Page 4 of Hidden Harbor (Evergreen Rescue #1)

Anya must have picked up on my second meaning. Like a still painting springing to life, she shifted, avoiding my gaze as she cleared her throat. “If you want to help, maybe you can grab the loaves of bread and slice them down the middle?”

We worked in companionable silence. Preparing the bread only took a few minutes. Anya dropped the pasta into the boiling water.

Rae arrived, slipping out of her jacket and joining the rest of our group in the living room after greeting me and Anya.

“Let’s eat,” Anya called as I pulled the bubbling bread from the oven. The butter and parmesan had mixed into a golden-brown crust. The kitchen swirled with the scents of garlic and rosemary, and my stomach rumbled. In my rush to finish work for the day, I’d forgotten lunch.

Everyone filtered into the kitchen, grabbing plates and dishing up in a matter of minutes.

“The cook doesn’t go last.” I handed Anya a plate, the brush of our fingers making me aware of how close we stood in the tiny kitchen. Clearing my throat, I stepped away, gesturing toward the stove. “After you.”

Her smile was wry. “You’re a guest.”

I crossed my arms. “Doesn’t matter. Eat.”

Zach was halfway through his dinner by the time I took the last chair at the table, a heaping pile of spaghetti on my plate. I’d also snagged the last of the garlic bread.

“This is great, Anya,” Zach mumbled around a full mouth.

I glared. “Manners, little brother.”

Zach rolled his eyes at me but turned an apologetic smile on Anya. “Excuse me, Anya. It really is delicious.”

Everyone around the table echoed his compliments, adding their own. She beamed at me, setting a low heat brewing in my belly. “Thanks for helping.”

Zach redeemed himself by jumping up to start on the dishes as we finished dinner.

By unspoken agreement, we’d avoided any talk of the morning’s adventures while we ate, decamping to the living room after we finished cleaning up.

Anya chose a spot next to me on the couch, her thigh a hairsbreadth from mine.

Lee leaned forward, his hands dangling between his knees, a frown darkening his features. “Does anyone else find Jordan’s death suspicious?”

Everyone in the room froze as if caught in a strobe flash.

A second too late, Zach laughed. “Trust the thriller writer to see a plot. Jordan was a good guy, but he also had a tendency to go out on the bluffs and sneak a drink when things got to be a bit much at home. He wouldn’t be the first islander to lose his footing on the cliffs.”

Rae frowned. “But he wasn’t careless. He knew the dangers. I spoke to Jia. She’s distraught. Says he told her he needed to do some maintenance on the boat and would be out late, but he never came home.”

“Is the boat in the harbor?” I asked.

Rae nodded. “It was in its usual slip when I got back to Sailor Swift this afternoon.”

“Was Brandon around?” Jordan and his second mate helped us with SAR operations sometimes. Their boat came in handy.

“No. I haven’t seen him.” She shrugged. “But I’ve also barely been home. I spent the rest of my morning at Harbor Brews and then had to head directly to the shipyard afterward.”

“I’m sure the Sheriff’s Office will investigate,” Clay piped up.

The big man had been mostly quiet, in the affable way of someone new to a group of people. He’d joined us this morning on behalf of the park service, helping us cart Jordan’s body back up the hill. He had the kind of solid presence that people found reassuring.

“True,” Lee said, frowning.

Anya yawned, and I glanced at my watch. “It’s getting late. I have to be up early tomorrow to make up for the time I missed today.”

Zach clapped me on the back. “Do what you need to do, old man.”

I glared. “I’m going to help Anya put away the table and chairs. Why don’t you make yourself useful and come help me?”

Zach followed me into the kitchen. He half-heartedly folded a chair, pausing with one clutched beneath his arm. “I think I’m going to stick around tonight. Get to know Anya better.”

“Don’t you have a coffee shop to open in the morning?”

Something flared in Zach’s eyes, the competitive light I’d struggled against most of my life. “So, it’s like that, huh?” He cast a quick look at Anya, who was occupied with Lee and Violet, oblivious to our quiet battle.

Zach used his charm like a weapon. My hands clenched.

“Violet deserves better from us than hitting on her roommate,” I bit out.

Zach snorted, shaking his head. He all but laughed in my face. “That’s where you’re wrong . You had the green light, and you missed the signal. It’s not my fault I’m not too proud to try where you failed.”

“What are you talking about?” I whispered furiously.

“ I didn’t get a yoga gift certificate from Vi for my birthday.”

“She was trolling me like she always does. The year before she bought me a Bigfoot hood ornament for the salt truck.”

“You underestimate our sister’s desire to see you happy.” Zach arched his brows, as if he couldn’t believe I was that thick.

“Vi said I needed to relax.”

“You do.”

“It wasn’t a green light.” I didn’t know why I was arguing. Maybe because I could never admit I was wrong. I put too damn much stock in being right. Doing things right the first time. The curse of the eldest child.

And then there were Anya’s yellow lights. Maybe red. She seemed to be warming to me, but tolerating her roommate’s brother and romantic interest weren’t the same thing.

