"Give a girl a little warning before you manhandle her."

"How are you going to get off the boat?"

She ignored that and him, limped to a bench seat and sat down. After popping the top off a beer, she swallowed half the contents, then glared at him.

"And you liked it when I lifted you into the truck."

"I tolerated it. There's a difference."

Jared chuckled.

It only took him about three minutes to get the boat ready. Then he cast off and they were heading out of the marina.

Mich.e.l.le did her best to ignore him. She turned her face into the wind and closed her eyes. Sea air and warm sun combined to relax her. She set the beer in a holder and reached up to unfasten her braid. There would be plenty of tangles later, but for now she wanted to feel free-as if she'd escaped whatever it was that bound her in place.

Jared took them out onto the Sound. When they were miles from sh.o.r.e, he cut the engine and let them drift.

"Keep an eye out," he told her. "We're not in the shipping lanes, but there are plenty of pleasure craft around. We don't want a close encounter."

"Who says I'm speaking to you?"

"You're not the type to hold a grudge."

"How do you know?"

"Am I wrong?"

"No. Well, not against you." Carly was another matter.

He handed her a sandwich, took a beer for himself and settled on the bench seat opposite.

She unwrapped her dinner and took a bite. "You could learn to cook," she said when she'd chewed and swallowed.

"I could but I won't."

"Typical guy."

"Do you cook?"

"Some. More than you."

"Low bar."

She looked at him from under her lashes. "Are you seeing someone?"

"Asking about my love life?"

"If you have one."

He sipped his beer. "I'm between entanglements."

"Because your ex broke your heart?"

"No. That was a long time ago. Neither of us knew what we were getting into. She hated everything about the island and then she started hating me. It's hard to move a business based in the ocean to Nebraska. Neither of us was willing to compromise. I hear she's married to a guy who sells insurance and they have a couple of kids. I'm sure she's happier with him."

She noticed he hadn't answered her question. Was he seeing someone? "Between entanglements" didn't mean there wasn't something casual going on. She told herself it wasn't important, but she was still curious.

They ate as the boat drifted in the current. A few cranes flew overhead. Mich.e.l.le eyed them, not trusting them to keep their distance.

"How's the inn?" he asked. "Booked for the holiday weekend?"

"Every room. It's a happy time."

He chuckled. "We're busy, too. Charters on all the boats. Sunset cruises tomorrow and Sat.u.r.day night. Hope it doesn't rain."

"It's not supposed to."

"I've heard that before."

They finished their sandwiches in silence. Mich.e.l.le shifted in her seat so she could support her left leg and stared up at the sky.

The sun was still visible, but drifting toward the horizon. Cranes circled lazily over the water. She found herself more intrigued than hostile toward them. Probably the fact that she'd eaten, she thought. Or the beer. Either way she was feeling more mellow.

"You need to be in a group."

The quietly spoken statement shattered the relaxing mood. Mich.e.l.le's body tensed and she instantly regretted the sandwich now sitting in her stomach.

"You're a broken record. Go to h.e.l.l."

"Where I spend the night doesn't change the facts. You're still screaming."

Shame and embarra.s.sment surged, leaving her face hot. "If it's a problem for you, I can move out."

"I didn't say it was a problem. I said you need to talk to someone about what happened."

"You volunteering?" She glanced over at him.

He shrugged. "I'm just a guy with a boat. You need someone who can lead you through the process."

"There's no process," she snapped. "There's getting on with my life, which is what I'm doing."

"It'll be easier if you talk about it."

"Why? How do you know that?"

"If you were doing so great on your own, you wouldn't be having nightmares."

Logic, she thought. Just like a man to use that against her.

"I'm fine."

"I'm not the one you have to convince."

She turned toward him and glared. "I suppose you got into some kind of support group when you got back?"

"No. That's one of the reasons my wife left me. I wasn't much fun to live with. Then my grandfather died and I had the business and I couldn't handle it. I went on a bender that lasted six months."

