“Maybe. He’s a retired shrimper. Knows the pulse of the waterfront better than anyone. Sees who comes in, goes out, and who doesn’t belong.”
She finished her cup of coffee. “And he talks to you?”
Wyatt shrugged. “He talks to Cal. Cal talks to me.”
She studied him. “You trust him?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” She paused. “When are we going to Salt & Steel?”
He shook his head. “We aren’t.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m going with you.”
“You’re staying here,” Wyatt replied. He watched her as a flicker ticked her jaw.
“I don’t like that. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Wyatt held up his hand. An unfamiliar feeling surrounded his heart as her eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to argue with you.”
Her shoulders rose, then fell. “Fine.”
He leaned back in his chair as she took her dishes to the sink. “Are you okay?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
His forehead furrowed. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up.”
Her eyes softened, looking up from the sink. “I woke up before you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She looked at him as she cocked her head. “I didn’t leave or anything. You were sleeping, and I was hungry.” She reached across the counter and touched his hand. “I’m still here.”
Her fingers rested against his hand just long enough to steady him, and Wyatt felt the strange sensation of tension easing in his chest. “You should let me do the dishes. You cooked.”
“You can help me when you’re done.”
He popped the piece of bacon into his mouth and got up. She looked content doing her dishes, and he realized as he approached her that he didn’t just want her safe. He wanted her in his kitchen.
WYATT
Captain Sunday didn’t look pleased. He stood at the edge of the dock with Calder, arms crossed, wind snapping at the brim of his hat. The burned skeleton of the Palmetto Royale still loomed upriver like a scar against the water, a reminder that whatever had started this was far from finished. Wyatt rested against the Salt & Steel railing, watching the exchange without pretending he wasn’t.
Letty stood a few feet behind him, phone to her ear. Her voice was low, tight. “Yes, Livvy. I know.”
He didn’t turn, but he listened to her argue. “Dallas isn’t the point. I’m sure he thinks it’s the best place for you… that doesn’tmean it is. What about your fellowship?” Letty sighed, listening. “Rich people have their own agenda. Your interest in him is blinding you.” She pressed her lips together before she opened and then closed her mouth. “Olivia!”
Wyatt’s ears perked up. “Olivia?” An idea percolated in the back of his brain as he half-watched Cal with Captain Sunday. His jaw ticked.Dallas, rich, break-in, Olivia, could this be Olivia Callahan?He rolled the coin across his knuckles. His heart rate sped up as his mind drifted back to Letty. She thinks she convinced me to bring her here.God help me, she had.But it wasn’t logic that made him agree. It was the idea of her anywhere else, without him.
“…I’m not joining you in Dallas. Whatever, Livvy.”
I know that tone: stubborn, protective of her own pride. I can’t blame her, but I just don’t like it.
Calder’s voice cut through the air. “Wyatt.” He pushed off the railing and joined them.
Captain Sunday gave him a long look. “You boys stirred up something ugly,” the captain muttered.
