“Rain is not your friend,” he added. “Well, at least you’re productive. You know, some folks just read a book.”
She shrugged, but looked inordinately pleased by his reaction.
It made him feel good that what he thought mattered to her.
“Eula just up and gave it to me when I finished it. She said it was a testimony, my testimony, and said she wanted me to have it.”
“I can’t believe you did this in three days. If you’ve never done this before, you’re an amazingly fast learner.” He looked at the hamper again, picking it up, studying the work. “When was this made originally?”
“Eighteen-sixty-two, according to Eula. She knows the provenance of all her pieces. Some of the stories are amazing. This one was a mess. I don’t even know why I started with something so hard.”
“Because it was the thing that needed you the most.” Like me.
She stared at him, and he saw her throat work.
“Maybe.” She looked at the hamper. “Probably.”
“Did your background help at all? I mean, I know they’re completely different realms, but did any of the language or terminology or restoration theory cross over?”
“Surprising amounts of it, yes. You’re right, it’s mostly apples and oranges in the broad spectrum, but when you break it down, it’s really a lot of the same kinds of steps, just applying a different technology to how you go about them. I swear, Logan, if you could see some of the magic that woman works on the really damaged stuff . . . well, even you would start to believe in faeries and elves.”
He looked up at Alex, and she could see the question on the tip of his tongue. But she beat him to it, laughing as she did. “No, as far as I can tell, they’re not. I still don’t know how that back room works, and frankly, I don’t want to know. It will . . . spoil it somehow. She’s teaching me. And I want to learn. Once I saw what I could do with something like this, I wanted to do it again. It really is like she said. Just sitting in that room, I felt there was half a lifetime of lighthouses right in front of me.”
Her eyes were sparkling and she looked . . . ebullient.
Logan set the hamper aside. Then he very carefully moved their plates and empty drinks out of the way. “Come here.”
“Logan, let me get the rest out. I need you to understand—”
“I get a turn. Okay?” He lifted his hand to her.
She held his gaze, then took his hand as she scooted across the blanket until she was in front of him, squealing when he pulled her into his lap.
It felt so damn good to have her in his arms again. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever let her go. He looked down into all that stormy blue and said, “I’m all done pretending that I can even try not to want this, to want you. The more we’re apart, the more I hate it. So, this is me telling you what conclusions I’ve come to in the past three days. And to hell with what comes next and to hell with protecting ourselves. We both know that life hands out awful, horrifying, painful crap, and we have to deal with it.
“Fergus made a comment that life is handing us the best of what can be, and how he didn’t understand why we weren’t going to take it just because we’ve seen the hard stuff. It’s like we’re doubly punishing ourselves and being idiots to boot, because we do have a choice this time. If we were smart, then we’d see that living through the hard stuff should make us appreciate the good, not run from it. Otherwise, what’s the damn point? So . . . I might have you in my life for a month, a year, or, if I’m very, very lucky, every day until I draw my last breath. But I want you in it, Alex. Whether it’s here, or in Timbuktu.”
“There aren’t any lighthouses in Timbuktu,” she said, trying for a teasing tone.
He saw her heart in her eyes and his was beating too fast for him to do more than tug at one of her curls.
He was the one who was all big talk. Laying his heart at her feet was terrifying. Willing to put everything he was, everything he wanted out there for her to accept . . . didn’t mean she had to, or that she’d see it his way. It was the risk he had to take. Having her in Blueberry Cove and not having her with him was worse than not having her in his life at all.
“Good,” he said when he could finally speak past the big knot in his throat. “That’s one less place I have to figure out how to live in.”
“Logan—”
As he had once before, he cupped her face, rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, and felt her tremble. Or maybe it was him. “Let me finish,” he said. Begged. “You’ve been making all these strides figuring out things, maybe because you wanted to, maybe because I asked you to. But I know you did it because I said I couldn’t see myself in your world. How could I? I don’t know how I’d fit in because I haven’t done what you’re doing—finding the right puzzle piece by trying a few out. So . . . I’m just saying I’m willing to go. I’ll work the puzzle, find the new playground, whatever the hell you want to call it. I just don’t want to keep on doing anything, anywhere without you. I want you, Alexandra MacFarland. You’re my playground.”
Her eyes shimmered, even as the deep blue in them grew steadily darker. And he saw then what he most wanted to see. Beyond the desire, beyond the want. He saw . . . hope. The relief that came with that discovery was so massive, it took his breath away.
“I’m really glad to hear you say that because . . . Logan, I don’t know if this new puzzle piece with Eula will fit. Long term. It fits now. I have time while I work on the cottage and the tower to keep at it, learn more, find out how deep the affinity might run. I know I don’t want to walk away from Blueberry. I don’t want to walk away from you. But it’s even more than that.
“I also don’t want to leave the people I’m just now finding. I’m feeling . . . connected. And I’m realizing why Delia likes her safety net. I like it, too. It used to go with me; my dad was my net. But now it’s just me . . . and I don’t much like it out on the tightrope all alone. In fact, now that I’ve found friends, a place that isn’t home yet, but sure feels like it could be, and . . . you . . . being alone is going to be, well . . . awful.”
