Chapter 6
Seb sat in his darkened parlor turned office with Digby snoozing on a puffy new dog bed at the edge of his desk.
He’d pulled the sheers over the windows to cut the glare, relying on the illumination from the cool blue glow of his triple-monitor setup.
On the screens, lines of code scrolled by—a complex encryption handshake for the merger that should have been his only focus.
Instead, his mind was stuck on the taste of apple strudel and the way the light had caught the gold in Holly’s hair this morning. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking in the general silence of the massive house. Digby stretched and let out a soft, huffing snore.
The little guy had been a charmer this morning, winning friends at every opportunity. He was clean and the fix at the back fence seemingly fixed their escape issues.
Seb stretched too and smiled. For the first time in way too long, Seb’s pulse wasn’t a jagged line of anxiety. It was a steady, rhythmic thrum and he chalked it up to the town and his unexpected guide.
“Transparency,” he murmured to the empty room, smiling again.
He’d spent most of his adult life building walls.
Digital walls, physical walls, emotional walls.
He’d lived by the philosophy that if no one could see in, no one could take anything out.
That his digital ideas and innovations would be safe. Would keep him safe.
Not the best plan now that he was looking at it through a different lens.
But Holly had crashed through his perimeter with little more than a cup of coffee and a story about her father. Before that, really, when she’d stood at the gate almost as messy as Digby. At the time, he’d been too relieved to see the dog to understand her potential impact.
As much as he wanted to claim this was just about the interview or maybe making a new friend in his new location, he couldn’t lie to himself.
Somehow, deep inside, there was a curiosity. More than that. A longing for something only Holly could bring to his life.
He had the phone in his hand, following the urge to call his dad and ask about his parents’ romantic start.
Except there would be no answer, no opportunity for sage advice, a pun, or even a lousy joke. Nothing made him feel more like a kid than missing his parents.
Staring at the phone screen, he sent a text to his sister.
No mention of Holly, just filling her in on the new place.
He even attached a photo of Digby, careful to choose an image that didn’t include anyone but the dog.
The plan was for her to come to Brookwell after her deployment to vacation a bit.
Seb pushed away from his desk and Digby stretched, opening one eye. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
The dog scrambled to join him as he left the office for the backyard. The sunny, clear weather had stuck around and the slight breeze off the water made him grateful for his sweatshirt.
He couldn’t stand out here and not think of Holly.
One short visit and he saw her all over the place.
While Digby trotted here and there following interesting smells, Seb’s mind wandered back to his morning coffee.
Hearing Holly talk about her dad had hit him harder than he’d let on.
She’d been duped by her own father. The blow must’ve been horrible.
He knew how the world saw aggressive, focused businessmen, men more like himself than he cared to admit.
He’d been called a shark, a disruptor, and worse since college.
People didn’t always appreciate innovation—especially in the tech space.
And with cyber security there was always the double-edged sword of making things so secure that people got annoyed and didn’t use the tools or so challenging hackers couldn’t resist.
By design, his work wasn’t transparent. Neither was the purchase of the estate. Never had he viewed himself as a villain, but through Holly’s blue eyes, he could see how not knowing his intentions here might get twisted up into resentment with the locals.
He wanted to give her the promised interview. Just as soon as he sorted out how to exclude queries about the lighthouse property. That would be easier with more intel. Determined to shift his afternoon tasks to researching Brookwell history, he whistled for the dog.
Digby didn’t even spare him a glance, too focused on where his nose was leading. He’d wandered toward the fence, likely searching for another escape route. Seb did not have time for that kind of adventure today.
“Digby, come!” No response. Sighing, Seb tried again. “Digby, cookie!”
Suddenly, a white blur was charging toward him. “You’re an extortionist.” Seb scooped up the fluffball and carried him inside, making good on his promise. “We’ll just keep all this bribery between us,” he said as Digby crunched his treat.
His smart watch chimed—a high-priority alert from his lead engineer in the San Francisco office.
The protocols for the merger were moving slower than anticipated.
Seb stifled a groan and drafted a quick response.
His history research would need to wait.
