Taking a deep breath of the cool, salty air, he shifted his focus to the other guests, in groups on the front porch and down on the grounds. Fifteen to twenty people. At thirty-five, he probably had five to ten years on most of them. It had been a long time since he’d been in this type of social situation. On his boat, he was the authority, keeping just enough distance from guests and employees, making the ship’s safety and smooth operation his first priority, the comfort of his passengers a close second. Onshore, he was a temporary or occasional friend to whomever he knew or met wherever he was.
He took a bigger slug of beer than he needed. Paul caught his eye and raised a finger, indicating he’d be right back. Derek waved him off and took another drink. He was a grown man; he could introduce himself to—
“Hi.” The woman was right under his nose, smiling at him, about to come up the steps as he’d been about to go down.
“I’m Addie.” She pointed to her chest, as if he might not know for sure she was talking about herself.
So this was Addie. To put it mildly, she was not what he expected.
The way Paul had described her beauty, wealth, breeding and untouchability in his besotted way had Derek imagining a chilly, elegant brunette dripping sophistication and disdain. The kind who’d show up at a casual island wedding like this one in stiletto heels, linen and pearls. The kind Derek had taken around the world in his boat, the kind with rich older husbands they were always looking to cheat on.
This woman was wearing soft-looking midthigh black shorts, a casual rose-colored scoop-necked top half covered by a gray hoodie, and flat natural color sandals on slim feet. She had deep coffee eyes and striking dark brows, curling short dark hair—a sexy-schoolgirl fantasy come to life. She reminded him of a down-to-earth version of the French actress Audrey Tautou.
He had major hots for Audrey Tautou.
“You’re Addie Sewell.”
“Yes.” The expressive brows lowered in amused confusion. “How did you know?”
“You’re world famous.”
“Ha!” Her wide mouth broke into a smile that took away a good deal of his weariness. “You must be a friend of Paul’s.”
“Derek Bates.”
“Oh.” Her smile faltered, her eyes clouded over, the temperature around them dropped forty degrees. Brrrrr. “Sarah’s told me a lot about you.”
“That’s funny.” He forced himself to chuckle, visualizing a roll of duct tape over Sarah’s mouth. “Sarah doesn’t know a lot about me.”
He expected an insult, an argument, a stinging defense of her friend, and was surprised to find her considering him thoughtfully. “I just know what she told me.”
Derek sighed. He’d leave bad enough alone. It was his word versus Sarah’s and this was her territory and these were her people. “I’m pretty sure I’m sorry to hear that. When did you arrive, Addie?”
“Three days ago. Sunday evening.”
“From...?”
“LaGuardia.” She glanced around, apparently not sure she should be talking to him.
“Into Portland?”
“Bangor.”
“Okay.” He nodded too many times, at a loss what to say next, how to act around a lovely woman who’d undoubtedly been told by her best friend that he was something you should avoid stepping in.
“Weather been good here this week?” Really, Derek? The weather?
“It’s been okay.” She fidgeted with the zipper on her hoodie. “Not great. But at least no rain.”
“What have I missed so far?”
“Oh. Well. We’ve gone hiking on the mainland. Done a lot of hanging out...” She laughed nervously. “I can’t really remember.”
“It’s okay.”
“Oh, Quoddy Head. We went there. The easternmost point in the U.S.”
“Nice.” He nodded again. This was torture. He wanted to skip the small talk. Go straight to what mattered, how she felt about life, whether she was doing what she loved, whether the world was a gorgeous place or a disaster, whether she was seeing anyone, and whether she liked kissing all night under the stars...
He nearly hugged Ellen when she clapped her hands from the front stoop.