Page 15 of The Marine's Homecoming

I tell him everything. The offer amount, the way Dorsey pushed about Dad being ready to sell, and how the whole thing felt off. “The numbers are way too high. He says he wants to bring in new businesses and create jobs, but my gut’s telling me he’s up to something. I need to know if he’s legitimate or if he’s trying to pull one over on me.” My eyes track out the window to the horizon where boats pass offshore in the distance. If Dorsey is doing something fishy, Rico will be the one who can help me figure it out. The man is a whiz at hacking and computer work.

“Alright, I’ll dig around a little. I still have contacts who can run a quiet check. Financials, past deals, any red flags. You said he mentioned your old man?”

“Yeah. He laid it on thick. Said they were close to a deal. But Dad never said a word to me about selling. And if you knew my father, you'd know that sounds farfetched." Anyone in this town would know that, which is why it sounds so fishy. Dorsey isn't from around here, but if he were, he wouldn't be trying to pull the wool over my eyes.

Rico stays quiet for a second. “I’ll start tonight. Send me that business card info if you have it. And trust your gut. If something feels wrong, it usually is.”

“I appreciate it, Brother. How long do you think this'll take?” I sit straighter, feeling pain throb up through my hip, which I rub away.

“Give me a few days. I’ll call you when I have something solid. You holding up okay with the marina and everything else?”

I let out a breath and rub my temple. “It’s a lot. But I’m managing. Got some repairs going and a few other complications.” At least he didn't ask me about Dad directly. I'm not a fan of talking about my feelings.

Rico chuckles. “Complications, huh? Sounds like there’s a woman involved.”

“Just focus on Dorsey for now," I grumble.

“Copy that. Watch your back out there.”

We hang up and I set the phone down. The conversation leaves me feeling a little calmer. Rico will find what there is to find. Fornow I have to keep moving forward with the marina and figure out the rest as it comes.

I sit there staring at the desk, and Hannah slips back into my thoughts again. I don’t understand how one woman can take up this much space in my head. Part of me still expects her to hate me forever because of Nick, and most days, I think she should. But then she goes and kisses me, and we end up with hot, fast sex, and it throws me completely off balance. I’ve spent years learning how to push feelings down and keep moving, but she makes that impossible.

I rub my hip and lean back in the chair, closing my eyes to picture her face under that pier when she was on the verge of tears over this festival. She carries so much pain about her brother and I carry the same guilt every single day. It should make anything between us impossible. Instead, it feels like something we both have in common that we both need to heal from—possibly together.

I don’t know if I’m being stupid or if this is the first honest thing I’ve done in a long time. All I know is I want to find out what happens when we stop fighting long enough to see where this could take us.

10

HANNAH

Every rock and sway of the boat makes my stomach feel worse. I've already thrown up once, and usually, I don’t get seasick at all, but today it seems to be killing me.

"You okay, honey?" Mrs. Evers asks me as I set a fresh tray of finger sandwiches down for the ladies’ bridge club to enjoy. This isn't the first time I’ve hosted them on a luncheon cruise and I'm sure it won't be the last. They love the ocean in winter more than the fishermen in this town.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I say, forcing a tight smile.

"You just look a little green around the gills," Harriet says, seated across the table. It brings a round of compassionate murmurs from these older ladies who all want to mother me. Thank God this thing is almost over and I can go back to hiding from Luke again after this.

"Really, I'm fine," I repeat, hoping the reassurance might assuage their concerns so they stop pressing at my already frayed nerves. For my nausea to be this bad is concerning to me. I haven't really been around anyone who is sick lately, andhaving had sex with Luke a few weeks ago, it's been chewing at my conscience.

"Wel, the flu is going around… Some virus I heard started in San Diego or somewhere." Mrs. Evers waves her hand as she speaks, then reaches for a finger sandwich. "I’m sure it's nothing. But I hope you're hydrating. We want you nice and healthy for next month’s meeting."

I straighten and immediately feel my belly flip. The idea of being pregnant with Luke's baby made the nausea worse now, but I don’t dare tell these busybodies my real fear. I know as well as any other woman that it's way too early to be getting morning sickness and that like Mrs. Evers said, it's likely the flu virus. But it doesn't stop the lingering fear of being pregnant that clouds me like a shadow for the remaining part of this ride.

By the time my feet hit the passerelle and head back toward my office, I've thrown up twice more and I feel feverish. Gary trails behind me like he's watching me, but I ignore him in favor of trying to just get to my office to get my keys and go home. The last thing I want when I feel like this is to have some confrontation with Luke about sex on my boat. We haven't spoken about it, and things are moving forward toward the festival now, and I'd like to keep it that way.

But as I pass his office, I see him shoot out of his chair through the window and pop his head out the door. "Hannah… Got a sec?" he asks, and I groan inwardly as I stop and sigh. Then I turn to face him.

“Yeah?” I say, keeping my voice as steady as I can manage.

Luke steps out onto the pier and closes the door behind him. He looks tired but calm. “I wanted to catch you about the rent.It’s past due for February. I know things have been crazy with the pier shutdown and everything, but I need to keep the books straight.”

Rent. He’s asking about rent. Relief washes through me so fast it almost makes me dizzy. I’d been bracing for him to bring up what happened between us on the boat, but he doesn’t. He’s handling business like a good landlord and I'm freaking myself out for no reason. “Right. I’m sorry. I’ve been swamped. I’ll bring you a check in the morning. First thing.”

“That works. Thanks.” God, he's so handsome. I can't stop staring at that stubble on his jawline or the way his eyes are so blue when he wears dark colors. And I shouldn't be thinking like this at all. Imagine me bringing him home to my parents after all they went through at his hand.

Nonsense…