A Home by the Sea

Grace blew out a little breath. More secrets. She’d had enough of them, thanks to James. But these secrets were different. They were meant to protect, not harm. That was important.

“So … did someone attack you? Was it dangerous?”

Noah said nothing.

“Did you have to kill someone?” she asked quietly.

His eyes cut to hers. She thought she saw wariness. “What if I did? Would you walk away?”

She heard his anger, but something told her he was baiting her. “Maybe I should. I don’t have a high threshold for secrets these days, Noah.”

After a long time some of his tension faded. “Understandable.” He rubbed his wrist, frowning.

Something made Grace reach over and push up his cuff. Before he could react, she saw a band of bluish bruises and a long cut along the top of his hand. “You fell,” she said quietly. “It must have hurt.”

Noah stepped back and smoothed his cuff down. “Not so bad.” He rolled one shoulder slowly. “As these things go.”

She had a thousand questions, a thousand frightening images of Noah lying bloody on a street, surrounded by ambulances. “So do you … fall … often? At this job you can’t discuss for an agency you can’t mention?”

“Does it matter?” His eyes were focused on her now, his body still and very controlled.

“Yes. It shouldn’t. I—don’t want it to matter. I don’t have any room in my life for a new set of secrets, Noah. But suddenly you’re here and you make me feel so … safe. As if things are fresh and I can actually think about starting over.” She leaned closer and brushed snow off his collar. Her hand rose, opening over his jaw. “That scares the hell out of me,” she said hoarsely.

His covered her hand with his. “Make that two of us.”

“You? I can’t see you being afraid of anything. You’re always so calm, so focused. Nothing gets past you.”

“You believe that? Only a fool or a dead man feels no fear. A healthy dose of worry can save your life in a bad place.”

“And you know about bad places? Because your life has been in danger?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Grace swallowed. “Noah, exactly what kind of work—”

“I can’t tell you, Grace. I can’t tell you or my family or my friends. That’s the bottom line. And if that bothers you too much—”

“It does.” She looked up at him. “But I can live with it.”

Noah’s eyebrow rose. “Don’t look now, but we might actually be making some progress.”

Grace couldn’t help smiling as Noah reached behind her and turned up her collar. Snow drifted down and swirled around them and somehow the normal, average night felt a little magical.

“Could be,” she whispered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WITHOUT A WORD Noah took her hand and tugged her down the street. He stopped at a window filled with cupcakes, pastry, ice cream and brightly colored gelato. Grace was mortified when her stomach growled loudly. “Here? For dessert? But I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

“Tonight, why not live dangerously? Have dessert first. I take you for a pistachio with chocolate sprinkles kind of girl.” One eyebrow rose. “Am I right?”

It ruffled Grace’s feathers that he had pegged her perfectly. “Why?”

“Pistachios because they are rich but subtle and have an unusual color. Chocolate—well, because you’re alive and it’s there.”

She couldn’t let him be smug. “Maybe. But not tonight. I’ll try cappuccino fudge raisin. Or maybe a lemon gelato.”

“Sounds tempting.” Noah frowned as she shivered. “Is it too cold out here?”

“No. I love this. I’ve missed snow. Come to think of it, I really miss the water, too.” She felt a little tug at her heart, remembering foggy dawns gathering driftwood with her grandmother and sunset camp-fires roasting marshmallows on the beach. Growing up in Oregon, there were things she had hated about Summer Island. But now, as an adult, Grace saw just how special her childhood had been, perched on a quiet island beside the ocean. Not that it was perfect. Not given the mother who usually had no clue that Grace existed, drifting from bar to bar in an alcoholic haze.