LITMIR.BIZ

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yet.”

      The sea slapped the sides of the boat as Alec set the inshore stern line. “Probably a summer rental.”

      “Brittany doesn’t usually rent the cottage.” Together they finished securing the boat, and Ryan winced as his shoulder protested.

      Alec glanced at him. “Bad day?”

      “No worse than usual.” The pain reminded him he was alive and should make the most of every moment. A piece of his past that forced him to pay attention to the present. “I’ll go over to the cottage in the morning and check it out.”

      “Or you could mind your own business.”

      Ryan shrugged. “Small island. I like to know what’s going on.”

      “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

      “Just being friendly.”

      “You’re like Brittany, always digging.”

      “Except she digs in the past, and I dig in the present. Are you in a rush to get back to sanding planks of wood or do you want a beer?”

      “I could force one down if you’re paying.”

      “You should be the one paying. You’re the rich Brit.”

      “That was before my divorce. And you’re the one who owns a bar.”

      “I’m living the dream.” Ryan paused to greet one of the sailing club coaches, glanced at the times for high and low tides scrawled on the whiteboard by the dockside and then walked with Alec up the ramp that led from the marina to the bar and restaurant. Despite the fact it was only early summer, it was alive with activity. Ryan absorbed the lights and the crowds, remembering how the old disused boatyard had looked three years earlier. “So, how is the book going? It’s unlike you to stay in one place this long. Those muscles will waste away if you spend too much time staring at computer screens and flicking through dusty books. You’re looking puny.”

      “Puny?” Alec rolled powerful shoulders. “Do I need to remind you who stepped in to help you finish off the Ocean Club when your shoulder was bothering you? And I spent last summer building a replica Viking ship in Denmark and then sailing it to Scotland, which involved more rowing hours than I want to remember. So you can keep your judgmental comments about dusty books to yourself.”

      “You do know you’re sounding defensive? Like I said. Puny.” Ryan’s phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the text. “Interesting.”

      “If you’re waiting for me to ask, you’ll wait forever.”

      “It’s Brittany. She’s loaned Castaway Cottage to a friend in trouble, which explains the lights. She wants me to watch over her.”

      “You?” Alec doubled up with soundless laughter. “That’s like giving a lamb to a wolf and saying ‘Don’t eat this’”

      “Thank you. And who says she’s a lamb? If the friend is anything like Brittany, she might be a wolf, too. I still have a scar where Brittany shot me in the butt with one of her arrows two summers ago.”

      “I thought she had perfect aim. She missed her target?”

      “No. I was her target.” Ryan texted a reply.

      “You’re telling her you have better things to do than babysit the friend.”

      “I’m telling her I’ll do it. How hard can it be? I drop by, offer a shoulder to cry on, comfort her—”

      “—take advantage of a vulnerable woman.”

      “No, because I don’t want to be shot in the butt a second time.”

      “Why don’t you say no?”

      “Because I owe Brit, and this is payback.” He thought about their history and felt a twinge of guilt. “She’s calling it in.”

      Alec shook his head. “Again, I’m not asking.”

      “Good.” Pocketing the phone, Ryan took the steps to the club two at a time. “So again, how’s your book going? Have you reached the exciting part? Anyone died yet?”

      “I’m writing a naval history of the American Revolution. Plenty of people die.”

      “Any sex in it?”

      “Of course. They regularly stopped in the middle of a battle to have sex with each other.” Alec stepped to one side as a group of women approached, arm in arm. “I’m flying back to London next week, so you’re going to have to find a new drinking partner.”

      “Business or pleasure?”

      “Both. I need to pay a visit to the Caird Library in Greenwich.”

      “Why would anyone need to go there?”

      “It has the most extensive maritime archive in the world.”

      One of the women glanced at Alec idly and then stopped, her eyes widening. “I know you.” She gave a delighted smile. “You’re the Shipwreck Hunter. I’ve watched every series you’ve made, and I have the latest one on pre-order. This is so cool. The crazy thing is, history was my least favorite subject in school, but you actually manage to make it sexy. Loads of us follow you on Twitter, not that you’d notice us because I know you have, like, one hundred thousand followers.”

      Alec answered politely, and when they finally walked away, Ryan slapped him on the shoulder.

      “Hey, that should be your tag line. I make history sexy.”

      “Do you want to end up in the water?”

      “Do you seriously have a hundred thousand followers? I guess that’s what happens when you kayak half-naked through the Amazon jungle. Someone saw your anaconda.”

      Alec rolled his eyes. “Remind me why I spend time with you?”

      “I own a bar. And on top of that, I keep you grounded and protect you from the droves of adoring females. So—you were telling me you’re flying across the ocean to visit a library.” Ryan walked through the bar, exchanging greetings as he went. “What’s the pleasure part of the trip?”

      “The library is the pleasure. Business is my ex-wife.”

      “Ouch. I’m beginning to see why a library might look like a party.”

      “It will happen to you one day.”

      “Never. To be divorced you have to be married, and I was inoculated against that at an early age. A white picket fence can look a lot like a prison when you’re trapped behind it.”

      “You looked after your siblings. That’s different.”

      “Trust me, there is no better lesson in contraception to a thirteen-year-old boy than looking after his four-year-old sister.”

      “If you’ve avoided all ties, why are you back home on the island where you grew up?”

       Because he’d stared death in the face and crawled back home to heal.

      “I’m here through choice, not obligation. And that choice was driven by lobster and the three-and-a-half-thousand miles of coastline. I can leave anytime it suits me.”

      “I promise not to repeat that to your sister.”

      “Good. Because if there is one thing scarier than an ex-wife, it’s having a sister who teaches first grade. What is it about teachers? They perfect a look that can freeze bad behavior at a thousand paces.” Ryan picked a table that looked over the water. Even though it was dark, he liked knowing it was close by. He reached for a menu and raised his brows as Tom, the barman, walked past with two large cocktails complete with sparklers. “Do you want one of those?”

      “No, thanks. I prefer my drinks unadorned. Fireworks remind me of my marriage,

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