Chapter 2
With Casey in the lead, and with Hot Naked Guy covered in my coat, we made our way off the beach. Since I couldn’t exactly address him as “Hot Naked Guy,” I figured it was time for introductions.
“I’m Hannah, by the way,” I said.
“Oh, I wondered what your name was.” The way he said it, you’d have thought he’d been wondering for years. “Xander,” he reciprocated. He touched his hand to his chest and made a little bow with his head in a gesture that seemed almost regal. “I’m Xander.”
“Nice to meet you, Xander.” I pointed to the dog. “And this is Casey.”
He watched the dog scampering ahead of us. His brow furrowed. “And he’s happy to walk like that?” he asked. “On a…what’s it called? Leash?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. “He loves it.”
“Moses would never abide it.”
“Oh,” I said. “Is Moses your dog?”
He shook his head. “Clown fish.”
Clown fish?
“Hey, look!” he exclaimed, pointing up in the sky. A small plane was flying by, towing an advertising banner for a popular local night spot. “‘DJ Jimmy Flash is at Club H2O tonight,’” he said, reading aloud.
“Oh. Do you like to go clubbing?” I asked.
He looked at me, aghast. “Certainly not,” he said. “I abhor any kind of violence.”
I took that in for a beat. “Yeah,” I said. “Same.”
Meanwhile, I made a mental note to keep an eye on him for any symptoms of concussion.
We got to the sidewalk. As was typical for this time of year, the streets were on the empty side, with little traffic and almost no people.
There was a coffee shop a few blocks to the left, but the owner, Gabriella, kept one of those signs in the window that read, “No shirt. No shoes. No service.” And she enforced the hell out of it.
So, with Xander both shirtless and shoeless, that wasn’t going to be an option.
Besides, I had Casey to think about. Although the sign didn’t say, “No dogs,” that was sort of a given, and I couldn’t just leave him outside in this cold.
If I’d had a different kind of job, I might have had some misgivings about inviting a strange man into my home.
But as it was, I invited strangers into my home for a living.
I’d grown up thinking that was normal. Plus, I knew for a fact that Xander didn’t have any lethal weapons concealed beneath my sweater coat—just a killer bod, along with that boho-type necklace of his.
And if the guy tried anything fishy, well… I had faith Casey would protect me.
That said, I doubted it would come to that.
Over the years, with all those B and B guests checking in and checking out, I’d gotten good at reading people.
I could always tell who would remember to tip the housekeeper and who would try to steal the towels.
My instincts told me that with Xander, I was 100 percent safe.
I gestured right. Toward the Sunny Side. “This way,” I said.
We walked along. Despite his lack of proper attire and footwear, Xander moved with an easy, confident bearing, seemingly unaffected by the nasty weather.
By contrast, I was dressed in warm layers with gloves and fleece-lined boots, but without my big coat, I was hunched over and chilled to the bone.
When a gust of wind hit us as we crossed at the intersection, I couldn’t suppress my shudder.
That drew Xander’s attention. “You’re cold,” he said. “Do you need your coat back?” He started to remove it.
“No!” I practically shouted at him. But then, I realized he must be messing with me. “Very funny,” I said. “I’ll be fine. Besides, we’re almost there.”
We kept going, and Xander’s fifty-shades-of-green eyes took in everything. “This is charming,” he said.
I snorted a laugh. Now, he had to be messing with me.
Or else, he was being extremely polite. As a member of the local small business community, I hated to say it, but Atlantic City didn’t exactly have the picture-postcard charm of a lot of the other coastal towns up and down the Eastern Seaboard.
Instead of antique shops and art galleries, the Jersey Shore catered to a different crowd with an abundance of gyms, tanning salons, and—yes—laundromats.
And thanks to the big hotel-casinos that dominated the boardwalk and the bay, this seaside resort also boasted an inordinate number of pawn shops and bail bonds establishments—we’d passed at least one of each already.
“Charming?” I shrugged. “Maybe if your name is Snooki.”
“No, it’s Xander,” he said, smiling amiably. “My name is Xander. Remember?”
“Riiight,” I said slowly, narrowing my gaze at him. “I—I do remember.”
