Page 8 of From the Start

What is going on? Did Hudson Clark – former NFL wide receiver and local hero – venture into town without a t-shirt again? The last time he went jogging without a shirt on, thepolice had to get involved. Hudson’s wife, Nova, was not amused.

I force my way through the crowd toward the entrance of the grocery store.

“Hey!” a woman shouts. “You can’t budge the line.”

“Budge the line?” Is everyone waiting to enter the grocery store? If this is the line, Dad can forget about his Fruit Loops.

“Don’t act all innocent.” A woman elbows me. It’s a good thing I’m used to dealing with rowdy crowds or I’d be on the ground crying in pain.

I hold up my palms. “I just need to buy some Fruit Loops. And some milk. And maybe a loaf of bread.”

“I don’t care what you need to buy. You’re not getting in line in front of me.”

I scan the area for some clue as to what in the world is going on, but it’s impossible to see beyond the crowd jostling me. I glance toward the sky – hoping for some help from above – and swear under my breath when I notice the sign.

Warning: Contents May Be Too Hot. Meet the Contestants Competing for Smuggler’s Sexiest Man.

One of the many, many initiatives the mayor of Smuggler’s Rest – one of the three villages on Smuggler’s Hideaway – established to bring in tourists was the sexiest man on the island competition. The contest came under fire last year as one of the requirements to vote for a man is that you have to kiss him. But the mayor, Lana, dropped the kiss rule and continued the contest.

I don’t have time for this. Dad will have to suffer through breakfast tomorrow without his beloved Fruit Loops. I whirl around to march back to my car but then I realize – coffee. I don’t have any coffee in the house.

I can put up with a lot – men flirting with me at the bar, getting beer poured all over me, women shouting at me for kicking them out of the bar – but I can’t live without coffee. It’s inhumane.

I reverse direction and force my way through the crowd toward the entrance of the grocery store once again. Women try to stop me by tripping me, elbowing me, and shoving me, but I keep going. I’m not playing their sexiest man games today.

But then a woman grabs hold of my ponytail and yanks. Oh no, she didn’t.

I drop to my knees – forcing her to release her hold – before spinning around to confront her.

She sneers at me. “You’re going down, bitch.”

“Bring it on.”

We begin to circle each other. The crowd notices and cheers break out. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Great. Not only am I not going to get Dad’s Fruit Loops or my coffee. At this rate, I’m going to be late to work. Someone needs to start a grocery delivery service on the island because I don’t have time for this.

But I don’t back down. I never do.

“Harper!” a man shouts.

I glance over my shoulder, where I notice a stage and walkway are set up. There’s a lineup of men strutting across the stage. They’re all shirtless and wearing kerchiefs to cover the lower half of their faces.

“Harper!” the man shouts again as he jumps off the stage.

My breath nearly catches at the acrobatic move and how his abs contract as he lands. He prowls toward me and I can’t help myself from staring at the muscles on his chest and arms. I didn’t think men with this type of muscle definition existed outside of the romance novels I love to read when no one’s looking.

“Harper,” he grumbles, “are you okay?”

I force my gaze away from his chest to his face. Blue eyes greet me. Deep blue eyes, the color of the ocean on a hot summer day. Blue eyes I’d recognize anywhere.

Oh, dear mermaid. I’ve been drooling over Kai. The man-child.

“Harper.” He reaches for my hand, but I retreat a step. Straight into the fist of the woman. She connects with my jaw and I go down.

Except I don’t land on the ground. Kai catches me.

“Shit, Harper. Are you okay?”