Although the office door was cracked open, he knocked twice, remembering how she’d seemed like a frightened animal when he’d brought her in.
Kailani motioned him in. “She’s tired,” she said, nodding at Jane, who was sitting in the leather chair, her head resting in the shelter of her arms on the desk, next to an empty paper cup.
Kailani, a petite but round woman who’d moved here from the South Pacific when she met Rusty, sat nursing her own cup of hot tea. “Poor thing’s been driving for hours, from up north.”
“Vacationing here?”
“Just passing through. She’s headed to Florida.”
Passing through ... that was probably a good thing, considering the way something in his gut went off-kilter when he was near her.
“The Outer Banks is not the most direct route to Florida.”
“She was planning to stay with her brother’s friend in Buxton.”
“She’s got a friend here?” Coop folded his arms. “Then we need to call him. Maybe he can come get her, help her out.”
“I already called.” The voice came from the desk. A moment later, Jane lifted her head and he was face-to-face with her amazing blue eyes—eyes that cut right through a man. “He doesn’t live there anymore.” She squinted up at Coop. “How far is Myrtle Beach from here?”
“Myrtle Beach?” Coop raked back his hair with one hand.
“That’s where her friend moved,” explained Kailani.
“Myrtle Beach is too far to travel right now. Especially after an accident like that. The doc is coming in to take a look at you, but chances are, you’re going to be staying in Avon for the night.”
“No ... I need to keep moving.” There was a wistfulness in her voice that made Cooper wonder what this girl was running from. Her panic in the car had made it clear that she was trying to escape someone or something, but at least her voice has lost the raw desperation of a deer fleeing a hunter.
“Everyone needs to rest.” Kailani’s mellifluous voice seemed to calm Jane. “We can get you a room at the motel. I’ll call Marvin and make sure he saves something for you.”
“I ... I don’t know ...” Jane pressed her fingers to her temples, her face a play of confusion and anxiety.
As she spoke, Ruthann came in, her dark eyes assessing as she moved.
“She’s staying at the motel,” Kailani told the doctor, then stepped out.
“Lucky girl,” Ruthann said. “It’s not everyone who can get into Avon-by-the-Sea without a reservation.”
Jane winced. “I don’t have the money for a resort hotel.”
That surprised Coop, as everything he’d seen about this woman, from her strappy sandals to her designer sunglasses to her monogrammed duffel bag, said otherwise.
“Don’t let the name fool you,” Ruthann said. “It’s bare bones, but it’s tidy and friendly.” She turned to Coop. “If you’ll step outside, I’ll take a look at Miss Jane and make sure everything checks out.”
“Will do.” He turned to the door and paused. “And Rusty is out there checking out your car, making sure it’s good to go.”
“Oh ...” Jane frowned. “I didn’t even think of that. How much will it cost me?”
“I’m sure it’s just an act of goodwill,” Coop said as it occurred to him that this would be a way to make sure she stayed the night. “But ... chances are it won’t be ready till morning.”
As Jane nodded absently, and Ruthann shooed him out, Coop let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Jane seemed resigned to stay the night, and that was one obstacle conquered.
It was a start.
C
HAPTER
3
It wasn’t until she began to sob in the warm company of the kind stranger named Kailani that Jane realized how traumatized she’d been by the collision.
She’d thought it was an attack.
She’d thought Canby’s men had come to kill her.
But no ... it had been a genuine accident, a rear-end collision caused by the onslaught of rain and darkness. Just a brief glance at the older couple in the car that had hit her was enough to convince her that they were not hired guns. The poor woman, who reminded her of Aunt Minnie, had been burned by chemicals from the exploding airbag, and the inside of the man’s arms had been scraped raw.
A simple accident, and Jane’s composure had crumpled like the hood of the other car.
But these people—strangers—had helped her.
Kailani had sat with her, both of them sipping tea, while Jane had spilled out some of the details of her trip, telling her mostly that she had been traveling all day from Philadelphia, she’d said in a quick lie, trying to get to Buxton.
“You’re close,” Kailani had said. “Buxton is just down the road.” When she had suggested that Jane contact her friend in Buxton, Jane had looked at her phone and discovered that she had a message from TJ, telling her that it wouldn’t work out in Buxton. His buddy Axel had picked up and moved to Myrtle Beach. Could she make it there tonight?
That had brought a fresh wave of tears, and Kailani had told her no worries, she could rest here. Jane didn’t mean to take her at her word, but she’d closed her eyes and dozed off.
Awakened by the low, bearish voice of the sheriff. And suddenly, it had all come back to her ...
The rumble of his voice. The broad expanse of his chest in that white uniform shirt. The feel of his hands, sure and firm on her sinking body as he’d rescued her from the Jeep. She remembered kind eyes in a rare shade of blue, and that voice, like a friendly bear.
