If I’d lied and tried to get the kids away from her, I would have abandoned her here with no way to get home. Arlo’s gut clenched. There’s no coming back from that.
“We’d better get moving,” he said. “No chance of sailing tonight, but there’s warm clothes, and food.”
“What else could we need?” Jacqueline said brightly.
Arlo’s eyes trailed after her as they gathered up the kids’ belongings and squeezed everyone into the rowboat.
What else? So much more. But I’m beginning to think I’m not the man who can give it to you.
7
Jacqueline
Arlo’s boat was not what she’d expected. He was so salt-crusted and rough-looking, Jacqueline had thought he must have come off a working fishing boat, covered in shed scales and chased by seagulls.
Which only went to show she shouldn’t make assumptions.
The Hometide was a sleek cutter, all oiled wooden boards and crisp sails. The water slapped against its sides as Arlo secured the rowboat and helped them all climb aboard. Jacqueline went up last, and his touch burned against her skin.
I really am cold, she thought, biting her lip. She flexed her fingers, testing them. How many times was it you were meant to be able to clench and unclench your fists, before it was time to be worrying about hypothermia? She was sure she’d known, once. Back when she spent more time outdoors than doing vacuuming in that huge empty house.
“There’s clothes downstairs,” Arlo said, appearing at her shoulder.
“What?” Jacqueline jumped, and he seemed to curl in on himself.
“Dry clothes. In the cabin downstairs. You look…” He looked away. “Cold.”
“And soaking wet,” Jacqueline agreed, shaking out her arms. Arlo made a strange noise in the back of his throat.
“I’ll show you.”
The Hometide had a comfortable cockpit in the stern, fitted out with cushions on the seats and cup holders stuffed with sunscreen and water bottles. A wooden hatch with a round window led down into the cabin. Jacqueline climbed down the ladder after Arlo and he pointed behind it to a low-roofed alcove.
“Clothes in the cupboard. There should be a towel… I’ll get dinner on.”
His voice was rough, and Jacqueline bit back a sigh. He might have saved her life, but it was obvious he resented her presence here.
Too bad. She was going to see this through. She’d spent the last three years paralyzed by life. She’d almost frozen again, back there on the beach.
But she couldn’t do that anymore. She had no excuses left for not doing anything with her life. And making sure this little family made their way to Hideaway to wait for the man she’d spoken to on the phone might not be the same thing as partying it up in a club, but at least it was something. It wasn’t another Friday night at work or at home, terrified that she’d do something wrong and the rest of her world would come crashing down.
She waited until Arlo had gathered everything he needed from the small kitchen and then clambered into the alcove. Her knees sank into a mattress and she realized, too late, that the entire space was a bed.
Arlo’s bed.
Jacqueline’s face blazed. I’m climbing into another man’s bed, she thought, stupidly, and even more stupidly felt a rush of guilt. She pushed it away, frowning.
What do I have to feel guilty about? Even if Arlo was interested in me—Derek left me. I don’t have to feel bad about noticing other men exist.
She crawled over the bed to the cupboard set into the very stern of the cabin. There was something in the wall above the cupboard that looked like it should have been a window, but it was boarded over.
Another victim of the storm? Jacqueline wondered, and opened the cupboard.
Jacqueline pulled a shirt, sweater and pants from the cupboard and wriggled back into the main cabin. She glanced back at the bed—she’d left the covers a mess and that made her blush, too.
Oh, no. I have it bad, don’t I? What timing, my first crush since…
She winced and pulled off her sodden dress. Trust me to lose my head over another guy who couldn’t care less.