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“I appreciate the coffee and the compliments, but maybe it’s best if we just stay friends.”

His eyes flashed with what I read as disappointment, but he held his lips in the semblance of a smile. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

I was lying to him. Lying to myself. Because what I really wanted was to crawl into his lap, find the shelter I’d beencraving, and spill my secrets. But if he knew the real me, he wouldn’t be impressed. And I couldn’t bear to have that spark of admiration die.

It was better to be his beautiful mystery than his up-close disaster.

Chapter 7 – Drew

I’d opened my big fucking mouth and scared her off. Classic. I was either too much or too little. There was no in-between. No mute.

I debated sending Anya a text to apologize again, but that would likely only make things worse. She’d gulped her coffee as if her life depended on it, and I’d walked her back to the studio like a gentleman. Too bad my mouth didn’t get that message earlier.

The Sheriff’s Office was my next stop on my way to the farm. It seemed likely that an off-islander had grabbed the Pelican case through my open window, but Sue still wanted me to file an official theft report. It was damn odd. But maybe the case was too tempting, even without the key.

The sheriff came out of a meeting just as I was wrapping up and waved me down. “Hey, Drew. Is that your report?”

“Yeah, though I don’t know how much good it’ll do. I’m sorry, George.” I shrugged. “I’ve gotten too complacent. I should have at least rolled my windows up.”

He waved away my apology. “Don’t fret. It’s probably nothing exciting, just registration paperwork that fell off a random boat in the channel and floated in.”

“Still, the beach is awfully close to where we found Jordan. And the initials engraved on the case match his. Any news from the coroner?”

“You know I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation,” he chided gently.

“And you know as soon as you share the report with his family, it’ll be all over town. Maybe posted inWhat’s New, Friday Harbor.”

George gave a long-suffering sigh. “You’re not wrong. But it’ll be another few days before I get the preliminary and can review it with them. There was a major accident on I-5 over the weekend, and the coroner on the mainland is backed up.”

“In the meantime, has anyone reported seeing Jordan that night?”

I couldn’t help my curiosity. It didn’t sit right that Jordan had been up there in the first place. But there were scuff marks on the cliff over the beach where he’d been found. The theory that he’d had a few too many to drink and stumbled was plausible.

The sheriff shook his head. “Nah. Let me know if you hear of anyone who was up at the bluffs for sunset that night. I’d love to figure out how he got out there. His truck was parked downtown.”

“At the marina?” I asked.

George frowned. “No. Which makes things odder still. I’m wondering if he met someone who gave him a ride out there.”

“Were he and Jia having problems?” It felt disloyal to Rae to ask, prying into her family’s business, but I didn’t like the whole situation. A secret girlfriend would explain a lot.

“Not according to her. She seemed genuinely devastated when I went to notify her. I had my share of run-ins with Jordan, butthey were minor. It’s a crying shame. She’s got two kids and a Coast Guard deployment scheduled for this summer. His death couldn’t come at a worse time for the family.”

George glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get to a budget meeting with the commissioners. Keep an eye out and let me know if that case turns up?”

I nodded, sketching him a quick salute.

I spent the rest of the day working in the evaporation houses, which were built a lot like greenhouses. The sun provided the heat to distill the briny water, crystalizing it into a mix of salt and minerals. It was a hurry-up-and-wait kind of farming.

March’s batch was nearly ready to process, the top of the tanks looking like frozen ice, trapping brine beneath the surface. It was a lot of work for two hundred and fifty pounds of salt. When people pictured the glamor of running your own business, they probably didn’t picture me scraping away with my shovel at harvest.

Tired and dirty, I removed my shoes at the back door. “Hey, Gran. What are you up to tonight?”

She arched one white brow. “I’ve got a date.”

“On a Monday night?”

She waved a hand. “I’m retired; I can do whatever the hell I want.”