Heroes Are My Weakness(69)

Both of them turned to watch as he charged toward them along the dock. His rumpled hair stood up in the back, and he had a pillow crease across his cheek. “Sorry, Naomi,” he said as he came to a stop next to the boat captain. “Annie can’t leave the island.”

Another mistake. Annie had forgotten to tear up the quick note she’d left for Theo last night, and now here he was.

Naomi splayed a hand on her ample hip, showing the steel that had made her a successful lobsterman. “Why the hell not?”

As Annie began to plead an upset stomach, she struggled to come up with an explanation, Theo’s hand clamped her shoulder. “Annie’s under house arrest.”

Naomi’s other hand found her opposite hip. “What are you talking about?”

“She got into some trouble before she came here,” he said. “Nothing big. Doing puppet shows without a license. New York has strict laws about that kind of thing. Unfortunately for her, it was a repeat offense.”

Annie glared at him, but he was on a roll. “Instead of going to jail, the judge gave her the option of leaving the city for a couple of months. He agreed to her coming here, but only under the condition that she not leave the island. Sort of like a house arrest. Something she obviously forgot.”

His explanation both fascinated and appalled her. She drew away from his hand on her shoulder. “What’s it to you?”

The hand returned. “Now, Annie. You know the court made me your guardian. I’m going to overlook this little breach, but only if you swear it won’t happen again.”

“You city people are crazy,” Naomi grumbled.

“Especially New Yorkers,” Theo agreed solemnly. “Come on, Annie. Let’s get you away from temptation.”

Naomi wasn’t having it. “Ease up, Theo. It’s just a day on my boat. Nobody will be any the wiser.”

“Sorry, Naomi, but I take my duty to the court seriously.”

Annie fought between the desire to laugh and the urge to shove him in the harbor.

“That kind of stuff doesn’t count for shit here,” Naomi argued.

She was genuinely angry, but Theo didn’t budge. “Right is right.” He implanted his fingers in Annie’s shoulder. “I’m going to overlook this little incident, but don’t let it happen again.” He led her off the dock.

The moment they were out of earshot, Annie looked up at him. “Doing puppet shows without a license?”

“Do you really want everybody to know your business?”

“No. Just like I don’t want them to think I’m a convicted felon.”

“Don’t exaggerate. The puppet show thing is only a misdemeanor.”

She threw up her hands. “You couldn’t have come up with something better? Like an urgent phone call from my agent?”

“Do you have an agent?”

“Not any longer. But Naomi doesn’t know that.”

“Apologies,” he said with a nineteenth-century drawl. “I just woke up, and I was under pressure.” And then he went on the attack. “You were really going to climb blissfully into that boat and sail away? Honest to God, Annie, you need a keeper.”

“I wasn’t going on the boat. I was telling her I couldn’t go when the cavalry rode up.”

“Then why did you accept in the first place?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind, okay?”

“Tell me about it.” He steered her across the parking lot toward the town hall. “I need coffee.”

A few local fishermen were still lingering around the community pot inside the door. Theo nodded at them while he filled two Styrofoam cups with something that looked like engine sludge and snapped on the lids.

Once they were outside again, they headed toward their cars. His was crookedly parked a couple of yards from hers. As he took a sip of his coffee, the curl of steam pulled her attention to the sharply defined borders of his lips. Between those perfect lips, his rumpled hair, beard stubble, and slightly red nose from the cold, he looked like a scruffy Ralph Lauren ad. “Are you in a hurry to get back?” he asked.

“Not particularly.” Not until she understood why he hadn’t shoved her on that boat and happily waved good-bye.

“Then get in. I have something to show you.”

“Does it involve a torture chamber or an unmarked grave?”

He shot her a disgusted look.

She gave him her newly patented smirk-smile.

He rolled his eyes and opened the passenger door.

Instead of driving back toward the house, he drove in the opposite direction. The dilapidated yellow schoolhouse trailer clung to the hill next to the ruins of the old building. They passed a closed art gallery and a pair of shuttered eateries advertising lobster rolls and steamed clams. The fish house sat next to Christmas Beach, where the fishermen hauled out their boats for maintenance.

The bumpy road made drinking a hot beverage, even with a lid, difficult, and Annie sipped carefully at the bitter coffee. “What Peregrine needs is a good Starbucks.”

“And a deli.” He slipped on a pair of aviators. “I’d sell my soul for a decent bagel.”

“You mean you still have one?”

“Are you done yet?”

“Sorry. My tongue keeps getting away from me.” She squinted against the bright winter sun. “One question, Theo . . .”