Page 135 of Our Little Secret

And yet Gideon had left it for her, a brutal reminder.

She found herself still clutching the bracelet so tightly the beads left impressions in her palm.

She had to get rid of it.

She heard the front door open and quickly slipped into the kitchen and laundry room.

“Brooke?” Neal called.

“In here,” she yelled back.

Quickly, she shoved the bracelet along with the stuffed toy back into the cabinet. She would get rid of the bit of jewelry permanently, throw it into the sea or bury it deep in the sand on the beach when she had the chance. Forcing a smile, she stepped into the kitchen while Shep bounded across the dining area and wiggled wildly.

“You’re doing laundry?” he asked, scratching the dog’s ears before walking into the kitchen and dropping a small bag on the counter.

“Checking to see that we had detergent,” she lied, then gestured to her wet, sandy running pants. “We’re about out.”

“Damn.” He snapped his fingers. “I was just at the store, almost home when I got your text.”

“You went to the store?”

“Yeah, while you were out with Shep the lights flickered a couple of times. I checked the flashlights, all dead. So I ran to the store to get some batteries. While I was there I picked up a quart of eggnog, because it’s the holidays and all. Didn’t think about laundry soap. Sorry. The trip took longer than I thought because I Ieft my wallet there, so I had to turn around to go back to retrieve it. I thought I’d be home before you, but . . . guess not.”

“Doesn’t matter, but . . . eggnog, really?” she asked, surprised. She’d never known him to pick up anything that wasn’t on a list. At least not recently.

“Yeah,” he was saying. “I saw it in the dairy case and thought, why the hell not?” He grinned, and in a flash she remembered other holidays, usually parties where they would sip eggnog laced with rum or brandy and topped with a dash of cinnamon.

“Why the hell not,” she repeated, puzzled. “Okay, sure. But later, okay? I need to shower and unpack and settle in.”

“Take your time.” He was peeling off his jacket. “I’ll see if there are any Christmas decorations around.”

“Should be—somewhere,” she said, curious about his enthusiasm, his newfound Christmas spirit. It was odd, but better than workaholic Neal who was worried about his growing business, or disappearing Neal who spent endless hours at the golf course. “I’ll be down soon.”

It was a lie.

She was still freaked out at finding the bracelet.

The words that she’d tried so hard to forget, returned:

One way or another, you and I, Brooke, we will be together. Forever. I will never let you go.

Never.

She didn’t bother unpacking.

After stripping off her wet clothes she gave herself a quick sponge bath while trying to convince herself that Gideon hadn’t been here recently. Certainly the bracelet had been left months ago, and by now he’d long forgotten about her. In the past year he’d had to have found some other woman to obsess over.

She scraped her hair away from her face, snapping it back in a ponytail, and didn’t bother with makeup. Rather than unpack, she found a pair of yoga pants and a sweater in her suitcase, threw them on, then flipped on her laptop. Wi-Fi on the island was iffy at best, and with the storm the connection kept failing. The wind howled outside, and as she took a look outside, she noted that the rain had given way to a steady snowfall. Still, she had to find out if Gideon had resurfaced somewhere. “Come on, come on,” she muttered, biting her lip as she searched the Internet.

She scoured websites for any information she could find on Gideon Ross and sailboats named theMedusa. She searched local Oregon newspaper websites, along with those in Seattle. In the back of her mind she knew she was grasping at straws. She would find little information on the man she knew as Gideon Ross, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to try. She had to dosomething.

Then there was the simple fact that his name, common enough to be confused with so many others, could be an alias. That could account for a lot of things, questions that had no answers. Maybe he’d been seen at a hospital the night of their near-death struggle under a different name. Hadn’t the woman at the marina been confused and stopped talking when she’d mentioned Gideon Ross? What if—no, she’d seen his driver’s license. She was letting her wild imagination get the better of her and that was what he’d hoped to do by leaving the bracelet: to remind her. To never let her forget. To mess with her mind.

Don’t let him!

In those weeks that she’d been seeing him, she hadn’t cared about his past and had thought any mystery surrounding him was all the more intriguing.

“Idiot,” she muttered under her breath.