Free The Spyglass Portal: A Lighthouse Novel by Stacey Coverstone Page A

find the water to be cathartic.”
    Her longing gaze searched his face. “You’ve been quiet until now. I presumed you wouldn’t want to see me anymore after what I told you on the pier.”
    “I said I’d try to help you figure this out. I mean that. I know you’re alone here and everyone needs a friend. Would seven o’clock be okay for me to stop by?” 
    She stared, probably debating on whether to take the chance of getting stood up again. Of course, he hadn’t stood her up last night anyway. He hadn’t even asked her out to begin with. None of what she claimed to have taken place yesterday with regard to him really happened, except for the two of them meeting. And for some odd reason, he could barely remember the details of that, despite his excellent memory. It was true he’d been quiet while they walked back from town. He’d been trying to wrap his head around everything she’d told him, with not much success. None of it made sense.
    He wasn’t a shrink and didn’t know how he could help Samantha, but something implied he must try. There was a solid possibility that she was insane. But the sense of needing to protect her also lodged deep in his gut. It overrode whatever questions he had regarding her mental state.
    “All right,” she agreed. “Seven o’clock.”
    “Good. See you tonight.” He crossed his heart with a finger. “Promise.” That same heart almost broke at seeing her lower lip quiver before closing the door on him.
    His cottage was a fifteen-minute hike from the lighthouse. After he unlocked the back door and strode through the kitchen, he entered the studio and gathered together his painting supplies to haul to the beach. Hearing nothing but the pounding of the waves outside the open windows made him acutely aware of how quiet the inside of the house was. A glance around at the many canvases of seascapes hanging on the walls was clear evidence that work had become his best friend, his lover and his confidant, all wrapped into one.
    He’d been alone far too long. A roommate was out of the question, but perhaps it was time to consider a girlfriend again.
    When Samantha’s face entered his mind, the reaction was physical and impossible to control. She was a beautiful woman. Any red-blooded man would react the same way.
    “No, Aidan,” he groaned, shoving an easel under his arm. “She’s only in Pavee Cove temporarily. And she might very well be nuts.”
    But something unexplainable drew him to her like a bee to honey. That sense of connection washed over him again.
    With his arms full, he kicked open the back door and maneuvered through the little patch of trees and down a narrow path that led to the shore where he would set up. Hopefully, painting for the next four hours would take his mind off her.
    Twenty minutes passed with him staring into space before he finally put brush to canvas. Then all he could do was splatter strokes of yellow across it. Yellow, like Samantha’s hair.
    Why couldn’t he get the woman out of his head? Wild imaginings of whisking her into his arms and carrying her into his bed sent his heart pounding to distraction. He sent the paintbrush rocketing into the Mason jar on the ground and began to pace with his fingers making trails through his hair that flowed freely that day.
    Although he’d purposefully secluded himself after his last disastrous relationship, the life of a monk did not suit him. Everyone needed someone to love—that person who would always be there in good times and in bad. Someone who actually gave a damn when you walked through the door. The one you believed was your soul mate.
    Could Samantha be that person? The thought had occurred to him the moment they met, and it had haunted him since.
    Aidan flicked the paintbrush back into his hand and dipped the tip into a fuchsia glob on his palette, but it was no use. His mind was not on painting. It shouldn’t be on Sam either, he groused inwardly.
    Why did he assume she was different from