While we’d been bickering quietly in the corner of the kitchen, everyone else had donned jackets. Rae and Lucy waited patiently for Zach to walk back to town with them. Lee and Clay carried the last few glasses to the sink and slipped into their shoes.

“You coming, Zach?” Rae asked. “Otherwise, I’ll walk Lucy home and see you tomorrow.”

“I’m coming.” Zach scrambled into his jacket, wiggling his brows suggestively. “Maybe it’s time you used that yoga certificate, Drew. Goodnight, Vi. Thanks for dinner, Anya!” he called, ushering the women out. Lee and Clay called their goodbyes.

I bumped Anya gently with my hip, nudging her away from the last few dishes in the sink. Violet tidied up the counters, putting away the leftovers and unused utensils.

“I’ll wash. You cooked. Go sit. Rest.”

She sighed, avoiding my gaze. “Staying busy keeps me from thinking too much about this morning.”

I picked up a towel, holding out my hand to dry as she finished washing the pasta strainer. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She shook her head ruefully. “I can’t complain. I didn’t have to hike down there and haul back a dead man like you did.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting he wasn’t a stranger to most of you. Did you know Jordan well?”

“We weren’t close. He was nearer our brother Cole’s age in school. But I feel for his family. For Rae.”

Anya shivered. “It’s easy to forget how deadly the ocean is when I spend most of my time in town. It’s only when we’re hiking Turn Island or kayaking that I remember how brutal an accident can be here. And we have medical care. I can’t imagine living on one of the more remote islands.”

“We’re a resourceful lot,” I said.

“You are. Which makes me curious. How did you get involved in search and rescue? It isn’t exactly the hobby I pictured for a salt farmer.”

“My dad had us out in nature since we were little. We know every inch of this island and have a passing familiarity with the others in the county. He volunteered with SAR, and it was only natural that we joined him when we were old enough. Though I’ve gotta tell you, it’s not all high-stakes rescues and glamor.

It’s mostly combing a grid for stray trash that might be evidence or searching for lost hikers. ”

“You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Downplay yourself. You make the rest of us mere mortals look like braggarts.”

I snorted. “My ego is just fine, thank you. I’m very proud of everything we’ve built at Island Salts.”

She grinned. “There you go again. We .”

“What? It’s a family business. I didn’t even start it.”

She laughed. “Clearly, you don’t know how much Vi brags about her brilliant older brother and his business sense, diversifying and increasing distribution channels.”

I dried the last dish, not sure what to say. Maybe there was something to Zach’s claim that Vi wouldn’t object if I asked Anya out. Speaking of my sister, I turned, expecting to see her snuggled on the couch reading or puttering around the kitchen behind us, but she was nowhere to be found.

Anya covered her mouth, but I caught the yawn she tried to hide.

“You’ve got to be exhausted. I’ll say goodnight.”

Anya’s gentle smile reached into my chest and squeezed. “Goodnight, Drew.”

“’Night Anya. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Bet.”

Out of things to say, I headed home, kicking myself for my vague invitation.

My game was rusty at best. Criminally underwhelming at worst. And I was reading a hell of a lot into a gift certificate.

If I asked Violet directly, she’d probably roast my balls into chestnuts.

But if I made a move on Anya without her blessing, she could fill my shampoo bottle with Nair.

My sister might be quiet, but we couldn’t grow up around Gran and not learn the fine art of revenge.

Worrying about payback took a backseat to the real question: was Anya even interested? Maybe the gift certificate would help me test the waters. At worst, it might make her more comfortable around me. She’d have all the power.

Once she saw me with my ass in the air, making a complete fool of myself, I might seem more approachable. Maybe then she’d see me differently. No longer Violet’s grouchy older brother, but her humble student, unable to touch his toes.

A light burned in the living room at the farm. I dropped my keys and wallet on the entry table quietly, hoping to sneak by without an interrogation. The joys of living at home in your thirties. All the responsibility and none of the privacy.

“Andrew Garrison Fenwick.”

Dashing upstairs as if I hadn’t heard her would be cowardly. And if I thought going bald was bad, evading Gran could mean something far worse.

“Hi, Gran. How was your evening?” She sat in the recliner, a crone on her throne, her crown of hot pink hair limning her in an aura of badassery.

“Boring.” She gave me a pitying look. “But not as bad as yours if you’re home this early.”

“Gran, it’s after nine,” I protested, not sure why I bothered.

She tutted. “You’ve been past the age of curfew for more than a decade. Live a little. Fulfill the promise of the Fenwick family motto.”

“Go big or go home? I’ll leave being larger than life to you. You do it so well.” I kissed her wrinkled cheek, trying to win her over with the smidge of charm I’d inherited from our dad.

“ Nudus currere et loqui sordida .” She pronounced it as if I should know what it meant. “Go big or go home was for your brother. I’ve decided each of you need your own motto. Look it up. Thank me later.”

Done sharing her sage advice, she ignored me, returning to her book.

I trudged upstairs. To Google or not to Google? Last time Gran had given me something to look up, I’d gotten an eyeful of dicks for my obedience. No thank you .