SNEAK PEEK
Tempted by the Single Dad
The Single Dads of San Camanez: The Distillery Dads
Natalie and Spencer
CHAPTER ONE
Natalie
Natalie scanned the dock and the rows of colorful houseboats in front of her as the rumble of plastic luggage wheels on wood planks competed with the screech of seagulls fighting over half a hotdog bun.
“Blue one on the right,” her brother Isaac said behind her,carrying her duffle bag and rolling another one of her suitcases.
She thought she packed light, but based on the way his biceps bulged beneath his white T-shirt and his freckled face was rosier than normal, maybe she could have left a few pairs of shoes behind.
Nodding, she stopped at the ramp that would take her to her new temporary home. Better known to those in the know as her hideout. Her safe house.
With a grunt, Isaac dropped the duffle bag and reached into the front pocket of his khaki cargo shorts to bring out the key.
He handed it to her, and she stepped onto the ramp and across the cute little covered porch with the white trim railings and the red geraniums in the perfectly spaced pots.
“I still can’t believe you managed to find this place,” she said, sliding the key into the lock of the fire-engine red door.
“I know some people who know some people who made the previous tenants an offer they couldn’t refuse,” he said, hoisting her bag back into his arms with another grunt and carrying everything across the ramp.
“That’s what you said,” she murmured, crossing the threshold into the adorable white and blue nautical-themed entryway and living room. “But then you said no more. It sounds shady. Who are these people who know other people? What was the offer? Life or death? They get to live if they leave?”
He leveled her with a gaze she usually saw him reserve for his children. Slight impatience mixed with just a dollop of amusement. “You really think—”
“No, I don’t, but you’re still being cagey.”
He plopped her duffle bag down on the kitchen island. “Fine. Liam and Richelle are friends with Skyler and Rob Cahill. They’re part of theMcAllister billionaire family. You know the ones who own the Windward Hotel chain?”
Natalie nodded slowly.
“They offered the people who were supposed to be renting this place two months free at their resort in French Polynesia if they’d give up their summer rental here.”
Natalie’s mouth dropped open.
Her brother just shrugged. “I needed a place for you, but I needed it to be safe and close. Plus, the guys who run the brewery here are all former Marines, so knowing they’re watching over you gives me a bit more peace of mind.”
She was about to protest—not entirely sure what or why—but after another look from her big brother; she shut her mouth and dropped her gaze to the laminate floor. “Thank you.”
Isaac’s big arm came around her shoulder, and he pulled her in for a side hug.
He smelled of sweat, sunshine, and just a hint of his cologne.
“I’m worried about you, sis. Of course I’m going to do whatever I can and use whatever resources I have to keep you safe.
I wish you’d stay in Seattle, closer to me so I can really keep an eye on you, though. ”
She glanced up at him. “But that puts you, Lauren, Ike, and Ariel in danger. And I can’t have that.
I doubt anybody will even think to look for me here.
” She left the safe embrace of his arm and went to stand in front of the big picture window that looked out onto the rest of the houseboatsand the marina.
“I didn’t even know this place, or the island, existed until you told me you found me a safe house. So it’s probably pretty safe.”
He came to stand beside her. “Promise me you will keep a low profile.”
She didn’t look at him, but could vaguely make out the concern etched across his face in the reflection of the window. They looked a lot alike. Dark red hair, fair complexion, freckles, round faces with highcheekbones. There was no mistaking that they were siblings.
A sergeant with the Seattle PD, and a former Marine, her brother was definitely one of the good guys.
A protector through and through. Even when they were kids and their drunk father would come after Natalie and their mother with his fists, eight-year-old Isaac would step in and take the hit sinstead.
She knew she owned him her life tenfold. But she also thought that now that they were adults and their father was in prison he rbrother wouldn’t haven’t to keep stepping in between her and danger.
Oh how wrong she was.
Just as Isaac stood up to bullies, Natalie too fought against injustice. Just in a different way.
And now that whistleblowing had landed her at the top of a hit list, and she had no idea who she could trust or when those out to get her would find her and silence her.
