16. Owen
OWEN
Later that morning, the bright sun beat down directly onto the empty concrete basin of the Hearts Hotel swimming pool.
Owen stood near the eastern edge of the excavation grid, a measuring tape clamped in his hand, but his eyes kept drifting upward toward the hotel's rear exit doors.
He blew out a slow, frustrated breath, trying to anchor his attention back to the soil profile maps spread across the folding table.
Anna was standing three feet down in the trench, using a small hand trowel to carefully clear a fresh layer of grey clay from a suspected hearth feature.
"Owen!" Anna snapped, her sharp voice breaking through his distracted thoughts.
"What on earth is wrong with you today?" She stopped her work, leaning against the dirt wall as she frowned up at him.
"You've been spacing out every five minutes since we laid the string lines.
Are you still worried about Dr. Wineberg's presence on the island? "
"What?" Owen blinked, shaking his head rapidly as he adjusted his glasses.
In truth, Debbi Wineberg was the last person occupying his thoughts today.
"No, Anna. I was just wondering where Isabel and my café staff are.
When I left the marina this morning, they were supposed to be locking up the kitchen counters and heading straight over here. "
"That was barely fifteen minutes ago," Anna pointed out, a small smile touching her lips.
"They still have to secure the back entries and pack the delivery van.
You mentioned they were bringing a supply of morning snacks and fresh coffee for the volunteer crew, so they're probably still preparing that. "
"Of course," Owen murmured. To his mortification, he felt the tips of his ears grow hot.
He reached up, pretending to adjust his collar while ensuring his longer hair fell forward to cover the blush.
He'd been delaying a haircut that he needed for weeks, but right now, he was thankful for the extra coverage.
He forced his mind back to the measurements, but his pulse gave a sudden jolt as the sound of laughter echoed from the veranda.
He turned around quickly, watching the hotel doors swing open.
Linda walked out onto the lawn, her expression bright as she conversed with the group following her.
Owen felt a brief wave of deflation when he realized she was leading the way, but his spirits perked up when he saw the tall figure walking right behind her.
Isabel stepped out onto the grass, accompanied by three of his young café employees.
"They're finally here," Owen said, clearing his throat quickly when he realized his voice carried a strange, tight pitch.
"Good," Anna said, stepping up out of the trench and brushing the dry dirt from her khaki trousers. "Are these the college students who handle the server shifts at your café?"
"Yes," Owen answered, watching Isabel guide the students toward the equipment tables. "They also take regular shifts at the historical society archives during the winter months, and I help them with the research directions for their term papers when they need assistance."
"That is kind of you," Anna said softly, pride shining clearly in her eyes as she patted his forearm. "You give them consistent summer employment and ensure they don't lax on their academic studies during the vacation months."
"I do let them have some fun on the weekends," Owen pointed out, a small smile breaking through his serious demeanor.
"But I choose the students who display the most genuine eagerness to learn the discipline.
I can't tolerate slackers who treat a summer position as a simple credit requirement while doing as little work as possible. "
"I've never been prouder of a former student," Anna murmured, her eyes misting with emotion for a brief second before she contained herself.
"I admit, Owen, when you walked away from the university ten years ago and dropped your professor title entirely, I was deeply worried.
A great mind like yours leaving the classroom was a massive hit for our field.
But now I see that you never truly stopped teaching.
You're still actively shaping young minds while keeping your talent and love for archaeology alive. "
"Thank you, Anna," Owen said, his ears growing even hotter under her praise.
While it meant the world to receive a compliment from Dr. Anna Caldwell, a woman who had been more of a real family to him than his own biological parents, he had always detested being the center of attention.
"We had best go greet our new arrivals before the crew gets restless. "
Anna nodded happily, turning her beaming face toward the steps as the group reached the pool perimeter.
Isabel looked stunning in a simple light blouse and tailored trousers, her eyes locking onto his the moment she cleared the grass border.
Owen took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his rapid pulse as she approached.
He admonished himself silently, commanding his brain to stop staring before she began to think he was some sort of creepy stalker.
Over the past two days, he had found himself reluctant to leave the café because he wanted to remain in her presence.
Then, during the late evening hours when he stayed at the dig once everyone was gone, Isabel had started to bring him fresh coffee, sitting down in the dirt beside him to ask intelligent, detailed questions about the work.
Owen found Isabel to be one of the most mesmerizing, intriguing women he had ever met.
Her soft wit, her kind eyes, and her deep respect for local history had captured his thoughts.
"Hello, Owen," Linda greeted him, stepping up to him with a wide smile.
"Isabel and your café crew brought a massive snack feast from the kitchen.
