Page 3 of Hidden Harbor (Evergreen Rescue #1)

T he operation to retrieve Jordan’s body at Grandma’s Cove took all morning, turning the rest of my day at the farm into a fire drill.

Rushing wasn’t my style, but there was no way I’d let down my distributor or my employees.

Getting everything completed distracted me from my grim morning.

We finished packing and pulling our shipping orders just in time for me to shower and shave for dinner.

If I took more trouble with my appearance, using the fancy beard oil Violet bought me for Christmas, it was only because I had a duty to my family to be presentable in public.

It had nothing to do with Vi’s roommate, Anya Rose.

Even her name sounded like a song lyric.

Beautiful. Did her parents know she’d be stunning when she was born?

Near Vi’s age, the thirty-something had stick-straight shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes the color of the Salish Sea on a sunny day.

My grandmother looked up from her crossword on the couch as I gathered my keys and wallet, taking in the bouquet of daffodils I’d gathered from the garden in one shrewd gaze. “Make bad choices.”

I shook my head slowly, used to her provocation. Gran doled out her playful wisdom whether I was interested or not. “You do enough of that for both of us, Gran.”

She blew a raspberry, the gentle “pphfft” oddly consistent with her pink spiky hair and outlandish track suit. To quote Gran, “Fuck subtle. I’ve earned the right to be loud.”

“Live a little, Drew. I promise, it won’t hurt you.”

It might. Unwilling to argue, I waved, jogging out to my truck and driving the country roads into town.

The sun had started its descent, just kissing the horizon.

It was warm enough to roll down my window.

Air that retained a crisp hint of spring filled my truck, the scent of tulips and daffodils traveling on the wind with the smell of fresh-cut grass.

I parked behind Vi’s car and knocked gently on the sliding door before opening it.

Anya stuck her head around the corner from the kitchen as I was toeing off my shoes. “Oh, hi! Vi’s not here. She ran to the store for bread.” Anya gave me a smile that wavered at the edges. “Make yourself at home.”

She probably meant for me to sit in their living room, but I followed her into the kitchen. Anya looked like a fantasy come to life—golden hair disheveled, barefoot, and in a slouchy sweatshirt that revealed one rounded shoulder.

“For you,” I said, thrusting the flowers forward like a bashful kid.

A flash of surprise widened her eyes, slowly wrinkling at the corners as she smiled, accepting the flowers after a moment of hesitation.

She always seemed so skittish, and though she masked it with a bubbly demeanor, something about it rang false.

I couldn’t tell if I made her nervous, or if that was the way she approached the world – like a wounded animal who’d already been hurt once. Who used cheerfulness to hide.

As much as her timid eyes irked me, they also had me scanning for the danger she sensed, hoping it wasn’t me she was afraid of.

Her body language gave her away every time.

She often perched at the end of furniture like she might flit away as quickly as she landed, prepared to escape at a moment’s notice.

Like she was always looking for an exit.

Her blue eyes were gentle but wary as she glanced up from the flowers.

She was beautiful, her shoulder-length blonde hair like sunshine, her toned body a testament to yoga and hiking.

But something about the way she moved, keeping to the sidelines, almost as if she were afraid to take up space made me think someone had hurt her.

And I just needed a minute alone with that person.

“Oh, thank you. You didn’t have to do that, Drew, but they’re beautiful.

” Her words were soft, almost reluctant.

She paused, stroking one of the petals, her finger tracing the rim of one bright yellow corona.

“They’re always so bright and cheerful. Like sunshine. An instant mood-booster. Thank you.”

Telling her they made me think of her hair in sunlight might bring her skittish expression back.

“Mom always says never show up empty-handed when you’re a guest.” I didn’t feel the need to point out that I’d never brought flowers to Violet in the past. Anya made quick work of filling a vase and setting the bright yellow blooms in the center of their dining table.

“Is that going to be enough space for us?” I asked, avoiding talking about this morning or how pretty she looked with her hair down. Score one for restraint. Gran would be so disappointed.

Maybe I was rusty with women. Between the business and volunteering with search and rescue, I’d barely looked up since I took over Island Salts.

But work hadn’t kept me from noticing Anya.

My sister’s sweet roommate had intrigued me from day one, even if I’d been more ghost than solid presence in Vi’s life.