She’d opened her eyes and there he was, standing before her, arranging things and covering details. Between the two of them, he and Kailani seemed to have figured out where she was staying and when her car would be ready, which was awfully kind of them, though her city instincts made her suspect anyone who extended themselves when there was nothing in it for them.
Now, as the gray-haired doctor in a T-shirt and khaki shorts examined her, she felt a mixture of exhaustion from the shock and wariness of this place she’d been forced to stop in. Avon.
“Follow my fingers without turning your head,” the doctor instructed, and Jane followed her instructions. There was a variety of drills, as well as questions about pain.
In the end, Ruthann pronounced her good to go tomorrow, after a night of sleep. “Sounds like you were in shock, but Kailani fixed you up just fine. And it doesn’t seem like you hit your head at all, so that’s good. But call me if anything starts to bother you tonight.” She handed Jane her card. “Any questions?”
Jane looked at the card: Ruthann Pope, MD. “If you’re a doctor, why do people call you Ruthann?”
“Because that’s my name, and we don’t stand much on formality here. Manners, yes. Some people call me ‘Miss Ruthann,’ if that makes you feel any better, but ‘Dr. Pope’ sounds a bit pompous, and I didn’t much fancy being called ‘Doctor Ruth.’ ” The doctor’s serious demeanor gave way to a grin.
Jane felt herself smiling in response, the dark feeling lifting. “That didn’t occur to me.”
Ruthann handed her two sample packets of ibuprofen. “Take one or two of these if you start feeling achy later.”
“Thank you.” Jane looked down at her hands, which, thankfully, weren’t shaking anymore. “I’m a little short on cash.” And she didn’t want to use a credit card, which would track where she’d been. “Can you send me a bill?”
“For ten minutes of my time, I’m willing to make this a freebie. Just as long as you follow my instructions and rest up. Stay off the road for the rest of the day.”
“That’s a deal,” Jane said, thinking that her rented Jeep was going to be out of commission until the morning anyway. “Thank you.”
When she followed the doctor out of the office, it was her first real chance to get a look at the Quickstop, a large space that sold everything from groceries to swimsuits. There were big displays of sunscreen and beach gear, sunglasses, souvenir shells, and miniature lighthouses and postcards. There was a newsstand with a large rack of paperback books, a pharmacy aisle, and a lunch counter with a lit glass case of warm fried chicken that made her mouth water. The line at the counter was three people deep, but Kailani and another young woman at the register moved customers through quickly.
“Jane, I’ll be with you in a minute,” Kailani said as she closed the drawer of her register.
Jane ventured to the book display by the window, amazed that the day had turned sunny again and the pavement was nearly dry except for a few puddles.
“You can carry this for your mother,” Kailani told a young boy in a baseball cap as she handed him a plastic grocery bag. “Don’t smash the bread, now.”
Across from the gas pumps, Jane’s Jeep was parked outside one of the garage bays. How had it gotten there? Someone must have moved it for her—probably the sheriff. The man with gentle hands and the voice of a bear.
“I’ll give you a ride to the motel,” Kailani said, coming up from behind her. “It’s only half a mile down the road, but you’ve got bags and maybe you’re too tired to walk.”
“I’d appreciate a lift.”
“I knew that. Rusty already put your bags in the back of our truck.”
“Rusty?” The name didn’t ring a bell.
“My husband. He’s the one checking over your car.”
Jane nodded as the picture began to take shape. “So you guys run the Quickstop?”
“Yeah. We run it. We own it, too.”
It was a straight shot down Highway 12 in Kailani’s pickup, and suddenly they were pulling into a little motel on the right side of the road. The turquoise trim and shutters on the white, two-story building reminded Jane of the tropics, and the grounds were tidy, with a garden-size pool and flower boxes.
“I’ll take you in to meet Marvin,” Kailani said, pointing Jane toward the door.
Jane liked the looks of the place, and relief washed over her at the prospect of not having to drive again until tomorrow. “I really appreciate you helping me out,” she said. “The accident really rattled me and ... thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Kailani smiled as she held the screen door open for Jane.
They rang the bell on the desk, and eventually an older man in jeans and a golf shirt came out of the office.
“This is Marvin,” Kailani said. “He builds things.” She turned to Jane. “This is the lady who got caught in the car crash.”
“Sorry to hear that, but I’m glad to meet you,” Marvin said. “It’s lucky that I have a room, high season and all.”
“Thank you,” Jane said.
“You’re welcome, but no one around here has the gumption to say no to Kailani. I’m happy to help out, and I always appreciate the business. Just got to tell you it can only be for one night. Need the room back tomorrow for a weeklong reservation.”
“That’s perfect.” Jane signed the rate card and gave him seventy dollars cash. “I have to be on my way in the morning.”
