Tides of Discovery, page 1
TIDES OF DISCOVERY
SEACLIFF COVE
BOOK 3
LISA LINDEN
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Lisa Linden
Copyright © 2025 Lisa Linden
The book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission, contact: lisa@lisalinden.com
Editing: Peter Senftleben, PES Editorial
Proofreading: Jennifer (Levine) London, Touchstone Editing
Cover design: Natasha Snow Designs
Photography: Cadwallader Photography
Model: Sean
CHAPTER ONE
Jack
The morning light spilled through the sparkling-clean front windows of The Coffee Cove, turning the exposed brick walls into shades of russet and copper. I’d claimed my usual spot: by the windows, at the corner table where decades of coffee mugs and water rings scarred the wood. From here, I could see the entire length of the narrow shop, all the way to the polished espresso machine that gleamed like a steampunk spaceship.
I tapped away on my phone, pretending to focus on the email I’d been “writing” for twenty minutes. In reality, my attention kept drifting to the man behind the counter.
My best friend, Cooper McKay.
I’d been in love with him since our college days. Since those late nights at Brewed Awakening when he’d slide experimental coffee concoctions across the counter and challenge me to guess the ingredients. Since those post-midnight study sessions where he’d quiz me on coding principles while I tried not to get lost in his green eyes. Since the day I realized no 4.0 would ever match the victory I felt when I made him laugh.
Cooper moved with precision, and his long fingers danced across the espresso machine with the confidence of a concert pianist. A strand of his dark hair fell onto his forehead as he leaned forward to steam milk, and he pushed it up with the back of his hand—a gesture so familiar to me I could have drawn it from memory. The muscles in his forearm flexed beneath the sleeve of his black Henley as he tamped down the coffee grounds.
When he smiled at a customer, my heart did that stupid little skip it always performed. His smile was open and friendly, like his face couldn’t quite contain the warmth behind it.
This was my daily quest: watch Cooper work while pretending I wasn’t watching Cooper work.
A customer stepped up to the counter—Mrs. Abernathy, eighty-something with a cloud of white hair. Before she opened her mouth, Cooper was already reaching for a mug.
“Large decaf vanilla latte?” he asked, genuine kindness in his voice.
“You’re a good man, always remembering my favorite.” Mrs. Abernathy paid for her coffee. “How’s that brother of yours doing?”
“Ryan’s great. His little girl just started kindergarten—already reading,” he said with pride. He adored his niece and spoiled her like he was her favorite uncle.
Okay, he was her only uncle. But still….
My fingers hovered over my phone, frozen in the act of feigning work. Cooper’s devotion to his family always warmed my chest. Despite his strained relationship with his parents, his love for his brother and niece remained his emotional anchor. As an only child whose parents had both died, I’d always envied the unbreakable bond Cooper shared with his brother.
The morning rush was in full swing when Cooper’s frustrated “No, no, no” reached me.
I looked up and caught him jabbing at the point-of-sale terminal with increasing agitation. A line of customers waited, expressions shifting from patience to concern. Cooper’s face flushed pink, his usually confident demeanor replaced by barely contained panic.
“Sorry, folks,” Cooper called, his voice steady despite the anxiety clear in the tight lines around his mouth. “We’re having some technical difficulties. Bear with us a moment.”
I was on my feet before I’d made the conscious decision to move. This was something I could fix, a tangible way to show I…cared.
“Let me take a look?” I slid behind the counter.
Cooper glanced at me with a mix of relief and embarrassment. “You don’t have to—”
“It’s my wheelhouse, remember?” I kept my tone light as I nudged him aside. I pushed my glasses up my nose. “Take cash orders in the meantime. I’ll get this running again.” The screen showed an error message I’d seen too many times in my line of work. Oh, shit.
“When’s the last time you updated the security on this system?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t know. Ben set it up before we…you know. Maybe a year ago?”
The ex who’d broken his heart ten months ago. I pushed away the flare of jealousy and focused on the problem.
My fingers flew across the screen, and I accessed the system through a backdoor method. What I found made my stomach clench. This wasn’t a simple crash. There were clear signs of intrusion—sophisticated ones, at that. Someone had deliberately compromised the system, intending to cripple Cooper’s business.
“Can you fix it?” Cooper peered over my shoulder.
I nodded, not wanting to worry him with my suspicions. “Give me a few minutes.”
Cooper switched seamlessly to manual processing, writing orders in his bold handwriting and making change from the register drawer.
“Sorry about the wait, folks,” he said, raising his voice. “We appreciate your patience.”
Several people had already left, either not having cash or unwilling to wait through the technical issue. With each departure, Cooper’s smile tightened further, though I doubted anyone else would notice the difference.
I worked quickly and brought the system back online. Something about the intrusion pattern felt familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I’d need more time to investigate properly.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Cooper said when the POS came back to life. The relief in his voice was palpable.
