Page 45

Heart thrumming, I relaxed at Ben’s calm expression when he turned to me. He tucked his phone into his pocket. "That’s Hunter. Brenna’s husband. He runs the security firm I told you about."

The SUV parked near the porch, and the massive man who stepped out into the sunlight made Ben look small. Hunter Markham wore dark-blue denim and a fitted black T-shirt that stretched across incredibly broad shoulders. His hair and neatly trimmed beard were dark too. Intricate, dark tattoos crept out from under his short sleeves, stopping just above his elbows. He moved with silent, tactical precision, walking around the hood of the vehicle to open the passenger door.

A bright, effortless smile lit up Brenna’s face as she looked up at her husband. The imposing security expert melted under her gaze. His dark eyes softened, and he reached out to brush a stray auburn curl behind her ear. Retrieving a large pink bakery box from the back seat, Hunter walked across the damp grass with Brenna beside him.

"Morning, Ben," Hunter called out, his deep rumble carrying easily over the breeze. "The perimeter gate is intact. The access road has some minor washouts, but it’s fully passable. Road crews are already out clearing the larger debris."

"Good to hear." Ben stepped forward and clasped Hunter’s free hand in a firm handshake. "Any major damage at the resort?"

"A couple downed trees near the pool deck. Chase’s new room block roofs held up perfectly, which means Harper isn’t going to murder him today." Hunter turned his dark, assessing gaze to me. He didn’t widen his eyes. He didn’t stammer, ask for an autograph, or stare at me like a tabloid headline come to life. He simply offered a polite, respectful nod. "Nice to meet you, Sutton. I’m Hunter."

"Great to meet you," I said, offering a warm smile and trying to reconcile this giant, naturally intimidating man being sweet, gentle Brenna’s husband.

Brenna pointed to the box in Hunter’s hands. "Liv sent over a massive cinnamon coffee cake from Sweet Dreams. She’s married to Hunter’s brother, Evan. She started baking at four in the morning, the second the power grid came back online. She says sugar is a critical tropical storm recovery tool."

"Coffee cake sounds incredible." My stomach apparently agreed, letting out a tremendous growl.

"Let’s move to the porch," Ben suggested, leading the way. "The chairs are dry."

We relocated to the wooden porch and small sitting area. Ben went inside and returned with a stack of paper plates, forks, and a roll of paper towels. Hunter opened the bakery box, releasing the rich, sugary scent of cinnamon and butter into the crisp air. He sliced generous portions with a plastic knife and handed the first plate to Brenna, then offered the second plate to me.

I took a bite, closing my eyes as the flavors hit my tongue. The cake was warm, dense, and coated in a thick layer of crumble streusel. The sugar hit my bloodstream instantly.

"This is amazing," I told Brenna, scraping a piece of streusel off my fork. "Liv is a genius."

"She keeps the entire island fueled on sugar." Brenna took a bite of her own cake and gestured toward my legs with her fork. "The leggings fit perfectly. The sweater’s a good color on you."

"They’re a lifesaver. Thank you again for dropping them off."

Hunter finished his slice in four enormous bites, setting his paper plate on the wooden deck. He rested his forearms on his knees and looked at Ben. "Harper’s mobilizing the cleanup crew at the main lobby. The wind tore some loose rafters off an old storage shed, but the main buildings are solid. We need to coordinate the debris removal before the weekend guests arrive."

"I can bring my chainsaw over this afternoon," Ben offered, grabbing a paper towel to wipe his hands. "Austin has a flatbed trailer. We can haul the larger trunks to the county dump site."

"Chase is already mapping out the repair schedule for the shed," Brenna noted with a laugh.

Hunter nodded. "He wants to reinforce the trusses before the next storm system develops. We could use your help securing the perimeter fencing on the east side, Ben."

I sat on the wooden step and ate my coffee cake, idly listening to them discuss logistics, chainsaws, and architectural trusses. Brenna chimed in with updates about her bookstore’s minor roof leak and how Colton slept through the entire storm and was currently with a neighbor while they made the Coleridge and Markham rounds. The conversation flowed around me in a steady, unbroken stream of absolute normalcy.

Nobody asked about my next album. Nobody inquired about my tour schedule or my public relations strategy. They didn’t ignore me—they integrated me. They made room on the steps, offered me a napkin, and included me in the banter. I was simply Ben’s friend, sitting on the porch, eating breakfast with his extended family. Of course, they didn’t know what had happened last night, though Brenna was sending calculated glances between Ben and myself. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she guessed we were more than friends now.

In Los Angeles, every interaction required a calculation. Every conversation served a hidden agenda, probing for a favor or a networking opportunity. Here, the agenda consisted of clearing tree branches and repairing a roof. The simplicity was intoxicating.

Hunter stood up and gathered the empty paper plates, tossing them into the cardboard bakery box. "We need to head over to Sunset Siesta. Evan’s got Calypso Key handled, but Harper’s running entirely on espresso and stress. She needs extra hands."

"Tell her I’ll be there later," Ben said, standing up to shake Hunter’s hand again.

Brenna smoothed her jeans and walked over to me. I stood up to meet her.

"Thank you for coming," I said quietly, ensuring the men were out of earshot. "And thank you for not making a big deal out of me. I forgot what it feels like to just be a normal person."

Brenna smiled warmly. "You are a normal person, Sutton. You just have a very loud job. You’re always welcome here."

She squeezed my arm gently and walked down the steps to join Hunter, who shook Ben’s hand before giving me a two-finger salute. “Nice to meet you, Sutton. We’ll get together soon and discuss security for you. Meanwhile, I’ll text Ben if I hear any suspicious chatter. Enjoy the sunshine.”

Warmth filled me. “Thanks, and it was great meeting you too, Hunter.”

He opened the passenger door for Brenna once more, then climbed behind the wheel. The engine purred to life, and Hunter steered the heavy SUV up the gravel driveway before disappearing around the bend into the mangroves.