She paused by the gate, noting the black iron fence that stretched across the front of the property.
It screamed security and safety.
Her heart slowed even more.
She pressed the intercom. A moment later, a woman said, “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to pick up the Wednesday eggs for Sabrina. She said to come after dark.”
That was the line she’d been told to use when she arrived.
“How many cartons?” the woman asked.
Millie swallowed hard and remembered her instructions. “Three.”
A buzz sounded. Then, “Come on in.”
She drove through the gate toward the house, stopping near the attached garage. Once there, she shut off the engine and remained where she was, hands still on the wheel.
Her instructions had indicated someone would come out to greet her. Until then, she would wait.
Biscuit leaned forward, tail thumping, low and hopeful.
“You ready for this, boy?” she murmured.
He wagged his tail more, and she gave him a good head rub.
She’d adopted the dog from a rescue three years ago. He’d been her best friend—and one of the reasons she’d stayed with Garrick for so long. There had been nowhere she could go where she could bring her dog with her.
And she refused to leave Biscuit behind. She knew how Garrick acted when he was angry, and there was no way she’d let Biscuit take the brunt of any of that.
She rubbed his head again, bristling at the thought of anything happening to her dog.
A moment later, a shadowed figured appeared beside her car and motioned for her to get out.
Millie opened the door, and cold air rushed in, sharp and clean. It cleared her head even as her heart hammered harder.
She stepped out, taking Biscuit’s leash and letting him jump onto the concrete at her feet. Then she closed the door andscanned the shadows—a habit she hoped she could eventually break.
The figure who’d motioned to her several seconds ago stepped closer, a large dog by his side. “Welcome to Refuge Cove. We’re glad you made it.”
That voice . . . Why did it sound slightly familiar?
She looked up trying to get a glimpse of the man, but his features were obscured by the light behind him.
Then he shifted, and his features finally came into view.
She sucked in a breath, her stomach dropping.
No . . .
She blinked once. Then again.
But she wasn’t seeing things.
Caleb King stood there.
Millie stared. He’d filled out since she’d last seen him six years ago. He was broader through the shoulders and thicker through the chest, with the kind of muscle that came from hard labor not a gym. His hair was longer now, light brown and slightly unruly, brushing his collar instead of trimmed to regulation. A short beard darkened his jaw.
