I cross my arms and stare at him. He turns the patties with a casual flick of the spatula. The confidence rolls off him like the ocean breeze through the open window. Part of me wants to argue until he drops the ridiculous idea. Another part, the exhausted part, knows he might be right.
“Fine,” I say. “We pretend. But I have rules.”
Jace plates the burgers and slides one toward me. His eyes sparkle with amusement. “Lay them on me, Teach.”
I hold up one finger. “No unnecessary touching. We do what we must in public and keep it professional in the house.”
“Define unnecessary.” He leans against the counter, arms crossed, mirroring me.
I ignore the way his biceps flex. “You know exactly what I mean. No hands on my waist when no one watches. No brushing my hair behind my ear. None of that.”
“Rule two?” He hands me a plate and gestures toward the small table on the porch.
I follow him outside. The evening air wraps around us, warm and salty. “We keep separate rooms. Always. And you sleep on the couch like you said.”
“Already planned on it.” He sits and waits for me to join him. “Next?”
I pick up my burger and take a bite to buy time. It tastes better than it should. “No flirting. I said it in Halo City and I mean it here. This isn’t a vacation romance. This is survival.”
Jace takes a huge bite of his own burger and chews thoughtfully. When he swallows he fixes me with a look that feels far too warm. “I can tone it down. But I have one condition of my own.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“We stay alive,” he says, voice serious for the first time. “That means you listen when I say stay behind me. You follow the plan. And if things go south, you let me do my job.”
The weight of his words settles between us. I nod slowly. “Deal.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes. The waves roll in the background. I watch him from the corner of my eye. He looks relaxed, but his gaze keeps scanning the dunes and the road beyond the house. He never stops working, even while he charms me with that easy smile.
I finish my burger and set the plate down. Nervous energy still hums under my skin. Sharing this bungalow with Jace Hawthorne feels like standing at the edge of a storm. Part of me wants to run back to my classroom. Another part, small but growing, wonders what it might feel like to let him pull me closer instead of pushing him away.
I shove that thought down deep. This is temporary. A means to an end. Nothing more.
But as Jace sits there, our eyes meet again, and I worry my carefully built rules might not hold against a summer this hot.
3
Jace
I watch Sadie push back from the table and carry her plate inside. The porch light catches the sway of her ponytail as she moves. She keeps her back straight and her steps purposeful, like she can march straight through this assignment without letting it touch her. I grin to myself. This woman fights dirty with rules and eye rolls, but I like the challenge.
I follow her into the kitchen and rinse my plate in the sink. “You know,” I say, drying my hands on a dish towel, “if you get nervous out here all alone in that big bed, I can always keep you safe right next to me. Bodyguard duty, full service. I promise not to snore.”
Sadie turns slowly. She rolls her eyes so hard I worry they might get stuck. “No thanks. I’ll take my chances with the bed and the locked door.”
I chuckle and hold up both hands. “Can’t blame a guy for offering. Professional hazard. I take safety very seriously.”
She gives me a look that says she sees right through my charm and doesn’t find it nearly as amusing as I do. “Good night, Jace.”
“Night, Sadie.” I keep my voice light, but I mean it. She disappears down the hallway. Her door clicks shut a moment later. I hear the faint sound of her moving around in there, probably triple-checking the window locks.
I grab a pillow and blanket from the hall closet and make up the couch. It’s shorter than I like, but I have slept in worse places. I stretch out and stare at the ceiling. The ocean hums steady outside the windows. Somewhere in this quiet beach town, trouble waits for us. Victor Liotta’s name keeps circling in my head. My brothers and I chase the same ghost of a father, and every lead points toward men like him. Men who own pieces of this harbor.
Tomorrow we hit the shops. We stock up on groceries and wander the streets like a couple on vacation. We hold hands. We smile at the right people. We sell the story. And while we do it, I plan to swing by the Lobster Shack on the marina. Word is Liotta has his hooks in that place. I want to see who runs it and what kind of eyes watch the water.
I check my phone one last time. No new messages from Banks or the others. That means no fresh trouble yet. Good. I set the device on the coffee table within easy reach and tuck my pistol under the pillow. The couch creaks as I settle in. I close my eyes, but sleep stays out of reach.
Sadie’s face keeps flashing behind my lids. That stubborn lift of her chin. How she chopped vegetables like she could control the whole situation with a sharp knife and perfect manners. She wants nothing to do with me beyond the job. I get it. Butsomething about her makes me want to crack that professional shell and see what spills out.
