9. Nolan
Chapter Nine
NOLAN
By Friday morning, the entire town has apparently decided Hadley belongs at the marina. I realize this approximately six minutes after arriving at the docks when Walter Greene waves vaguely toward the office and says, “Your girl already dropped off coffee.”
I stop walking.
“Excuse me?”
Walter squints toward me over the top of his newspaper.
“She’s not my girl.”
“Mm.”
The marina office smells faintly like fresh paint and coffee when I step inside. Sure enough, two iced coffees sit on the desk beside a folder of revised event permits.
I stand there longer than necessary. Condensation is already gathering beneath the cup. I don’t pick it up. I just keep looking at the handwriting wrapped around the cup.
Black.
No sugar.
A smile pulls at my mouth. Of course she remembered. Then I read the note.
Try not to scare tourists today.
—H
I chuckle and tuck the sticky note into my wallet without thinking. I don’t even question why.
Thankfully, my phone buzzes in my pocket before I can spiral further.
Hadley
Before you ask, yes, I bribed Walter with cinnamon rolls for marina gossip access.
I stare at the message.
Me
You weaponized baked goods against me?
Three dots appear.
Hadley
Obviously.
Me
I’m beginning to think you’re the real threat in this town.
Hadley
Correct again.
The smile pulling at my mouth feels impossible to stop lately.
I’m still looking at the screen when Miguel walks into the office carrying electrical schematics.
He stops mid-step.
Then looks between me and the phone.
“Oh,” he says.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t.”
“That’s the face.”
“What face?”
“The one people get right before they start buying matching patio furniture.”
Jesus Christ.
“You’ve known me four days.”
“Yet I know you’re texting the girl.”
I hate everyone here.
Miguel grins and tosses the schematics onto my desk. “Town’s already talking, by the way.”
Every muscle in my body stills.
“What?”
He shrugs casually. “Nothing bad. Just that the marina owner keeps looking at Hadley Wright like she personally hangs the sun and moon.”
I stare at him in horror.
Miguel considers me for another second.
“Honestly? You should probably get better at hiding it.”
Then he leaves before I can respond.
The office falls silent around me. Outside the windows, the marina hums steadily with morning activity. Workers move between slips carrying lumber while boats drift across Back Bay beneath bright spring sunlight.
But all I can focus on is one deeply concerning realization: People can tell.
Maybe not everything. Not the history. Not the one night six months ago. Not the almost kisses or the late-night texts.
But enough to notice. Enough to talk.
And if strangers are noticing?
Eventually, Holt definitely will.
My phone buzzes again.
Hadley
Also, your employees are currently trying to feed Rook funnel cake.
I blink.
Me
Why is the dog at the marina?
Hadley
Because he likes you better now.
The warmth that spreads through me at those words feels deeply unfair.
Me
That feels disloyal to Holt.
Hadley
He’ll survive.
Another pause.
Hadley
Probably.
I chuckle again as I tuck my phone back into my pocket. I already know it won’t stay there long before she texts again. Somewhere along the way, waiting to hear from Hadley stopped feeling unusual.
I grab the coffee and step outside before I can think too hard about that.
The marina stretches bright and alive beneath the morning sun. More locals have started filtering through now that repair work is visibly progressing. A few tourists wander near the slips, taking photos while charter captains prep boats farther down the dock.
And right near the fuel station—there she is.
Hadley stands beside Rook, talking to Mrs. Henderson, while the wind moves through her loose, dark hair. She’s wearing denim shorts again today and one of those oversized sweatshirts that make my brain stop functioning properly.
Rook spots me first. His tail starts wagging as if he’d been playing a personal game of hide-and-seek against me and had won.
Then Hadley turns, and the harsh lines around her eyes melt away like snow in the sun as she sees me.
The second she sees me, she smiles. Not the polite smile she gives tourists. Not the easy one she gives Walter. This one’s smaller. Quieter. I know it’s mine.
Mrs. Henderson notices me next.
“Oh good,” she announces loudly. “Your marina man is here.”
Hadley visibly chokes on air as I stop walking.
“Your what?” I ask carefully.
Mrs. Henderson waves a dismissive hand. “You own the marina. It makes sense.”
Beside her, Hadley looks seconds away from throwing herself into the bay as she groans. I open my mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out. Which is probably answer enough.
Mrs. Henderson eventually wanders off after reminding me to “fix the ugly dock lights before tourist season.”
The second she’s gone, Hadley covers her face with both hands.
“I’m moving.”
“You say that a lot for somebody who clearly loves this town.”
