Page 17 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

Melody shakes with him, her confused look only growing.

Lexie introduces Dawson to Melody. “She owns the Muddy Moose. Our brothers work together, so she and I are practically sisters.”

“And I’m going to go broke if you keep making such pretty things,” she says, stroking her necklace.

Lexie’s face lights up. “You’ll always get the family discount.”

Melody laughs, then steps back behind the counter. “Say hi to your grandma for me.”

“Will do,” Lexie replies.

I glance at Melody, then at Lexie’s earrings. “You make jewelry? That’s cool.”

She winks. “Gives me something to do when it’s stormy.”

I can think of several other indoor activities, but I hold my tongue.

After we place our order, Lexie leads us through the busy café to a table by the window that overlooks the harbor.

I pull an envelope from my inside jacket pocket and place it in front of her. “I didn’t want to give this to you in the gear shop.”

Lexie peeks at the check tucked inside, then glances at each of us. “Are you sure about this?”

“Ask again and we’ll double it,” Dawson says.

Lexie presses her lips together, as if holding back a reply.

This makes me even more curious about her. That she’s questioning our compensation makes me think she’s accustomed to being underappreciated, which begs to be remedied. There’s also the little hint that despite her independence, she followed Dawson’s command.

That’s hot.

I force a slow breath. Dawson and I haven’t shared a woman in a long time. Lexie’s kiss last night gave me a taste, and now I can’t think of anything else. But suggesting this is completely out of the question. The first reason is our “no more kissing” pact, and the second is that check Dawson gave her. I don’t want her to think we expect her to be anything more than our guide.

Unless she wants more.

My belly tightens.

Our food arrives. The young guy carrying the tray gives Lexie a grin. “Hey, Lexie, how’s things?”

“Good, thanks,” Lexie replies.

“I heard about the preserve. You okay?” he asks while sliding my plate in front of me.

Lexie touches the silver locket around her neck, like a reflex. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Well…” the kid says, his gaze lingering on Lexie for an extra second. “Um, enjoy.”

We thank him, and the kid shuffles off.

“Do you know everyone in this town?” I tease.

“Probably,” Lexie replies. I wait for her to explain but she spoons a bite of her clam chowder. Why did the kid ask if Lexie was okay? Last night outside the Pelican, Lexie got spooked by something. Is it related to the kid’s concern?

“So, I need a little more input before I can set things up,” Lexie says, pulling me from my thoughts. She blows on another spoonful of her chowder. I have to tear myself away from watching her pink lips pucker.

“The glacier tour requires a reservation,” she continues. “And if you want to go salmon fishing at one of the river mouths, I’ll have to hire you a boat.”

“You can’t drive a boat?” Dawson interrupts, digging into his smoked salmon sandwich.

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