Page 54 of Storm Warning
Walter appeared with their food, delivering the dishes with his usual flourish, breaking the moment.
“It’s so good to see you again, Walter. Oh, this looks delicious! Thanks.” The aroma—savory chicken with a hint of sweet apple and melted cheese—made her mouth water.
Walter flashed her a charming smile. “I told you everything here is good!”
“You did, and so far, you are absolutely right!” Kate laughed. She picked up her fork, grateful for the welcome they'd both extended.
Kate forked up a piece of her quesadilla, her mind flickering back over how she came to be here.
“You know,” she said, “I never planned to end up here. In any of this. The resort. The books. It's a bit surreal.”
Lena rested her chin on her hand. “How did you start writing? You're so… confident about it. So settled.”
Kate let out a quiet laugh. “That’s kind of you to say. I started because there weren’t many options. My parents died in a car accident when I was nineteen. With no insurance, no savings. I had to drop out of college in my freshman year.”
“Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” Kate’s smile turned a little wistful. “It was a long time ago, but back then it I thought the world had cracked in half. I took this awful receptionist job—God, it was so boring—but my old lit professor let me keep auditing his classes. He said I had stories worth telling, even if I couldn’t afford tuition.”
“That’s… incredible,” Lena murmured. “That he did that for you.”
“Yeah.” Kate glanced down at her plate, finger tracing the rim of her glass. “One day he told me, ‘If you’re going to spend your evenings scribbling in notebooks, you might as well tryto get paid for it.’ So, I did. I wrote late at night, on lunch breaks, whenever I could. And thanks to his wife, the first book landed with the right publisher. It all snowballed from there.”
“I’m glad you did it,” Lena said. “I think writing, putting your private thoughts and ideas on paper for others to read… that takes courage.”
Kate looked up, her eyes meeting Lena’s across the table. “I still don’t feel like I belong. I always feel like any minute someone’s going to stand up and shout, ‘Fraud!’” She gave a small shrug. “Then I remind myself—I worked hard for this. I earned this. Even if it wasn’t the life I expected.”
Lena reached out, brushing her fingers over the back of Kate’s hand. “You did more than earn it. You built it out of nothing. Not too many people can say they accomplished something like that. Own it!”
They smiled at each other in harmony for a moment, the connection between them settling into place.
Kate set her fork down, meal finished, her voice lighter. “Anyway. Enough about my sob story. Tell me something about yourself. What’s your favorite part of this place? Aside from the ridiculous sunset views.”
“Oh, the beach! I love shelling! This morning…” Lena’s watch beeped, and she glanced at it before jumping up, sending a twinge of disappointment through Kate.
“Shoot, look at the time. I’m going to have to take a raincheck on that—I've got to get back to the desk. I still have a lot of work to do this evening, and I need to give Alex his dinner break. Thanks for inviting me. I needed that break more than I realized.”
Lena knocked on the table lightly. “Come visit me at the desk any time. Have a good evening, Kate.”
A mixture of appreciation and a hint of loneliness washedover her as Lena rushed out. She turned back to her own little corner of the world as the last of Lena’s warmth faded.
Minutes later, Kate perched at the end of the bar, nursing a fresh glass of Riesling delivered by Walter. She let her gaze drift over the crowd, trying to shake the hollow ache that crept in after Lena left.
She’d just settled when a hush fell—a subtle shift in the room’s energy, like the first cold gust before a storm.
The blonde making an entrance was impossible to ignore—tall and luminous, with platinum hair falling in artful waves over her shoulders. She wore a white pantsuit so sleek and tailored it looked painted onto her curves; the neckline plunged to her belly, leaving nothing to the imagination. The fabric glistened under the amber lighting, glowing against the darkened wood and leather of the bar.
She sauntered in a predatory way, each step deliberate and unhurried, heels clicking a staccato rhythm that turned heads. When her gaze lifted, Kate caught the flash of icy sapphire eyes, bright with contained fury. A current of unease prickled across her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms.
The woman swept through the space and claimed a stool near her corner, and the bar seemed to shift around her—energy coalescing, tension rising like static before lightning. Even Walter’s genial expression tightened a fraction as he approached, customer service smile in place: the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Good evening. Can I get you anything?” he asked politely.
The woman didn’t bother to look at him. She tossed her white leather clutch onto the bar with a loud smack that made several patrons glance over.
“Manhattan,” she snapped, voice smooth as glass and twice as cold. She lifted her head, pinning Walter with a stare that made Kate’s shoulders tense. “And information. I’m looking forNicholas Ivory. The boy at the front desk claimed he wasn’t here, but he invited me here, so clearly he is. Where can I find him?”
The sound of Nick’s name on this woman’s lips sent a chill skittering down Kate’s spine.