He felt like an idiot. Not only had he gotten that haircut and shave—plus the hot towel facial Ken had strong-armed him into—he’d also applied beard balm and clipped the tags off a new flannel shirt he’d never gotten around to wearing. All this on the off chance that the woman who was freezing him out would show that night. The woman he was not going to pursue.
The woman who hadn’t been out of his mind for the past fifteen days since she’d returned to ruin his quiet island life.
Her efforts in ignoring him made the temperature on the island feel twenty degrees colder than it already was. Such were the powers of Remington Ford.
In the grocery store, she’d given him a cool nod, looking through him rather than at him. She was treating him like a stranger. Like he was nothing to her. He made it all the way home before he realized he’d forgotten the damn beef broth for his damn stew and had to go back to the store.
They’d both shown up to watch that week’s street hockey game, and when she spotted him, she’d crossed the damn street to watch from the front porch of a fudge shop rather than spectate near him. He ended up catching a ball to the chest because he was too busy glowering at her to watch the game.
Despite her complete and total avoidance of him, there were signs of her in his own house. Like the clean coffee pot resting upside down in the drying rack next to the sink. Or the dozen oatmeal chocolate chip cookies on his kitchen counter with a sticky note that said simply “Rent.”
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how doing the right thing had landed him in this situation.
But it didn’t matter. Because he had something to discuss with her. Something she’d want to hear.
He arrived early at the grille, a restaurant that opened on the weekends in the winter for Mackinac’s stalwart residents. It was a few decades overdue for a renovation with its nautical decor, but the food was good, and the heating system worked well.
He took a booth toward the back with a view of the front door. It was cozier. And she’d either have to decide to sit on his side where their bodies would definitely end up touching or Kimber’s where she’d have to look at him.
He fiddled with the menus and his phone, looking up every time the bell on the door jangled.
It wasn’t until his jaw started to ache that he realized he was scowling.
He had an ace up his sleeve that meant she’d have to talk to him. Kimber arrived a few minutes later, looking pink-cheeked and frazzled.
She spotted him and slid into the booth across from him. “You look good. What’s the occasion?” she asked, snagging one of the menus.
He winced, self-conscious now that he’d overdone it on the whole appearance thing.
“No occasion. Ken dragged me into his chair for a hair cut.”
“He’s terrifying and talented,” she noted, perusing the specials. “Hear anything from Remi?”
His jaw clenched reflexively, and he cleared his throat. “No.”
“Me neither. She’s probably blowing us off. Ooh! They brought back the beer cheese soup!”
Brick pretended to stare down at his menu until the door jangled at the front again.
He nearly stood when he spotted her. Red hair confined to a long braid over one shoulder. A navy wool hat that made those wide eyes look even greener. She shrugged out of her coat and took his fucking breath away. The mustard yellow henley and dark jeans cuffed above waterproof ankle boots hugged her curves hypnotically. Once again, she’d massacred the sleeve of her shirt to fit over the cast.
She looked edible. Fuckable.
It took him a full breath before he realized she wasn’t alone.
The toothy, happy-go-lucky Corporal Carlos Turk was taking her coat and hanging it up like he was her goddamn date or something. Brick’s fist closed on the specials page and crumpled it.
“Hi, guys,” Remi said, looking at her sister and pointedly ignoring him. “I think we’re going to need a bigger table. I brought reinforcements.”
“Hi, Mom!” Ian poked his head out from behind Carlos and grinned.
“Did you kidnap my son from his grandparents?” Kimber asked.
“Tonight he’s not your son,” Remi said. “Everyone, meet our technology officer, Ian.”
They moved to a bigger table, and Brick cursed his luck when Remi managed to end up at the opposite end as far away from him as possible. The grinning Carlos at her elbow as they debated sharing an appetizer.
The top button of her thermal shirt was undone, like an invitation to appreciate the swell of her breasts. He should not be thinking about her breasts. Not in front of her sister and impressionable nephew.
Orders placed, Kimber interlaced her fingers on the table. “Who wants to explain why my son isn’t with Grandma and Grandpa finishing his homework?” she asked, a hint of brittleness in her tone.
“There’s a good reason for it,” Remi promised. “Why don’t we start with how far you two got on the volunteer front, and then we’ll get to Ian and Carlos?”
Kimber and Brick shared a glance. He shrugged at her. He was the one who called the meeting and assumed that was effort enough.
“I have it on my list to call Mira Rathbun and Mayor Early to talk to them about rounding up some volunteers,” Kimber said grudgingly. “And that’s as far as I got.”
Remi nodded enthusiastically. “Great.” She waited a beat, and when no one else added anything, she winked at Ian. “While Ian sets up his presentation, I’ll add that I spoke to Dad, who was able to get ten volunteers to officially commit. Then I reached out to Carlos here since he’s such a well-liked, friendly member of both the police department and the community.”
