I didn’t trust people like Mila. People who came into places like Driftwood Cove thinking they could change it for the better and put their mark on something.

  This place was fine as it was. It didn’t need anyone changing things.

  I took another pull from my beer and let the sound of the waves fill my ears while I tried yet again to get Mila out of my head. It didn’t work. My bear let out a satisfied huff, enjoying my frustration. My jaw clenched tight.

  What was his deal?

  Didn’t he understand that people like her blew into town every so often, but they never lasted long. They always left when things got tough. Beth deserved better than to watch the grill turn into someone’s failed conquest and dream after all she’d been through.

  I sighed, finishing my beer before tossing the bottle into the recycling bin behind me. My bear grumbled, hating how poorly I was thinking of Mila. He thought she had too much fire to up and leave. If I was honest with myself, a part of me felt the same, that the woman wasn’t going anywhere.

  However, I wasn’t sure I believed it.

  3

  MILA

  The morning had started with promise, which after the last couple of days was a nice change. I’d had a nice long shower, a delicious breakfast at the inn—along with one of Florence’s famous cinnamon rolls—and the perfect cup of coffee.

  Another upside to today was that The Driftwood Grill was finally starting to feel like mine.

  I’d spent the last few days cleaning, repairing, and making plans for the opening weekend. The plans included placing an order for my first fish delivery, which was expected to be delivered early this morning. Since I hadn’t been able to secure a delivery from Gabe, I’d worked something out with Ruby at the seafood market instead.

  She was a blunt and gruff woman in her fifties. The no-nonsense type. It was clear she was leery of me, like most people in Driftwood Cove.

  It was a small town after all, and I was an outsider.

  I pulled into the gravel lot beside The Driftwood Grill, and smiled as I soaked the place in. While it still needed a fresh coat of paint and some small repairs, the place was coming together.

  Climbing out of my car, I grabbed my purse and made my way to the front door. I was halfway there when the sensation of someone watching me prickled across my skin. My feet faltered as I glanced around. No one seemed to be paying me any attention. I shook the sensation away and unlocked the door.

  Stepping inside, I flipped on the lights and closed the door behind me. The scent of pine cleaner hit my nose and a smile stretched across my face again. The musky, fishy scent that had lingered was finally gone.

  Fish!

  I tossed my purse and keys on the counter in the kitchen and rushed to the back door. My fish delivery should be waiting for me in a cooler. However, when I swung open the door and peeked out, there was nothing there.

  No cooler. No fish. Nothing.

  My stomach dropped. I stepped out and walked around, acting as though I’d somehow missed a giant cooler. I hadn’t. There was nothing here.

  Had Ruby suddenly decided not to sell to outsiders too? Was it possible her delivery person delivered to the wrong address? Or maybe they got the day of the delivery wrong?

  I headed inside and rummaged through my purse for Ruby’s card. Grabbing my cell, I dialed her number.

  “Seafood Market, Ruby speaking,” she answered in her gruff voice.

  “Hi, Ruby. This is Mila, the new owner of The Driftwood Grill. I’m calling because I was supposed to have a delivery of fish come this morning, but it’s not here,” I said, trying to keep the rising panic out of my voice. “I was wondering if there might have been a mix-up with the day?”

  There was a pause, then the sound of shuffling papers filled my ear. “No mix-up. It was delivered early this morning. Left right outside your back door, like you asked.”

  I walked outside and scanned the area once more. There was no need, though. It wasn’t as if the cooler would suddenly magically appear.

  “Well, it’s not here.”

  “Hold on,” Ruby insisted.

  “Okay.”

  I could hear her call out to someone. She must have placed a hand over the receiver because her next words were muffled.

  “It was delivered,” she said, sounding firm. “If it’s not there now, I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t send another delivery to you today. We’re stretched thin here.”

  Crap.

  I’d planned on using today’s delivery to try a few recipes out for the opening weekend. Finalizing the menu was important. Without fish, I couldn’t do that. And without a menu, I had nothing.

  “Okay,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. “I understand. Thanks.”

  Before I could say another word, she ended the call.

  Now what?

  I set my phone on the counter and let out a sigh. Slumping against the counter, I hung my head. So much for my perfect morning. I’d really thought all the troubles and mishaps of this place were behind me now.

  Guess I was wrong.

  I lifted my head, extending my arms and pressing my palms against the edge of the counter, while thoughts about the situation filled my head.

  Ruby had sounded so certain that the fish had been delivered like they were supposed to be. Even though I didn’t know her well, I believed her, which meant someone must have stolen my delivery.

  What was I supposed to do? Call the police?

  I frowned at the thought, knowing how that might make me look in a small town like this, with the welcome I’d already been given from some of the townsfolk.

  The very real truth of the situation hit me then—someone stole my delivery because they didn’t want me here.

  While I hadn’t been in Driftwood Cove long enough to make enemies—at least, not that I knew of—I somehow had.

  My mind dipped back to the sensation of someone watching me that I’d felt when I first got here this morning. A shiver crept up my spine.

