A wrinkle appeared between Piper’s brows, and damn, he was relieved. At least she no longer seemed indifferent about him. “It’s okay, Hannah,” Piper said, her hand dropping away from the door. “If you want to head back upstairs, I can go grab some takeout for dinner.”

Hannah still wasn’t budging. Neither was the crowd surrounding them. Brendan couldn’t really blame the locals for being curious, either. These two girls were totally out of place in their small-fishing-town surroundings. Like two explosions of color.

Piper came forward and laid her head on her sister’s shoulder. “I appreciate you defending me, Hanns, but you’re a lover, not a fighter.” She dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Go decompress. Your Radiohead albums are hiding in the secret pocket of my red quilted Chanel suitcase.”

The younger sister gasped, whirling on Piper. “They wouldn’t fit in any of my suitcases. You snuck them for me?”

“I was saving them for a rainy day.” She bumped her hip to Hannah’s. “Go. Fire up the turntable and listen as loud as you want.”

“You a vinyl fan?” Fox piped up, reminding Brendan he was standing there in the first place. Hannah looked at Brendan’s friend dubiously, but it only served to deepen that stupid dimple. He jerked a thumb in the direction of the harbor. “You know, there’s a record store within walking distance. I could show you.”

The younger Bellinger’s eyes had gone wide as saucers.

“Fox,” Brendan warned, taking his arm and pulling him aside.

“Oh, come on,” Fox threw back, before he could say anything. “She’s a kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Hannah called. “I’m twenty-six!”

Fox dropped his voice another octave, moved in closer. “Jesus, she’s cute, but she couldn’t be further from my type. I’m just trying to buy you some alone time with Piper.” He raised an eyebrow. “And who wouldn’t want alone time with Piper. Good Christ, man. Sanders didn’t do her justice.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

His friend laughed. “You really know how to make up for lost time, don’t you?”

“I said, don’t make me explain,” Brendan gritted out.

“All right. All right. Just vouch for me,” Fox muttered. “I’ll have her back in twenty minutes, and I might even say some nice things about your grouchy ass. Wouldn’t hurt.”

Brendan hated admitting that Fox had a point. This was his third encounter with Piper, and he’d been a dick all three times. At first because she’d judged his town. Then he’d landed on the conclusion that she was an overindulged rich girl. After that, he could only blame being painfully rusty with the opposite sex. And this . . . being alone with a woman. It was a huge step. He could give her a simple apology now, go home, try to stop thinking about her. Yeah, he could do that. Just avoid this part of town for three months and stay the course of his routine.

She glanced up at him through her eyelashes. Not in a flirtatious way. More . . . inquisitive. As if she was wondering about him. And he found himself regretting the bad impressions he’d made. “He’s my relief skipper. If he doesn’t have her back in twenty minutes, I could drown him and make it look like an accident.”

A smile teased her lips, and he wondered—couldn’t help himself—what kind of man would get a kiss from a woman like that. “Take a picture of his ID, Hanns,” Piper said, still looking at Brendan like he was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve. “Text it to me first.”

Sliding his wallet from his back pocket, Fox nodded. “I guess they grow them smart as well as beautiful in LA.”

“Wow.” Piper smiled at Fox. “A compliment. I was starting to think those were against the law in Westport.”

Brendan turned a death glare on Fox. “What’d I say?”

Fox slid his ID to Hannah. “Sorry, Captain. The charm comes naturally.”

The younger Bellinger snapped a picture of Fox’s driver’s license. A moment later, there was a bing, and Piper confirmed that she had the man’s vital information. Fox gestured for Hannah to precede him down the sidewalk, and she did, arms crossed. But not before she mouthed a warning to Brendan.

Good Lord, what happened to him being well respected in this town?

If these two girls had had the proper tools, he was pretty damn sure he’d be tarred and feathered right about now. Maybe hanging from his toes in the harbor like a prize catch.

Brendan closed the distance between them, feeling like he was walking a plank. But he needn’t have worried about being alone with Piper, because he swore half the damn town was still standing around, leaning in to see how he’d get out of the doghouse. “That fire ruin your dinner?”

She nodded, playing with the hem of her shirt. “I guess the universe just couldn’t allow something so perfect. You should have seen it. The meat barely looked like brains anymore.”

He was caught off guard by the urge to smile. “I, uh . . .” He replaced his beanie, tried to scare off a few locals with a loud sniff, gratified when they scattered in all directions. “It was rude to shout before. I apologize.” Lord, she was even prettier with the sunset in her eyes. That was probably why he added, “For this time and the other times.”

Piper’s mouth twisted and she ducked her head somewhat, like she was trying to camouflage her own smile. “Thank you. I accept.”

Brendan grunted, dipped his chin toward the Red Buoy. “They called my number right before you ran out on fire. Go in there and eat it.” When she blinked, he played back his demand and realized that’s exactly what it had been. A demand. “If you’d like,” he tacked on.

She hummed and slipped past him, her perfume reaching up and apparently doing something to his brain, because he followed in her wake without sending the order to his feet. Everyone turned and stared when they walked inside and sat down at the same table. Hell, the customers waiting for their orders didn’t even attempt to disguise their interest.

He didn’t want any of them to overhear their conversation. It was none of their business. That was the only reason he took the seat next to Piper and tugged her chair a little closer.

Brendan pushed the plate of fish and chips in front of her, then picked up the fork and put it in her hand.

“So . . .” She forked the smallest fry on the plate, and he frowned. “Your friend is your relief skipper. That makes you . . . the captain?”

Thank Christ. Something he could talk about.

“That’s right. I captain the Della Ray.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head. “Where does that name come from?”

“I took the wheel from my father-in-law, Mick. It’s named after his wife.”

“How romantic.” If bringing up his in-laws made for awkward conversation, she didn’t let it show. Instead, her interest seemed piqued. “Me and Hannah walked up to the harbor this afternoon. So many boats are named after women. Is there a reason for that?”

He thought of Piper strutting along his harbor and wondered how many car accidents she’d caused. “Women are protective. Nurturing. A boat is given the name of a woman in the hopes that she’ll protect the crew. And hopefully put a good word in with the other important woman in our lives, the ocean.”