Okay, so he wasn’t plugged in to the reality show culture. That wasn’t a sign of a cognitive impairment. Honestly, it might indicate better judgment than I had.
Still, I felt it was my duty to study the guy closer.
He was walking fine. Didn’t appear to be sick or dizzy. And as far as I’d noticed, he hadn’t been slurring his words. But his responses were strange, to say the least. And there was something about the way he was looking at me—the way he was looking at everything—that just seemed…off.
At the next corner, we stopped for traffic. Xander watched the cars, wide-eyed.
“They go so fast,” he said.
“I know.” I shook my head in disapproval. “Speeding is a real problem here. Especially during tourist season.”
He nodded like he understood me. But again, I was getting some strange vibes.
Knowing how violently the surf had once tossed me around, I wondered if something similar might have happened to him. Maybe he’d hit his head on a rock on the ocean bottom. Maybe he did have a concussion.
Enough. It was time to test that theory.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” I asked, using the hand without the leash in it to hold up three.
“Uh, three?” he asked.
I frowned. He really did seem confused.
“You don’t sound too sure about that,” I said.
“No, I’m sure about the number,” he said. “I’m just not sure why you’re asking.”
So, he wasn’t confused. I was making him confused.
Awesome.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure why I’m asking either,” I said, dropping my hand. Maybe that how-many-fingers thing was best left for TV medical dramas.
The traffic cleared, and we crossed again, arriving at the start of my block.
I was proud to note that this section of town, if not completely charming, was at least getting there.
Since I’d finished college and returned to work full-time at my family’s bed-and-breakfast, I’d organized my friends from some of the other small businesses on this stretch of Atlantic Avenue to work together on curb appeal, cross-promotional events, and other mutual interests.
In fact, I’d be hosting one of our twice-monthly-ish association meetings later this afternoon, and I still had some stuff to prepare…
But first things first.
“Here we are,” I told Xander as we came to the B and B.
Casey was already scrambling up the front steps of the big, old Victorian, so the two of us followed. The way Xander peered up and down and all around, you might have thought we were at Buckingham Palace.
“What a beautiful porch,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You don’t see woodwork like this where I come from,” he added, still surveying the place. “The climate is too…wet.”
As I stooped to remove Casey’s harness, I looked around too, trying to see the place through Xander’s eyes. But all I saw was the rot infecting a few of the floorboards and the old roof I feared wouldn’t survive the next big storm without springing a leak.
With a sigh, I stood up again, unlocked the front door, and pushed it open. Casey ran right into the lobby that doubled as my family’s living room. Hearing his nails clicking across the hardwoods, I made a mental note to clip them before they scratched the flooring.
I flipped the sign on the door from “Be Right Back” to “Open.” During prime tourist season, my parents and I took shifts so there was someone behind the desk 24/7.
The rest of the year, one of us was always on call—or that was how things had been working, anyway.
If Mom and Dad were going to retire, I’d need to hire help and figure out a new system for coverage.
But as I currently had no guests and wasn’t expecting any check-ins, that was a problem for another day.
I stepped back and motioned for Xander to go in ahead of me. “Welcome to the Sunny Side,” I said.
* * *
“How do I look?” I heard Xander ask a little later as he emerged from the small half bath off the lobby.
I’d just gotten a fire going, so I replaced the wire mesh screen in the fireplace, stood up straight, and—
I swallowed. Hard. “G-good,” I managed when I found my voice. “You look good.”
I’d dug up an old navy-blue velour track suit of my father’s so Xander wouldn’t have to keep wearing my coat.
Hardly stylish, it was the kind of activewear ensemble worn by people who weren’t very active.
But since Dad was also a big man—though big in different places than Xander—I thought it might work.
Oh, it worked all right.
Xander spun around, and the way the guy filled out the ass of those pants really should have been illegal.
“Zippers are fun, aren’t they?” he asked as he faced forward again. He moved the jacket’s zipper up and down a few times, leaving it unzipped just enough to reveal a glimpse of his beachy necklace. And his chiseled chest.
Jesus. How was it possible he looked even better clothed?
