Chapter 3
RYAN
Ryan was trying very hard not to look as tired as he felt. Piper, on the other hand, looked like she could run another ten miles without breaking a sweat. The girl had endless energy, and Ryan was starting to feel every single one of his thirty-four years.
“You’re slowing down, Uncle Ryan,” Piper called over her shoulder as she jogged backwards on the hard-packed sand near the waterline.
Misty loped along beside her, tongue hanging out but tail wagging enthusiastically.
“I thought you were in the military. Doesn’t that mean you have to keep in shape? ”
“I am in shape,” Ryan protested, willing his burning lungs to cooperate.
His side ached where the shrapnel injury was still healing, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his ten-year-old niece.
“I could easily do another five miles if we didn’t have to get back.
Your grandfather would start to worry about us if we were gone too long. ”
Piper grinned at that, her dark ponytail swinging as she turned back around to face forward. “Well then, if you still have some miles left in you, how about picking up the speed? Misty and I will race you to Sunrise House.”
Ryan groaned. “Okay, okay. You win. I’m not as fit as you are.” He tried to inject some dignity into his defeat. “I’m also older than you are, and—”
Misty’s low growl cut him off mid-sentence.
The German Shepherd had stopped in her tracks, her body going rigid with attention. Her ears were forward, focused on something ahead of them on the beach. Ryan followed her gaze and spotted a figure sitting on the sand about thirty yards away.
The person wore the biggest beach hat Ryan had ever seen in his life. The kind of enormous floppy thing that looked like it belonged in an old Hollywood movie. They appeared to be sketching or writing something, their attention focused on the water stretching out before them.
Just then, a gust of wind picked up, carrying the salt spray from the waves.
The enormous hat lifted right off the person’s head, tumbling across the sand.
The figure scrambled up, reaching for it, but the wind had other ideas.
Papers flew from the notebook she had, scattering across the beach like startled birds.
“No. No!” The voice was definitely female, high-pitched, and panicked. She ran after the hat and papers, her movements frantic. “Please, no!”
As she turned, Ryan recognized her. Clara. The nature writer from the cottage at the corner.
“You think we should go help her?” Piper asked, already changing course to head in Clara’s direction.
Ryan had reservations. There was just something about the nosy woman that he didn’t like. She asked too many questions, showed up at odd times, and her cheerfulness felt forced. But he’d been raised right, and leaving someone struggling on the beach wasn’t something the Brandon family did.
He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, come on.”
The next minute, the three of them were chasing down Clara’s scattered belongings.
Ryan snagged the hat as it tried to make a break for the dunes.
Piper caught several pages that were attempting to escape into the surf.
Misty, not entirely sure what the game was but willing to participate, bounded after a page that had made it nearly to the water’s edge.
“I got it!” Piper called triumphantly, holding up one of the pages. Her eyes widened as she looked at it more closely. “Wow, did you draw this?”
Ryan walked over, holding the captured hat and several more papers that his eyes had automatically scanned as he gathered them. Bird sketches. Notes about migration patterns. Detailed observations about plumage and behavior. All legitimate nature writing material.
The sketch Piper held was of a seabird, rendered in careful pencil strokes. It was good, Ryan had to admit. Really good, actually. The level of detail was impressive, capturing not just the bird’s physical features but somehow suggesting its movement and personality.
“I did,” Clara said, a little shyly. She clutched the papers Ryan handed her like they were precious treasures. “It’s not my best work. My hand is still bothering me.” She gestured vaguely toward her bandaged wrist.
“It’s good,” Ryan agreed with Piper, handing Clara her enormous hat. “Here’s your hat and some of your notes.”
“Thank you so much,” Clara gushed, her voice breathless. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. These notes are for my book, and if I’d lost them...” She trailed off, shaking her head at the imagined catastrophe.
Ryan noticed that Misty kept a slight distance from Clara, positioning herself closer to Piper than to the other woman. Even the dog had reservations about her, it seemed. And if a dog didn’t like someone, that usually meant something.
He immediately felt bad for the thought. He was being rude and judgmental. Clara had done nothing wrong except be a little overly friendly and ask a few too many questions. That didn’t make her a bad person.
He shook off the uncharitable thoughts and stepped back slightly, giving Clara space as she organized her rescued papers.
