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She grabbed his wrist. “You need food. And coffee. She pulled him to the kitchen, settled him at the table with hot coffee and pizza. The sizzling pepperoni had him sitting up.
Slipping a plate in front of him, she sat down next to him. “I figure we might as well start eating up the frozen stuff before it thaws.”
“Dammit—I didn’t get down to that boat shop today.”
She shrugged. “Tomorrow. I doubt they’ll have what you need.”
“Ye of so very little faith. What made you a cynic?” he asked. She began picking the pepperoni off her pizza. He stared at her. “And what made you buy a pepperoni pizza when you don’t eat pepperoni? Are you crazy, woman?”
“No, just a careful shopper. The pizza was on sale, and how can you pass that up? I like the olives better. So tell me more about yourself, Mr. Mike Collins, mover and shaker.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Does your brother cook, too?”
“No. And he’s not as cute as me, either.” Mike grinned. “Zach’s okay. For a brother. He refused to see us split up, so he dove in to raise me. Our parents had insurance, so that helped.”
She pulled a face. “Smart of them. My folks—not so smart.”
“None? Or not enough?”
She pushed out a breath. “Not near enough.”
“Ouch. That’s rough. We had enough to keep the house. Zach started working, but wouldn’t let me get even a part-time job. Typical pushy older brother.”
She grinned. “I wouldn’t know about that. Only child here.”
“Ah, you got all the goodies, then. Zach did the whole night school route to get his diploma. And worked two full time jobs. Can we say workaholic?”
“He sounds pretty amazing.”
“Unlike me?” Mike asked. And he wasn’t sure if he was angling for a compliment or not.
She smiled and sipped her coffee. “You said you were into football. You still do any sports? Did you come here for the scuba? The surfing?”
“Nothing that much fun.”
Finishing her pizza, Karen licked her fingers. Mike tried hard not to gawk. She had great hands—not soft ones, but strong, sturdy hands. Blunt, unpainted nails, no jewelry. No pretentions.
Sitting up, she said, “How about we go to the beach?”
“Now?”
“I know the perfect spot. The sun is still up, it’s supposed to be a full moon tonight, and all the clouds are gone. Come on—don’t be a spoilsport.”
“Well, when you put it that way.”
“Meet you on the back porch in ten.”
Mike figured he could use his shorts for swimming—or just chuck them off. He grabbed a towel. He still needed to get some kind of footwear, but for now bare feet suited him just fine. He met Karen at the back. She’d changed into a colorful, flowered bikini. He could see the straps of it under her pale blue sarong.
She gave him a sideways glance.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. But she smiled in a way that left him wondering if she’d been checking him out.
He followed her to the beach. She gave a small gasp, as if she was upset to see the disaster of trees and limbs everywhere. Muttering, she started stacking the debris into a pile. He threw his towel down on the sand and helped, even though his back screamed at him and his bum knee complained. He couldn’t let her do this all on her own.
