Chapter 8 Christopher #2
Christopher opened the door and stepped out onto the deck.
The space was more generous than it had looked from the driveway, wrapping around the side of the cottage to maximize the ocean view.
White railings enclosed the space, and weathered gray boards lay beneath his feet.
String lights were hung overhead, currently off but promising an ambiance when lit.
A small outdoor table sat with two chairs, and he noticed an empty space where small scraps in the wood showed that something once belonged there.
Despite being an outdoor space, it was decorated for Christmas. Small potted evergreens with lights sat in the corners, and garland wrapped around the railing. The view of the ocean was breathtaking, and the constant sound of the waves was incredibly soothing.
Isabella stepped out onto the deck and stood beside him. Christopher’s pulse did crazy things at her proximity. He could smell her perfume mixed with the salt air, something floral and warm that made him want to lean closer.
“This is my peaceful place,” Isabella said softly, looking out at the ocean. She rubbed her arms against the cool breeze coming off the water.
“I can see why,” Christopher said, noticing her shiver. He had to quell the urge to put his arms around her and pull her close. Instead, he slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders before she could object.
Their hands brushed as she reached up to hold the lapels, and that familiar electricity sparked between them. Both of them felt it. He saw her breath catch, saw the way her eyes widened slightly.
“My grandmother had two rocking chairs that need fixing,” Isabella said, gesturing to the empty space he’d noticed.
“They used to sit out here. Jack has them at the inn and promised to restore them when he has a chance.” She glanced around the deck with obvious affection.
“This deck is great in the summer. Sitting out here in the evenings, sipping iced tea, watching the sunset.”
“You make it sound so relaxing,” Christopher said, and before he could stop himself, added, “I might just move in.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but the words hung in the air between them, and he realized how much truth they carried. It would be amazing. Spending every day with her, evenings on this deck watching the ocean, building something real and lasting.
The thought should have terrified him. He’d spent his entire adult life avoiding exactly this kind of permanence. But with Isabella, standing on her grandmother’s deck with the ocean whispering against the shore, it didn’t feel frightening at all.
“Oh, the chocolate!” Isabella said suddenly, turning and rushing back inside.
Christopher took a moment before following, looking out at the waves and trying to settle his pulse, to calm the thoughts racing through his head. What was this woman doing to him? He’d known her less than forty-eight hours, and he was already imagining futures he’d never let himself want before.
He turned to follow her inside, pulling the door closed behind him. As he did, a picture flashed through his mind. Isabella jumped and spun with a knife in her hand that morning, fear stark on her face. Her jumpiness. The way she’d been startled by every unexpected sound.
Christopher locked the door and tested it to make sure it was secure before crossing to take a seat at the kitchen counter.
Isabella placed a steaming mug in front of him, and Christopher smiled at the presentation. This wasn’t just hot chocolate. It was complete with a candy cane, whipped cream, bright sprinkles, and a cinnamon stick. A work of art.
“This looks amazing,” he said.
She smiled, clearly pleased, heading toward the glass door and testing the lock before walking back into the kitchen.
“My grandmother’s recipe. Everything I make is her recipe that I’ve just updated or added to a little.
” Isabella picked up a tray with two more elaborately decorated mugs.
“Excuse me, I must just take these to the girls.”
She disappeared down the hallway, and Christopher heard the girls’ excited squeals, followed by Isabella’s laugh. The sounds were warm and domestic, and they made something in his chest tighten almost painfully.
This. This was what he’d been missing without even knowing it.
Not just companionship or attraction, but this sense of home and family and belonging.
Of being part of something bigger than himself.
As his parents were never around, Christopher tended to veer away from domesticity.
Although the Bennetts had treated him like a son, it still stung that his own parents put their careers first, leaving his upbringing to friends.
His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a phone.
He glanced down and saw Isabella’s mobile phone on the counter where she’d left it.
Christopher glanced at it instinctively. The screen showed an unlisted number. Not his business. He looked away, focusing on his hot chocolate.
The phone went to voicemail. A few seconds later, a message notification flashed on the screen.