“Just a temporary fix,” I warned. “We’ll need to do a complete security overhaul later.”
Cooper winced. “How much will that cost?”
“For you?” I met his worried gaze directly.
“Jack…” Cooper started, his voice full of warning. The furrow between his brows deepened in that stubborn expression I’d known since our sophomore days.
“A cup of coffee.” I shrugged as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
He shook his head in frustration, but said, “Thank you. What would I do without you?”
I hoped he would never have to find out. The thought of not being part of Cooper’s life made my gut twist in a way no cybersecurity emergency ever could.
With the crisis averted, Cooper returned to serving customers with his usual charm, and I returned to my seat.
The bell above the door jingled as someone entered, bringing with them a gust of chilly early-January air. I shivered and hunched deeper into my jacket. Seacliff Cove winters weren’t harsh compared to other parts of the country, but the coastal dampness had a way of seeping into my bones.
I glanced up instinctively as Ryan and his daughter entered. The family resemblance was striking—Ryan and Cooper were both strong-jawed, model-worthy men.
Cooper was completely out of my league.
Ryan nodded toward me with a smile of recognition. “Oh. Hey, Jack.”
I returned the greeting with a wave, trying to look like I’d been focused on my email and not staring at Cooper. Ryan and I had met several times since I’d moved to Seacliff Cove last spring. Recently divorced, he was friendly but reserved.
Lily bounced beside Ryan, a tiny bundle of energy in unicorn leggings and a puffy pink coat. “Uncle Cooper!” She broke free from her father’s hand and raced toward the counter, her sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor.
Cooper’s entire demeanor changed, his professional barista stance melting into something softer as he came around the counter and scooped Lily into a hug. “Hey, munchkin! What are you doing here on a school day?”
“Teacher conference. Thought we’d stop by,” Ryan said, and approached his brother at a more reasonable pace than Lily’s.
“I made this for you!” Lily waved a piece of paper.
Cooper released her and examined the drawing with exaggerated seriousness. “This is your best work yet. It’s going right on the wall of fame.”
Cooper immediately went to the wall behind the counter, where several other masterpieces already hung, and carefully taped the new addition with reverence.
My phone pinged with an incoming email, an urgent request from a client in New York. The joys of being a remote
Moving to Seacliff Cove last spring had been the most terrifying decision of my life. I’d pitched it to myself as a practical decision: escape the Silicon Valley pressure cooker for small-town living, find a supportive community of friends, and settle somewhere quiet to work remotely. But the truth burned in my chest: I’d moved here to be near Cooper.
Cooper’s hand hovered over a cookie in the case, and he raised an eyebrow. Ryan nodded. Cooper handed the treat to Lily, whose eyes lit up as she grabbed it with a “Thanks!” She chomped into it, and chocolate crumbs clung to her lips. “Caramel latte?” he asked Ryan.
“Sounds good,” Ryan replied, then lowered his voice. The shop had nearly cleared out, but he still seemed to want privacy. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the shift in tone was instant.
Cooper’s relaxed posture stiffened. His smile remained, but it no longer reached his eyes. He busied himself making Ryan’s drink while Lily happily crunched on her cookie, oblivious to the tension between the adults.
I tried not to eavesdrop, but in the narrow confines of the coffee shop, snippets of conversation drifted my way.
“…birthday dinner next Friday…will be there, but it would mean a lot…”
“…haven’t changed, Ryan.”
“…for Lily…”
Cooper’s jaw tightened as he handed Ryan his coffee. His brother placed a hand on Cooper’s shoulder, saying something that made Cooper sigh and nod reluctantly.
I absentmindedly tapped on my phone, typing nonsense as I watched the scene unfold. This was clearly about Cooper’s parents. Cooper rarely talked about them, but I knew enough to understand that their relationship had fractured when he came out during college. The few times he mentioned them, his entire demeanor would change—his easy confidence replaced by something guarded and brittle.
Ryan and Lily said their goodbyes, with Lily giving Cooper another enthusiastic hug before bouncing toward the door. Ryan paused on his way out to give me a nod. “Good to see you, Jack.”
“See you around.” I lifted my mug in a small salute.
As the door closed behind them, Cooper braced both hands against the counter, head bowed. The shop was empty now except for me; Cooper’s faithful daytime employee, Jessica; and Mrs. Abernathy, who was absorbed in a book in the back corner.
The old floorboards creaked as Cooper approached my table, carrying a fresh mug of coffee I hadn’t ordered. The rich scent hit me before he even set it down—dark roast with a complex aroma.
“You’ve been nursing that same cup for an hour, Anderson. It must be as cold as my mother’s disapproving stare by now.” He placed the mug in front of me, steam curling invitingly from its surface.
I glanced up, meeting his moss-green eyes. A mistake. My chest tightened painfully.
“What makes you think I need more caffeine?” I placed my phone on the table, having done what work I could on it. I needed to head back to my apartment and my secure network. “I could be perfectly content with my cold, sad coffee.”