“I hate you being gone from this house,” he said, hearing the raw emotion in his voice, but no longer caring. “This used to be my security net. Now it’s just . . . yeah. Awful.”
She reached up and touched his cheek. “I hate being gone. I just . . . can’t promise that Blueberry, even though I love it here, that staying in one place all the time will be a perfect fit for me, either. So . . . if in the end, I need to wander . . . are you really sure you’d be willing—”
He covered her hand, knowing his heart was right there in his eyes. And because he was the luckiest bastard in the universe, he was pretty damn sure hers was as well. “Alex, you have me. Okay? No rules. No boundaries. It’s you and me. That’s it, and that’s everything. The rest we figure out as we go.”
Eyes shining, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, emotion in her voice, too. Then, as if testing this new step, a smile spread across her face and she said it louder. “Okay.”
And then together, laughing, they shouted, “Okay!”
“Can I finally kiss you now?” she asked, framing his face in her palms. “This is pretty much killing me. Has been killing me. Every moment since we stopped, it’s been killing me. Seeing you, hearing you, not having you, not even being able to just reach out and—”
He rolled her to her back in the middle of the blanket before she could finish. “That first night, you kissed me like I was the last man on earth.” He brushed her wild, crazy hat hair away from her flushed cheeks and looked into the eyes of the woman he knew, without a single doubt, he was madly, deeply, head over heels in love with. “Now, because you are the last woman on earth, for me, I’d like to return that favor.”
Proving she was never going to play just by his rules, that she’d always match him with a few of her own, she reached up and nipped his lip, making him groan and his body jerk in response. Grinning, she wriggled at his response. “I even get to be awake this
time,” she teased. “Yay, me.”
He was grinning as he kissed her. Finally. Finally. He took his time, sinking in slowly, reveling in every gasp, every moan—his and hers—enjoying her taste, taking in her scent, and basically wallowing in being back where he thought he’d never be again. He kissed her intently, softly, passionately, teasingly until she was squirming, gasping, and bucking against him. Then he eased his mouth next to her ear and began undressing her, taking care to touch, to tease, to torment every part of her with his fingertips as he told her exactly how he planned to frolic in his very own, very private playground.
“Logan,” she said, then moaned, making an almost keening sound as he followed the trail his fingertips had taken with his mouth, his tongue. Like the first night he’d had her in his arms, she clutched at him and cried out, but for entirely different reasons. “Don’t let me go.”
He brought her mouth to his as he moved over her, nudged her thighs apart. “It’s okay,” he promised her. “You’re here now. I’ve got you.” And he always would.
Epilogue
She was ripping up linoleum in the kitchen when he came downstairs the next morning.
“What does it say that after a night when you woke me up not once, but twice, and then I woke you up a third time, you’re down here at the crack of dawn, working? It’s enough to give a guy a complex.”
She stopped and sat back on her heels, wiping the cracked putty flecks from her cheeks with the back of her hand. She was wearing one of his white work T-shirts and nothing else. Well, if you didn’t count the knit cap on her head.
“And may I say that’s very fetching headgear we’re sporting this morning.”
She reached up, touched her head, and closed her eyes. “Yeah. Well. I came down with the intent of making coffee for us. Then I caught my toe—again—on that stupid spot that’s curled up and I just kind of snapped and reached down and yanked it up. Then I yanked some more, and I got into it and I guess I kind of forgot about the coffee.”
“So, I guess I shouldn’t ask about the hat? There wasn’t some kind of horrible putty knife incident, was there?”
“My hair was getting in my eyes. It was on the table.” She shrugged. Bending down, she grabbed the edge she’d been tugging and yanked some more.
For his part, he calmly stepped over the mess, bent down and slipped an arm around her waist, and scooped her straight off the floor and back against his chest.
“Hey! Unfair gender advantage!” she called, as he shifted her over his shoulder. “Bad, Neanderthal, bad.”
“That, too.” He crossed the living room and climbed the stairs.
“Logan, I’m not even walking normally this morning. I don’t think I can—”
“We’re taking a shower.”
“Oh?” Her voice dropped from shrill to sultry. “We?”
“Well, I can’t have you walking funny when we get to Delia’s. People will talk.”
“True,” she said, as he carried her straight to the bathroom. “And we can’t have that.”
“We’re probably going to have a lot of things. Including that. But let’s see if we can not embarrass the neighbors over Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Yeah. We’ll hold out until at least tomorrow.”
He stepped in the shower and slid her off his shoulder until her feet touched the tiled floor.
“Hey,” she said. “You’re naked.”
“That you just now noticed could stunt my ability to perform.”
She snickered. “Yeah, right.”
Grinning, he tugged her cap off and tossed it toward the bathroom door, then turned on the shower.
“Hey! I still have a shirt on.”
He ran his hands down the front so the white T-shirt molded to her breasts. “Oh, yeah, you do.”
“You’re such a guy.”
He bent down so he could suck on one of her nipples darkly outlined though the wet cotton. “Lucky you.”
