“They’re Brittany’s friends.” The male voice came from behind her, and Emily turned to find Ryan standing there. He nodded to John. “Busy ferry this morning.”
“Full load. We’re adding an extra crossing from next week as the summer season heats up.” The introduction seemed to soften John Harris’s mood a little because he nodded to Lizzy. “So, you’re staying in Castaway Cottage. Best view on the island. Be careful by the water.” He strode off, and Ryan shook his head.
“Don’t let him scare you. A kid fell in once, and he’s been nervous ever since. Summer is a busy time for him. So, you found your way to the harbor and Main Street. This is the closest thing we have to civilization. Can I direct you anywhere?”
He’d showered and changed since their encounter earlier that morning. He wore a pair of light-colored trousers and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The addition of tailoring did nothing to disguise his powerful build.
Skylar would have observed that he was well put together.
Brittany would have described him as “smoking hot.”
Emily found him unsettling. Not because he was so sure of himself—she was used to confident men, so that wasn’t the reason—and not even because of the unexpected scorch of sexual awareness, although that was new to her. No, what frightened her was that those dark eyes seemed to see right through the invisible aura Neil had claimed made her unapproachable.
It suited her to be unapproachable. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Cooper—”
“Ryan.”
“Ryan, but we’re fine.”
“I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
She didn’t correct him. “She’s very shy. We were just—”
“I’m Lizzy.”
Emily sighed. Right now shyness would have been preferable.
She waited for Ryan to make polite noises and back away. She was sure a man like him lived an adult-only life, free from the responsibility of children. Surprising her, he dropped into a crouch. The movement molded the fabric of his trousers to his thighs and pulled his shirt tight over broad, muscular shoulders.
“Hi, Lizzy. Nice bear.”
Everything about him told her that he was a man’s man, a person who could have been dropped in the wilderness with nothing but a knife and survived. Nothing had prepared her for the ease with which he handled Lizzy.
Watching him simply intensified her own feelings of inadequacy.
He took the bear and made admiring noises, his hands gentle as he handled the damaged toy. “What’s his name?”
Name?
Not in a million years would she have thought to ask if the bear had a name, but apparently it did.
“Andrew.” Lizzy’s reply was hesitant, but Ryan nodded, as if the name made perfect sense to him.
“So, how are you and Andrew liking Puffin Island?”
Emily was grateful that the bear couldn’t talk; otherwise he’d no doubt be reporting the fact that so far he’d been well and truly ignored.
If there was a Stuffed Bear Protection League, she was about to be reported for neglect.
She watched as Ryan handed the bear back carefully, envying the ease with which he talked to the child. He didn’t use baby talk, nor was he patronizing or condescending. He behaved as if Lizzy had something to say that he was interested in hearing. As if the answers she gave were important to him. Some of the tension in Lizzy’s shoulders melted away.
“I like the boats.”
Why did it have to be the boats that had caught her attention?
Emily wondered what had possessed her to think coming to the island would be a good idea. She should have picked Wyoming or another state with no coastline.
“I like boats, too.” Ryan rose to his feet. “What’s your favorite food?”