Page 51 of Hideaway Heart

Hiding a smile by looking out the window, I noticed we’d turned onto the downtown main street, which looked straight out of a movie set—red brick sidewalks, charming little boutiques, quaint coffee shops, an ice cream parlor, an art gallery, a tiny movie theater. Even the old-fashioned streetlamps were adorable. Most of the businesses were closed, since it was close to nine o’clock, but through restaurant windows I could see people lingering over their Saturday night dinner tables.

“This town is so cute!” I said. “I can’t wait to come back and explore.” At the end of the business district, Xander turned left, and the street sloped down toward the harbor. The view was so pretty, I gasped. “Oh, look at the moon on the water! Is that the lighthouse your dad mentioned?”

“Yes.” He slowed down. “This is Waterfront Park straight ahead of us. That big place on the right is called The Pier Inn. I used to work there every summer busing tables. The marina is on the other side of it.” He turned left and we drove along the water.

“Is there a beach?” I asked, straining to see. “It’s hard to tell in the dark.”

“Not here. This is just a park and harbor. But there’s a public beach up the road. On the left here—along the bluff—are big vacation homes that were built by rich Chicago families over a hundred years ago.”

“Wow,” I said, trying to lean over him so I could look out the driver’s side window. Through the misty dark, I could see the hulking shapes of big old Victorians—turrets and gables and porches and witch hat roofs. “I wish I could see better.”

“I’ll bring you back during the day. I’m hoping to buy a house around here in a few months—not one of those, of course. Something smaller.” As we left Cherry Tree Harbor behind us, the road became a highway, and Xander picked up speed. Rain drummed hard against the windshield.

“For your wife and three rowdy kids?” I teased.

“Ha.”

“So Veronica lives in the apartment above Austin’s garage?”

Xander laughed. “I think shetechnicallylives in the apartment, but my guess is she spends a lot of nights in Austin’s bed and sneaks out early.”

“That’s kinda fun.”

“It’s kinda ridiculous. Those kidsknowwhat’s going on between them.”

“Maybe, but having a secret makes you feel close to someone.” I looked over at him. “Don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really have any secrets.”

“Oh, come on. Everyone has secrets. Stuff they bury way down deep.”

“Not me. I’m an open book.”

Shifting in the passenger seat to face him, I tucked one boot under the opposite knee. “An open book, huh?”

“Totally.”

I rubbed a finger beneath my lower lip. “I disagree.”

“What do you mean, you disagree?” He tossed a frown in my direction.

“I mean, I think you’re one of those guys whoclaimsto be an open book, and you keep everyone distracted with that cocky grin and easygoing charm, but you actually have asecondbook that you keep tightly closed, hidden from view.”

“A second book?” He snorted. “And what’s in this mysterious, hidden second book?”

“Your real feelings, of course.”

He burst out laughing. “Like a little diary where I write down the names of all my crushes? Mabel had one of those she used to lock with an actual key. Except she hid it in the most obvious place ever, and Dashiel found it and cut it open.”

I gasped. “He didn’t.”

“He did. And it turned out she had a huge crush on his best friend. We teased her about it mercilessly.”

“That’s awful,” I said, shaking my head. “Boys areawful. Poor Mabel.”

“She survived. But anyway, I don’t have any secret diary of feelings. Sorry to disappoint you. What you see is what you get.”

“Come on. We all have parts of ourselves we guard closer than others. We all choose which sides of ourselves to share and which to protect.”