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I clear my throat, feeling more exposed than I should considering how few personal effects are visible at a glance. “Can I show you the rest of the boat?”
She looks at me, then into my room, then back at me, her brow furrowed. “This is your room,” she says as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“Yes,” I say slowly. “It is.”
“But you said you wouldn’t be staying on the boat.”
“I won’t be. I also have a house on Oakley.”
She bites at her thumbnail like she can’t quite decide how to feel about this new piece of information. Then she swings her assessing gaze my way. “Why do you stay here if you have a house?”
I rock back on my heels and offer her what I hope looks like an easy shrug. “I like boats.”
“It’s a yacht.”
“I like other boats too. Sailboats are great. Canoes. Tugboats.”
“But why sleep here rather than your house? You know that’s a little odd, right?” She snaps her fingers. “Unless … you’re playing into the eccentric billionaire stereotype?”
“You figured me out.”
“Do you have a Batcave too?”
I grin. “If I did, I’d definitely be sleeping there. Batcaves are awesome.”
There’s a lull in which Sadie looks away toward my balcony doors, her expression shifting into something a little more pensive. “It's nice of you to give up your boat for me, Mr. King,” she says. “Thank you.”
“Anything you need, just ask.” I start down the hall so I don’t risk Sadie seeing the sincerity in my offer. The hallway is narrow, so she walks a few steps behind me. “Like I said. Your family means a lot to me.”
It’s true, and I hope Sadie recognizes my sincerity. Her sisters have become like family over the past year. It wasn’t something I anticipated, but then I doubt Jake and Hunter anticipated the way the Markham sisters would barrel into their lives either. Maybe a little like the way Sadie continues shoving into mine despite her continued attempts at distance.
When we reach the door that will take us back outside, Sadie steps in front of me and checks the lock tothisdoor, too. I frown. There’s definitely something to this, and it makes me wonder if her unexpected appearance on Oakley isn’t about something entirely different than just surprising her sisters for opening weekend.
What’s spooking you, Sadie?
I don’t think she’d answer me if I were to ask. But with a call to the private investigator I employ from time to time, I bet I could find out. If I want to take it that far.
Or I could just ask.
“Do you want to tell me why you’re so worried about security?” I say. “Is there something I should know?”
“No!” she says a little too quickly. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just a nervous habit.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Guess I’ve been living alone for too long.”
I fold my arms across my chest, studying her. Nervous is a strange look on Sadie, who’s normally the very poster child of strength and confidence. It worries me.
“I don’t believe you.”
She rolls her eyes. “I swear. It’s nothing. It’s just …” She pauses and forces a breath out through her nose. “In my line of work, I’ve seen enough sketchy stuff to be … I don’t know. Cautious about stuff. I just like to make sure I’m safe.”
“In your line of work,” I repeat. “I thought you worked with computers.”
“I do,” she says. She pushes through the door and walks across the deck, pausing at the railing and looking out toward the Atlantic. This time, the tension doesn’t leave her body. If anything, it coils tighter.
I follow, stopping right next to her. “Doing what?”
She turns and faces me, leaning her hip against the railing. The wind picks up her hair, fluttering a strand across her cheekbone. I make a fist to keep from tucking it behind her ear.
Momentarily, I get lost in her dark blue eyes, forgetting what we’re talking about. And why my radar for trouble is flaring to life.
