Chapter Three #2
As the sun continued its climb in the east, morning sky turned into a colorful mural, and she contemplated her unexpected visitor. KC was incredibly good-looking, and she was annoyed at herself for noticing. Well, any woman with a pulse would have noticed, she told herself.
With broad shoulders and a chiseled chest and back, he stood about six-five, taller than most men she knew.
Thick medium-brown hair hung a few inches past the nape of his neck, and his wicked, hazel eyes were captivating.
A scar over his right temple almost ruined what could be a movie star’s face.
He hadn’t used a razor in several days, which added to his bad-boy attractiveness.
In a snug black T-shirt and tan cargo pants, it had been blatantly obvious he was in excellent physical shape, and she wondered how he managed to stay that way.
Shaking her head, she tried to rid her mind of the images of the man.
In a few hours, she would convince him to leave, then figure out what to do next.
Dan Malone hadn’t run a credit check on her when she rented the house from him, nor did he ask her to sign a lease.
She didn’t tell him she wouldn’t be staying long and let him assume she’d be around for a while.
No one in Whisper had any idea who she really was.
And no one knew the horror that had taken over her world four short months ago and left her running for her life.
She missed her family.
Don’t think about them. Don’t think about Momma, Susan, and Nicholas. There’s nothing you can do for them now. Think about what you’re going to do next and where you’ll go from here.
Moriah glanced at the closed bedroom door and prayed she was safe for now.
Dan Malone wiped down the small kitchen counter, setting a mug beside the coffeemaker as it gurgled and hissed, the rich scent of fresh brew filling the space.
Through the open window drifted the early morning sounds of the town waking up—car doors shutting, an engine revving, the faint jingle of a bicycle bell, and the low murmur of voices carrying up from the street below.
His dog, Jinx, lay stretched across the threshold between the kitchen and living area, head resting on his paws, dark eyes tracking Dan’s every movement. His tail gave an occasional thump against the floor, as if he knew coffee meant they were almost ready to go to work.
As a puppy, before he’d found his forever home, his tail had somehow been broken and hung at a crooked angle.
He was very affectionate, and Dan adored his canine sidekick.
The dog never argued with or heckled him, as his three nephews enjoyed doing.
Jinx was his best friend in life, and neither would have it any other way.
After the last of his nephews had ventured off into the military, Dan found the beach house too quiet and moved into the one-bedroom apartment above the hardware store he owned.
He preferred to keep both places exceptionally tidy.
There was never any clutter, and everything was kept in its proper place—a throwback to his Army days, he supposed.
Filling a large thermos with his daily dose of caffeine, which he would take downstairs to the shop, he wondered if KC had arrived at the beach house yet and met the new tenant. He chuckled, wishing to be a fly on the wall for that encounter. Well, he was sure he’d hear about it soon enough.
He was a true romantic at heart and figured it was about time his three nephews—KC, Brian, and Sean—became ones too, with a little help from him.
He’d lost his only true love at twenty-nine after barely two years of marriage.
He and Annie had fallen hard on a blind date and eloped three weeks later, unable—or unwilling—to wait.
Almost a year after their wedding, Annie was diagnosed with leukemia at twenty-four years old. She’d begged him to leave her, her voice quiet but steady as she told him, “This isn’t what you expected or deserved when you married me.”
Dan had refused, not even considering it.
Walking away had never been an option. Instead, they held on to every moment they had left, determined to make it count.
Between his job and her treatments, they carved out time wherever they could, filling their days with long walks on the beach, picnics in the park, and spontaneous drives to places he’d heard about or nowhere in particular, just to see something new together.
She’d never been on a plane, and one day, he arranged for an army buddy who was a pilot to take them up in his private four-passenger aircraft.
She’d been able to experience the thrill of flying above the earth and loved every minute of it.
And he’d loved the smile that remained on her face for hours after they returned home.
Most of the time, though, they sat on the porch of the beach house they called home, watching the sunrises and listening to the pounding surf.
He’d cherished every moment with her, greedily storing memories for the future.
And at the end, he’d held his sweet Annie close to his chest as she passed into the afterlife and vowed he would love her always.
In the years following his wife’s death, he became known throughout the small community as a collector of strays—animal and human alike.
He was always bringing home lost or injured animals, much to Jinx’s dismay, despite the dog having once been a stray himself.
Dan nursed the ones he could back to health, then found them good homes, while the wild animals were released once they were strong enough to survive on their own.
When it came to people, he was no different. He never met anyone in need without trying to help, even if only in some small way. Sometimes it meant buying a meal or offering a ride. Other times, it was a few dollars to get someone through the day.
Maura Jennings was his latest project, and in her case, what she needed most was a place to stay.
He knew there was more to her story than what she’d let on.
He had a sixth sense about people like her, the kind who carried more than they were willing to say.
She’d told him she was recovering from an abusive relationship and looking for a fresh start, but he suspected pieces were missing—important ones.
She came across as strong, both physically and mentally, the kind of woman who wouldn’t tolerate being hurt more than once.
Still, he knew better than to assume he understood everything she’d been through.
Strength didn’t mean someone hadn’t been pushed too far or trapped in ways that weren’t easy to see from the outside.
What mattered was that she needed help, and whatever she was running from, Dan wasn’t about to turn her away.
For now, he let her stay at the beach house and hoped KC could get her to open up to him.
It would probably be therapeutic for both.
She needed a protector, and KC could use a break from focusing solely on his career.
Dan knew his nephew was considering leaving his SEAL team for a stateside position.
Maybe if he had someone waiting for him at home every night, the decision would be easier.