That was definitely a dig at him, Brick decided. And she’d delivered it without looking at him.
Remi leaned forward and continued. “Carlos was able to provide the complete list of the people the department checks in on during the winter. I reached out to half of them so far and divided them into two lists. Ones with low-technology acumen who preferred to commit to a day of the week for their visit. And ones who are willing to help test the Visit Request functionality you’re about to see.”
“Oh,” Kimber said, looking as surprised as Brick felt.
“All set, Aunt Remi—I mean Technology Coordinator Remington,” Ian announced from the head of the table. He spun the iPad around on its stand. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Mackinac Visits end user interface.”
Twenty minutes later, food forgotten in front of him, Brick listened with rapt attention.
“So the volunteer list receives an email every time a new visit request is made. They can decide if they want to accept the request and add it to their own calendar, which will also include the birthdates and anniversaries of visitees and volunteers,” Remi explained as Ian’s chubby little hands flew over the wireless keyboard. “We’re also discussing additional capabilities like a forum for volunteers to share notes about their visits. And as my colleague Ian explained before, everyone’s private information remains secure behind the login and firewall. Any questions?”
“How did you do all this?” Kimber asked, still looking stunned.
Remi winked at Ian. “I borrowed the school’s Online Media Club yesterday and today. They were already working with the kind of modules this project needed. The Branding Club heard about it and got involved with writing the copy and finalizing the photos. They’re also working on email automation for new people who fill out the volunteer form that includes a campaign advising what to do or talk about during visits.”
Brick blew out a breath. “That’s…impressive.” He was fucking dazzled by her. She’d known he and Kimber would have expected nothing from her. So she’d delivered the entire project on a platter as a subtle but effective “fuck you.” What she was able to accomplish when motivated by revenge was awe-inspiring. And terrifying.
There was no way he was going to survive this.
Remi looked at Ian instead of him and beamed. “You hear that, Chief Technology Officer? You’re impressive.”
“Hey, Mom. Does this mean I can have a brownie explosion for dessert?” Ian asked, looking hopeful.
“I can’t come up with a good reason to say no,” Kimber admitted.
Ian celebrated by pumping his fist and then digging back in to his dinner of pancakes.
“I think if we spend all of next week testing it, we could be ready to roll it out the week after,” Remi announced.
“Chief’s gonna love this,” Carlos predicted, flashing a grin in Brick’s direction that made him want to punch the man in the face.
“On that note,” Remi said. “I’m heading out.”
“I’ve gotta go, too. You want a ride home?” Carlos volunteered.
“That would be great. Thanks,” she said, showering the jackass with unnecessary and excessive attention.
“I’ll go warm up the sled,” he said, pushing his chair back.
Remi high-fived her nephew. “See you guys around,” she said. He was presumably included in the “you guys” even though she only looked at her sister when she said it.
Brick caught her at the door, where she was sliding her arms into her coat.
“Can we talk?”
“Maybe some other time,” she said with a perfunctory smile that was a goddamn sucker punch to the gut.
Their tech officer was already heading out the door with his mother.
“It’s about Camille.”
That earned her attention. His entire body lit up when those green eyes finally landed on him.
“What about her?” she asked. There was a note in her voice that worried him. Something that hinted of fear. The front door opened, and a family of four wandered in, bringing an icy gust of wind with them.
He nudged her into the alcove near the restrooms so they were out of the cold and away from any prying eyes. People were used to them being close, being places together. But this time, Brick didn’t trust himself to maintain that respectful distance that reassured everyone he wasn’t interested in Remi Ford.
“I made some calls,” he said.
“To who?”
She looked so stricken he took her by the shoulders. “To a cop friend I met at a LEO conference a few years ago. He works in a precinct in Chicago. He got me an update on your friend.”
“What—what did he say?” she asked. Her muscles felt like concrete beneath his hands, and he gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze.
“He couldn’t get me much. But she’s okay. She had surgery for a collapsed lung and broken ribs. Things were touch and go for a while. But they’re expecting her to go home soon.”
“Home?” Remi repeated.
He nodded. “I’m sure you’ll hear from her once she’s recovering in her own bed.”
“Did you mention my name to your friend?” she asked, bringing shaking fingers to her lips.
“No. He didn’t get the information directly either. So there’s no connection to you.”
She blew out a breath, then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”
He nodded, feeling awkward now. He’d expected her to maybe collapse with relief in his arms or something along those lines. But she was practically vibrating with anxiety.
“What’s going on, Remi?” he demanded.
He watched the mask slide back into place on her pretty face. “Nothing. Thanks for the information. I’ll see you around.”
And with that, she slipped out of his grasp and through the front door where Carlos “Dead Man” Turk was waiting astride his snowmobile.
“Fuck.”