Her brother cleared his throat and went to the counter to openher duffle bag. “I am not trying to control you,” he started, prompting her to abandon the peaceful view in front of her and join him in the kitchen as he started plunking various items onto the granite. “But this is to keep you safe.”
Her gaze widened, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his cornflower blue eyes—the same shade as hers.
“It’s for your safety,” he repeated. “You’re not a dog. You are my sister. My baby sister. Who has a massive target on her back.”
Natalie picked up one of the tracking devices, still in its original packaging, and flipped it over to read the instructions. It was meant to go under the insole of a shoe, or in the hem of a jacket.
Isaac just kept pulling out more.
“You have a shoe problem,” he said. “I had to buy a lot.”
That made her smile. “I wouldn’t call it a problem,” she muttered, a bleak attempt to lessen the tension currently swirling around them and squeezing through her ribs to tangle around her heart.
He gave her another side glance, but this one was accompaniedby a smirk. “Addiction. Problem. Obsession. Pick your definition. Either way, no person should have that many shoes.”
“I’m single, childless, petless, and currently jobless. Give me a break. I need something to keep me getting out of bed in the morning. And right now, it’s shoes.”
“Well, every single pair needs a tracker. So if I need to order more, I will.” He picked up a different kind of tracker. It was a ring. “I need you to wear this one at all times.”
“Is that one of those rings that measures your heart rate and stuff?”
He nodded. “Yes, but it also has GPS tracking.” He took it from her, whipped a pocketknife out of one of the pockets of his shorts and slid it through the hard plastic like it were warm butter. After some fiddling with it and his phone, he held it out to her.
She slid it onto her right ring finger as her brother stared at his phone. A little blue dot appeared on the map a few moments later, and he nodded. “Good. It’s working.”
She wanted to say that he was being paranoid and going overboard with all of this, but a big part of her didn’t think he was.
She’d gone rogue in her own lab, taken videos and photos, recorded her superiors and then turned it all into the FBI.
And yet, the feds said there was nothing they could do to protect her. Thanks, current government!
She was being used as a scapegoat, and vilified. Meanwhile, she was actually the one to expose all the injustice and child abuse. And now, those whom she’d exposed were after her, concerned about what else she might have, and determined to shut her up for good.
“Which suitcase has your shoes?” Isaac asked, pointing to the three rolling pieces of luggage sitting in the entryway.
She pointed to the biggest one.
He rolled his eyes, grabbed it and brought it into the living room. “Close all the drapes,” he said, bringing all the trackers over to the couch and beginning to slide his pocketknife into the plastic packaging.
“Why?”
“Protection,” he said, unzipping her suitcase to reveal just a fraction of her shoe collection. The rest were currently in a storage locker in Seattle, lonely and wondering why she had abandoned them.
“I’m on a houseboat, I want to see the view,” she protested.
“Drapes. Closed,” he repeated, not giving her any room to argue. “Or do I have to remind you that there are people out there who want you dead.?”
With a weary and defeated sigh, she listened to her big brother, closing all the curtains until the room was cast into muted light and she felt nothing but sad and claustrophobic.
She could and should offer to help him, but the weight of her new reality was slowly pressing down on her and making it hard to breathe.
Without saying anything, Natalie slipped back out the front door and walked across the small porch until she found the stairs that led to the rooftop deck.
It was the last week of June, hot and sunny, and here her brother wanted to keep her locked away like some Disney princess.
She reached the top of the stairs and had to shield her eyes from the sun’s rays.
Luckily, there was a big red umbrella collapsed in the corner, so she kept her head down and went to unfurl it.
More red geraniums in terracotta pots lined the deck along the glass and black metal railing, and a couple of white Adirondack chairs and a few anti-gravity chairs were scattered around for those who, unlike her vampiric hide, worshipped the sun.
Once she’d expanded the umbrella, she hid her pale ginger ass in the safety of its shade and stared out at the mouth of the marina.
The water glittered like cut diamonds in the high afternoon sun, and the faintest warm, briny breeze ruffled her red tresses.
“I suppose it could be worse,” she murmured. “I could be stuck in some grungy apartment in the middle of nowhere, or a dank cabin with nothing but squirrels and my thoughts to keep me company.”