“Unit twelve.” Marvin handed her the keys, then held the door as the women went out. When he insisted on carrying Jane’s luggage, Jane decided she was beginning to like these people with kind actions and polite manners.
Kailani told her that the beach was a short walk just across the highway and the Pamlico Sound, not so good for walking but beautiful at sunset, was just behind the motel. They had passed a shopping center with takeout food and a small theater. “And you can always walk back to the Quickstop,” she added.
“Best ice cream in town,” Marvin said as he stowed her duffel bag in her room.
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
If she had to be stuck somewhere, there were many worse places than Avon, North Carolina.
The sun poked out from behind a cloud as Kailani bid her good-bye. Yes, she was lucky to have landed in the lap of southern hospitality.
Inside the small, tidy room there wasn’t much unpacking to be done since she was only staying one night, but she placed her travel case on the vanity by the sink and washed up. How heavenly it felt to press her face into a warm washcloth, steaming away the grime and sweat, the tension and lingering fear. Although the accident wasn’t caused by Canby, she knew she couldn’t let her guard down, but it was a relief to think that his men weren’t onto her disappearance from New York just yet.
Once she was cleaned up, she pulled down the covers and closed the curtains. She needed rest—maybe just a nap. She tucked her feet under the sheets and let her head sink into the pillows. The bed was comfortable, the right combination of firm and cushy. She turned to her right, then her left, and she found her eyes following the glow of sunlight peeking in at the edge of the curtains.
The beach was just across the street, and it was still broad daylight. Why was she in bed?
She’d been so tired after the accident—utterly exhausted—but now, with sunlight nipping at her and the ocean calling, sleep wasn’t going to come.
She switched her sandals to flip-flops, plunked on her floppy sun hat, and headed out. Two or three blocks, straight ahead, Kailani had said.
As she waited to cross Highway 12, she admired a nearby one-story house with arched windows and a white picket fence. There was a gravel parking lot and a charming sign out front that said it was Blue Water Realty.
A local realtor.
She was tempted to stop in, just out of curiosity, to see what some of these beach cottages went for, but she wouldn’t be able to identify herself as a New York realtor. Besides, she reminded herself that the less contact she had with people, the better.
The side street on the beach side was chockful of cottages. Large and small buildings with wooden balconies, some with hot tubs. The larger cottages were surrounded by privacy fences, and as Jane passed, the unmistakable hum of a filter let her know they had their own swimming pools.
As she reached the end of the street, the path to the beach turned into a short boardwalk over the dunes. The two houses bordering the path were wedding cake mansions—huge, four-story buildings rimmed with balconies and sparkling with floor-to-ceiling windows. The massive buildings were on stilts, with room to park ten cars or more in the shade underneath.
Wow. As a high-end realtor, she’d seen some amazing structures, but these were grand cottages.
As she rose over the dunes and took in the expanse of blue ocean, thoughts of real estate faded. With its white sand and gently cresting waves, this was a beautiful stretch of beach.
“Better than the Hamptons,” she said, thinking of her colleagues who bragged about summering in the pricey beach towns on Long Island. This beach was a true gem.
She kicked off her flip-flops and sighed as her feet sank into the warm sand.
If you ever feel lost, let the ocean be your point of reference,
her mother used to say.
You always know where you are when you’re standing on a shoreline.
Mom had loved being near the water. It had been one of the reasons they’d lived on the shore of Lake Erie, and nearly every summer she’d dragged the whole family to Cape Cod, where they’d rented cottages in the same town so that they could meet at the beach by day and share dinners together at night.
Out on the water, three surfers bobbed on their boards, waiting for the perfect wave. It reminded her of TJ. She needed to call him back, but had wanted to wait until she was in a better place emotionally. Walking down the beach, with the warm ocean breeze lifting her hair and skirt, she realized she was getting to that place.
Since it was the dinner hour—after six—there was activity to the right on the poolfront decks and balconies of homes, but Jane mostly had the beach to herself as she walked along, cold water sweeping in and out around her ankles. She passed a young couple walking and a gaggle of kids fortifying their castle, which stood on the precipice of attack from the incoming tide.
There were a few handfuls of people out in chairs, reading or sleeping or sharing cold drinks. Most people smiled and nodded as she passed.
When she approached a bearded fisherman who stood in the surf tending a line with a bobber on it, she tossed out a question. “What are you fishing for?”
“This time of year, mostly croakers,” he said. “Not too big, but they’re good eating.”
“Nothing like them. Are you using bloodworm bait?” she asked.
One side of his lips lifted in a subtle grin. “That’s what they like.”
“Yesterday, around this time, he caught a baby shark,” called the woman from the chair. “About yay big.” She held her hands out a yard or so.
“A shark?” Jane winced. “Really?”
“This is the time of day. Dusk and dawn,” said the man with the beard. “That’s when the sharks come in close to feed.”