“You saw where the bathroom was. Strip down, get dry, and I’ll grab you a glass of wine.”
Did she have to say strip? “I don’t drink.”
She gasped. “Right. Sorry.”
He knew his beverage choice was a topic of some discussion on Whitaker. No one dared ask, which showed the residents might be gossips but they were smart gossips. But he didn’t want her to feel bad or shift back into being guarded. “No need to apologize. It’s just a personal preference. No alcohol.”
“How about some yummy bottled water?”
“That’s more my speed.”
He hated to leave her in the living room. Intellectually, he knew she was safe. The house couldn’t be more than nine hundred square feet. He could get to her in a few steps and wouldn’t think twice about throwing his body in front of hers, if needed. But a voice in his head shouted for him to stay close. Maybe it was the storm or the darkening sky, but the mood on Whitaker felt off ever since the stranger walked up onto the island and disappeared without a word to anyone. He’d feel better once the guy was found.
Hansen repeated that idea as he stood in the bathroom. Again after he washed off and toweled down. He opted for the plaid shirt with the snug fit across his chest and a blanket wrapped around his waist. Every stitch of clothing he’d worn there was draped around the bathroom, over the tub and curtain rod.
He knew tomorrow they’d be stiff and damp, but that wasn’t his biggest concern right now. Surviving the night in this house was. He’d be a few feet away from Tessa. He’d hear her, see her. He could now fill in every detail of her room . . . of her legs . . . when he imagined her in bed.
The thoughts ran through his head as he stood in front of the closed door, knowing when he turned the knob and stepped out into the hall things would change. Leaning forward, he balanced his forehead against the wood and inhaled. The scent of her shampoo filled the room.
“Hansen?”
He almost swallowed his tongue at the sound of her soft voice.
She might be on the other side of the door, but he could hear her just fine. “I’m coming out.”
He pulled it open and there she was. Her gaze bounced down, wandering over his shoulders to his waist, then dipping lower. By the time she looked him in the eye again, she wore a big smile. “Very nice.”
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“I don’t see that happening. No.”
She lifted her arm and he saw that she held a water bottle. He took it, ignoring the way energy surged through him when their fingers brushed against each other. “Thanks.”
“You might be dehydrated.”
Right. That was his problem.
“I promise to behave tonight.” The words popped up. He had no idea why he said them. He certainly was thinking the opposite.
“Hmm.” She tilted her head to the side and her hair drifted over her shoulder.
The strands looked so soft and shiny. He felt a kick of excitement in his gut. “What?”
“I know that’s the right answer in theory . . .”
Her sexy voice lured him in. “But?”
“It’s a shame.”
IT WAS THE longest night of his life. He slept all of fifteen seconds and Tessa was one hundred percent to blame. She mumbled in her sleep. Not loud and not all the time, but enough to draw his attention and have him running into her room from his restless moving on the couch every five seconds.
Every time he’d find her sprawled out on the mattress. One leg sticking out from under the covers or her arms flung above her head. She slept with the same abandon that carried her through life.
He wanted her so badly he could taste it, which meant he needed coffee.
The electricity had kicked on around two in the morning. He knew because he’d been staring out her back glass doors when the refrigerator whirred to life and the light by the door clicked on.
He somehow managed to drag his wet clothes on, creating friction as they rubbed against his skin. The lack of caffeine and the stiff jeans made him grumpier than the lack of sleep.
This was why he didn’t step in and help other people these days. It never ended well.
He got the whole way to the door before he heard her footsteps behind him. Of course she was up by six. He was that unlucky.
“Are you slinking away?” Tessa asked.
“What?” He faced her and immediately regretted it. She still wore the pajama set, which seemed to shrink overnight. She also looked cute and rumpled and half-sleepy.
He was six seconds away from begging to climb into bed with her.
“This is a weird walk of shame,” she said after she finished a yawn.
His brain cells refused to wake up and help him out. “What?”
“You’re not a morning person, are you?” She shook her head as she stepped farther into the room. “Why are you running out without saying anything?”
“I was going to get us coffee.” That was sort of the truth.
“I can make us coffee.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “The electricity is on.”
He swallowed back a curse. “I know.”
“Why do you sound more ornery than usual?”
Rather than admit he hadn’t slept, he shifted back into his protective space. “I had things to do today.”
“And standing in my living room at”—she narrowed her eyes and squinted at the clock on the kitchen wall—“ten after six is preventing you from doing them?”
“Look—”
“You can leave.” She actually wiggled her fingers at him as if she were shooing him away.
“Excuse me?”
“You were nice last night, and I know you hate that. Go ahead and scurry away. I won’t be offended.” She walked over and reached around him to unlock the door. “Believe it or not, Hansen, I get you.”
No games. No complaining. She took his shit and threw it right back at him, not letting him get away with anything.
That was so damn sexy.
“Really, Hansen. It’s okay.” She opened the door. “You have a grumbly I-hate-people reputation to maintain.”
