Page 12 of Hooked on a Feeling

“Ah. That explains your perfect body.” His eyes perused her arms and down her legs, sending tingles along her spine. His eyes went from happy and bright to sultry. What would he be like in the bedroom?

“It’s far from perfect, but I try. No different than you.” She squeezed his bicep. It was a nice substitute for what she wanted to do, and that was start with both hands on his bare chest and span them down the length of his muscular torso.

He glanced around the beach and leaned toward her. “You know, there are more private places we could go to chat about and look at one another’s bodies,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, making Starr laugh.

It also made her… want to. But starting anything with John, or any man in Emerald Port, for that matter, would be silly. “I bet there is. But I have work to do. There are some repairs that I can do myself. Thanks for the walk. Thanks for listening to me go on about my burdens.” She glanced toward the nearby steps that led to the boardwalk. They hadn’t walked too far.

John gave her a large, wonderfully charming smile, and a part of her wished that they had met under different circumstances. At the very least, that they lived in the same city and state. Then perhaps the idea of starting something with him relationship-wise wouldn’t be all that bad.

“Hey. Anytime. How about the least I could do is fix the wooden slats where I tripped? Free of charge and one less thing you’ll have to worry about.”

“How long would that take you? I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“You buy the wood, and I’ll be in and out in two hours. Probably less. It’s just a few boards.”

That would be an easy thing. “Deal. I would love your help. But only for that. Nothing else. My problems cannot become your problems.”

John shrugged. “Like I said, I’m the oldest in my family, and I’ve listened to a lot of things over the years and have helped in countless ways with my siblings. It’s not a problem.”

She gave him a final glance before she turned and went up the steps. Having a smoothie and taking a walk with him had been cathartic, and it was nice that he wasn’t the big, bad wolf her grandfather would likely have wanted her to believe. She wasn’t planning on mentioning her new friend to her parents though. It was none of their business. They would try to make it their business, and knowing them, they’d probably try to coerce her into blackmail or something else equally nefarious that she was totally not into.

Once she made it back to the cottage, she changed into some old shorts and found an old T-shirt of her grandpa’s that she put on. The thing she wanted most to do, that she thought she could do, was clean up the welcome center of the marina. The sales desk. The convenience store. Maybe Lyle would help her in the short term, or maybe she would be lucky enough to find part-time help to start renting the slips back out. If she could show the potential of the marina, perhaps her parents wouldn’t sell it, and they could reap the benefits of the place. Have a small retirement income while still keeping the family business alive.

It was a slim chance. But she was optimistic.

She stood in front of her grandfather’s office with her heart in her throat. She hesitated, knowing the rest of the keys were in there. She let out a deep breath and turned the knob. The dank smell hit her first. It smelled like old books. Her vision blurred, and no matter how many times she blinked, it didn’t stop the tears from falling.

She took her first step into the old office. Everything was still exactly the way it had always been since she’d been a kid. Naval blueprints for ships and yachts lined the wall. The two glass bottles that contained miniature fleets of sailboats sat with a bunch of dust covering them. Why didn’t Lydia clean in here? Perhaps Lydia felt the same way Starr did about encroaching on a territory that wasn’t hers. This was her grandfather’s personal space, and he’d made it very clear that no one was allowed in.

“All right. I’m just grabbing the keys, Grandpa.” On the wall behind his desk was a small wooden box with a glass front that held numerous keys. She stepped behind his desk, still having a hard time shaking the feeling that it was wrong to be in her grandfather’s office without his approval. She opened the box and perused the identification tabs on each key until she found Shipwreck and Seaside, Front Door. She pocketed both and took one last look around.

Grandpa sure didn’t want her and her sister in his office when they were younger, but Starr couldn’t help but think that now—especially now, when she was trying to do something with this place—he would be proud of her. He would welcome her inside his office. He would want her to do whatever she needed to get the job done.

By the time she walked out of the house, followed the sidewalk to the welcome center, and unlocked the front door, she realized that she was going to need a miracle to get this job done. With the small amount of funds she had, John’s idea of crowdfunding didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

She dropped the cleaning supplies to the floor and pulled out her phone. She turned on her favorite music and went to work. If her life had been different, she would love it here. She wouldn’t mind being friends with a man like John—maybe even more than friends. She wouldn’t mind running the marina, despite her stance on global warming and the effects boating had on the ocean. She would get past it. Besides, money was money, and it wasn’t like her studio put her in a high tax bracket.

This place had lots of potential, and if she was at a different place in her life, if she was looking for something new, if she thought she could do it, there wasn’t a doubt that she could make Emerald Port her new home.

Chapter Six

“Johnny, I got it. This is it.” His little sister held up one of Blue’s folders. Everyone around the office was always happy come Friday, and this morning was no different. “A new logo. This is it.” Reed’s excitement radiated from her body. And John couldn’t help but latch on to it. He would be even more excited if his father wasn’t such a grouch sometimes. It would make the idea of presenting anything to him a hell of a lot easier.

“Lay it on me.” He pointed to one of his office chairs. “Sit.”

Reed was four years younger than he was, and she was the younger twin, born three minutes after Jake. She gave him her big bright smile that always seemed to improve anyone’s mood. She was happiness times twenty. “I captured the essence of Blue. The pristine and luxurious lines of our company. The attention to detail we give our clients. Plus, it looks new. Modern. And exactly what we need to move into this time period and out of the fifties.” She was practically bouncing in her seat. She opened the folder and slid the paper across his desk. “What do you think?”

In the center of the paper was a lined drawing of their current logo—a yacht coasting on a wave. An elegant script said Blue Horizon above the yacht, and the bottom said Yachts. Underneath that, there was “Blue Horizon” with an anchor below and “Yachts” beneath the anchor. Simple.

“You hate it,” she said.

John shook his head, staring at the image. “No, I don’t hate it.”

“You don’t love it.”

“It’s neither, honestly. I’m not like you, who can determine that you like something on the spot. I have to think about it. Get a feel for it. Toss it around in my mind for a little while.” Sure didn’t seem to have to do that with Starr. He looked up from the drawing where Reed was giving him the stink eye. “For real, Reed. Leave this here, and let me look it over. It’s a helluva lot better than our current logo.”

Reed stood, giving him a resigned look. “It is a lot better than our current logo. This logo screams high-end champagne, while that logo”—she pointed to the folder she’d carried in with her—“screams this-bubbly-is-going-to-leave-me-with-a-headache-tomorrow.”

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