“Thank you for the outfit,” he was saying. “And for this,” he added, holding my coat out to me, presenting it like an official gift.
For a moment, I just stood there.
“N-no problem,” I said finally, taking the coat.
His gaze drifted over to the fireplace, and his eyes widened. “Oh, wow,” he said with something like amazement. “Did you make fire?”
I swallowed again. “Uh, yeah.”
Okay. I really needed to get a grip.
“Sit down. Please,” I said, trying to sound like an adult who had a college degree in hospitality management instead of some tongue-tied, starry-eyed fangirl. I indicated one of the wing chairs in front of the hearth. “I found some socks and slippers that should fit you as well.”
While Xander got settled and picked up the socks I’d laid out for him, I turned and crossed over toward the door.
It only took a moment to hang my coat on the rack next to Casey’s leash, but I lingered there for a few extra beats to pull myself together.
Once I was reasonably confident that I could keep my eyes in my head and my drooling to a minimum, I turned back.
But halfway to the fireplace, I stopped. Xander was just sitting there, my father’s socks in his hand, staring intently at his bare feet.
My forehead crinkled in concern.
I approached carefully. He seemed to be fixating on one foot. His right foot. I noticed a small scar on the arch.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
Xander stopped contemplating his foot and smiled at me. His smile was still friendly and open, though maybe not quite as open as it had been before. “Everything’s great,” he said.
“Great,” I echoed. I pointed toward the kitchen. “Then I’ll just go and get that coffee.”
* * *
The Sunny Side’s kitchen was traditional in style, with dark wood cabinets and marble countertops.
It was also big. Although it wasn’t a full-on commercial kitchen, it was equipped with lots of counter space, a double-sided refrigerator, and a six-burner stove.
During the summer, it was roomy enough for Dad and me to move easily around each other, preparing breakfast for a full house of guests.
And in the off season, it offered plenty of space for dancing to the radio while the two of us whipped up a Friday-night spaghetti dinner and Mom set up the Scrabble board.
But with just me here, it was starting to feel too large.
I walked over to the coffee maker. The pot had finished brewing, so I bent down, grabbed a couple of clean white mugs out of the dishwasher, and plunked them on the counter. As I closed the dishwasher door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the brewer’s shiny, stainless-steel surface.
I paused, stooping and angling my head so I could peer at my reflection directly.
I wasn’t wearing any makeup today, and with my summer tan long faded, my skin was ghostly pale.
The wild mass of my long, dark hair appeared even wilder than usual, ravaged by the strong coastal winds.
Without thinking, I reached up a hand to try to tame a stray tendril. But then, I stopped myself.
What the hell was I doing? What did it even matter what I looked like?
Okay, so maybe I was attracted to Xander. Who wouldn’t be? By any standard, the guy was drop-dead gorgeous. But aside from that, I didn’t know anything about him. Besides, I’d brought him back here to help him, not hit on him.
And yes, okay, maybe I was a little bit lonely.
But that was understandable. I’d never been on my own like this before.
At Rutgers, I’d lived in the dorms or with roommates in off-campus housing.
Otherwise, I’d always lived with my folks.
Now, with them gone—and with my lone housekeeper, a local college student, working just a few hours a week through the off season—there were days when I didn’t talk to anyone besides Casey.
But, hello? I was a grown-ass woman. If I wanted company, I could call up my friends.
Or download a damn dating app. I didn’t need to be primping and preening for a guy who might be suffering the effects of a head trauma.
Irritated with myself, I straightened up and reached for the coffeepot.
As I filled one mug, then the other, I thought again about all the things Xander had said and done that seemed just slightly odd.
What if he did have a head injury? Those types of wounds could be tricky, I knew.
You could be perfectly fine one minute, then in serious trouble the next.
Had I made a grave mistake, not calling 911?
I wanted to respect this man’s wishes, but I also wanted to do the right thing.
I’d forgotten to ask Xander how he took his coffee, so I grabbed a few single-serve containers of creamer, an assortment of sweetener packets, and a couple of wooden stirrers. Then, I piled everything onto a small serving tray and headed back out to the lobby.
It was time for Xander and me to have some real talk.