Okay, now the conversation hit him full force and he didn’t like the sound of any of it. She’d figured him out and was not impressed with what she’d uncovered. And she seemed a bit too okay with letting him leave. She’d called him sexy last night—he remembered because the moment kept replaying in his mind—and now she was kicking him out. He admired the move even though it left him feeling more grumbly than usual.
“You can come with me.” His only excuse for saying the words was that his mouth and brain no longer seemed to be connected. “Maybe put on pants first.”
She looked down at her legs.
So did he.
Her head shot back up and she smiled at him. “I could wait in the car while you get the coffee. That way I won’t need to change.”
Which meant he’d be coming back here to drop her off after. Which meant he was screwed. “Uh, sure.”
“Then, once I’m fully caffeinated, I’ll change and we can go out searching for the merman.”
“What did I tell you about that word?” He nodded toward her shoes. “Come on.”
“You know,” she began as she slid the sneakers on, not bothering to untie them. For the second one she had to stomp her foot against the floor a few times to shove her foot in it because heaven forbid she reach down and unfold the material at the heel. “I think you’re nicer than you pretend to be.”
If she kept wasting time, she might not think so. “Whatever you say.”
The keys jangled as she swiped them off the hook by the door. They stepped outside into overcast skies and a cool breeze.
“Do you need a sweater?” He turned to look at her but realized she hadn’t followed him off the porch. “What are you doing now?”
The blood rushed right out of her face. “Hansen.”
He followed her gaze to the grass. Just off her porch, faceup and wearing a suit
, was a body. Male and not moving.
“Shit.” He tossed her his cell phone as he jogged over and squatted down to search for a pulse. “Call Ben and the ambulance.”
“Right.” She stood over him tapping buttons.
Hansen could hear her voice, but the words no longer registered. Not after he got a good look at the man’s face.
She crouched down on the opposite side of the man. “Ben is on . . . What is it?”
Hansen tried to suck in enough air to catch his breath as he lost his balance and dropped to his knees. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after all this time.
“Hansen?”
“He’s dead.” But that wasn’t what had Hansen fumbling.
“Are you sure?” She lifted her head and whatever expression she saw on his face gave her the answer. “Oh, God. How did this happen?”
All Hansen knew was that his past had caught up with him in the worst possible way.
Chapter 6
Ben and the ambulance showed up within three minutes of the call. Every neighbor, including Sylvia, got there a minute after. In the middle of it all stood Ruthie, or she did until Ben moved her back, on the other side of the rier.
Trampled flower beds, blood, and yellow tape all over Tessa’s front yard.
She watched as the volunteer ambulance crew headed by the island’s only full-time fire employee, Captain Rogers, guided the gurney with the stack of body bags on top of it out of the ambulance.
Sylvia stepped up beside Tessa, coffee in hand. She offered it to Tessa. “You okay?”
“No.” Why lie? There was no way to be okay with a dead man on her lawn.
“I take it that’s the mysterious stranger.”
Tessa tried to take a sip of the coffee but settled for holding the warm cup in her hands. “Definitely.”
They hadn’t been on top of each other back at the beach, but she’d recognized the man. The soaking wet dark suit also gave him away. No one on informal Whitaker Island wore a suit. Not even the doctors, one male and one female, or the one lawyer.
Sylvia frowned. “He must have gotten lost in the storm and fell.”
That didn’t sound right. The knocking and shaking the doorknob. He’d shown up on her porch acting desperate. Tessa had filled in at least those pieces. “He came—”
Hansen stepped in front of them with his usual flat-lipped stare. He nodded at Tessa. “I need to talk with you.”
Sylvia frowned at him. “Hello, Hansen.”
“Sylvia.” He nodded his greeting before glaring at Tessa again. “Well?”
“Since you asked so nicely.” She tried to cut him a break because it had been a particularly terrible morning. It had started off okay, except for his attitude and the sneaking around thing, then the whole day slid into a hellscape of death and confusion.
He inhaled before talking again. “Sorry, but this is important.”
That was as close to a sincere apology as she’d ever gotten from him, so she took it as a win and let him guide her away from the bulk of the gawkers. Nothing much happened on Whitaker, so this was a big deal. A big, horrible deal.
Residents came out, most she recognized and a few others she didn’t. Almost all appeared holding coffee and wearing sweatpants or whatever they had nearby to throw on when the ambulance’s wailing siren started. Ellis and Arianna made the trek from the marina. Tessa even thought she saw Cliff peeking at the action from the back of the crowd. That was a miracle because nothing dragged that man off his porch. He paid local kids to run his errands and even insisted the doctor make a yearly housecall for his checkup.
Tessa stopped scanning the crowd long enough to look at Hansen. He needed to be clear about one issue. She’d spent too many years covering for other people, living a lie, and now hiding to protect her privacy. She never should have done it for one man and would absolutely not do it for another. “If you’re going to ask me not to tell people that you slept over, forget it. I’ve been asked by the best to lie and said no. You get the same answer.”