“Your left eye twitches when you’re under-caffeinated.” Cooper tapped the side of his own eye. “Dead giveaway. You’ve got that ‘I’ve been staring at the screen for too long’ look.”
The fact that he noticed these things about me sent a dangerous surge of hope through my system. Hope was like a shot of adrenaline: temporary and always leaving you worse off when it faded.
“My hero,” I said, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “What’s this one?”
“Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. Just came in yesterday.” Cooper leaned a hip against my table, crossing his arms over his chest. His black apron with the Coffee Cove logo—a simple wave inside a coffee cup—stretched across his chest. He’d pulled up the sleeves of his Henley, revealing forearms dusted with dark hair. “Thought you might need something special. You’ve been working too hard.”
My heart stuttered. He noticed. Of course he noticed—Cooper was attuned to everyone’s needs. It was what made him such a good coffee shop owner. It didn’t mean anything special. To him, I was simply his best friend.
No matter how much I wanted to be more.
I took a sip of the coffee. The flavor bloomed across my tongue: robust, with a hint of chocolate and… I hummed. Fruit. I closed my eyes briefly, savoring it. “Damn, Coop. This is good.”
“So I’m right—as usual,” he said with a warm smile. “The eye twitch is gone already.”
“Yeah, yeah. Add ‘Cooper’s Always Right’ to your wall of fame.” I gestured to the wall and then frowned. A red flyer hung beside Lily’s latest drawing. “What’s that red flyer about?”
Cooper groaned. “Don’t remind me. The downtown business association is riding me about my participation in the Valentine’s Day Ocean of Love celebration. Apparently, a white cup with a red heart isn’t ‘festive enough’ for Isabelle’s standards.”
“The horror. How dare you not plaster everything in glitter and cupids?” I grinned at his obvious reluctance. He’d just breathed a sigh of relief ten days ago when he’d packed away the winter holiday decorations.
“You laugh, but wait until you see what Mason does to the bookstore. Last year, he covered the entire front window in paper hearts with book quotes about love. He’ll probably rope you into helping since you live upstairs.”
“Already promised to hang fairy lights.” I grinned. “I’m a sucker for Mason’s sad puppy eyes.”
Cooper snorted. “You’re a sucker, period. Too nice for your own good.”
If only he knew. I’d spent my entire friendship with Cooper being “nice”—swallowing my feelings, pretending friendship was enough, keeping my longing locked down behind a firewall.
My heart had shattered one night during a senior year party as Cooper drowned his sorrows after yet another failed relationship. I’d foolishly let hope bloom, thinking perhaps he might finally see me.
Then, those crushing words had drifted to me, slicing through the music and laughter.
“You and Jack should get together,” Dan said, his voice light with casual matchmaking.
“Hook up with my best friend?” Cooper’s slurred words tumbled out, his eyes unfocused as amber liquid sloshed over his red cup’s rim. “That would be…” His voice firmed with certainty. “Weird.”
Even now, years later, that memory twisted like a knife in my gut, the acid taste of rejection rising in my throat as vivid as the night it happened.
“So…Ryan,” Cooper said.
I mentally shook my head and tuned back into our conversation.
Cooper’s expression had turned more serious, the light in his eyes dimming.
I frowned, unease slithering through me. “Everything okay?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “He wants me to go to his birthday dinner next Friday. My parents will be there.”
“Ah.” I knew how much weight was packed into those few words. “You going?”
“Told him I would. For him and Lily.” Cooper shook his head. “I shouldn’t have agreed, but he played the niece card. Said Lily’s been asking why Uncle Cooper never comes to family dinners.”
I winced. “Low blow.”
“Yeah.” Resignation tinged Cooper’s smile. “It’s not that I don’t want to see Ryan and Lily. It’s just…”
“Your parents,” I finished for him.
He nodded. “They haven’t exactly embraced my ‘lifestyle choice,’ as my mother calls it. They tolerate me because of Ryan, but dinners tend to be coldly polite at best.”
My hand twitched with the urge to reach out and comfort him. Instead, I wrapped it more firmly around my coffee mug. “That sucks.”
“It is what it is.” Cooper shrugged, but the casual gesture couldn’t mask the hurt in his eyes. “Anyway, enough about my family drama. How’s work?”
I recognized the deflection but didn’t push. Cooper had always been private about his emotions, even with me. “I need to get to it. But I really should look at your system more carefully. That crash wasn’t normal.”
Cooper frowned. “You think something’s wrong? Beyond a technical glitch?”
I hesitated, not wanting to alarm him needlessly. “Let’s try not to worry until we know for sure.” What I didn’t tell him was that I’d recognized signs of a deliberate attack in the code—not the random malware most small businesses occasionally encountered, but something targeted and elaborate. Someone with serious skills had accessed his system, and I needed to find out who and why. “I’ll stop by after you close tonight and bring dinner. I’ll look into it then.”
