Page 4 of Tides of Change (Seacliff Cove #2)

CHAPTER FOUR

Ethan

I stared at the screen of my laptop, arms crossed, and the flashing cursor on the blank page mocked me.

Blink, blink, blink. I’d glared at that cursor for hours and willed the words to come.

Yet, dread crept up my spine like icy fingers.

The fear of feeding my alleged stalker’s delusions paralyzed me.

My throat tightened with anxiety that I was writing bait, but I had a deadline to meet.

I placed my fingers on the keys and began, Slate vaulted the ? —

The doorbell interrupted the silence, and a notification from my security app stole my attention.

My breathing stopped, and the familiar pulse of adrenaline kicked in.

There shouldn’t be anyone on my porch—no deliveries, no visitors.

For a scary moment, I simply eyed the alert on my phone, my mouth dry as I braced myself.

I tapped the camera feed, half prepared to see some shadowy figure or threatening gift.

Instead, I exhaled, and relief coursed through me as my screen revealed Garrett and his son.

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face. I dropped my phone onto my desk and padded through the house in thick socks that hushed my steps. The residual tightness in my shoulders loosened.

As I reached the door, I heard the boy’s muffled, enthusiastic chatter, punctuated by Garrett’s deep murmur. Another chime rang through the house, followed by impatient giggles. Despite my fears and the need for privacy, my contrary mood lightened with anticipation as I disarmed the alarm system.

I swung the door open and found the little man bouncing from foot to foot. His hands clutched a picture book against his chest, his wide-eyed grin aimed up at me.

“Looking for me?” I teased and struggled to rein in my laughter at his intense excitement.

“Mr. Ethan!” he squealed and clutched his book even tighter.

“I’m Noah! I’m five years old and I live across the street!

” He spun on his heel, his sneakers scuffing against the pavement of the porch, and jabbed a small finger toward his house.

He whipped back around. “Daddy told me you write books. I broughts my book for you to sign!” His enthusiasm radiated off him as he stretched the book up toward me.

Garrett stood behind him, and one hand ran self-consciously along the back of his neck. A blush dusted his cheeks. “I told Noah you only signed your own books, but he insisted.”

I chuckled. “I’d be honored to sign his book.” I pointed to the paperback Garrett had tucked under his arm. “And it looks like you brought one of mine, too.” Heat unfurled in my chest at his interest in one of my novels.

“Come in.” I shifted and welcomed them into the house. As they stepped inside, Garrett’s gaze drifted around the room. “The new owner did a great job of renovating the place.” He tapped the floor with the toe of his sneaker. “The refinished hardwood floors are beautiful.”

“I got lucky to find such a nice house.” Especially since I rented it and moved in at the last minute.

“You did.” He turned in a circle. “I’m working on my home, but it’s slow. I inherited it from my grandmother when she passed away.” He shook his head. “She couldn’t keep up with it in her final years.”

A pang of sympathy hit me in the chest. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He shrugged and tousled Noah’s hair. “At least she got to meet Noah.” He gave his son a fond smile, who ducked out from underneath his hand.

“Da-ad. I’m not a baby,” he whined.

Garrett rolled his eyes, and I grinned.

“Let me get a pen, and I’ll sign your books.” I hooked a thumb toward my office.

Garrett handed me a Sharpie with a quick, confident flick of his wrist. “Came prepared.” A hint of a grin tipped his lips.

I raised a brow and accepted the pen. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Yes, but I’m a deputy sheriff now. We’re even better prepared than the Boy Scouts.” A glint twinkled in his eye.

I snorted a laugh and plucked the pen from his fingers. “Have a seat.”

Garrett settled into the club chair, and Noah jumped onto the sofa next to me. “Sign mine first!” His little face peered up at me, wide and hopeful.

“Please,” his dad admonished.

“Please,” Noah said sheepishly and ducked his head.

I opened the book to the title page and asked, “Do you know how to spell your name?”

He nodded. “N-O-A-H.”

“Very impressive. To my friend, Noah ,” I printed. “ Happy Reading!—Mr. Ethan . There you go.”

As I handed him the book, his eyes grew impossibly wide, and he clenched the signed copy. “I’m going to show my teacher!” he declared, pride in his voice.

“Buddy, we’re going to keep the book at home,” Garrett said gently.