She grabbed his shoulders and held on as he worked his way down, gasping as he made it past the hem. “Oh, yeah I am,” she breathed.
“We might be late for Delia’s,” he murmured.
“You know,” she said between gasps, “I still have a room there. With a foldout couch.”
“Maybe we should keep it. It’s close to the station.”
“You should take more lunch breaks anyway.”
He worked his way back up and she had to clutch his shoulders just to stay upright. Her legs were officially jelly.
She felt him brush against her thighs. “You’ve managed to overcome your performance anxiety, I see. And feel. Dear . . . God. Would you hurry?”
“I thought you were worried about walking funny,” he said, bracing his palms on her hips.
She reached down and took matters into her own hands. “So, you can carry me into Delia’s. You seem to like hoisting me up.” She wrapped her hands around him, smiling when he jerked and twitched at her touch. She liked that he wasn’t the only one with the power. She stroked him and nipped his chin. “Only not over the shoulder. Be romantic.”
“I can be romantic.”
In a blink, he had her hiked up against the shower wall, urging her legs around his waist. Then he kissed her, deep, slow, and hard as he pushed up and inside her, inch by devastating inch, until she took him completely.
“Oh,” she gasped against his throat as he started to move. “Yeah, you can.”
They were very late to Delia’s. He did carry her in, and it was very romantic. Everybody cheered.
“Look,” she told Delia, blushing even as she grinned. “I made a new friend.”
“I can see that. Fast learner. I like that about you.” She gave Logan a onceover, then looked at Alex’s flushed face. “Might have to rethink what I said about getting one of my own.”
“Really.” Alex wiggled her eyebrows. “We’ll talk.” She smiled. “That’s what friends do, right?” Logan set her on her feet, then pulled her to his side. Alex slid her arm around his waist and leaned into him. “I’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere.”
How to Restore Antique Brass Doorknobs
Want to give your home an instant boost? Bring the golden glow back to your antique doorknobs and add a little luster to your life!
Brass is made from a combination of two metals: copper and zinc. The quality of the brass has to do with the percentage of zinc in that combination. Forged or cast, brass is often used in home décor items because of its beautiful golden luster. However, it’s an unstable metal that oxidizes easily and that chemical reaction creates a tarnished surface. Due to constant handling, brass doorknobs tarnish quickly and are in particular need of more regular maintenance.
There are many different approaches to cleaning tarnished brass, and while there are natural methods (did you know you could use household items like onions and Worcestershire sauce?) those methods take more time and the results are less dependable. (Not to mention who wants doorknobs that smell like onions and steak sauce?) Just keep in mind that when doing any restoration project, make sure you use proper ventilation, protection for hands (and eyes, mouth, and nose, if needed), and keep the cleaning solvents away from your kids and pets. Always read all the safety instructions on any product before using.
Supplies:
Latex gloves
Denatured alcohol or paint stripper
Ammonia
Vinegar
Salt
Commercial brass cleaner
0000 (very fine grade) steel wool
Soft T-shirt material or other soft cloths
1. First, you need to make sure you’re dealing with true brass, and not just a knob that has been brass plated. An easy way to find out is by using a strong magnet. A magnet will attach to metal, like steel or zinc, that would be underneath brass plating. Magnets will not, however, stick to true brass alloys.
2. Remove any lacquer that might have been used to seal the doorknob in an effort to protect the brass from oxidizing. If there is a p
rotective finish you can remove this with denatured alcohol or paint stripper. You can even try your nail polish remover, if the coating is relatively thin. Use proper ventilation and protect your hands. (See further information on safety precautions by reading the label of the particular product you use.)
3. Cleaning tarnished brass is a process of removing layers of grime and corrosion. This doesn’t happen in one simple step. Several different processes must be used to fully remove its dulling effect. With the finest steel wool, #0000 grade, use a mixture of vinegar and salt to gently scour the doorknob, removing the surface layer of tarnish, grime, or corrosion. If the steel wool is too corrosive, or if the brass is highly detailed, an old soft T-shirt can be used instead.
4. To get through the next layer, soak the doorknob in ammonia to soften the grime and corrosion. Use caution as ammonia is caustic and can degrade the brass itself, creating pockmarks if left on too long. To neutralize the effects of the ammonia, spray with diluted vinegar (mixed with water) to stop the process. Then repeat Step 3 as needed.
5. Finally, apply a thin layer of commercial brass cleaner or polish. Be aware that over-the-counter cleaners come in acidic and caustic formulas. Acidic is preferable as it reacts only with the tarnish. Caustic formulas are like the ammonia above, in that they can react directly with the brass itself. You may have to experiment a little to find the one that works best for you.
6. Now it’s time to restore that lustrous glow! Buff your newly cleaned brass with a soft cloth to remove all polish, then repeat again with a clean cloth until the brass shines and all the tarnish is removed.
Come back to Blueberry Cove next May and visit Brodie Monaghan in HALF MOON HARBOR.
The morning of Brodie Monaghan’s one-year anniversary as a resident in Blueberry Cove, Maine, began with a hard-on and a surprise visitor. Unfortunately for him, those events occurred in exactly that order.
Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove) Page 32
