Drake shot him a look, but Bob didn’t seem to notice as he spun on his heel, heading for the kitchen. The elderly pirate was developing a habit of playing matchmaker. Already, three of his crewmates had found women worthy of joining their crew. Hell, Colton just got married.
“I’m piss-poor company.” Drake glanced at the booth. “But there’s shrimp and hush puppies in it for us, so…”
“You make it sound promising.” She raised a teasing brow. “But I wouldn’t want to interrupt a brooding session—”
“Brooding?” Laughter burst from his lips, surprising him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. “Do you always call it as you see it?”
“Well, you’re not the first brooder I’ve ever met.” Her lopsided smile spoke of secrets he ached to discover. “You’d think I would learn.”
An unfamiliar flame sparked in his soul at her declaration. The thought of another man hurting her…it pissed him off. Which made no sense. Neither did stepping in front of an armed man, but he’d done that for her, too.
What was it about this woman?
At the booth, he took a seat across from her and glanced at the empty doorway to the kitchen. Satisfied they were alone, he cleared his throat and found…nothing to say. “No cape tonight?”
Inwardly, he cursed himself for such a sad excuse at conversation with her, but he couldn’t reel the words back now.
“Nope.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “No tool belt tonight?”
“No.” He chuckled, amazed again at how deftly she crept underneath the suffocating blanket of guilt and spread her light. She was magic. “If Bob needs something fixed, he’ll have to handle it his own damned self.”
She grinned, her laughter warming him all over. “After last night’s…attack, or whatever it was, I’m glad to see you’re taking some time off.” She sobered. “How are you feeling?”
“Shitty, if you want an honest answer.” His admission shocked him.
“Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Did you have trouble sleeping?”
“You could say that.” He frowned. Had Colton been right? Did Heather bring on the banshee’s call? “Would you know anything about that?”
She shrugged. “Lucky guess considering you still haven’t told me what happened to you last night.”
“I’ve got it under control.” His ability to lie was almost as good as his damned small talk. This was why he enjoyed being the ship’s carpenter. Conversation and negotiation weren’t part of his job description.
“I gave you my card last night for a reason. If something paranormal is going on, it’s sort of my specialty.”
He frowned deeper, his brows pinching together. “Did you know I was going to have those dreams? Did you send them?”
“No.” Her eyes widened before she could bury her reaction. “I’m a medium. I bring messages from the other side. Magic and spells aren’t my thing. I don’t send dreams—or nightmares.”
One-Eyed Bob interrupted their exchange with a steaming platter of fried shrimp and hush puppies. He set an iced tea in front of Heather, with a sprig of mint sitting on top instead of a lemon.
He winked his good eye at Heather. “Just the way you like it.”
Gods, her smile lit up the room. “Thanks, Bob.”
The old salt went back to the kitchen, and Heather focused on Drake again. “Is there a story to go with the scar on your forehead?”
Her abrupt change in subject surprised him. He reached up to run his fingers along the smooth skin over his right eye. “Aye.” Careful to avoid any mention of a time frame, he said, “I noticed a loose cleat on the Sea Dog, but we were already underway. I thought I could reinforce it, but the sail pulled with a gust of wind and the damned thing snapped. I woke up a few hours later in the bunk.”
He put a hush puppy in his mouth before he shared more than he should.
“Wow.” She took a sip of her tea, her gaze wandering over his face. “You’re lucky it wasn’t tying down the mainsail mast or you could’ve been killed.”
He swallowed the salty fried bread. “Do you sail?”
“Not yet.” She picked up a shrimp. “But I play a lot of Skull & Crossbones online during the day since”—she lifted her pale arm, displaying her lack of pigment like a badge of honor—“the sun isn’t my friend.” She ate the shrimp. “I had a character get hit by a cleat during a storm. It killed him.”
Skull and crossbones online? Her words were English, but he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “You have a character?”
“Yeah. Skull & Crossbones is an online multiplayer game for your PC.”
That didn’t clear up a damned thing. He didn’t trust technology. If he couldn’t figure out how something worked and how to fix it, he didn’t keep it around. “I don’t even own a computer. I’m lucky I can work my cell phone.”
“I’ll have to teach you sometime. It takes place on the Indian Ocean during the golden age of piracy. If you like sailing that pirate ship docked on River Street, you’ll love playing virtual pirates.”
He doubted that, but he was enjoying letting her drive the conversation, so he nodded. “Maybe.”
She groaned with delight as she ate her first hush puppy, and the sound had blood rushing to his groin. “Oh, they’re still warm.” She finished it off and smiled. “So I’m guessing your story about the scar didn’t end with an emergency room and a plastic surgeon.”
“No.” A perk of drinking from the Grail meant he’d never been inside a hospital. “We didn’t have a doctor on board, so Greyson stitched me up.”
“Ouch.” She cringed. “He’s one of the guys who sails with you?”
“Aye.” He took a swallow of his beer. “He’s our master gunner. Part of the Sea Dog crew.”
“You need a gunner on a tourist ship?”
“Every pirate ship needs a man to maintain the cannons and munitions.” Hearing her refer to the replica of the Sea Dog as a tourist ship was starting to get under his skin. But he couldn’t