She eyed the beer he held. "But you still drink."

"Alcohol was the least of it, kid. I woke up in jail with absolutely no idea how I'd gotten there. It took me three h.e.l.lish days to dry out and another six weeks to stop shaking from the withdrawal. I figured out I had a choice. I could deal with what I'd been through or I could turn into one of those guys living on the street." One corner of his mouth turned up. "Hard to fit a forty-foot fishing boat into a shopping cart."

"I'm not in danger of being homeless."

"Probably not, but you are on the road to s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up everything that matters to you. You were attacked. Your buddies were killed. You shot a man and it wasn't from a safe distance. You saw into his eyes when he died. In that moment, when it's you or him, it's an easy decision. It's only later you start to second-guess yourself."

He was right, she thought, taking another swallow of the beer. She did second-guess herself, even as she knew she hadn't had a choice. If only that girl hadn't been there.

"I'll think about it," she said, not wanting to talk about her feelings to anyone.

She waited for him to say she had to do more than think, but he didn't.

"You do this all the time," she said. "Take in some wounded war vet. Then what? Send him on his way? Are you going to kick me out as soon as I can sleep through the night?"

Jared regarded her steadily. His dark eyes were unreadable. Probably for the best. She wanted him thinking that he wanted to see her naked. What he was probably thinking instead was that she was too much trouble and way too broken.

"I don't kick anyone out," he told her. "When you're ready, you'll leave."

"That sounds almost spiritual."

"Okay by me."

Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it from her pocket and glanced around. "Where's the cell tower?"

"Over there." He pointed to a small rocky island north of them. She could see the metal structure reaching for the sky. "It's there for Coast Guard and Search and Rescue. The local fishermen take advantage of it to call and say they're on their way in."

Her phone continued to ring.

She glanced at the screen and saw the number. Her father. She pushed the ignore b.u.t.ton.

"One day you're going to have to take that call," Jared told her.

"You don't know who it was."

"I know you're avoiding something. That never works. Eventually you have to face all your demons."

"Kill or be killed?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light but failing.

"If that's what it takes."

"I can't kill him."

"You don't have to. Sometimes staring a demon in the eye is enough."

She wanted s.e.x and he wanted to discuss demons. Talk about a perfect match. "More advice? You're hardly my sensei and I'm not your little gra.s.shopper."

Jared laughed. "But I have much to teach."

"Not to me you don't."

His humor faded. Something flashed through his eyes, something hot and hungry, but then it was gone so quickly, Mich.e.l.le had a feeling she'd simply imagined it. Wishful thinking and all that.

"Maybe you're right," he said, coming to his feet. "Ready to head back?"

Not really. Being out here, away from everything, made her feel whole. As if the broken bits were merely an inconvenience and not a permanent state of being.

"Sure," she said. "Gonna let me drive?"

"No."

She grinned. "Chicken."

"When it comes to my boat? You bet."

Twenty-One.

Memorial weekend was as busy as Carly had hoped. With every room full and the town overflowing with tourists, there wasn't a moment to breathe, let alone think. If she wasn't getting fresh towels, she was recommending restaurants, making reservations and organizing walking tours.

Gabby was spending the day with a friend and her family. Tomorrow she would hang with Robert in the morning, and Brittany, her favorite sitter, would come over for the afternoon. Monday there was a special all-day program through the city park department that Gabby was finally old enough to attend.

"This is perfect," Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l said as she took the map Carly offered. "We just love coming here. Last year we stayed at a dreadful little motel down the road. Every time we walked past your inn we were so upset we hadn't made reservations here."

"We're happy to have you this weekend," Carly told her. "If there's anything we can do to make your stay more memorable, please let any of us know."

"We will." The couple turned away, then Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l swung back. "Is there a plant nursery nearby? I just love your daisies. Can I buy some like them?"

"Sure." Carly gave her the name, then waved as the couple left.

Mich.e.l.le walked up to the desk. "I heard that."

"Not everyone hates the daisies."