The aroma of fresh hazelnut coffee is currently filling my entire rear conference room, and I think our hotel chef is rather put out by the competition. "
Owen let out a laugh, thankful for the tension breaker.
"I'm sorry we took so long to get here," Isabel told him, stepping up beside Linda. As their eyes met, that now-familiar jolt of lightning zapped straight through his system, causing his mouth to automatically lift into a wide, eager smile.
Good grief, he thought, his internal voice groaning in despair.
She really is going to think I'm a creep.
I must look exactly like one of those wooden puppets right now.
He tried to relax his features, but he saw her brow furrow slightly in confusion.
Just stop smiling like an idiot, he hissed to himself.
"Owen," Anna called out from the grid line, saving him from his own awkwardness. He stopped himself just short of wishing the earth would open up and swallow him whole.
"Excuse me for a moment," Owen said, turning back to the women before he walked toward the trench. "Why don't we all have the snacks and coffee inside the conference room first, and then we can come back out to begin this round of grid clearing?"
"Sure," Linda agreed readily. "That's an excellent idea. To be honest, I'm getting quite hungry, and the smell of that pastry delivery has made my stomach rather grumpy."
Owen laughed, the knots in his chest loosening slightly. "Then please go ahead and take the students inside before Anna gets them too distracted with the tools, allowing the food to go cold."
"I'll go gather them and get them to the conference room," Isabel told him quickly, turning on her heel to duck away toward the side lawns.
Owen watched her retreat, his heart sinking. Great, he thought bitterly, my awkward smile must have creeped her out.
"Are you doing okay, Owen?" Linda asked softly, lingering by his side as the students began moving toward the veranda. A knowing glint appeared in her eyes for a brief flash. "You look a little stressed today."
"I'm fine," Owen lied, shifting his folders to hide his restless fingers.
In truth, his nerves were tied up in knots, making him feel exactly like an awkward schoolboy wanting to ask out the head cheerleader. "I just need some coffee and something to eat. My stomach is starting to go on the war path because I skipped breakfast this morning."
"Then let's go eat," Linda laughed, linking her arm through his as they began walking toward the hotel's rear entrance. "Although I can't stay for too long. I have a lunch date with Darius in exactly two hours."
Owen stiffened instantly, his feet slowing against the brick path.
The tension in his shoulders didn't come from Linda's friendly gesture; it came from a protective alarm.
He looked down at her face, wondering with a heavy wave of dread if she had any real inkling of who Darius or Isabel actually were.
"Linda," Owen began, his voice dropping into a quiet, serious tone. "How much do you actually know about Darius's background?"
"I know he's a decent, kind, caring man," Linda told him, her voice warm and confident. "We're slowly getting to know each other during our walks. Why do you ask?"
"Who is he, though?" Owen pushed, keeping his eyes on the doorway where Isabel was currently leading the students into the building. "What do you know about his family or his business?"
“I know they have just bought the beach house.” Linda frowned, looking at him with a puzzled expression.
"He's Isabel's brother, Owen. And if he wasn't a thoroughly decent man, I'm certain Isabel would have said something to warn me.
She and I have gotten rather close over these past few days she's been staying at the hotel suites. She's a wonderful friend."
Owen’s jaw clenched tightly, a heavy barrel of conflicting emotions tearing through his chest. Linda was like a little sister to him, his best friend on this island, and his primary instinct was to protect her from any corporate scheme the Wayne Group might be running.
He felt a sharp, painful pull in his heart as his gaze shifted back to Isabel's profile through the glass doors.
He desperately hoped that Linda already knew the truth about their family name, because if she didn't, it meant Isabel was actively keeping a massive deception alive.
And if she was lying to Linda, where did that leave his own growing friendship with her?
How could he trust the warmth in her eyes if her presence on the island was built on a corporate lie?
They stepped through the rear doors into the hotel foyer, about to cross the tiled floor toward the conference room entrance, when Owen gently caught her sleeve and pulled her aside near the wide front windows.
"Linda, I have to speak to you privately before we go in there with the rest of the crew," Owen said, his expression completely grave.
“Are you worried about my relationship with Darius?” Linda stopped, turning to face him with a soft sigh. "Owen, you are so sweet for looking out for me like this, but I promise you—"
Her words were cut off cleanly when noticed he was no longer looking at her.
She followed Owen's gaze which drifted past her shoulder toward the exterior driveway.
Her head turned to see two figures had just cleared the parking lot, walking with a confident, familiar stride toward the main entrance of the hotel.
Owen froze, the blood turning to ice in his veins as his eyes locked onto the sharp, clinical features of the woman leading the way.
"Of all the nerve," Owen hissed, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides as his dark eyes flashed with a dangerous light.