A long metal walkway—a gangway?—stretched over the water and up through a gateway in the railing where several men and women hurried about on their own errands. Two older men stood apart from the chaos, carrying on a conversation while gesturing toward the wrought-iron railing circling the upper deck. I walked right up to them and smiled in the face of their bewilderment. “Hi. I’m Grier Woolworth.”
“Cricket send you?” the taller one, whose handlebar mustache tickled his jawline, asked. “You’ve the look of one of her girls.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Told you the old bat wouldn’t settle until she had eyes and ears onboard.” He belted out a hearty laugh the other man shared. “I’m Sean Voorhees.” He indicated the man standing beside him, who sported a rather impressive beard that frothed around his mouth in tight curls. “This is Captain Dale Murray.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” I craned my neck to see what I was walking into, but Mr. Voorhees cleared the deck with an imperious sweep of his hand. “I’ll take you up to the dining room. You can help pull out the old carpet and padding.”
The dining room. Straight into the heart of the haunting. They must really want to spook me away.
“Wear a mask,” Captain Murray called as I was led away. “Water breeds mold.”
“We’ll provide you with a mask and gloves tonight,” Mr. Voorhees said, “but tomorrow I expect you to show with your own supplies. You might also want to invest in a chisel, a hammer, a Phillips screwdriver and a straight edge too. The work will go faster if you’re not waiting on someone to finish up with the tool you need, and I don’t have to tell you Cricket wants this done yesterday.”
“I can do that.” Though my unused debit card winced away from the cost of such supplies, minor as they were to me these days, I convinced myself I would be able to use them during Woolly’s renovations as well. And that was assuming I couldn’t find all I needed in the tool chest out in the garage. Gus, Maud’s driver, had kept all sorts of supplies out there. “I’ll get a list from one of my coworkers on the way out.”
“Good idea.” He sounded amused, like he never expected to see me again, as he led me into what must usually be an elegant dining room but now resembled a haunted house ride at a theme park. Wallpaper peeled in curling strips, sections of the floor revealed battered hardwood and steel beneath their carpet coverings, and one square of the ceiling exposed dangling wires. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Klein vogeltje, I’ve got a new girl for you.”
A brunette about my age popped up from under one of the few remaining tables. Dirt smudged her cheek, and sweat glued her bangs to her forehead. A vibrant red birthmark covered her chin and lower jaw, spreading down her throat where it disappeared below the neck of her tee. “Why must you insist on embarrassing me in front of the new hires?”
“I do it to remind you you’ll always be my little bird.” A fond grin creased his cheeks as his eyes cut to me. “And to warn them who they’re working for, what the consequences will be for ruffling your feathers.” He shoved me forward as he stepped back. “Marit will set you to rights.”
“Thank you.” I drifted over to her as he strolled away. “Hi. I’m Grier.”
“Marit.” She held up her gloved hands in apology then jerked her chin in the direction her dad had gone. “Don’t let the old man get under your skin. He’s harmless, really.”
Uncertain I believed that, I surveyed the wreckage, surprised when it appeared she was solely responsible for the entire mess. “Where do you want me?”
“Give me a hand with the carpet. I need it gone so I can prime the floor.” She abandoned whatever task she’d been attending under the table to walk me across the room. “It’s called a salmon patch.”
Puzzled, I glanced around, expecting to see fish-patterned wallpaper or themed kitsch. Neither of which belonged on a steamboat on the Savannah River. “What is?”
“My birthmark,” she said without breaking stride. “People call the ones on your face angel kisses, or the ones on your neck stork bites. Cute names, right? Mine looks like I dribbled a mouthful of wine down my chin.”
“Oh.” Articulate as always. “Do you have gloves I can borrow?”
“You really don’t care, do you?” Marit sorted through a toolbox until she found a pair of scarred leather gloves then tossed them to me. “Most folks gawk and wonder, so I tend to get it out of the way.” She met my stare, unflinching. “Sorry if I came down hard on you.”
“It’s a birthmark. Most of us have one somewhere.” I yanked on the gloves and flexed my fingers. “I have one shaped like a cowboy boot under my left butt cheek if you’d like to make us even.”
