Chapter Thirteen
Bright Bait
The sea always looked innocent from the shore. Out here, it showed its teeth.
The boat rocked as it cut across the channel, the engine’s low growl blending with the slap of waves against the hull. Avalon shrank behind them—postcard-perfect, sunlit, deceptive—until it was just a smudge of color pressed against jagged green cliffs.
Joe steered from the helm with casual confidence, sunglasses hiding eyes that always looked for trouble, wearing a grin that had never learned its limits. He’d insisted they all needed a reset day, a few hours on the water with lines in the ocean and beer in the cooler.
“Best therapy on the island,” he’d said. “The ocean doesn’t give a damn about drama.”
Harmony wasn’t convinced about the drama part. The ocean recorded everything—just in ripples and undertow instead of ink.
She sat on the bench along the side, notebook in her lap, sunglasses covering her eyes, trying to focus on nothing more than the fresh air. Cass perched beside her, hair braided to keep it from whipping in her face, bare feet braced against the deck.
“Okay,” Cass said, leaning closer so she could be heard over the engine. “She’s cute . . . but a little too polished.”
Harmony followed her gaze.
Heidi stood near the stern, one hand gripping the rail, the other shading her eyes.
The wind tugged elegantly at her ponytail, sending strands of dark-gold escaping in soft arcs.
Her skin was sun-kissed, her smile bright and unguarded.
She wore cutoffs, a white tank tied in a knot at her waist, and had the kind of energy that pulled conversation toward her without trying.
She turned as Joe called something out to her, making her laugh . . . and three heads turned at once.
Zach.
Tosh.
Joe.
“Understatement,” Harmony said, flipping to a blank page.
“She’s almost too bright,” Cass murmured. “You know how this island treats bright things.”
Harmony did know. And she didn’t say it.
Heidi had arrived on the island a week ago with friends, staying at the Glenmore—at least that was her story. The others had gone back to the mainland. Heidi had stayed. “Just one more week,” she’d said at the Marlin. “I’m not finished with this place yet.”
“Remind me how you know her again?” Harmony asked.
“Friend of a friend,” Cass said. “We met at Descanso. I told her Joe had a boat and you were doing research on all of us, and she didn’t run, so I figured she was brave enough to tag along.”
“Brave,” Harmony said, unreadable.
“Or deeply foolish,” Cass countered with a smirk.
“One or the other. I guess we’ll find out,” Harmony said.
Cass nudged her with her shoulder. “She works in the ICU back on the mainland. Nurses have seen way worse than us.”
Harmony wondered what it took for someone used to blood on their hands to still smile like that.
Heidi moved toward the cooler, balancing with easy grace as the boat rolled. Tosh appeared at her side like he’d been summoned by an invisible alarm. He popped open a bottle of water and handed it to her before she could bend.
“Hydrate before Joe starts corrupting you,” he told her, smile lazy and practiced.
Heidi accepted the bottle, eyes bright. “Is that medical advice?”
“It’s Catalina advice,” Tosh said, leaning a little too close. “More dangerous than medical, and it lasts longer.”
Harmony watched the choreography—the way Tosh stepped just a little too close, offering charm like a spotlight.
The way Joe scowled from the helm, energy sharpening.
Zach stayed where he was by the bait tank, but his attention narrowed, taking in the scene without moving.
Candy shifted her sunhat lower as if trying not to watch—but absolutely not looking away.
Heidi smiled, took a sip, then turned toward the bait station. “So which one of you is teaching me how not to hook myself in the eye?”
“All of us,” Joe said immediately.
“I’ve got the best cast,” Tosh countered.
Zach finally spoke, his voice low and certain. “They’ll show you how to look good. I’ll show you how to actually catch fish if that’s what you really want.”
Heidi laughed, the sound dancing along the surface of the water. “Honesty. I like that.”
She drifted toward Zach as if it were the most natural choice.
Harmony felt the shift around them, the boat’s mood tightening as if the island had just approved something.
She noticed how easily Heidi occupied space beside Zach.
Not aggressively. Not deliberately. Just comfortably.
She filed the observation away, unsettled not by Heidi—but by the fact that she’d noticed at all.
Cass noticed too. “Well. Look at that. She’s picking the quiet one.” She glanced at Harmony. “What do you think about that?”
“I think I’ll keep watching the actors rehearse their lines,” Harmony said with a smirk, not showing what she was feeling.
“Are you okay?” Cass asked, concern entering her eyes.
Harmony smiled. “I’m always okay.”
“That’s so not true,” Cass said, looking more worried than usual.
