I park, and turn off the engine. Sadie stares at the bungalow for a long moment, taking in the light blue shutters, the wide front porch with rocking chairs, and the ocean visible beyond the dunes.
“It’s… nicer than I expected,” she admits quietly.
I grin as I hop out and grab her suitcase. “Wait until you see the inside. Fully stocked kitchen, ocean-view master bedroom, and a hammock on the back porch. You might even thank your sister by the end of this.”
She gives me a skeptical side-eye as she climbs out. “I doubt that.”
We walk up the porch steps together. I unlock the door and hold it open for her. She steps inside cautiously, looking around the open living room and kitchen area. The place is bright and airy, with big windows letting in the sea breeze and soft beige furniture that screams vacation rental.
“Not bad, right?” I say, wheeling her suitcase toward the hallway. “Your room is the last door on the right. I’ll take the couch out here.”
Sadie stops in the middle of the living room and turns to face me. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch. I can take it.”
I shake my head. “No chance. My job is to keep you safe. That means I stay between you and the door. End of discussion.”
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, then closes it again. For the first time since I met her, she looks tired instead of angry.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For doing this. Even if I don’t like it.”
I give her a small, genuine smile. “You’re welcome, Sadie.”
She heads down the hall to her room, and I watch her go, already knowing this assignment is going to test every ounce of my self-control.
Because the more she pushes me away, the more I want to pull her closer.
And in Sunbreak Harbor, with the ocean right outside and danger possibly still lurking behind us in Halo City, that could turn out to be the most dangerous thing of all.
2
Sadie
I walk down the short hallway and push open the door to the master bedroom. The space feels too intimate for a safe house. Soft blue walls meet crisp white linens on a king bed that faces a large window. The ocean sparkles beyond the dunes. I set my suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed and close the door behind me.
My heart still races. I share this bungalow with a man I met barely two hours ago. A very good-looking man. That part should not matter at all. Yet here I stand, replaying the easy way Jace leaned against his Jeep, the confident tilt of his smile, the way his board shorts and faded T-shirt somehow make him look more capable than any suit ever could. I shake the thought away. He’s a stranger. A bodyguard my sister hired because someone wants us both silenced.
I unzip my suitcase and pull out my clothes. I hang my button-downs in the closet and line my flats neatly by the door. Routine helps. It keeps my hands busy while my mind spins through every worst-case scenario. What if the people hunting Annistonfollowed us? What if Jace turns out to be all charm and no substance when real danger shows up?
I sit on the edge of the bed for a moment and press my palms to my knees. The distant sound of the surf drifts through the cracked window. It should soothe me. Instead it reminds me how far I am from my quiet classroom, my lesson plans, and the life I built without any Hawthorne brothers in it.
A soft knock sounds on the door. I stand quickly.
“Dinner in ten?” Jace calls through the wood. “I’m raiding the fridge.”
My stomach rumbles in answer. I open the door. “I can help.”
We move to the kitchen together. Jace pulls out ground beef, fresh vegetables, and a package of buns. I wash tomatoes and lettuce at the sink while he forms patties with practiced hands. The domestic scene feels surreal. One minute I grade spelling tests. The next I chop onions beside a man who carries a gun under his shirt.
I clear my throat. “So how does this work exactly? Do we hide here until my sister and your brother say it’s safe?”
Jace flips a patty onto the sizzling skillet. The scent of garlic and spices fills the air. He glances over with that trademark grin. “Hiding works for a day or two. After that we blend in. Sunbreak Harbor runs on tourists and locals who mind their business. We sell the story that we’re a couple on vacation. Beach walks, sunset dinners, the whole package. Makes it easier to move around without raising flags.”
I nearly drop the knife. “A couple?”
“Yep.” He sounds way too pleased. “Newlyweds even. Honeymoon phase sells best. People see what they expect to see.”
Heat crawls up my neck. I set the knife down with a decisive clack. “I amnotpretending to be married to you.”
“Engaged then.” He shrugs one broad shoulder. “We can negotiate the details. But we need to sell it, Sadie. Hand holding in public. My arm around you when we walk the marina. Looks natural. Keeps eyes off the real reason we’re here.”
