She hadn't expected to find someone at all.
Chapter Six
Brian couldn't stop thinking about the man at the fair.
He'd lain awake half the night, staring at the ceiling, replaying what Tessa had told him. Gray cap. Sunglasses. The way she'd said it felt wrong, like she was apologizing for her own instincts. And those phone calls from Chicago that she hadn't answered, sitting in her pocket like small, unanswered threats.
He'd worked too many years on the ambulance to dismiss that kind of thing. You learned to trust your gut out there. Learned that the people who survived were usually the ones who paid attention to the small wrongness before it became big.
By the time the first gray light of dawn crept through his window, he'd given up on sleep entirely. He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and headed outside, needing to move, needing to do something with the restless energy coiled in his chest.
The morning air was cool and damp, mist rising off the water in slow, ghostly curls. He walked the perimeter of the property the way he'd done a hundred times since moving in, checking fence posts and tree lines out of habit more than necessity.
That was when he saw them.
Footprints.
They ran along the back fence, pressed into the damp sand where the dew hadn't burned off yet. Wide tread, maybe a size eleven. Fresh, from the look of them. Someone had walked this path recently, probably within the last few hours.
Brian crouched and studied the prints, his jaw tightening. This stretch of property backed up against a wooded area that led nowhere. No hiking trails, no shortcuts to town. One of the things he'd loved about this place when the Calloways had offered it to him was the isolation. The dead end. No reason for anyone to be walking along his fence line unless they had business here.
And no one had business here.
He followed the prints for about twenty yards before they disappeared into the tree line. Whoever had made them had come from the woods and returned the same way. No attempt to approach the cottage itself, at least not that he could see. Just walking. Watching, maybe.
His mind went to the man Tessa had described. Gray cap. Sunglasses. The kind of person who blended into a crowd until you looked twice.
Could be a coincidence. Could be some local kid using the woods as a shortcut to God knows where. Could be nothing at all.
But Brian didn't believe in coincidences. Not when a woman who'd been watching her back at a crowded fair was now sleeping under his roof.
He made a decision. He'd install motion lights along the back fence today. The kind that triggered automatically when something moved through the beam. It wouldn't stop anyone determined to get close, but it would give them a warning. And a warning was sometimes all you needed.
When he came back inside, Tessa was in the kitchen.
She stood at the counter with her back to him, reaching up to move the coffee canister from the right side to the left. He watched her do it, watched her settle it into its new position like that was where it had always belonged.
"Why'd you move that?" he asked, stepping into the kitchen.
She turned, brows lifting. "Oh. I was making tea and thought it would be easier to have the coffee by the mugs." She gestured toward the cabinet where the mugs lived. "I didn't even think about it, actually. I'm sorry."
"It's easier for me where it was."
A hint of color rose in her cheeks. "I can move it back."
He realized, even as the words left his mouth, how ridiculous he sounded. A grown man staking territory over a coffee canister. Like it mattered where the damn thing sat.
"It's fine," he muttered, though he did nudge it back to the right as he passed. Old habits.
She smiled faintly into her cup, and he caught the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Like she knew exactly how petty he was being and found it entertaining rather than annoying.
He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter. "What are you doing today?"
"I was thinking of walking down by the harbor. Maybe checking out some of the craft fair booths before they pack up." She tilted her head. "That okay with you, or does it break a house rule?"
He felt the corner of his mouth tug upward before he could stop it. "You're fine. Just don't take the canoe."
Her laugh was quiet but real, and he found himself wanting to hear it again.
