It didn’t respond, but it also didn’t smack me in the butt with a loose floorboard, so I was going to count it as a win. For the first time since I’d started here, I had the strongest feeling that I was actually getting somewhere with the house.
“What’s that?” Rafe asked from behind me.
I turned to see him wearing his work boots and tool belt, and if I were being honest with myself, it was the sexiest sight I’d ever seen. Even Poa made a noise of approval.
“It’s the heart of the enchantment. The heart of the house, really.” I turned back and shut the wall. “I think the house will be happier now. Let me know if it’s easier to work here. If it is, we can try to convince some contractors to come. Maybe I can even get a clean bill of health from the coven, something to show workers so they’ll believe there’s no magic in the house that will mess with them.”
He nodded. “I’ll let you know how it goes today. You can find me in the kitchen if you need me.”
“Thanks.” I watched him go, grateful to have his help. I had less than two weeks to finish fixing up Lavender House, and there was so much left to do.
We worked until midafternoon. Over a lunch of sandwiches and crisps, Rafe planned out how long it would take his boat to get to the island. We decided to leave with enough time be back in the harbor by nightfall.
When two o’clock rolled around, I went to collect him. The kitchen was looking fabulous, with all of the beautiful cabinets installed and the doors going on. I sighed happily as I stared at it, imagining baking cookies in there on a cold winter day, the fire in the kitchen hearth blazing.
Okay, that was enough fantasizing. I called out, “Time to go!”
“I just need a few more minutes to finish these cabinet doors,” he said.
“Nope. We need to get moving so I have enough time on the island.”
He straightened from his spot on the floor, where he was attaching a cabinet door. “I really think we should wait until the house is done.”
“No. It’s just a few hours. You’re helping me, so I’m going to help you. And I need to master my magic, anyway, so this is practice that I desperately need.”
That seemed to mollify him, so he stood and put the screwdriver on the counter. “Fine. Let’s go.”
I clapped. “Excellent!”
“How are you always in such a good mood?” he asked as we left the house.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. This is a nice life.”
He looked around at the scenery—all the green hills and sparkling blue sea and white gulls circling on the breeze—and said, “I suppose it is.”
“Will you miss it when you go back to your pack?
“Assuming we find them, yes. Definitely.”
So he was going back for sure. I’d asked the question just to confirm what I’d heard last night, but I didn’t want to focus on that. Instead, I gave him a playful poke on the shoulder. “Are you doubting my skills?”
“I would never.” He put his hand to his heart.
“Good.” I grinned. “Because I can do this. I know I can.”
We’d reached his car, so he stopped and stared at me, giving me a long look. “I believe in you. Truly.”
The seriousness in his tone took my breath away. It was as if he saw through to my insecurities and wanted to banish them.
It made me feel all kinds of warm inside, and that was no good. “Thanks.” Flustered, I turned to the car and climbed in.
Chapter
Twenty
Isobel
Rafe drove us down to the Charming Cove harbor, which I’d yet to visit because it was in the human part of town. The harbor was a beautiful little place, with a stone breakwater protecting the cluster of boats inside. Shops and restaurants surrounded it, and happy people ate ice cream from the Mr. Whippy truck in the harbor parking lot.
The humans in Charming Cove were known to be the happiest in England, and though it was attributed to the weather, the meteorologists couldn’t figure out why this particular spot in Britain was so much nicer than all the rest.
The supernaturals knew, though--it was the magic in the air.
Rafe parked at the far end of the lot, and I climbed out.
“Did you bring anything warm to wear?” he asked. I held up my little jacket, and he frowned. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough. I should have thought of this sooner.” He went to the back of the car and popped open the boot. A few moments later, he pulled out a big jumper and handed it to me. “This will do.”
I took the soft fabric, which smelled gloriously of sandalwood and leather, just like him, then frowned at him. “What will you wear?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“In that T-shirt?” He certainly was fine in the thin fabric, but not in the way he meant.
“Really, don’t worry about me.” He gave me a glare, which was so reminiscent of the first time I’d met him that I stepped back.
“All right, all right. I won’t bother you about it.”
“Good.” The grump softened. “Now come on.”
He led me toward the docks, heading down to the end of one of the little piers. Tied up in the very last spot was the most beautiful wooden boat I’d ever seen. It was fairly large—almost thirty feet, if I had to guess—and had a cabin underneath the mainsail.
“You really built this?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I can see why you kept it instead of selling it.” I admired the sleek lines of the craft and the way the varnished wood gleamed in the sunlight.
“It wasn’t good enough to sell,” he said.
I laughed. “That’s not it. You’re sentimental about it, so you kept it.” When he didn’t argue, I asked, “Was this the first one you built?”
He nodded shortly, climbing onto the deck and turning around to offer me a hand. I followed him, clutching his jumper tightly to my chest so that I didn’t drop it in the water.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper I’d given him earlier that day with the coordinates for the island. I found a seat in the cockpit on one of the wooden benches, and he set about preparing the boat to leave. From inside the cabin, he fetched two long cushions for the cockpit benches and handed one to me. I put it beneath my bum and resettled myself, then watched as he climbed back onto the deck.
“Can I help with the ropes or anything?” I asked.
“They’re called lines, and no. I’ve got it.”
He certainly did. He worked with such confident grace that it was clear he was just as comfortable running boats as he was building them.
“When did you learn to sail?”
He stilled briefly, his big hands holding one of the lines gently. “I don’t know.”
“Oh.” The word escaped me on a soft breath. “You mean, you just knew? From your past life, you think?”
He nodded. “As soon as I stepped on a boat, I knew what to do.”
“Wow. That must be…weird.” I’d wanted to say horrible, but he already knew it was horrible.
“Weird is one word for it.”