“I’ll have my extinguisher handy.”
“Har-har.” Was it normal for one’s face to actually ache from smiling? “I’ll see you tonight, Captain.”
His silver-green eyes smoked with promise. “Tonight.”
* * *
Piper jogged to the hardware store and walked Abe to the maritime museum, chatting with him for a while before continuing her run to Opal’s house for coffee. Walking back to No Name, she tapped out replies to her new friends, Patty and Val, arranging a time to plan for Labor Day. She and Hannah would have to kick their productivity into hyperdrive to have the bar ready in time—they didn’t even have a new sign yet—but with some determination, they could do it.
That evening, the sisters packed enough clothes for a couple of nights and walked to the market with their backpacks, buying ingredients identical to the ones Brendan dropped into her handcart that first morning in Westport.
Butterfly wings swept her stomach when she knocked on his door, but the strokes turned languid and comforting the moment his extra-large frame appeared in the entrance . . . in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt.
And o-kay. Just like that, the advantages of this living arrangement were already making themselves known.
“Don’t look at my boyfriend’s dick print,” Piper whispered to Hannah as they followed him into the house, sending her sister into doubled-over laughter.
Brendan cocked—ha—an eyebrow at them over his shoulder, but continued on until they reached the guest bedroom, carrying the groceries they’d brought in one hand. The room he led them to was small and just off the kitchen, but it had a nice view of the garden and the bed looked infinitely more comfortable than the bunk back at No Name.
“Thanks, this is perfect,” Hannah said, dropping her backpack on the floor. She turned in a circle to observe the rest of the room and sucked in a breath, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “What is . . . what is that?”
Puzzled by her sister’s change in demeanor, Piper’s gaze traveled from Brendan’s sweatpants to the object that had elicited the reaction. There on the desk was a record player. Dusty and heavy-looking. “I remembered my parents gave me theirs before they moved,” Brendan said, crossing his arms, nodding at it. “Went and got it out of the basement.”
“This is a vintage Pioneer,” Hannah breathed, running her finger along the glass top. She turned wide eyes on Brendan. “I can use it?”
He nodded once. “That’s why I brought it up.” As if he hadn’t just made Hannah’s life, he jerked his chin at the closet. “Put whatever records I could find in there. Might be nothing.”
“Anything will sound like something on this.” Hannah’s knees dipped, and she leapt up, doing an excited dance. “I don’t even care if you unearthed this specifically to drown out the sex noises. Thank you.”
Brendan’s ears deepened slightly in color, and Piper somehow fell further in love with him. Doing something nice for her sister had earned her everlasting devotion. And when he said, in his gruff, reserved way, “No. Thanks for, uh . . . letting me have Piper here,” she almost fainted dead away. “I’ll take that.”
He eased the backpack off Piper’s shoulders, kissed her forehead, and abruptly left the room. They observed his departure like seagulls watching a full slice of bread sailing through the air—and thanks to her harbor jogs, Piper knew what that looked like now. Reverent.
You have to marry him, Hannah mouthed.
I know, Piper mouthed back. What the fuck?
Still no actual sound came out of Hannah’s mouth. Ask him first. Do it now.
I might. Oh God. I might.
Hannah carefully draped herself over the record player. “You can go on double dates with me and my record player. Piper, look at it.” She slumped into the desk chair. “At the expo, I had my eye on this perfect, perfect Fleetwood Mac forty-five. It was too expensive. But if I’d known I had this Pioneer to play it on, I would have splurged.”
“Oh no. It spoke to you?”
“Loud and clear.” Hannah sighed, waving off her sadness. “It’s fine. If it was meant to be, I’ll run into it again one day.” She pushed to her feet. “Let’s go make dinner. I’m starved.”
* * *
The three of them fell into a happy pattern.
In the mornings, Brendan woke Piper up with fingertips trailing up and down her belly, which led to her backside teasing his lap. Sometimes he rolled her over facedown and yanked her up onto her knees, taking her fast and furiously, her hands clinging to the headboard for purchase. Other times, he tossed her knees up over his muscular shoulders and rocked into her slowly, whispering gruff praise into the crook of her neck, the thick push and pull of his shaft between her legs as reliable as the tide, never failing to leave her limp and trembling, her cries lingering in the cool, dim air of his bedroom.