“You are my hero,” Clara said, and her eyes met Ryan’s with a look he didn’t like at all.
It was a look he’d seen on many women’s faces over the years, a particular kind of admiration that always made him uncomfortable.
The kind that suggested they saw him as more than just a helpful stranger.
His walls came up immediately, and he put more space between them.
Clara Stark was not the attention he was looking for.
“I think Piper is your hero,” Ryan redirected, gesturing toward his niece. “She was the one who rushed to help you first. I just tagged along.”
“Yes, you both are my heroes,” Clara said, turning to smile at Piper. But Ryan noticed that the smile wasn’t as warm as the one she’d given him. It was polite and appropriate, but lacked the same intensity. “You must be so proud to have a brave uncle like Ryan.”
Now Piper was giving Clara a weird look. His niece took a step back, and Misty immediately moved to position herself between Piper and Clara. The dog’s body language was clear. She was protecting her girl.
“Yes, I am very proud of my uncle,” Piper told Clara politely. Then she glanced at Ryan, her expression clearly saying can we go now? “We’d better get going. Grandpa has breakfast waiting for us.”
“Oh, please give your grandfather my regards,” Clara told them, organizing her papers into a neat stack. She held up her bandaged hand and wrist. “I hope he’s feeling better. I’m also still healing from my fall. That’s why my pictures aren’t as good as they usually are.”
“Rest usually makes it heal faster,” Ryan advised, already turning away. “Take care of yourself.”
“Thank you again!” Clara called after them as they headed back up the beach toward home.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, Piper’s shorter legs working to keep up with Ryan’s longer strides. Misty trotted between them, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder as if to make sure Clara wasn’t following.
“Was it just me,” Piper said finally, breaking the silence, “or was she a little strange?”
“No, sweetheart, I got that too,” Ryan admitted. He ruffled Piper’s hair affectionately. “But she hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s just friendly. Maybe a bit too friendly, but that’s not a crime.”
“Misty didn’t like her,” Piper pointed out.
“I noticed that too.”
“And Misty is usually right about people,” Piper observed. “I think she has a little hero worship going on toward you.” She raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ve seen movies like this.” She pulled a face and teased. “Trust me, they don’t usually end well. You’d better watch your back, Uncle Ryan.”
Ryan snorted and rolled his eyes. But her words sent a chill down his spine, and he automatically glanced back before grabbing his niece’s free hand and pulling her.
“Come on, let’s go home and get something to eat.
I’m starving, and if we don’t hurry, your grandfather is going to eat all the bacon himself. ”
“Or send out a search party,” Piper mused, glancing at her stopwatch that she switched off. “Shoot, I forgot to turn this off when we went to help Clara.” Her brows rose. “Oh shoot. Grandpa really is going to send out a search party. We’ve been gone a lot longer than I usually am.”
“We’ll just tell him the truth,” Ryan suggested.
“That you were slowing me down?” Piper grinned cheekily.
“Hey…” Ryan said, laughing as she pulled her hand free.
“I’ll race you to the front door,” Piper challenged, then took off before he could reply.
Ryan drew in a ragged breath, ignoring the now searing pain in his side and hoping he hadn’t pulled open his wound, rushing around trying to save a ridiculously big hat and some papers. He gritted his teeth, sucked up the ache, and took off after his niece.
When they reached Sunrise House and walked through the front door, Ryan was surprised to see Marcus Hayes sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee, and wondered when he’d arrived.
“Oh yes, I forgot to tell you,” Piper said, reading his expression. “Uncle Marcus is here for a few days.” She headed for the stairs, already pulling her ponytail out. “I’m going to have a quick shower before breakfast. Is that okay, Grandpa?”
“Of course, honey,” Mitch said from the kitchen doorway.
Ryan watched his niece disappear up the stairs, then turned to find both Mitch and Marcus looking at him with serious expressions. His father jerked his head toward the kitchen, and Ryan’s heart sank. If Marcus were here and they both looked that grim, the news wouldn’t be good.
They waited until they heard Piper’s bedroom door close upstairs, then Mitch and Marcus marched Ryan into the kitchen. His heart lurched when he saw Tessa sitting at the counter.
“Hey, Tessa,” Ryan greeted her.
“Morning, Ryan,” Tessa greeted him with a soft smile, making his pulse race more than it already was, and the burn in his side ache a little less.