Lena added it to the bowl, arranging it just so among the others.
“Another day, another shell,” she murmured.
The storm outside raged. Lightning danced through the clouds as thunder rumbled, a growl that reverberated in her very bones. Mother Nature was irritated.
A massive streak of lightning cut across the sky, forking down to the water in jagged brilliance, and for a second, the flash lit up the path that led toward the beach—and she thought she saw a shadow disappear behind the trees.
Her heart skipped, then sped up, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Probably Groundskeeping. Or David.
David.
She wouldn’t put it past the stubborn genius to be crawling around in the storm trying to fix the generator with chewing gum and a dream, those clever hands working magic on wires and circuits while rain poured down his face.
She sipped her wine, but the image refused to leave her mind.
As she headed to the bathroom to change into sleep shorts and wash off the day, her thoughts lingered on David. The way he’d been in the lobby earlier—focused, fierce, unshakable. His shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal unexpectedly sexy forearms corded with lean muscle, a smudge on his jaw that she’d had the wild urge to wipe away. The intensity in his eyes when he’d looked at her, really looked at her, and asked if she was okay.
For a heartbeat too long, she wondered what his hands would feel like on her skin—those talented fingers that made keyboards sing, that moved with such precision and confidence. Not fixing a power grid, but exploring her curves, tracing the dip of her waist, the slope of her hip…
She caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and rolled her eyes hard. “Get a grip, Harris. He’s your boss.”
Her reflection stared back at her, flushed from the wine or the thought of David’s hands—she wasn’t sure which. Either way, it didn’t matter. She’d been down this road before. Chester had been her boss, too. Look howthatturned out.
No. Absolutely not. David was off-limits. Completely, entirely, permanently off-limits.
Even if he possessed a half-smile that flipped her stomach inside out. Even if his voice, calm during the chaos of the blackout, wrapped safety around her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Even if?—
“Stop it,” she told herself firmly, splashing water on her face.
She wasn’t that person anymore, the one who trusted easily and believed in the goodness of people. She’d learned her lesson. Had it carved into her bones.
Never again.
The storm was leaving, its low grumbles fading into the distance, moving off toward the mainland. Minx chirped from the bed, curling into a ball, tail draped over her eyes. Lena climbed in beside her after ensuring her phone and walkie were charging on the nightstand, getting ready for whatever crisis tomorrow might bring.
Her fingers brushed a seashell—another pink scallop—on her nightstand as she clicked the lamp off. The room plunged into a hush broken only by wind and waves, and the patter of rain on leaves, a lullaby from the retreating storm.
She closed her eyes, but David’s face floated behind her eyelids. Those sea-blue eyes. That quiet competence. The way he’d touched her shoulder when passing her in the hallway, a gesture so fleeting she might have imagined it, but the warmth of it lingered for an hour afterward.
“Off-limits,” she whispered into the darkness, like a mantra. “He’s off-limits.”
Minx purred against her side, and Lena focused on that instead—the steady rhythm, the simple comfort of not being alone.
She’d survived Chester. She’d survived losing everything.
She could survive a harmless crush on her boss.
She had to.
Chapter 4
God's Patience
“Ready for the meeting?”
Lena jumped, possibly letting out a tiny squeak, her spine straightening like someone shoved a live wire under her skin. She whirled to face David, scowling as her heart thudded behind her ribs.
