Pelican Point by Irene Hannon

Author:Irene Hannon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance;FIC042040;FIC027020
ISBN: 9781493412600
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2018-02-23T05:00:00+00:00

14

Way to go, Garrison.

As Ben dried off Marci’s patio table and chairs and kept an eye on the large white bird with the oversized orange beak that he’d shooed out of the gazebo, he blew out a disgusted breath.

Nothing like introducing an obviously sensitive subject to ruin an enjoyable lunch with a beautiful woman.

Big mistake.

After draping the damp towel over the railing, Ben shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned a shoulder against one of the wooden uprights, and surveyed the gardens.

He’d also made a mistake by assuming Marci wasn’t an outdoor kind of person. The well-tended beds spoke of hours of hard labor in the dirt, and the lawn was precision-cut and meticulously trimmed.

He surveyed the ramshackle shed, slated to be replaced by a garage when funds permitted. Given the condition of the structure, that couldn’t happen too soon—and a garage would be a welcome convenience.

Yet Marci had taken on the expense of an employee instead, delaying the project.

It was possible she did need help at her office—but it was also possible her motives for hiring Rachel were more benevolent than practical. That she’d recognized a need and stepped in to help, as she had when she’d relaunched the Herald and jumped in to spearhead the lighthouse project.

The very sorts of things his grandmother would have done.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Marci was a lot like June Garrison—a spitfire, with spirit to spare.

But Gram had also been all heart—like Marci. No need that crossed her path went unaddressed.

No wonder Marci and Skip had become friends.

Ben wandered over to the other side of the gazebo, following the progress of two gulls as they dipped and soared in perfect sync against the blue sky.

His grandfather might never have mentioned Marci or the column he’d written for the paper, but he’d no doubt found in her a kindred spirit. Someone who’d reminded him of the lively, animated woman he’d loved.

Someone who might fly off the handle on occasion, but who was vivacious and vibrant rather than volatile and vicious.

As Nicole had been.

A shudder rippled through him.

Marci was nothing like the woman who’d made his life a living hell.

Yet she was wary. Her over-the-top security precautions proved that.

Was it due to some phobia, like the one she had about blood—or was there a more sinister explanation?

Not a question she was likely to answer today, given her silence in response to his comment about locks.

The door banged shut behind him, and he shifted toward it.

“Dessert’s ready.”

She descended the single step, balancing the tray, and he strode across the lawn to take it from her.

“Your gazebo awaits. You’ve done an incredible job with the gardens, by the way.”

“Thanks. My aunt kept detailed notes and diagrams about what she planted, what worked, what didn’t. It seemed like a nice tribute to her to restore them.”

“So you’re not an avid gardener?”

“I like flowers—but this”—she swept a hand over the beds—“was an ambitious undertaking. Hi, Harpo.” She wiggled her fingers at the pelican.

From his spot

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