Noah’s expressive face scrunched up like a prune. “Why?”

“Because Mr. Ethan is very famous, and he doesn’t want people to know he lives here.”

Noah turned to me, confusion in his gaze. “Why?”

How could I explain my reticence to a child when I couldn’t even tell Garrett the truth without sounding like I was paranoid? My words tangled in my throat, and I stumbled to explain. “Umm?—”

Garrett jumped in. “He wants quiet time.” Relief poured through me at his simple answer, suitable for a young boy.

“Oh.” Noah’s eyebrows raised. “We have quiet time at school,” he said matter-of-factly, as if everyone knew about quiet time.

A smile tugged at my lips. “Yes, like that.” I nodded and tried to match his seriousness. It was impossible not to be charmed by his earnestness.

His head tilted a bit, and his gaze considered me. “Do you have playtime, too?” he asked innocently, as if the idea of a world without playtime was both baffling and a little tragic.

A chuckle escaped before I could stop it, and I pressed a hand to my chest as if that might help contain it. “No playtime,” I said finally and grinned at him.

“Well, you should.” His little face became thoughtful. Then he lit up. “I know! You can come to our movie night tonight.”

“Buddy, Mr. Ethan probably doesn’t want to watch a Disney movie,” Garrett said. Yet hope lived in the depths of his eyes.

“Who doesn’t like Frozen ?” My lips twitched.

“But I don’t want to impose upon your family.

And…shouldn’t you ask your… wife…first?” I was blatantly fishing for information, but I was curious about the woman I saw at their house in the evenings.

Garrett had seemed to give signals that he returned my interest, which was confusing if he had a woman in his life.

Garrett’s brows drew together, and the awkwardness deepened. “Oh, Harper? No, that’s my sister. She watches Noah when I’m working evenings and weekends.”

Relief filled me, and I couldn’t stop the quiet smile that slipped onto my face. Perhaps Garrett felt the buzz between us after all.

“Auntie Harper makes blanket forts! With different rooms in them!” Noah’s voice rose with excitement.

His eyes sparkled, and his entire face lit up like he’d just shared the world’s best secret.

It was impossible not to get caught up in his enthusiasm; the way he looked at me, so expectant, so utterly convinced that blanket forts were the pinnacle of happiness, made my chest tighten with affection for my new little friend.

“Auntie Harper sounds like a lot of fun,” I said with a gentle smile. The words came easily, but behind them was a pang of longing I hadn’t expected. When was the last time I’d felt the joy Noah radiated?

“Yeah!” Then the light in his eyes dimmed, and he kicked his dangling feet against the sofa. “But then she makes me go to bed.” His lower lip stuck out in a pout.

I bit back a chuckle and pressed my lips together to keep from laughing outright. “Does she read you a story at bedtime?”

He gave me an incredulous look, like I’d asked the dumbest question. “Of course,” he said, as though I’d broken some unspoken rule of bedtime routines.

“Then it’s worth going to bed,” I said weightily, as if I imparted the wisdom of the ages.

His lips pursed with the exaggerated thoughtfulness of a child. He finally let out a dramatic sigh. “I guess,” he mumbled and slumped back against the couch in defeat.

“And tonight…” I nudged him gently with my elbow. “You can read the new book I signed.”

His entire demeanor shifted in an instant. He sat bolt upright, and his eyes lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree. “Hey! Yeah!” he exclaimed, full of the pure, unfiltered excitement that only kids seemed to pull off. He bounced on the cushion, his earlier sulk forgotten.

I turned to Garrett, who watched us with a fond smile, and held out my hand. “Want me to sign your book so you can read it at bedtime?” I winked.

Garrett threw his head back and laughed, a deep, full sound I felt in my chest. He handed me the book and his fingers brushed against mine for just a second—enough to send a zing up my arm.

My heart raced, but I outwardly composed myself. “ To Garrett. Happy bedtime reading—Ethan .” I tried not to think of Garrett in bed, wearing nothing but a pair of sleep pants, his abs and broad shoulders on display. And failed.

Garrett accepted the signed book with thanks, grinned at the inscription, and stood. “So…pizza and a movie at six?” His piercing blue gaze bore into mine, as if he could see my desire to spend time with him.

“I’ll bring the popcorn.” My heart raced with the promise of an evening with the little family—and with Garrett.