Zach picked up a rod, his hands efficient, checking the line with the ease of someone who learned competence before taking his first steps. “Ever fished before?” he asked Heidi.
“Not like this. My grandpa used to take me to a lake near our home when I was a kid,” she said softly.
“He’d tell me stories about mermaids living on the bottom.
Said you only saw them if they knew you believed.
He also made the best peanut butter sandwiches ever, and we’d take naps in the sun together.
” Her eyes shone as she spoke of a grandpa she clearly adored and missed.
The boat fell momentarily quiet. Even Harmony felt that one.
Zach’s expression changed—something gentle, then dangerous—before smoothing into something unreadable.
“Mermaids don’t live in lakes,” Joe said loudly.
“They do if you need them to,” Heidi replied.
Mary, sitting alone at the bow with her rod resting idle and her knife clipped to her belt, looked at Heidi with an expression Harmony couldn’t quite decipher.
“Some things do live under the water,” Mary said quietly. “Things that never stop being hungry.”
Cass blinked. “Hell, Mary. We’re fishing, not summoning.”
Mary shrugged. “Some days, it’s the same thing.”
Harmony watched her. Mary’s fingers stroked the knife handle once—absent or deliberate, there was no telling which.
“This is better than lake fishing,” Joe called, breaking up the tense moment. “We’ve got beer and better company, and don’t need naps.”
“You can bring me a sandwich later,” Tosh added. “I’ll pretend it’s nostalgic.”
Heidi glanced over her shoulder at them, smiling, but her body angled toward Zach. “Guess you’re on peanut-butter duty, then.”
“I’m the captain,” Joe protested. “Captains don’t do peanut butter.”
“Captains do whatever keeps the passengers happy,” Cass said sweetly.
Heidi’s eyes flicked to Cass, then Harmony, warm and assessing. “Thanks for inviting me. This is . . . kind of perfect.”
“Give it an hour,” Harmony said. “We tend to ruin perfection.”
Heidi grinned. “I’ve noticed. That’s why I like you.”
There it was—easy, earnest. A woman who’d thrown herself into the messy gravity of the island faster than most.
Zach stepped behind her, his chest brushing her back, subtly, casually—but not casually at all. “Relax your shoulders. Let the rod guide you,” he murmured. He shifted a little, keeping their bodies aligned. “You’re fighting it.”
“Story of my life,” she replied, exhaling. Her stance softened.
Harmony felt Cass elbow her lightly. “You’re staring.”
“I’m observing.”
“Uh-huh. Observing him observing her. That’s new.”
Harmony didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she catalogued the micro-reactions. Heidi’s lashes fluttered, then steadied. Zach’s jaw unclenched, his body language shifting from careful to . . . something else. Not careless. But not detached either.
“Use your hips,” he said. “Let the rod follow.”
She cast. The line arced out, plunking into the glittering water. Joe whooped like she’d just landed a trophy. Tosh applauded. Candy didn’t. Mary smiled—small, sharp.
“Damn, girl,” Joe called. “You’re a natural.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Tosh said, but there was appreciation in his eyes as he lit a cigarette and leaned against the rail. “You should’ve seen my first time out. Hooked my own ass.”
Cass snorted. “That explains so much.”
Candy, who’d spent the first part of the trip sprawled in the sun with her hat over her face, sat up and slid on sunglasses. “We’re really all going to pretend she doesn’t look like a teenage boy’s poster model?” she asked. She didn’t sound amused.
“Envy is loud on you,” Tosh said mildly.
Candy ignored him, assessing Heidi with a tilt of her head. “So, Heidi, is it? How long are you staying?”
“As long as I can stretch my PTO,” Heidi said, reeling in a bit of line. “A few more days, at least.”
“Careful,” Joe said. “The island has a way of swallowing people who say that.”
“I could think of worse places to vanish,” Heidi replied.
Harmony tucked that away. It went quiet for less than thirty seconds.
Torie wasn’t on the boat, but her presence hovered like low static. It seemed like venom might be part of the afternoon.
“Did you hear that Torie called Joe at three a.m.?” Cass asked. “Something about Harmony being dangerous and someone else being bait.”
Harmony frowned. “What?”
“She’s unraveling,” Cass said. “Or she’s onto something. Hard to say which.”
Harmony rolled her eyes at her cousin. “Cute, Cass.”
“I amuse myself if no one else,” Cass said with a joyful laugh. She was getting way too much pleasure out of stirring the pot this afternoon.
They settled into the rhythm of fishing. Lines cast, checked, recast. Beer opened. Sunlight shifted higher, shimmering off the water in blinding streaks. Conversation ebbed and flowed, and stories layered over each other like waves.