The waves are getting bigger as the tide comes in, and I haveto scoot back on my driftwood seat to avoid getting soaked, which would be the perfect ending to this already perfect day of disasters. “So, what happens now? With the investigation, I mean.”
“Now I do my job, and you stay out of my way, and preferably out of attics.”
“What if I don’t want to stay out of your way?”
He turns to look at me, and there’s something in those gold-rimmed eyes that makes my breath catch in my throat, and my heart do things that should probably require medical supervision. “Ms. Julep?—”
“Jinx.”
“Jinx.” My name in his mouth sounds different, softer. “This is a murder investigation, not a romantic comedy.”
“Who says it can’t be both? I’ve seen movies. Sometimes people solve crimesandfall in love. It’s a whole genre.”
“The dead body in your pool says so, for starters. That’s usually a deal breaker in the romance department.”
“Fair point.” I stand up and brush sand off my shorts, suddenly needing to move before I say something I can’t take back. “Do you want to take a walk with me?”
“I should get back—” he starts, but there’s hesitation in his voice.
“Come on, Detective. Live a little. It’s just a walk on the beach. I promise not to get tangled in any seaweed, or discover any more bodies, or create any international incidents. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you a scout?”
“No, but the principle stands.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically seehim weighing his options. Professional duty versus... whatever this is that’s happening between us. I’d like to think that romantic comedy is still in play.
“Ten minutes,” he says, standing and brushing sand off his jeans in a way that absolutely should not be as attractive as it is.
“I’ll take it.”
We start walking along the water’s edge, our footsteps creating temporary impressions in the wet sand that the waves immediately start erasing, like the ocean is making sure no one can track our path. The sun is almost touching the horizon now, turning the sky into a masterpiece of orange and purple and pink that looks like someone spilled paint across heaven.
“So,” I say because I can’t let silence be, “do you always interrogate suspects on romantic beaches at sunset?”
“Only the ones who get themselves trapped in Christmas decorations.”
“Lucky me.”
“Lucky is one word for it,” he says, and I catch the smile in his voice.
A wave rolls in and soaks my ankles without warning, and I jump back with a squeal that sends a nearby crab scuttling for cover and probably alerts half the island to my location. Detective Hale—Koa—doesn’t even flinch as the water swirls around his feet like it knows better than to surprise him.
“Not a beach person?” he asks, amused.
“I’m more of anappreciate the ocean from a safe distanceperson. The ocean is beautiful, but it’s also full of things that want to eat me. And things with tentacles. And also, sharks. Definitely sharks.”
“Most of them are smaller than you.”
“Most of them have better survival instincts and also teeth. So many teeth.”
We reach the end of the sandy stretch where the lava rock takes over, creating tide pools that reflect the sky like natural mirrors, each one holding its own tiny universe. Koa stops and turns to face me, and suddenly we’re standing very close, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his eyes and the way the sunset light catches in his dark hair and makes it look almost bronze.
“Jinx,” he says, and my name in his voice sounds different from the way it did this morning. Less like an accusation, more like a question, maybe even a promise.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out breathier than I intended.
“Be careful. This investigation... It’s going to get complicated. And people who get in the way of complicated investigations sometimes get hurt. I don’t want you to be one of them.”
