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“And Remy’s okay with him being there?”
“Seems like it. Told me it might be a good time for us to get to know each other.”
“Maybe it will be. You’ll soon be related.”
After this morning, that wasn’t the most welcome thought... “True. So, how can I help?”
“I’ve got most of the water dealt with. I’m just sweeping and cleaning now. I’ll be okay on my own.”
There was still a gaping hole in the roof. She could see a patch of sky through it. “Why don’t you cover the roof with a tarp or something and let me take over with the cleaning?”
“Are you really set on doing that?” he asked.
“Of course. I’m a farmer’s daughter,” she replied. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”
Ismay and Bo were sitting, exhausted, at his kitchen table, eating the spicy hummus, cucumber, and sprout pita sandwiches she’d made, with potato salad and some sliced apples on the side, when Bastian knocked. Bo saw him through the peephole, muttered, “It’s Bastian,” and opened the door.
“What’s going on?” Bastian said. “Is Ismay still here?”
Bo swung the door wider, so he could come in, and gestured at the table.
Ismay left her plate and got up. “Is something wrong?”
Bastian looked at the meal they had spread out on the table, along with a couple of beers from Bo’s fridge—about all that had survived the power outage—then at each one of them. “I guess I wasn’t invited to this little party.”
“Party?” Ismay echoed. Did Bastian have to mischaracterizeeverything? He had to be doing it on purpose, just to bug them. There was nothing wrong with helping someone after a storm, but Bastian somehow imbued it with a sleazy quality, as if she shouldn’t be over here. “I just finished cleaning the floors, the fridge, and the freezer, and Bo just got off the roof. This is the first chance we’ve had to eat since I came over. But I left you some potato salad and the pita stuff in the fridge so you could make your own, as I told you earlier. Didn’t you eat?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not big on rabbit food.”
It was so strange to love a man who looked exactly like Bastian but not care for Bastian at all.
“Tastes great to me,” Bo said.
“Just saying, I prefer a juicy burger or some fish and chips,” he responded, “which is why I went to Samsons by the Sea. I thought for sure you’d be home by the time I got back...”
What was he implying? That he was judging how she spent her time? Keeping track of her? “Are you saying you were worried about me?” she asked, choosing the most favorable possibility.
“Just wondering what you could be doing over here for so long.”
She gestured around them. “If you’d seen this place before, it would be obvious.”
“Looks pretty good now.”
“Because we’ve spent hours cleaning it. I wish we could’ve gotten some fans today. But there’s only one restoration company on the island, and it’s been overrun.”
“Are you saying you have to come back tomorrow because now you need to get the fans up for Bo?”
Although Bo didn’t react to Bastian’s goading in an overt way, Ismay could see the subtle tightening around his eyes and mouth. He didn’t like Bastian any more than she did. She didn’t see how anyone could. Did the man haveanyfriends?
Maybe that was part of his problem. He’d never learned how to get along with his peers.
“Bastian—” She was finally ready to call him on his behavior, and he could probably tell because he held up a hand and began laughing.
“Don’t get bent out of shape, sis. I’m joking. I was just about to watch a movie and wanted to see if you’d like to join me.”
Ismay didn’t know how to react. She didn’t find his kind of humor funny, and to switch gears so quickly was jarring. “I’ll head back when we’re finished eating,” she said and, refusing to succumb to the pressure he was putting on her, she sat back down in front of her meal.
“Got it.” Bastian winked at her before swinging his gaze to Bo. “I bet you’re glad Ismay’s here. This would’ve been a lot harder without her.”
