5. Eden
FIVE
eden
“But I just need a room for one night.”
I hope my voice isn’t coming out as whiny as it sounds in my head.
The gray-haired woman smiles sympathetically but shakes her head. “I’m sorry, miss. We’re not taking any guests due to the storm.”
I look around at the activity around the small inn. “Who are all these people?”
“They’re workers, dear. They’re getting the place ready for the storm.” She lays liver-spotted hands on top of the waist-high front desk. “I’m so sorry I can’t help you. But it’s our policy to evacuate any guests ahead of the storm. The last of them left earlier this morning.”
I want to lay my head on the desk and cry.
I’ve been up since four a.m. and barely slept at all last night. I’m running on fumes, and my internal bitch-o-meter is ticking up as I stand here. “Okay, well, is there another place here in town?”
“They’re closed too.” She leans forward as though she’s imparting a secret. “You know, dear. I don’t know what you’re in town for, but you seem like a smart girl, being from New York City and all.”
“Hold on. How did you know I was from New York?”
She lifts a shoulder and busies herself with straightening pens in the pen holder. “Small towns have big ears, sweetheart. Anyway, you should get back over that bridge before they close it. I’m sure whatever business you have with Mr. Hanover can wait for the storm to pass.”
Great, just great. I’m the talk of the town already? A storm is closing in and the town has nothing better to talk about than the desperate woman from New York?
I glance down at her name tag.
Odette…hmmm. The woman from the coffee shop.
I paste my best smile on my lips. “Ms. Odette. You’ve got a new grandbaby, don’t you?”
Her faded blue eyes light up. “Why, yes I do. Would you like to see some pictures?”
Before I can answer, she pulls out her phone and scrolls to her photo gallery with the adeptness of a fourteen-year-old. “Her name’s Maddie.”
I smile a little bigger. “She’s a beautiful baby.”
Odette proceeds to show me a couple of pictures of Maddie, and I make the appropriate noises.
When there’s a small hole in the conversation, I push through it. “She’s lovely. Now I have a question for you. If, let’s say, Maddie were stuck on an island with no place to stay, you’d want someone to help her out, right? Give her shelter?”
Her eyes widen. “Well, yes, of course.”
I raise my brows and keep my smile firmly in place. “So, can you help a girl out?”
She smiles again. “I’m sorry, no.”
I drop my smile. “I’ll pay you a thousand dollars.”
The sweet grandma smile disappears. “Nope. ”
I resist the urge to stomp my foot. With a sigh, I slide my purse off the desk. “Fine. Thanks, Odette.”
My tone tells her I’m anything but thankful.
“Safe travels, dear.”
Her tone’s overly cheery. The woman has the innocent-looking grandma thing down pat. But that little glint in her eye tells me she enjoyed screwing with me.
I roll my eyes and walk out of the inn, pulling the door closed behind me a little harder than necessary. Standing on the front porch, I look around the busy little town, the sea breeze blowing strands of hair across my face.
What the hell am I going to do now? I walk down the couple of steps to the sidewalk and head to my rental. I slide in and start it, blasting the AC to keep my blouse from sticking to me and the sweat from rolling down my ass crack.
Clicking on my email, I find the list Katie sent me of hotels on the mainland just in case I needed it.
I grimace, wanting to kick my own sweaty ass for being overly confident that a) Chase would say yes when I asked and b) the local inns would be happy to take me in.
What happened to small-town hospitality?
Blowing out a breath, I lean back in the seat, thinking over my options.
If Odette is to be believed, I need to get back over the bridge sooner than later. Peering out the large windshield to assess the sky, I notice the clouds are beginning to gather.
Fear skitters down my spine as I realize I’m truly running out of time.
After looking over a couple of the hotels on the list, I call and secure a room in Jacksonville. My room will be ready by four, and I say a prayer to Mother Nature asking if she can hold off her fury for another couple of hours .
A couple of days would be better, but since I’m begging, I can’t be choosy.
Now to the next problem.
I still have no idea where the hell Chase lives.
It isn’t going to be as easy as looking his address up on Google.
But first I need to change into some clothes that don’t make me look like city girl lost.
I frown and look in my rearview mirror.
Odette stands on the front porch taking down hanging plants that are blowing around in the increasing wind.
She may have refused to give me a room, but she’s going to help me out somehow.