“We should have eight tonight, so it will be cramped.”

“I’ll grab the folding table and chairs from the garage.

” Maybe I was using the chore to give myself some much-needed breathing space, but I didn’t care.

It took all my self-control not to fantasize about nuzzling at the juncture between her neck and shoulder, finding out if she smelled as good as she looked.

Gran’s advice was having a greater impact than I realized, gnawing away at my subconscious.

Gran would approve if I moved in for a sniff, but Anya would be within her rights to smack me on the nose like a naughty puppy.

Or an overstepping asshole. While she was bubbly and friendly with everyone she met, there was an invisible shield that kept anyone from getting too close.

Serene and self-contained, she seemed perfectly untouchable.

Setting up the table and chairs gave me time to regain control. Hitting on my sister’s best friend was the epitome of getting your nooky where you got your cookies. While Gran was predictably a fan of any kind of nooky you could get being A-OK, I owed it to Vi not to make things awkward.

Anya hadn’t dated anyone since landing on the island. She was too beautiful not to have been asked, which led me to believe she wasn’t interested.

Zach stomped his feet, calling out his hello just as I finished my chore. Predictable .

“Hey.” I extended my nod to include our friend Lee and Clay, the park ranger who’d answered the call with us this morning.

Lee dipped his chin in greeting. I could never figure out how the reclusive author and my very unserious brother became friends, but they’d been close since we were kids, making Lee almost like another brother to me.

I shook hands with Clay, hardly recognizing him out of his park ranger uniform. Without his hat, his long blond hair curled, making him look younger and less authoritative. “Good to see you again.”

“Something smells good.” Zach grinned at Anya. “Must be you.”

I bristled, gritting my teeth.

She laughed easily. “Spaghetti Bolognese is on the menu. And on the stove. I’m afraid it’s the allure of bacon you smell, not me.”

He clutched at his chest, charming grin spreading across his face. “Don’t go bacon my heart, Anya.”

“Zach, knock it off and let her cook,” I barked, immediately regretting my words when Anya flinched. She could speak up for herself. Already had. Shame-faced, I shook my head in a silent apology. “Sorry. We’ll get out of your way, Anya.”

Lucy and Violet arrived, each carrying a loaf of bread. They shed their jackets and shoes at the door, the commotion of their arrival saving me from the awkward pause that followed my outburst.

Lucy Millen looked like Violet’s dark shadow.

Perpetually clad in black, she’d embraced the stereotype of the antisocial artist when she moved to town.

Violet’s colorful wardrobe reminded me of Gran.

But saying that aloud was a one-way ticket to her shit list. My sister attracted all sorts, collecting island oddballs like a beachcomber picked up shells.

“Can I get anyone something to drink?” Violet asked.

Zach helped her pull sodas from the fridge and fill glasses with water.

It gave him another excuse to loiter around Anya.

He complimented her again about how good dinner smelled.

A muscle ticked in my jaw. I had no business getting annoyed with Zach.

He was doing what he always did: laying on the charm with an attractive woman.

He obviously had no reservations about flirting with our sister’s roommate.

I approached Anya at the stove. Almost meditatively, she stirred a large pot of sauce. It smelled heavenly. Rosemary and bacon, with a top note of tomato.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked Anya, voice dropped low so as not to interrupt the conversation in the living room.

She flinched, and I regretted trying to be subtle. I didn’t mean to startle her. She smiled, as if to paper over the moment of skittishness.

“Thanks, Drew, but I grabbed a glass earlier. Lucky for you, I could use a taste-tester.” She shifted to the side, holding her spoon over the pot. “Want to try the sauce? Tell me if it needs anything?”

I edged closer, keenly aware of her hip brushing mine. Gently, I guided her wrist, bringing the spoon toward my lips. My eyes locked on hers as I blew softly over the steaming bite. Holding as I took a taste.

Rich flavor burst across my tongue. Delicious. Instinctively, my focus dipped to her mouth.

Lips slightly open, soft and welcoming, she tempted me to steal another taste. But something flickered in her eyes. Fear? Desire? Either way, it wasn’t an invitation.

She remained frozen in place as I pulled back. Awkwardly, I shoved my hands in my back pockets.

“It’s perfect.” My voice sounded raw, the truth ripped from me.

She was perfect.