“I’ll pass, for now.” Marit chuckled under her breath. “Maybe we can get drinks after work sometime. Get enough liquor in me, and I might change my mind.”
The chorus from the country song “Bad Boys Get Me Good” started playing, and I wrangled my phone from my pocket. “Do you mind if I take this?” I yanked off one glove. “I’ll make it quick.”
“Take twenty-five, but it counts as your first break. Just so you know.”
“That’s fair.” I flicked the green circle on the screen. “Hey.”
“Hey back.” A smile warmed Boaz’s voice. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
Uh-oh. “Really? That’s nice.” I smothered a grin. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”
About how Taz claimed he was coming to town, and he hadn’t said a word to me.
“Missing me already, Squirt?”
“I always miss you when you’re gone,” I said truthfully. “It’s when you’re around that you annoy me so much I look forward to you leaving again.”
“Brrr.” He chattered his teeth for effect. “That’s cold.”
“I’m at work, Boaz.” I bit back a laugh. “Did you need something in particular, or were you just calling to harass me?”
“As much as I enjoy harassing you, I do need something in particular.” He hesitated. “You.”
“Um.” Heat flooded my cheeks, and I turned my back on Marit. “Can you be more specific?”
His husky chuckle warned me I’d made a fatal error. “How specific? Are we talking pics or drawings or…?”
“Boaz,” I groaned. “Please behave.”
“Never.”
“Then please stop wasting my first break terrorizing me. What’s the favor?”
A pause lapsed during which I counted five beats of my heart.
“Go out with me,” he repeated his earlier plea. “Just me and you. No sister to hide behind.”
Always so quick to accuse me of hiding from him. How it must annoy him that I no longer ran headfirst into his arms every time he opened them. And that thought was exactly why I worried about the attention he paid me. I worried what he wanted was what he couldn’t have and not, well, me.
“Earlier you said you’d give me time to see the error of my ways before you asked again. I figured I had a solid twenty-four hours at least.” I gazed through one of the windows out at the darkened river. “Why the rush?”
“I’ll be in town tomorrow,” he admitted at last. “I thought about surprising you, but I didn’t want to drop in and assume you’d have time for me.”
“See me as in put eyeballs on me or see me as in go out on a date? Dates end with kissing.” I ground the toe of my shoe into the plaster-covered carpet. “You’ve never been satisfied stopping there.”
“No one said anything about a date.” He wisely refrained from pointing out that since he hadn’t asked me out until now, I had no idea what satisfying him entailed. “I’m asking my best girl to keep me company while we eat good food and maybe go dancing.”
“What happens if I ask for more time?” Teasing him might not be the wisest idea I’d ever had, but I had never been smart where Boaz was concerned, and the idea of whirling the night away in his arms appealed to the starry-eyed teenager in me who would always idolize him just a little.
“Then I’ll ask you again tomorrow night, and the next, and the next, until you cave.”
I hid behind closed eyelids. Asking questions was safer in the dark, especially where my heart was concerned. “Why do you want this so much?” He had given me the easy answer, but I didn’t want easy. “Telling a girl she’s a convenient pit stop on your way through town is not the way to get her to say yes.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you goodbye that night in your front yard. Or stolen your first kiss without asking.” Gravel churned in his voice. “I can still taste you, Grier, and I want more. I can’t stop thinking about you. Have mercy on me. Say yes.”
Stolen kisses, no tongues involved, had brought Boaz to heel? I couldn’t believe it. In fact, I didn’t believe it. But goddess, how I wanted to. “Okay, Boaz Pritchard, I’ll give you one date to prove yourself.”
“Grier Woolworth, you won’t regret it,” he vowed. “And, since you called it a date, expect me to cash in on the kissing you mentioned.”
“No tongue,” I said, just to be contrary. “And no touching below the shoulders.”
His pained groan lifted gooseflesh down my arms. “Cold, cold woman.”
“You must like it.” I couldn’t stop my grin. “You’re still talking to me.”
“The thing about ice…” He lowered his voice to a growl. “When you hold it in your hands long enough, it burns.”
Delicious shivers coasted down my arms. “You’re assuming you’re going to hold me at all.”
The chuckle he gusted across the receiver spoke of bad intentions and melted my kneecaps.