Page 51 of Their Reluctant Catch

I feel more secure and less edgy. Partly, my state of mind is because living in a Northwick Cove has slowed my pace, but mainly, it’s because of the brothers.

The nightmares don’t come as often anymore. AndifI wake from a bad dream, I’m warm and safe, and wrapped in steady arms. They don’t make a fuss but lull me back to sleep. Or fuck me senseless until I sleep like the dead.

The rental is fixed, but I barely touch it now. It sits in the B&B parking lot, gathering dust while I split my time between the garage and theSea Spirit. Even though I loathe the early mornings, I love being out on the water with the brothers, watching dawn break over the endless horizon.

I love spending time with my men—in and out of bed.

Are they mine?

I don’t let myself dwell on the question.

Instead, I focus on the present. On the ancient Pontiac in front of me, its hood popped open. Its rusted frame groans in protest as I coax it into submission. The damn thing has more history than most people in this town, and it’s fighting me every step of the way.

I’m elbow deep in grease when the garage door swings open and boots scuff the concrete floor.

I glance up and—damn.

They grow them good-looking here.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying himself with the kind of easy confidence that says he knows exactly what he wants and usually gets it. The early afternoon light catches on wavy brown hair that just touches his collar. He looks vaguely familiar, though I can’t place him.

“Good morning.” I wipe my hands on a rag, flashing him a polite smile. “How can I help you?”

His expression sours. “Where are the MacAllisters?”

Well, good morning to you, too.

I arch a brow but keep my tone even. “Out and about.”

“Fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

I push back from the engine, crossing my arms. “What’s wrong?”

His mouth tightens. “Nothing you can help me with.”

“No?” I straighten, irritation creeping in. “Since you’re here, I’m guessing it’s something mechanical that needs fixing. I’m a mechanical engineer, so I’m your woman.”

His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate. “Nah, you’re not my type.”

I roll my eyes and throw up my hands. “Whatever, man. I wasn’t hitting on you. I’m just trying to be helpful. But by all means, stand here and wait for Grady or his brothers.”

I turn back to the engine, muttering under my breath about stubborn, suspicious men, when he speaks. Too close for comfort this time.

“Does Duke Grayson know you’re working on his car?”

The question catches me off guard, and I startle, bumping my head against the hood. “Fuck!” I whirl around, rubbing the sore spot, and glare at him. “Do you have to sneak up on a girl like that?”

He lifts his hands in mock innocence. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah? Well, you did.” I place my hands on my hips, leveling him with a look. “Listen, mister?—”

“Samuel Whitaker,” he interjects. “Sam.”

“Okay, Sam, you’re really starting to piss me off.”

One of his brows kicks up, amused, and I scowl harder.

“I know my way around engines. And while you might not know me, you know the MacAllisters. You trust their reputation and skills, right?”

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