You’re going to need it.”
“I…thank you.” She tilted her head as if puzzled by his sudden generosity. Truth be told, he was a little confused, too, and the feeling didn’t dissipate as she pulled the door closed again and the cab drove away.
Nick stood there at the end of the driveway for several minutes, hands stuffed in his pockets, the wind turning his skin to ice. He needed to get back to work—he had a big show coming up in Vancouver—but if he’d been blocked before, he was completely out of the zone now.
He knew what he needed. He was a big believer in the saying that salt water cured all, whether it was tears, sweat, or the sea. Burgoyne Bay would offer two of the three.
He was going on a hike.