“Back to work.” He snapped his fingers, pleased when Digby followed him to the office.
He’d barely dug into the cause of the slowdown when another alert buzzed his smart watch, this time a phone call from his lawyer. He let it go to voicemail, making a note to check the message later.
Instead, he got a text: Need your sign-off on the North-side parcel disclosure by end of day.
Seb’s jaw tightened. The North-side parcel was the lighthouse.
His lawyers had advised him to keep the ownership quiet until the merger was finalized, fearing that local sentiment or concerns could create a PR nightmare that would devalue the company’s assets.
It was a standard business move. Logical.
Defensible. But the locals—Holly—already knew it was part of the Marion estate.
Shuttling the legal ownership away from himself felt like a lie waiting to be exposed.
He could imagine Holly’s recorder, red light glowing, capturing his attempt to explain that.
She wanted the truth as part of the job.
And she’d openly revealed how important transparency was to her on a personal level.
He wouldn’t go back on his word now. Rubbing at his face, the day’s stubble rasped against his palms. He wasn’t a man who moved by instinct, but everything about Holly Brooks was making him want to rewrite his own source code.
She felt like a catalyst prodding him to be better.
To be the best version of himself. The man who could balance work and downtime, who played games for the joy of the strategy, not just the win.
He thought about the way she’d stood her ground and buffered him from Mrs. Gable’s conjecture.
She hadn’t protected him because of his net worth, she’d protected him because he was a neighbor.
Or a friend. Both words felt strange in his mind, but not unwelcome.
More like a modern decorating choice that didn’t quite fit the original architecture.
Like his monitors in this classic parlor.
He swiveled in his chair to study the view of the front drive flanked by the dormant gardens. Somewhere to the east, out of sight from this vantage point, was the old lighthouse. He hadn’t even been out to see it yet, too focused on the work that required his attention.
But he wondered. And felt guilty about ignoring something Holly considered important.
Was there a view from one of the bedrooms?
When he’d moved in, he’d chosen the suite with a view of Charleston across the harbor. It had satisfied his preference for space and distance while still providing a sense of connection to the city.
Suddenly, he was charging upstairs to the suites on the other side of the house. The cold knot in his stomach loosened when he found the view he was after. In the distance, the lighthouse stood tall, a black and white sentinel glowing in the bright afternoon sunlight.
Both a beacon and a guide, at least at one time.
He’d intended to sell the property eventually. Holding it for now was a tax hedge, but when the market shifted it would create a valuable return. But as he stared out at that stunning, quiet piece of Brookwell Island history, his intentions shifted.
Telling Holly the original plan would upset her. Keeping it from her would be worse. That land wasn’t just his asset. And he’d be damned if he did something that lumped him in with a load of charming strangers she couldn’t trust.
Returning downstairs to the office, he tried to work once more.
Instead of protocols or electronic signatures, he focused on the intriguing local history.
If the merger was delayed, so be it. A day wouldn’t kill the deal.
He wasn’t a diva about his talent or skillset, but his innovations were the best on the market and the contracts would hold.
Once he made that decision, the others were easier. He told the lawyer not to hide the ownership of the North-side parcel. He’d manage any fallout and Holly would help him manage any issues from the locals.
Confident, he sank into the research. The online sources kept him occupied for hours, corroborating facts in the historical record and sharing some fascinating stories about the Brookwell lighthouse. Now he wanted to see it up close and personal.
With her.
“That’s where we should do the interview,” he said to Digby.
The dog merely trotted to the office doorway and back again.
“Oh, right. You’re hungry.” Seb’s stomach rumbled.
He went to the kitchen to feed them both and as they ate, he thought about what Holly was likely dealing with at her book club. He was sure her friends would be conducting an interrogation about him and his new estate. And probably the lighthouse too.
He didn’t want to interrupt, but he wanted more details and the local take on the lighthouse’s importance.
“There’s more research to do,” he said to Digby. “And you’re my wingman.” Seb grabbed his keys, jacket, and Digby’s leash.
His sister would be in shock if she could see him walking away from work right now. For the first time in his life, he was following a variable he couldn’t control, and he was exhilarated to see where it led.