Free Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove) by Donna Kauffman Page A

naught. And you claim my Logan was a good host, but if he couldn’t be bothered to feed his guest—”
    “No, he . . . well, he tried. If what you say about your lack of cooking skills is true, then it seems your nephew might not have fallen far from the tree.” At Fergus’s raised bushy brow, she added, “Let’s just say I was thankful he stopped with a plate of toast. I’d hate to see what he’d do to a carton of eggs.”
    That set Fergus off on a gale of laughter. Wiping the corner of his eye, he leaned on the bar and patted her arm. “We’re a pair, we are. Last of the McCrae men in the Cove.” He winked. “Good thing we each have other.”
    She smiled, but felt a bit flustered all the same. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. You both make an amazing cup of coffee.”
    “Oh, on the contrary. It’s a right breath of fresh air ye are. Folks walk around like the sun rises and sets on the man. ’Tis true he’s done more than his share of good for our wee village, and that after sufferin’ more than his fair share of bad. It’s thankful we are that he stuck by the town, made his home here, when most probably would have left and not looked back. But that’s not to say it wouldn’t be good to have someone give him a bit of a nudge, now and again.”
    Fergus’s comment about Logan’s past left her understandably curious, but her smile deepened as she recalled how the local police chief had seemed a bit surprised by her . . . less than fawning demeanor that morning. “Well, while I might have been happy to help you out with that, you’ll have to find another nudger.”
    Fergus simply held her gaze, smiling. Those sky blue eyes of his sparkled quite merrily, which only served to underscore the whole gnome thing. “You know, one of the skills I do claim to have is being a pretty good listener.”
    “I appreciate that. I do,” she said. He seemed like a lovely man, charming and good-hearted. His manner was something of a balm after the more tension-filled moments she’d had with his nephew that morning. And the day before. She slipped off the stool. “I should probably be going. Thank you for the coffee. If Chief McCrae—”
    “Logan,” Fergus said automatically, much as his nephew had.
    “If the restoration project ever makes it to the top of the list, I hope you and he will keep me in mind.” She had no idea what she might be doing by then, but one thing she’d learned from her dad was to cover all her bases. Thinking about him made her heart squeeze. She kept thinking she’d get used to it, or that at some point the memories would change to something more comforting, less painful. But if that time was coming, it hadn’t arrived yet. And, for whatever reason, this morning she felt particularly vulnerable.
    “After you came all this way,” Fergus said, “and with the dual centennial anniversaries looming, I honestly thought he’d reconsider and do what the town wants him to do.”
    “In that case, maybe my grand entrance was more of a factor. I am sorry for that, by the way. I’ve never fainted before. We’ve always prided ourselves on our reputation.”
    “I know you’re a professional. I did my homework before contacting you. Your family has built quite a legacy in the restoration business. I’d ask how it was you came to focus on lighthouses, but I read the story on your website. Still, I imagine it’s a far more complex tale when personally told. I’d have enjoyed hearing it from you. You come from good stock, Miss Alexandra MacFarland.”
    She nodded and the twinge in her chest tightened. “Thank you.” She ducked her chin briefly, determined not to get teary-eyed again. Now that she’d let the waterworks start, she was having a hard time controlling them. In fact, she’d been surprised when she’d woken up that morning, just how puffy and stuffy she still felt after her little jag on the off-ramp. Even her throat had felt raw. She assumed it was just the cumulative