  Had it been whoever took my fish?

  I chewed my bottom lip for a moment before shaking the thought away and deciding I was being paranoid. Placing my hands on my hips, I paced the kitchen, debating my next move.

  I needed fish.

  Today.

  Which left me with only one option—I needed to visit Gabe again.

  I released a puff of air, not liking the idea, but knowing it was my only option. Grabbing my things, I locked the restaurant up and headed for the docks.

  It didn’t take but five minutes to get there. The salty breeze hit me as I reached the water’s edge. I inhaled a deep breath for courage when I spotted Gabe near his boat, unloading his catch of the day. If he heard me approach, he didn’t let on. I cleared my throat when I reached him and still got no reaction out of him.

  “I need fish,” I said, without beating around the bush.

  He barely glanced at me, his hands still moving as he transferred a particularly large snapper into a cooler. “Told you already—I don’t supply The Driftwood Grill anymore.”

  “My delivery from Ruby was stolen this morning.”

  That got his attention. He paused, glancing up at me, his expression unreadable. “Stolen? Someone robbed Ruby?”

  “Yes and no,” I said, holding his stare. He had the most intense eyes. “It was delivered early this morning but by the time I got to the restaurant, it was gone.”

  His jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression. Concern? No, that couldn’t be right. He didn’t care about my problems. He’d made that clear the last time I was here.

  Which had me second-guessing being here now.

  “So, you came running back here,” he said, shaking his head. “Figured I’d bail you out? Feel sorry for you and give you some fish?”

  I blinked; his tone was a little too harsh for my liking.

  “I didn’t come running to you,” I snapped. “I came because I’m determined to re-open the restaurant, and you’re the best shot I have at getting the fish I need.”

  His gaze pinned me in place, his expression sharp yet unreadable. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker there—something warm. But it was gone before I could make sense of it.

  “I don’t need much,” I bit out when he clearly wasn’t going to say anything. “Just enough for me to make a few menu ideas. I’ll go back to Ruby after that.” I held his gaze, refusing to back down.

  He turned back to what he’d been doing. “I can sell you enough for today,” he muttered. “But don’t make coming to me a habit.”

  Relief flooded me, but I kept my expression neutral. “Fine. Thank you.”

  He moved quickly, filling a small cooler with a variety of fish—cod, snapper, and a few others I could make work for the menu. When he shoved the cooler toward me, I rummaged through my purse for my wallet.

  “Cash only,” he said.

  I scowled but dug out the money and handed it over. He counted it, nodded, then gestured toward the cooler. “Take it and go.”

  I lifted it into the air, my arms straining under the weight, but I refused to ask for help. “Thanks,” I muttered, even though I didn’t think he deserved it.

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he returned to his work as if I’d never been there.

  I stalked back to the grill, my emotions a tangled mess. Even though I knew I should have felt relieved that I had fish to work with now, all I could think about was the stolen delivery and if someone had been watching me earlier.

  Hopefully, it was all a misunderstanding and I was wrong about the latter.

  As I unlocked the restaurant’s front door, a loud bang sounded behind me. I froze. It took only a second to realize it was a car door slamming. There was a couple laughing with one another as they stepped onto the sidewalk after exiting their car. Even so, my pulse still raced.

  I hurried inside and locked the door behind me.

  4

  GABE

  Evening was settling in. The docks were quiet now, save for the occasional creak of the boats rocking gently against their moorings. I should have been done for the night, back at my place, maybe nursing a beer and letting the exhaustion of the day settle in my bones. But something had me lingering near the water. My gaze drifted toward town, toward her.

  Mila.

  I’d thought about her all day. My bear hadn’t liked it when I’d been so harsh to her earlier, and he damn near hated me for making her carry that heavy cooler of fish on her own. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d started walking toward The Driftwood Grill.

  She was still there.

  I spotted her outside, scrubbing the front door like she was trying to erase the past along with the grime that had built there over the years. Even from this distance, I could see the tension in her shoulders and the rigid way she moved. My bear stirred, uneasy at the sight, but I ignored him. Whatever was bothering her wasn’t my problem. She wasn’t my problem.

  But that didn’t stop me from walking over.

  I told myself I was just curious; it had nothing to do with the way my gut twisted at the sight of her distress, or the way my bear twitched like he wanted to do something about it. I exhaled and almost turned to leave, but that was when I saw it.

  She wasn’t cleaning to clean—she was cleaning up a mess.

  There were fish everywhere. My muscles tensed as I took a step forward. Alarm nipped at my bear, his instincts flaring while he released a low growl. Mila must have noticed me approaching, because she stilled, her hand tightening around the rag she’d been using. Slowly, she shifted to face me. As she did, relief worked its way across her face, and I had to admit, I enjoyed seeing it.

  Then sadness etched into her features and into my bones.

  “Good news, I found my delivery from Ruby,” she said, her attention dropping back to the mess she’d been cleaning up. “Bad news, someone clearly doesn’t want me here.” She tossed a small smile my way, but I could tell it was forced.