Squaring my shoulders, I get back out of the vehicle, gather my carry-on bag, and head toward the elderly woman.
Approaching her, I smile. “Hey, there. It’s me again. Smart city girl.”
She glances over at me, setting a plant on the porch. “What can I help you with, city girl?”
“I wondered if I could use your ladies’ room.”
She stares at me for a moment, her gaze raking over me from head to toe, then nods once. “That’s fine. Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile.
The bathroom looks like the guest bath of someone’s home, complete with potpourri in a dish on the edge of the vanity.
I quickly change into some shorts and a tank top and pull my hair into a ponytail I thread through the back of my baseball cap.
My feet thank me when I slide on a pair of Old Skool Vans, giving them a break from the out-of-place Louboutins.
The image in the small round mirror is not the professional look I envisioned when talking business with Chase. I want to look like I have my shit together and that he doesn’t faze me one bit.
He doesn’t have to know it’s a damn lie, but my work uniform is my armor of sorts. And now, vulnerability trembles under my skin. I blow out a breath. “When in Rome…”
I thank Odette on the way out, but she comes around the front desk and steps in front of me, her arms crossed over her ample chest. “You’re not one of those investigative journalist people, are you?”
I tilt my head to the side. “I’m sorry, what?”
She waves a hand in front of her. “You know, one of those journalists looking to dig up a story that’s best left alone? Chase is a good boy and he doesn’t need?—”
Chase is a good boy? He’s got these people fooled.
I hold up a hand and shake my head. “No. I assure you, I’m not one of those journalists. I would never do that to Chase.”
That much was true. We may not like each other anymore, but I would never dig up his past.
It’s better left alone.
I shift my bag on my shoulder. “I’ve known Chase for years. My business with him is just that. Business. I can promise you I’m not here looking for any type of dirt or story to sell about him.”
Odette nods slowly but continues her scrutiny of me. “Okay, I believe you. We had enough of that a few years back when he first moved home. And every so often, we get some city slicker in here that wants to dig for secrets.”
She draws in a breath, and I swear even though I tower over her, she looks down at me. “I don’t mind city people, mind you. Plenty of them come here in the high season to ‘unplug’ as they say. But most just end up working by the pool on their laptops and those bud thingees in their ears. ”
She shakes her head as though it’s the most ridiculous notion in the world.
I avert my gaze from hers, hoping the fact that I’m one of those city slickers who works on vacation isn’t written in neon across my forehead.
Hell, my whole point in being here is work related. “Um. No, I’m not here to dig up secrets.”
“Good.” She smiles. “Not that you’d get past that brick wall and security gate he’s got at that house of his.”
With a shake of her head, she frowns. “I don’t know how he doesn’t get lonely out there on the far end of the island.”
Huh. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“I know what you mean,” I say, playing along and hoping the next thing I say makes sense. “Especially out there. On the far end of the island.”
Maybe she’ll be kind enough to tell me which end of the island she means.
“I’ve never been there, you know, but from the pictures on Google, it’s a beautiful place.”
She tsks, picking invisible lint off her shirt. “But too much for one guy to ramble around in. Of course, we all thought he might end up with that bartender down at the Red Parrot. But she moved. Turns out it was just a…”—she snaps her fingers—“friends with benefits, I think they call it.”
What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
My gut churns, and a feeling that’s suspiciously like jealousy wants to spew out. “Right. Okay, well, thanks again for letting me use your ladies’ room.”
“You’re welcome, dear. I hope you make it to the mainland before they close the bridge.”
I nod with a smile and leave. I need to get on the road and figure out which end of the island to try first.
Back in my rental, I pull up a map of the island. Even though I’ve been here a few times, it’s interesting to see it from Google Earth’s point of view.
Cape Sands Beach is a twenty-mile-long barrier island, and according to the map, the entire north end of the island is a state park. The lighthouse is right in the middle and the south end of the island is a scattering of private homes.
A smile spreads across my lips.
Thank you, Odette. She’d given me just enough to give me a starting point.
“Found your ass, Hanover.”
My ride to the far end of the island is slow but beautiful. There’s no racing off to anywhere on the two-lane road that runs parallel to the ocean.
Beach houses, local seaside restaurants, and sand dunes dot the landscape, and my body relaxes in spite of the stress that has me in knots.
Stress in a six-foot-two, unfairly gorgeous, abs for days, male package.
