2. Sadie
Sadie
I walk down the short hallway and push open the door to the master bedroom.
The space feels too intimate for a safe house.
Soft blue walls meet crisp white linens on a king bed that faces a large window.
The ocean sparkles beyond the dunes. I set my suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed and close the door behind me.
My heart still races. I share this bungalow with a man I met barely two hours ago.
A very good-looking man. That part should not matter at all.
Yet here I stand, replaying the easy way Jace leaned against his Jeep, the confident tilt of his smile, the way his board shorts and faded T-shirt somehow make him look more capable than any suit ever could.
I shake the thought away. He’s a stranger.
A bodyguard my sister hired because someone wants us both silenced.
I unzip my suitcase and pull out my clothes.
I hang my button-downs in the closet and line my flats neatly by the door.
Routine helps. It keeps my hands busy while my mind spins through every worst-case scenario.
What if the people hunting Anniston followed us?
What if Jace turns out to be all charm and no substance when real danger shows up?
I sit on the edge of the bed for a moment and press my palms to my knees. The distant sound of the surf drifts through the cracked window. It should soothe me. Instead it reminds me how far I am from my quiet classroom, my lesson plans, and the life I built without any Hawthorne brothers in it.
A soft knock sounds on the door. I stand quickly.
“Dinner in ten?” Jace calls through the wood. “I’m raiding the fridge.”
My stomach rumbles in answer. I open the door. “I can help.”
We move to the kitchen together. Jace pulls out ground beef, fresh vegetables, and a package of buns.
I wash tomatoes and lettuce at the sink while he forms patties with practiced hands.
The domestic scene feels surreal. One minute I grade spelling tests.
The next I chop onions beside a man who carries a gun under his shirt.
I clear my throat. “So how does this work exactly? Do we hide here until my sister and your brother say it’s safe?”
Jace flips a patty onto the sizzling skillet.
The scent of garlic and spices fills the air.
He glances over with that trademark grin.
“Hiding works for a day or two. After that we blend in. Sunbreak Harbor runs on tourists and locals who mind their business. We sell the story that we’re a couple on vacation.
Beach walks, sunset dinners, the whole package.
Makes it easier to move around without raising flags. ”
I nearly drop the knife. “A couple?”
“Yep.” He sounds way too pleased. “Newlyweds even. Honeymoon phase sells best. People see what they expect to see.”
Heat crawls up my neck. I set the knife down with a decisive clack. “I am not pretending to be married to you.”
“Engaged then.” He shrugs one broad shoulder. “We can negotiate the details. But we need to sell it, Sadie. Hand holding in public. My arm around you when we walk the marina. Looks natural. Keeps eyes off the real reason we’re here.”
I cross my arms and stare at him. He turns the patties with a casual flick of the spatula. The confidence rolls off him like the ocean breeze through the open window. Part of me wants to argue until he drops the ridiculous idea. Another part, the exhausted part, knows he might be right.
“Fine,” I say. “We pretend. But I have rules.”
Jace plates the burgers and slides one toward me. His eyes sparkle with amusement. “Lay them on me, Teach.”
I hold up one finger. “No unnecessary touching. We do what we must in public and keep it professional in the house.”
“Define unnecessary.” He leans against the counter, arms crossed, mirroring me.
I ignore the way his biceps flex. “You know exactly what I mean. No hands on my waist when no one watches. No brushing my hair behind my ear. None of that.”
“Rule two?” He hands me a plate and gestures toward the small table on the porch.
I follow him outside. The evening air wraps around us, warm and salty. “We keep separate rooms. Always. And you sleep on the couch like you said.”
“Already planned on it.” He sits and waits for me to join him. “Next?”
I pick up my burger and take a bite to buy time. It tastes better than it should. “No flirting. I said it in Halo City and I mean it here. This isn’t a vacation romance. This is survival.”
Jace takes a huge bite of his own burger and chews thoughtfully. When he swallows he fixes me with a look that feels far too warm. “I can tone it down. But I have one condition of my own.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“We stay alive,” he says, voice serious for the first time. “That means you listen when I say stay behind me. You follow the plan. And if things go south, you let me do my job.”
The weight of his words settles between us. I nod slowly. “Deal.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes. The waves roll in the background. I watch him from the corner of my eye. He looks relaxed, but his gaze keeps scanning the dunes and the road beyond the house. He never stops working, even while he charms me with that easy smile.
I finish my burger and set the plate down.
Nervous energy still hums under my skin.
Sharing this bungalow with Jace Hawthorne feels like standing at the edge of a storm.
Part of me wants to run back to my classroom.
Another part, small but growing, wonders what it might feel like to let him pull me closer instead of pushing him away.
I shove that thought down deep. This is temporary. A means to an end. Nothing more.
But as Jace sits there, our eyes meet again, and I worry my carefully built rules might not hold against a summer this hot.