She peeks at me through her fingers. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Absolutely.”
Hadley’s brows furrow, her focus intense, until she takes in the coffee cup, and then her face relaxes.
“You got the coffee.”
Her giggle drifts warmly across the dock between us, just loud enough that suddenly all the noise around us fades again. None of it feels as loud as the awareness building between our bodies.
Rook chooses that exact moment to shove his head directly between us.
Hadley sighs dramatically. “You were Holt’s dog first.”
Rook ignores her in favor of leaning against my legs.
“He’s been replaced,” I tell her solemnly.
“You busy today?” she asks after a moment.
“Mostly contractor meetings.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“Painfully.”
“I’m going to help Bailey with inventory later,” she says. “But I could stop back by this afternoon.”
The words are said with a hint of vulnerability, as if she’s looking for reasons to come here now too. She glances toward the water like she’s suddenly fascinated by boats, which is interesting. Because thirty seconds ago she’d been looking directly at me.
“You don’t have to invent excuses to see me, Hadley.”
Her gaze snaps back to mine, desire flickering low in her eyes.
“That sounds dangerously close to confidence.”
“Should it?”
Her gaze lifts back to mine.
“Yes.”
The single word purrs between her lips, and all I can think about is kissing her. Right here on the dock where everyone could probably see.
Six months ago, that would’ve been enough. That’s the problem. Now I want her to stay after.
By one o’clock, I’ve accomplished almost nothing productive.
Which is becoming a problem.
Miguel has explained the revised electrical plans twice.
Walter has asked me the same question about piling permits three separate times.
I’ve answered differently every single time. It seems my brain checked out somewhere around the moment Hadley smiled at me on the dock.
“You even listening?”
I blink.
Miguel stands in front of my desk, holding a clipboard and looking deeply concerned about my long-term survival.
“Mostly.”
“That sounded fake.”
He drops the clipboard onto my desk with enough force to make my coffee ripple.
“You’ve been staring at the same invoice for ten minutes.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
Miguel folds his arms and grins without a shred of sympathy.
“Go see the girl.”
I look up sharply.
“I’m working.”
He glances around the office.
“Are you?” Miguel adds with a chuckle as he spins on his heels, leaving my makeshift office as quickly as he entered.
Outside the office windows, the marina hums with its usual rhythm. Contractors laugh somewhere near the fuel dock. Families wander the boardwalk. A charter boat eases back into its slip while gulls circle lazily overhead.
Miguel says something else.
I nod.
Then realize I have absolutely no idea what he just asked.
“Sorry.”
He sighs.
“Go see the girl.”
I stand, collecting the truck keys from my desk.
Miguel watches from the threshold with entirely too much satisfaction.
“Where are you going?”
“I need coffee.”
“You have coffee.”
I glance at the cup beside me.
Cold.
Forgotten.
“Better coffee.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“The bookstore?”
I don’t answer. Mostly because answering would require admitting he isn’t wrong.
By the time I pull onto Main Street, I’ve convinced myself this is perfectly reasonable. I’ve worked all morning and deserve a break.
People buy books every day. It isn’t unusual to stop by the bookstore. Except, I park directly in front of A Page in Time without remembering making the turn.
I didn’t come for a book. I came because I wanted to see her. Simply because seeing Hadley has become the best part of my day. I’m rearranging my schedule just to spend fifteen minutes in the same room with her.
I step into the café next door first.
“Two?” the barista asks with a knowing smile.
I blink.
“What?”
“You’ve ordered the same two drinks four times this week.”
The blood rushes to my face, making my cheeks burn and my ears throb.
“Yeah.”
She waves me off, then turns to make them.
“No worries.”
That feels worse.
Five minutes later, I’m climbing the lighthouse steps, carrying both coffees and trying very hard not to acknowledge that my pulse has quickened.
The bell above the bookstore door jingles. And almost my eyes find Hadley. Like they were always going to.
She looks up from a stack of books near the back shelves. And there it is again, that sudden, irrepressible crinkle around her eyes, mirroring the sunbeams breaking through clouds. The one that makes every decision leading me here suddenly feel completely worth it.
I cross the remaining distance between us and hold out one of the coffees.
“Peace offering.”
Hadley’s eyes drop to the cup before lifting back to mine.
“What did you do?”
“Interesting that you assume I’ve done something.”
“Nolan.”
“Drink your coffee.”
She takes it suspiciously, turning the cup enough to read the order printed along the side.
Her eyes narrow.
“How do you know my coffee order?”
“Research.”
“You asked Walter.”
“Walter is a respected source of local information.”