From his angle at the counter, Christopher could see the preview of the message. He tried not to read it, but the words registered automatically before he could look away.
Beautiful babe, you’d better not be trying to block me again. I warned you about the consequences of that. P.S. I see you managed to get home safely!!! Who’s the Boy Scout?
A cold shiver ran down Christopher’s spine. He sat very still, reading the message again to make sure he’d understood correctly.
I see you managed to get home safely.
The message was in the present tense, which would mean tonight.
Who’s the Boy Scout?
Meaning him. Someone had been watching her. That same someone had seen them arrive at her house or leave the inn together.
Christopher’s mind worked quickly, connecting dots he’d been too distracted to see before. Isabella’s car hadn’t started tonight. Convenient timing. Or had it been sabotaged? An attempt to force her to take a cab, to be alone and vulnerable?
But Christopher had offered her a ride instead. He remembered the relief on her face when he’d suggested it. The way she’d looked almost grateful when he’d agreed to come inside for hot chocolate. He’d thought it was just normal hospitality, maybe a hint of the attraction building between them.
Now he understood. She’d wanted someone here. Needed someone here. Because she was scared.
Isabella has a stalker.
The realization settled in his gut like ice.
Someone was watching her. Someone was threatening her.
That explained the jumpiness this morning, the way she’d spun around with that knife when he’d startled her in the kitchen.
The fear on her face when she’d gotten that phone call.
The mystery caller who’d made her go pale.
It was all the same person. It had to be.
Christopher went very still, letting his instincts take over. His training kicked in automatically. He listened for sounds outside. Nothing unusual. Just the waves and the wind and the normal sounds of a house settling. No footsteps. No movement in the shadows.
But someone was out there. Watching. They knew Christopher and Isabella had arrived. They knew he was here.
He heard Isabella’s footsteps coming back down the hallway.
Christopher didn’t touch her phone. It wasn’t his place.
But he was watching her differently now, seeing what he’d missed before.
The tension in her shoulders that never quite left.
The way she glanced at the windows, as if looking for something or someone.
Those multiple locks on the front door. The relief when he’d locked the deck door without being asked and then her testing it just to make sure.
She was scared. Had been scared. She was hiding it well, putting on a brave face for her daughter, but she was terrified.
Isabella returned to the kitchen and saw Christopher looking at her. “Everything okay?” she asked, trying to sound normal.
Christopher studied her face, wanting desperately to ask about the message. About who was stalking her. About how he could help keep her safe. But he didn’t want to admit he’d seen her private message. That felt like a violation, even if it had been accidental.
“Everything’s fine,” Christopher said carefully, making a decision. He would wait. He would watch. He would protect her whether she asked him to or not. But he’d let her tell him in her own time. She’d open up when she was ready.
Meanwhile, he’d make absolutely certain that she and Maddy were safe.
“This hot chocolate is incredible, by the way,” he added, taking another sip.
Isabella relaxed slightly, pleased by the compliment. She picked up her own mug and leaned against the counter across from him. The distance was comfortable but close enough that they could talk quietly without being overheard.
“Grandmother’s secret was real chocolate, not powder,” Isabella explained. “And a touch of espresso. It brings out the chocolate flavor without making it taste like coffee.”
They talked quietly about cooking, the inn, and the girls’ friendship.
But underneath the pleasant conversation, Christopher’s mind was working.
Who was threatening her? Her ex-husband seemed the most likely candidate.
But was it someone else? How long had this been going on?
And most importantly, how could he keep her safe without scaring her away?
He was still thinking through possibilities when Isabella’s phone buzzed again on the counter.
The sound interrupted their conversation. Isabella looked startled at first, like she’d forgotten the phone was there. Her face went pale.
Christopher glanced down at the screen. The message preview was visible to both of them this time.
Get rid of the Boy Scout so we can talk, or else...
The threat hung between them, impossible to ignore now.
And Christopher knew with absolute certainty that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight. Not until he knew Isabella, Maddy, and Trinity who was staying here, were safe.