  Another growl ripped from my bear, and I felt every inch of myself tighten with his response to her words.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  “What makes you say that?” I asked, even though I knew it was true.

  The people of Driftwood Cove didn’t care much for outsiders. Still, the way she’d said it, it had sounded like something she was certain of.

  “This note.” She handed me a crumpled piece of paper with two words written in thick, black marker.

  GO HOME.

  Anger lapped at the edges of my control and my bear paced. My vision narrowed as a low growl echoed from my chest.

  “What the hell is this?” I demanded.

  Mila flinched at my tone, her gaze snapping to lock with mine.

  “Proof someone doesn’t want me here,” she said, her voice attempting nonchalance, but I could hear the underlying tremor.

  She was shaken.

  I clenched my jaw. Someone had gone through the trouble of not only stealing her delivery but also vandalizing her property with it and trying to scare her off.

  “It’s probably some local idiot messing with you. I wouldn’t worry about it,” I muttered, even though I didn’t believe that.

  Some of these local idiots could be deadly if they wanted because some of them were shifters. However, I had no clue who’d hold a grudge against her like this. She was too new to town to have stepped on anyone’s toes.

  “Yeah. Sure,” she said, tucking a strand of wavy hair behind her ear.

  I looked at her, really looked at her. She wasn’t just rattled. She was also exhausted. And still, I could see the fight in her, the determination to get this place up and running again.

  “I’ll get rid of it,” I said before I could think better of it.

  She blinked. “What?”

  I sighed, already crouching down to scoop up the last handful of fish. “The fish. You don’t need to be dealing with this mess.”

  She hesitated, like she wanted to argue, then nodded. “Thanks.”

  I tossed them into the trash can she’d been flinging them into and then hauled it around to the dumpster. When I came back, Mila was crouched down, scrubbing with a hard bristle brush, instead of a rag, and some soapy water.

  “The smell isn’t going away, no matter how much I scrub,” she said.

  “Add some lemon juice to plain warm water, or sprinkle some baking soda on it,” I suggested. “Both work well for the smell.”

  “I have some lemon.”

  She headed inside, taking the bucket with her. Before she crossed the threshold she glanced back at me from over her shoulder.

  “You can come inside if you want,” she said.

  I should have walked away, told her goodnight and headed home, but instead, I followed her inside.

  “You think whoever did that out there is the same person who stole my fish?” she asked, making her way to the kitchen.

  “Seems likely,” I admitted with a slight nod. “But don’t expect the sheriff to do much about it. Unless you catch someone in the act, they won’t waste their time.”

  “I figured.”

  I watched her cut a lemon in half and squeeze its juice into the bucket. My bear was restless. He wanted me to do something more besides give her a recipe for cleaning up fish stink. I ignored him, forcing myself to remember that I wasn’t supposed to care.

  This wasn’t my business.

  She wasn’t my business.

  I glanced around, taking in what she’d done with the place. It didn’t look like The Driftwood Grill I remembered. She’d changed so much. This wasn’t a hole-in-the-wall place to come for a greasy fried fish platter and a beer anymore.

  It was fancy.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, drawing my attention back to her.

  “Like what?”

  She motioned to the restaurant. “The decorations. There weren’t any before. Now there’s cohesion. I was going for rustic fine dining meets cozy coastal charm.”

  There was so much pride in her tone. So much joy.

  “It’s different,” I grumbled, not meaning to sound so gruff.

  “That’s the point,” she said. “I’m making it mine.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I’m not erasing what it was,” she said softly, her shoulders squaring. “All I’m doing is elevating it.”

  Her tone was defensive, and for a moment, I considered arguing. The words were there, ready to push back, to tell her she didn’t understand what this place had meant to some of us in town. But the look in her eyes stopped me.

  “You should start locking your doors,” I said, the gruffness in my voice returning. “And you shouldn’t stay here too late by yourself.”

  Mila raised a brow. “Is that concern I hear?”

  I scowled, forcing down the part of me that wanted to admit it was. “Just common sense.”

  She huffed a small, amused laugh. “Right.”

  The tension between us eased slightly as she filled the bucket with warm water and squeezed a few more lemons into it, the citrusy scent tickling my nose. Without a word, I grabbed the bucket and hauled it out front for her. Once we had everything scrubbed down, I waited for her to lock up.

  As the door clicked shut, I turned without another word, heading back toward the docks, repeating the lie I kept telling myself.

  This was the last time I would get involved where Mila Bennet was concerned.

  Even if my bear felt otherwise.

  5

  MILA

  The next morning, I woke up with a headache that had nothing to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with the note left outside my restaurant.

  Someone wanted me gone.

  I didn’t know who or why, but the thought of it made knots form in my stomach. Sliding out of bed, I got ready, deciding to take some time for myself before heading to the restaurant to see whatever new surprises might be waiting for me there.

  As I made my way downstairs to the inn’s small dining area, the smell of coffee and bacon greeted me. Marv set a plate of the fluffiest-looking pancakes on the table as I walked in, while Florence hummed as she arranged a bowl of fresh fruit.

 

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