For a second he continued to stare at her without saying a word. “What are you talking about?”
Not a discussion she wanted to have now or ever. “Nothing. What is it?”
He reached out as if he was going to touch her arm but stopped. “We need to be careful about what we say.”
There it was. The request for her silence. So annoying. “Did you not hear a word I just said? We’re telling the truth.”
He watched Ben talk to some people, then face off with Ruthie before looking at Tessa again. “About what?”
Maybe this was something else. His usual calm demeanor had vanished. This Hansen hovered right on the edge of control, and she had no idea why. “You seem . . . I don’t know. Weirder than usual. What’s going on?”
He waved off her concerns. “None of that matters.”
She hated that the most. The dismissive thing. She took a long sip of coffee, purposely making him wait before throwing down her ultimatum. “You have ten seconds.”
“Until what?”
“I call Ben over here.” And she would do it, too. “You want my help? Then be honest with me.”
“This is between us only.” When she didn’t say anything, he stepped in closer. “I’m serious.”
Whatever that meant. “I can tell by the way your eyes are bugging out. What is it?”
He slouched a little. At six-three, he towered over her by a good six inches. Bending down put his mouth right by her ear. “I knew him.”
“From the beach. Yeah, I recognized him, too.” She dropped her voice to a whisper to match his even though she didn’t know what the big secret was. “I guess he’s been wandering around. I just can’t believe he ended up at my place. What are the chances?” The more she talked, the faster her heart raced. She wanted to blame the topic and the chaos unfolding around her, but she feared the closeness was the culprit. “He probably came to the door for help and I ignored him.”
And that part. The idea that the poor man could have been out there in the rain, banging around, asking for help, and she hid on her sofa. There was nothing heroic about that move.
Hansen shook his head and his hair brushed against her cheek. She tried to ignore the unintended touch and the shadow of scruff around his mouth and chin. She had a front-row seat to his adorableness and the timing could not be worse.
His hand went to the small of her back. “Tessa, this is a lot to put on you, but I feel like I’m losing it. Maybe if I say it, it will somehow make sense.”
The fumbling was so out of character. He had her full attention now. “Hansen, what is it?”
“I’ll tell Ben, but I need a few hours to think.”
He’d totally lost her now. “About what?”
“I knew the guy before I came to Whitaker.”
Did he just . . . ? “What now?”
“The dead guy. We have a . . .”
“History?” She filled in the word and internally winced when Hansen nodded in agreement. “How? Who is he?”
“Not important.”
She planned to disagree when they weren’t standing ten feet from a crowd with the gossipmongers staring at them, watching every breath and every touch. “Why didn’t you admit that you knew him back when we were on the beach?”
“I didn’t see his face then. Now I have.”
The situation was so much easier when she thought of the guy as a merman.
Then it hit her. Knew him, as in a relative or coworker or friend. Any of those meant this moment had to suck for Hansen. It explained his jerky movements and extra helping of surly attitude.
Guilt slammed into her. She skimmed her fingertips over his chin in the barest touch. One she hoped might be soothing. “Hansen, I’m so sorry. Should we let someone know? Contact someone for you? Was the man a friend or—?”
“You don’t understand.” He reached for her hand and held it. Trapped it against his chest and didn’t let go. “I can’t tell anyone that I know
the stranger, especially not Ben. Not yet. Not until I can piece together a timeline and some facts and make this all make sense. I need you to keep that bit of information just between us.”
Her nerve endings started firing. The sweet gesture battled with his harsh whisper. She didn’t understand the contrast at all. “I barely understand what’s happening.”
“I get that, but Ben has a job to do. Me telling him everything about my past and this guy, especially my past with this guy, is going to put him in a rough spot.”
She still didn’t get what was happening. “Why?”
“Trust me.” The pleading was in his voice and his eyes.
“Hansen . . .”
He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I know it’s asking a lot, and I probably don’t deserve your trust, but I’m begging here.”
Begging. By Hansen. If he had used any other word, she might have pummeled him with questions. But that one stopped her. She groaned even as she knew she would give in, at least up to a point. “Okay. For now, but my agreement is very temporary. You need to figure out whatever you need to know very fast.”
“I swear I just need a little time.”
She didn’t know if the touching, so intimate and close, was a trick to get her to shut up. For now, she let him get away with it because that look on his face, all wide-eyed and vulnerable, suggested the morning had touched off some sort of frenzy inside him. “On one condition.”
He sighed at her. “Make it quick.”
He made it so hard to be on his side. “Really? You think that’s the smart response here?”
“Sorry. Please just say it.”
“Until you come clean with Ben about knowing the man on my lawn, you’re stuck with me. You don’t leave my side.”
His eyes narrowed and the old Hansen, all skeptical and frowning, made an unwanted appearance. “Why?”
Only the sound of crunching pebbles stopped her from answering. Ben stood in front of them, hair disheveled but otherwise steady. “We have a problem.”
“You have no idea,” she mumbled under her breath.
Her Other Secret Page 5
