Pirate's Persuasion - Lisa Kessler Page 0,2

His voice was more of a grunt as he bore the weight of the antique door against his shoulder and glanced up at Jax perched at the top of the ladder. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, readjusting the slides. “If you can lift it just half an inch more, I should be able to…” The track creaked as the wheels caught the groove. “Got it!”

Jaxton Raine was a college intern from SCAD. When the Savannah College of Art and Design first opened, Drake had accepted a few students to intern with him, but eventually he stopped. Mingling with mortals served no good purpose. It led to complicated friendships that required more lies to hide his secret. Jax had been the first apprentice he’d agreed to mentor in years.

Apparently, she’d been a proud Girl Scout for most of her life, and she also fostered a strong interest in woodworking with an emphasis on furniture construction. When she’d heard the Juliette Gordon Low house had a restoration project underway, she researched the contractors and looked him up. Her tenacity made it tough to refuse her.

Besides, it was a short-term commitment. No chance of entanglements he didn’t need.

He straightened up, rubbing his lower back as he admired the newly refinished door. Historic restorations were his specialty, and being inside Juliette Gordon Low’s house again felt oddly comforting. No one would have guessed he was the original craftsman who carved and finished these doors over a hundred years ago.

Hand carving the trim had taken weeks back then; now he could see his hard work paid off. Other than needing to be sanded and protected with a new coat of stain, the doors were still in immaculate condition.

“They look amazing,” Jax enthused as she climbed down the ladder. Her dreadlocks were pulled back into a ponytail, and the fire in her dark eyes made him grateful he’d accepted her offer to apprentice with him.

She would be a damned fine designer someday.

Her bright grin lit up her face as she stopped beside him. “You do good work.”

“Thanks.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Couldn’t have gotten them rehung without your help. You still think you want to specialize in restoration design?”

She nodded. “For sure. And I happen to have a line on this amazing subcontractor to use for the carpentry projects.”

“You know where to find me.” Drake rubbed the back of his neck and bent to gather up his tools. “Thanks for your help with this one.”

Jax held up her right hand. “It was my honor,” she said, reciting the Girl Scout promise. She lowered it again and chuckled. “Cookie-selling champ of my troop back in the day.” She checked her cell phone and met his eyes. “Are we finished here?”

“Yeah.” He closed the ladder. “I can load up the tools. Thanks, Jax.”

“I’ll see you next weekend.” She spun on her heel, her footsteps thumping down the creaky old staircase, leaving him behind in blessed silence.

He collected his tools, scanning the empty rooms. Thousands of visitors from around the world walked through this house every year. They came for tours, to hear the history of Juliette Gordon Low, the founder of Girl Scouts.

He’d known her as Daisy, and he hadn’t aged a day since. Memories like that weighed heavy on him. Eternity could turn into an abyss if he allowed himself to remember all the mortals he cared about as lifetimes came and went.

He rubbed a hand down his face and shook his head. “Enough.”

Lately, he’d been second guessing his choice to take another drink from the Holy Grail, and being here, in this empty house full of ghosts from his past, wasn’t helping. He’d been the ship’s carpenter on the Sea Dog until the day she sank at the mouth of the Savannah River in 1795. The Holy Grail had been their final plunder, granting each of them immortality. Last year, when the spell started wearing off, the crew took one more swallow.

Maybe it would have been better to reject it. Too late now.

He carried his toolbox in one hand and his ladder under his other arm. He left the final invoice with the night manager downstairs and headed for his truck.

It might be time to try something new. Maybe over two hundred years of working with his hands was long enough. Caleb, their navigator, had pursued multiple college degrees. Drake could follow his path into academia. Anything to keep busy and take his mind off the years passing him