Page 90 of At First Catch

“Good.”

“That’s it?”

“What else you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Threaten me? Clean a shotgun dramatically?”

Walter snorts. “Mason and Claire Wright already have that handled emotionally.”

Fair.

I head toward the docks afterward, trying very hard not to linger upon the fact that the entire town seems emotionally invested in my relationship status now.

Unfortunately, thinking about Hadley has become unavoidable. Everything reminds me of her. The western slips where she first walked with me in the marina. The fuel dock where she laughed about the marina man nickname. The office where her coffee cups keep appearing like emotional support gifts.

I unlock the office and stop short.

There’s another sticky note on my desk.

You forgot breakfast again, didn’t you?

Check the mini fridge.

—H

Warmth spreads through my chest so suddenly it almost hurts. I open the fridge.

Inside, the cold space holds fruit, yogurt, a wrapped breakfast sandwich, and iced coffee.

I stare at it for several long seconds. I don’t unwrap the sandwich. I just stand there.

Eventually, Walter walks past the office. He takes one look at me and keeps walking. Apparently, whatever expression is on my face explains everything.

The office suddenly feels too small.

I grab the breakfast sandwich and step back outside before my thoughts get any more dangerous.

Unfortunately, the universe makes them worse. Hadley is walking down the dock toward me.

My entire body reacts.

Sunlight catches her hair in waves of mahogany while the marina wind moves through the oversized Coral Bell Cove sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. She’s carrying paperwork against her chest, and sunglasses rest on top of her head today, leaving her eyes fully visible.

Big mistake for my self-control.

The second she sees me, her shoulders drop away from her ears, and the corners of her eyes wrinkle, like seeing me is her favorite part of the morning, too.

She slows as she reaches me, and suddenly, we’re just standing there in the warm morning light, looking at each other like two people who kissed yesterday and can’t quite believe how much it changed things.

“Morning,” she says.

“Morning.”

Her eyes flick briefly toward the breakfast sandwich in my hand, then back to me.

“You actually ate.”

My first instinct is to thank her.