The farther I drive, the less civilization I see. The road becomes a mixture of pavement and gravel in the middle of palm trees and other sorts of tropical vegetation.
It curves right, and about a half mile down, it simply ends with nothing but palm trees and Spanish moss-draped oaks on my right and a crushed-shell driveway on my left.
I roll the window down and poke my head out into the salty, hot air, looking around for something that will give me some sort of indication that there’s anything out here at all.
But there’s nothing. No address, no mailbox, nothing. The only sounds I hear are a few birds and the crash of waves in the distance.
“Well, if I end up on Dateline as a corpse in the middle of nowhere, at least the scenery is nice,” I mutter, turning down the unmarked road .
In reality, the town’s just a few short miles away, but the feeling that I’ve left civilization behind is strong.
Chase designed it that way; I’m sure of it.
A few moments later, a white brick wall with a security gate comes into view, and this is no ornamental gate.
It’s made to keep people out.
It obscures the view of what’s beyond and makes it feel like a gate and security wall were just plopped down in the middle of nowhere.
I stop at the small screen just outside the gate and start to press the talk button when a loud buzz sounds and the gates start to swing open slowly.
A prickle of fear skitters down my spine. It isn’t the walking-down-a-dark-street-alone-and-hearing-footsteps-behind-you fear.
No, this fear is more personal. More like, once I cross the threshold of this gate, my life is going to change, and I’m not ready for that.
I blow out a breath and lift my foot off the brake. About one hundred yards in, the driveway becomes brick and forks into two directions.
Something tells me to go left so I follow it, and soon, part of the house comes into view. Most of the front of it is so obscured that it looks as though the vegetation and structure are one.
I park in the circular driveway and get out, scanning the area around me. If Chase wanted off the grid, he succeeded. Short of being on a deserted island in the center of the ocean, it’s as secluded as it gets.
At the very least, it feels that way.
I walk toward the back of the house and find it sits on a sloping bluff about fifty feet above the water, giving it an unobscured view of the ocean and endless horizon .
With the looming storm approaching in the distance, the choppy sea and sky are nearly the same deep indigo.
I can only imagine what the views from inside are like. Not that I want to find out. I want to get the begging over with and get the hell out of dodge with my dignity intact.
Preferably before the bridge to the mainland closes.
“Well, I see you found me. And early as always. Guess some things don’t change.”
I jump, startled by his deep voice out here in the quiet. My heart bangs against my ribs, and I close my eyes to regain some footing.
Straightening my spine, I turn to face him.
“Yes, I found you.” I cross my arms over my chest and jut out a hip. “Between Odette and Google, it wasn’t hard.”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “That woman… We don’t need Google as long as we’ve got Odette.”
One side of his mouth lifts in a sardonic smile, and his green eyes rake down my body and back up to my face. “That’s a bit casual for a business meeting, don’t you think?”
“What about you? With, uh, with…” I gesture to his shirtless torso and try to find words.
His chest gleams with sweat. It’s so fucking unfair that even as he ages, he still has abs for days and a sexy-ass V.
My mouth goes as dry as the sawdust on his ball cap.
His smirk deepens. “With no shirt? Yeah, but this is my work attire. You, on the other hand…”
Green eyes wander down to my legs. “Well, this would be slumming it for you, wouldn’t it, sweetheart?”
I grit my teeth at the endearment that sounds more like a sneer. “Look, you said you’d give me a chance to give you details before you completely shut me down.”
“I told you I’d listen but I won’t change my mind. I just want you off the island. ”
“Trust me, pal. I don’t even want to be on this island.”
He frowns before looking away. I study his profile, the hard line of his jaw.
One might think the broody, grumpy thing would be a complete turnoff.
Not this girl.
Evidently, I’m the sadistic type that enjoys playing with fire and therefore finds his hard lines to be droolworthy.
God, I’m so screwed up.
He sighs and turns to walk away. “Come on. You can give me details while we work. Then I can tell you no without any guilt.”
“Guilt, my ass,” I mutter under my breath, but follow him.
He stops and does an about-face, causing me to almost run into him. When he reaches out to steady me, gripping my biceps, the breath in my lungs backs up as his gaze meets mine.
He moves in close enough that his manly scent surrounds me.
“When you’re done with the details, then you can tell me why you ran.”