“Walter can be bought with baked goods.”
“That’s between Walter and his conscience.”
A giggle slips out of her.
From behind the register, Bailey looks up.
“For the record, Walter would’ve told him for free.”
Hadley groans. “Whose side are you on?”
“Romance,” Bailey says. “Always romance.”
I take a slow drink of my coffee to hide my smile. Hadley catches it anyway.
“Don’t encourage her.”
I lower the cup. “I’m drinking coffee.”
“Smugly.”
“Didn’t realize there was a wrong way to do it.”
Bailey snorts. “Oh, I like him.”
“You already liked him,” Hadley mutters.
“Now I like him for you.”
Hadley’s smile breaks completely, and I conclude it was worth the drive.
“I’m deeply invested,” Bailey calls. “I’m practically producing this romance.”
I laugh under my breath while Hadley covers her face for half a second.
“You see what I deal with?”
“I think she might be my favorite person.”
“You are absolutely not helping.”
Silence settles for a moment after that. Comfortable. Easy. Hadley wraps both hands around her coffee.
“So...”
“So...”
“Did Miguel survive this morning?”
I sigh dramatically. “Barely.”
“He figured out you were distracted?”
“He informed me I’m apparently buying matching patio furniture next.”
Her titters echo through the bookstore. “I’d pay money to see your face when he said that.”
“It wasn’t my best moment.”
“No?”
“No.”
A flicker of amusement dances on her lips, only to be replaced by a more pensive stillness that settles on her features. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
That gets my attention. “Yeah?”
She studies the lid on her cup instead of looking at me.
“I feel like we’re always...”
She searches for the right word.
“...almost.”
I stay very still.
“We’re always getting interrupted.”
Walter.
Holt.
Tourists.
Contractors.
Work.
Timing.
Six months of bad timing.
Hadley finally looks back up.
“I don’t mean just kissing.”
My chest tightens—not from surprise this time, but from recognition.
“I mean...” she says, “every time it feels like we’re about to be more, something happens.”
She’s right. I reflect on the barn. The marina. The dock. The coffee. Every conversation that stopped one sentence too early.
She gives me the smallest smile.
“I’m just...” She shrugs. “...tired of almost.”
Bailey eventually wanders back downstairs carrying a stack of books she absolutely hasn’t been organizing.
She looks between us once, then smiles far too knowingly.
“I assume everyone behaves while I’m gone?”
Hadley clears her throat.
“Barely.”
Bailey’s grin widens.
“Excellent.”
I shake my head, laughing under my breath while Hadley shoots her friend a look that promises revenge later.
A few customers drift into the store, pulling Bailey toward the front register.
Neither of us seems particularly interested in saying goodbye.
“So...” she says, wrapping both hands around her coffee cup.
“So.”
She smiles down at the lid before looking back up at me.
“I should probably let you get back to work.”
“I probably should.”
Neither of us moves. The silence settles between us. Not awkward, but comfortable. Like we’re both searching for one more reason to stay.
I take a slow step closer.
“If I leave without doing this...”
She tilts her head.
“Doing what?”
We drift farther between the shelves without either of us seeming to make the decision. By the time we stop near the back of the store, Bailey and the register are mostly hidden from view.
I reach up, tucking another strand of hair behind her ear. My fingertips skim the curve of her cheek, and she goes still beneath my hand.
“So impatient,” she whispers.
I smile.
“You have no idea.”
Before I can overthink it, I lean down, and my lips brush hers. Just once. Soft enough that it barely counts. A question more than a kiss.
The bell above the bookstore door jingles. Somebody laughs downstairs. A customer asks Bailey a question. None of it reaches me until she smiles, her forehead almost resting against mine.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the marina,” I admit.
Her cheeks bloom pink. “Only since the marina?”
I laugh.
“Okay.” I brush my thumb lightly along her cheek. “Since long before the marina.”
Her smile grows softer. “Were you going to keep pretending you weren’t?”
“I was trying.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
I glance down at the tiny space still separating us. “Terribly.”
She chuckles, the sound warm enough to settle somewhere deep in my chest. “I kind of figured.”
I steal one last quick kiss. Even shorter than the first. Just because I can.
When I pull back this time, she shakes her head with a smile that’s becoming one of my favorite things in the world.
“Now I’m definitely not getting any work done.”
I smirk. “I’ve been distracted all day.”
Her eyes search mine for a long moment before she says, “Good.”
I step backward toward the door, forcing myself to leave before I find another excuse to stay.
“I’ll see you later.”
She smiles.
“You’ll find a reason.”
I smile because she already knows I will.