Page 13 of Hideaway Reunion

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I know you do.” His lips twisted. “Let’s get it done, then. If anyone else dips a toe on Hargrave property, we’ll have evidence of who and when.” The smile faded and a muscle at his jaw jumped, his expression a mix of fierce determination. “We’re going to get through this, Veronica. Together.”

“Thank you.”

Together sounded like a wonderful concept. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel like a victim waiting for the next ugly encounter. With Brayden here, it felt as if the tide was turning. As if they might put a stop to the Indigo Reef harassment once and for all.

CHAPTER 4

Brayden stood on the Hideaway deck, watching the sun rise over Brookwell Island like a slow-burning ember, chasing away a thin early fog but doing nothing to clear the heavy, oppressive tension hanging over the Hideaway.

Last night played through his head again, particularly his mistake in letting the jerk with the water shut-off key escape. Overnight, the research team had scoured Charleston for the car, but the trail was cold.

Brayden wasn’t sure it mattered. Gut instinct told him the guy tampering with the water main was a worker bee, nothing more. Probably part of the construction crew willing to pull the stunt for some extra cash. Most likely, after the close call, he wouldn’t be back.

No, whoever had been lurking in the trees with those zip ties was the more immediate threat. With luck, one of the new trail cameras would catch him creeping back into place and Brayden could drag that jerk to the police.

Pieces of this puzzle made zero sense. He’d gone through all the intel. Indigo Reef had snapped up the property next door and should’ve been happy when the town approved their plan to build three luxury condos on the lot. Instead, they’d been dogging the Hideaway. Obviously, the beach access was part of it, except no one would ever get clearance to tear out that maritime forest.

So, what else made the Hideaway so damned critical that the developer was pulling stunts and trying to run the Hargrave sisters out of business?

He studied the light moving across the property inch by inch, painting everything with a hopeful golden glow. He had spent the remaining hours of the night keeping watch from the queen bed in the suite, listening for any untoward sounds while monitoring the camera feeds on his tablet. Through it all, Veronica slept on the fold-out chair, a gorgeous distraction. As if he needed more fuel for his long-denied fantasies. During the night, she’d muttered, frowned and hunched her shoulders, as if the family legacy was an actual weight pressing her down.

His chest tightened. It had taken every ounce of willpower to stay on task rather than scoop her up and comfort her. Being this close to her—sharing the intimate space of the suite—was a bittersweet, agonizing torture.

That unfinished kiss only added to it. They really should talk about it. Except he wasn’t all that eager to find out she wasn’t that into him.

Over the years, several of his clients had commented on his bravery and dedication. When it came to Veronica, he was always fully dedicated and equally terrified of breaking the friendship that meant everything to him.

He tugged at the front of his dark polo shirt as he paced to the far corner of the deck, assessing the property. The sisters really needed to add a full fence, though it would have to sit well inside the property line, due to the protected swath of trees. Of course, if they did that, who knew how far the developers would push against the trees and the rules on their side.

He sensed more than heard the door opening behind him. Roni. He could do this. He could treat her like a friend while doing his job. The lack of sleep would pose more of a challenge, but his body was conditioned to thrive on adrenaline and black coffee.

Turning, he gave her his best professional smile.

She raised an eyebrow. “Good morning. Sorry I slept so late.” She held two mugs of steaming coffee, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy, endearing knot. Despite the dark circles under her eyes, she was breathtakingly beautiful. “Brayden. You didn’t sleep.”

Not a question. Because she knew him too well. “Part of the job. I wanted to be sure they didn’t regroup to attempt anything stupid.”

“Hm.” Her lips pursed as she carefully sipped her coffee. “No action on the cameras overnight?” He shook his head. Sighing, she leaned against the wooden railing. “I wish you looked more relieved about it.”

He wished he felt more relieved. Taking a bold gulp of coffee, he savored the hit of heat and caffeine.

“Police Lieutenant Frasier was already here to pick up the little evidence we have from the attempt to sabotage the water main. He warned me that the odds are low that anything comes of it. My research assistant said the same thing, unfortunately.”

Roni’s lip curled and she glared toward the construction site. “So they get away with yet another stunt.”

“For now,” Brayden murmured. “It’s quiet this morning, though. A slow start today might indicate a small win for the Hideaway.”

“You’re right. Let’s hope it leads to real momentum for us in… Whatever this is.” She smiled at him and his heart tripped. “Is there a name for what’s happening here?”

He took the safe bet, addressing the Hideaway issues rather than their interrupted kiss. “Corporate harassment is the closest thing,” he offered. “If you need a label.” No way he’d dwell on what he suspected was a full-blown case of stalking. He refused to stress her out any further without more evidence or an apparent motive. In the meantime, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

“Are you hungry? I can make breakfast,” she said.

Her phone chimed, cutting off his reply. A second later, he heard tires on the gravel drive. He jogged away from Roni, watching a sleek, compact SUV pull to a stop in front of the courtyard at the kitchen sliding door.

He recognized the passengers immediately. Veronica’s sisters, Celeste and Natalie, had arrived.

“They’re up and about early,” Veronica observed.