Page 13 of Hidden Resolution

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off with a sigh.

“Okay, love, let’s say I believe you. That gives us two options.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “You’ve either picked up a stalker, or someone was searching for valuables. Let’s rule out a stalker for the moment. You’re too far from home, and it feels too fast to attract one here. Which leaves us with a B&E and a very important question: did they find what they were looking for?”

“Again, I don’t know,” she said, clearly exasperated. “I don’t have anything anyone would want. I know better than to travel with valuables.”

She tossed the half-eaten strip of bacon onto her plate.

“Think,” Mason pressed, snagging the piece she discarded. “There must be something. A stalker would’ve taken a trophy or maybe left a message for you.”

She paled.

He instantly regretted pushing so hard, not wanting to frighten her worse than she already was. Yet they didn’t have the luxury of pretending this was nothing. The police had brushed it off as her imagination when they both knew it wasn’t.

“Mason, I swear to you, I don’t know. Assuming someone’s after me, why wait until I’m here? Why not attempt to break into my home or office? It doesn’t make any sense,” she reasoned.

He sighed. She wasn’t wrong.

“So what? Assume it was a fluke and double our guard just in case?” he asked.

“This isn’t your issue. You didn’t sign up for all this drama. I understand if you want to walk away.”

Her voice was small and achingly vulnerable. She was holding it together by sheer will, pretending she wasn’t shaken to her core.

“I’m not walking away, Shonda,” he assured her quietly. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Expression tight, she gave a slight nod. Worry was etched in every line of her face.

“We will,” he promised, lacing his fingers through hers.

Her helpless stare was broken by the server who slipped the check onto the table. Mason signed it and helped Shonda to her feet.

“Now let’s go do what we came here for and soak up the sun,” he suggested.

A reluctant smile curled her lips.

He’d take it.

From his towel, Mason watched Shonda at the water’s edge, wind teasing her hair, her expression distant, as if caught up in last night’s break-in.

She wasn’t faking it.

No one wore anxiety like hers unless it was real, and besides, his gut trusted her. Past incidents, however, warned him not to.

A few brave souls ignored his warning glower and ventured closer in hopes of charming her. It was time to remind the crowd she wasn’t on the market, even if their arrangement was as fake as a ten-dollar tan.

Mason jogged down the sand, cut between them, and swept her into his arms. He charged headlong into the aqua water, not stopping until they were waist-deep in the surf. An unexpected wave crashed into them, and he twisted as they fell, his body taking the impact as they both went under.

She surfaced sputtering mad, absolutely soaked, and utterly breathtaking.

“God, you are such an asshole!” she snapped.

He couldn’t help the grin. “Don’t be mad. Come here, I’ll let you sniff me.”

With narrowed eyes, she slapped water in his direction.

Christ, he adored the fuck out of her fire. His thoughts turned to all the things he could do with her passion, all the heights he could take her.

“Come here,” he commanded.