Page 23 of Alaskan Blackout
Loki ran out beside her, darting toward a clump of bushes off to one side of the house. As Quinton’s eyes adjusted to the muted light of morning, he took in the details of the yard. Strips of crumpled siding that had formerly been on the house were now scattered around the yard. A black-and-white utility shed rested on its roof against the front of the house. Other debris littered the lawn from what looked like the hard top of a fishing boat to a porch awning from someone else’s dwelling. A section of white wooden fencing lay in the middle of the driveway, two pickets missing. At least there was no broken glass to contend with, which meant McKenna could give Loki a little more room to explore.
Besides the signs of damage, the morning seemed eerily quiet. The air was warmer than the night before and the wind had calmed too, leaving a damp, oppressive feel behind.
“I can work on the siding once it’s a little lighter out,” Quinton offered, recognizing there would be hours of cleanup tasks to be done and unwilling to leave McKenna on her own to tackle it—and yes, maybe he was grasping the reason to stick around a while longer.
“Why would you do that?” she asked, her voice cool as she let Loki sniff around some of the new objects on the lawn. “So you feel less guilty about walking away today?”
His head snapped around to take her measure. Her arms were folded across her chest, the leash clipped to her jeans with a carabiner. She looked incredibly beautiful in the pink light of morning, her hair an untamed mass around her head, some waves pressed into the locks from the way she’d slept.
Her blue eyes were as chilly as her tone, however.
“Who said anything about walking away?” He wondered how she’d read him so easily when she had only just opened her eyes a few minutes before.
“You didn’t have tosaythe words. Not when every aspect of your body language is practically screaming it.” She huffed out an exasperated sigh. “I knew you were backing off two seconds after I woke up.”
He couldn’t very well argue the sentiment since her assessment was correct. That didn’t make him feel like any less of a heel. Burdened by a mixture of remorse and regret at the knowledge that he couldn’t ever be with her again, Quinton used the pent-up frustration to begin picking up the storm-tossed debris closest to him. The wooden pickets. A piece of siding.
He started a pile near the driveway in case her neighbors came to claim the bits that belonged to them.
“With the exception of last night, you’ve made it very clear to me every day that you didn’t want me around,” he reminded her as he worked. “And you have no intention of telling me where Clay is, do you?”
“None whatsoever.” Her chin lifted as she unclipped the dog leash from her belt loop to hold the end in her hand. “Your retreat was one hundred percent anticipated, so no need to draw out the awkwardness by sticking around to rehang siding, okay?”
He moved faster to scoop up more debris, wishing he could clear away his own mess half so efficiently. Because something about this parting felt all wrong after the night they’d shared. As he gathered a couple of empty plastic planters, it occurred to him that he’d shown McKenna a side of himself that he never gave to anyone. Had it only been because he’d thought he’d never see her again once he found Clay?
The explanation didn’t sit quite right, and yet he’d be damned if he could think of any other reason why he’d let his guard down so completely with someone he never should have touched in the first place.
Dropping the planters onto the growing pile, he stopped working to meet her gaze. “I’m still going to find the evidence you need to prosecute your cyber harasser.”
He wanted her to know he hadn’t been talking smack about that. It was important to him that she not lose a second’s worth of worry about that asshat ever again.
For a long moment, he thought she might argue the point, but she at last she gave a nod while Loki circled her ankles. “Thank you. Any help on that score would be appreciated.”
His throat felt tight at the soft tone of her voice and the vulnerability it hid. He couldn’t imagine how much it rankled this strong, proud woman to have to deal with the juvenile bullshit her ex-boyfriend had put her through.
“I’ll send you the information as soon as I have it nailed down.” He dragged a couple of pieces of aluminum siding over toward her house, still antsy but unsure of his next move. He didn’t want to leave her. Although he sure as hell couldn’t stay and perpetuate a relationship that shouldn’t have started in the first place. His gut burned with guilt even as the rest of him yearned to take McKenna back in the house and kiss every inch of her the way he’d done just a few hours ago. Fearing that was a real possibility if he stuck around, he wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Do you want a ride into town so you can retrieve your vehicle?” he asked, not wanting to leave her out here again without her truck. “Assuming the roads are navigable.”
“I would like that.” She unwound the leash from around her legs and then headed for the house. “Just let me settle Loki and grab my purse, then we can go.”
Quinton told himself he was doing the right thing to leave. To put some distance between them. But in his gut he knew the damage had already been done. He’d betrayed the brother he wanted to reconcile with, and he’d no doubt hurt a good woman in the process, based on McKenna’s stiff shoulders as she strode into the house.
The sooner he uncovered Clay’s whereabouts and got out of Dutch Harbor, the better.
Men.
Not for the first time, McKenna thought the word like an epithet three days after Quinton had vanished from her life.
She taped the Closed sign to the front door of the Cyclone Shack, along with a note for her patrons to let them know she’d reopen in thirteen days. That done, she hitched her rucksack onto her back and headed to her truck to make the short drive to the harbor, where she would take an impromptu trip of bird-watchers out to Attu. It was a thirteen-day venture that had fallen into her lap after a tour group based on Adak Island had lost their chartered boat to the recent storm. When the desperate guide had contacted McKenna to take over the trip in tandem with a larger trawler yacht, she had jumped at the chance to get out of town.
This way, she would get some fresh sea air to clear the cobwebs in her brain and give her some perspective on her situation. She would provide tender services for the bigger boat and take smaller groups around the islands that were harder to reach with the yacht. It was a makeshift approach for the tour company to deliver the birding trip, but considering they were in a pinch after the storm and McKenna had enough birding knowledge to act as a second guide, the arrangement would suffice. McKenna would make a nice paycheck, all while avoiding Quinton.
Because...Men.
Dumping her sack into the cargo bed of the truck, she tried not to think about how much his disappearing act had hurt. Even though she’d told him after their night together that he was under zero obligation to stick around, a part of her had wondered how he could stay away when the chemistry between them had been amazing. Well, for her it had been. Was there a chance that Quinton always worked that kind of magic with women? She’d assumed that it was because there’d been a connection between them. But with her limited—and crappy—past experiences, what did she know?
Cranking on the truck engine, she carefully but deliberately pulled out of the Cyclone Shack’s parking lot, unwilling to spend any more time missing him. Each day that she’d worked at the bar after the storm, she’d held her breath every time the door opened to admit a new customer. Every. Single. Time.