Finding Haven
Page 2
“Uh. Sure.” She took the handle and watched as the two men disappeared into the hallway’s delivery entrance.
Travis would certainly give her a hard time about the whole exchange; he always did. If he thought covering for her would lead to more alone time, he had the wrong idea about what happened between them. Haven couldn’t deny they had chemistry and the night at the beach was hot—hotter than it should have been.
Things had gradually escalated in the past month since she arrived home from college graduation. It started with an accidental kiss in the shadows of the employee parking lot after work, and then one night the kiss moved to the backseat of the car when Haven thought they had technically rounded second base. It was as if Travis had transformed into the hot new guy when she was gone last semester. Everything about his body was new to her.
She secretly admitted she liked getting to know this side of him, but the there was one thing about him that hadn’t changed. He wasn’t interested in stepping one toe off the island, and Haven didn’t want to keep one toe on it. No amount of flirting or hot kisses could change that.
“HEY, HEY, you in there?” Evan heard a raspy voice through the fog of sleep. “Do you hear me?”
The groggy star shifted his feet from the dash of his Jeep and rubbed the back of his neck. There was a crick running from the base of his skull to his fingertips. His entire right arm was numb. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in a car. Maybe this would be the last—it should be.
“Mornin’, sir. What’s the problem?” Dammit. He had meant to cover up his accent. Maybe it wasn’t too late. He reached for his sunglasses.
“The problem is that you spent the night in my campground without registering or paying.” A man wearing a plaid shirt and a white mustache hovered outside the window. There was a pack of cigarettes peeking from his shirt pocket.
Evan adjusted his hat. “Oh, sorry about that. I can set— I mean, I will take care of the bill right now.” Pleased the words didn’t sound one bit Texan, he smiled and then reached for the door handle. Where was his voice coach when he needed to boast?
The man stepped back to allow the Jeep door to swing open. “I don’t usually wake up to find people sleeping in their cars. Little unusual around here.”
Evan flipped through the bills in his wallet. “Again, I’m sorry. It was late and all of the hotels on the island were closed. This place seemed like a saving grace at the last minute. So thank you.”
The man walked around to the back of the Jeep and eyed the license plate. “Georgia, huh?”
Evan froze. The story hadn’t come to him yet. Was he supposed to be traveling for the summer on his own? Was a friend on the way to meet him? The only thing he knew was that he wasn’t ready to be Evan Carlson yet.
“No, sir. It’s a rental.” He handed the man a one hundred dollar bill.
The man cocked his head to the side. “Son, it’s ten dollars a night to park and camp.”
“Oh.” Evan looked toward the trail covered in scrubby water oaks that led back to the main island road. There were plenty of inns and motels on the island. Probably had great little breakfast specials and ladies who told island legends and handed out seashells, but those same places had people. People who might recognize him and sell him out to the highest bidder.
“You know, I was hoping I could stay a few nights. I’m in no hurry.”
“Did you bring a tent? Anything?” The man eyed the Jeep’s backseat.
The movie star laughed. “No, I didn’t think of that.”
“Hmm. Well, we do have some campers for rent. They’re the old-style aluminum pull-behinds, but I have them set up real nice and they’ve even been featured in a few camper magazines, if you’re interested. They call them retro-chic or some kind of nonsense.” The man shook his head and tossed his hands in the air.
Magazines were the last thing Evan was interested in, but he liked the sound of a camper. The feeling had returned to his hand, but another night in the Jeep wasn’t going to work. A throbbing shoulder here and an achy knee there would remind him he had taken too many hits on the football field.
“Sold. I’ll take one.” Evan smiled.
The man squinted, this time tilting his head to the other side. “Does anyone ever tell you, you look familiar?”
Evan kicked his boot along the sandy parking space, careful not to look up. “I must have one of those faces or a twin.” He chuckled, hoping the man would stop staring and stop trying to place his famous face.
“Yep, one of those faces. All right. Come on. Let me show you the Silver Belle.” He walked away from Evan in the direction of the beach.
“Silver Belle?”
“My wife named all the spaces and the campers. She did all the decorating too. So, if it’s too much on the feminine side, you can blame her.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.” Evan followed the campground owner along the sandy path to a horseshoe shaped assortment of Airstream campers. There were five total. Evan hoped the Silver Belle was the one at the end, farthest from the others and the rest of the campground. It undoubtedly had the best view of the beach too.
The man limped past the first camper named “Shark’s Den.” Evan read the name of each trailer until they arrived at the final one in the group.
Hot damn. Evan beamed at the twenty-two-foot silver structure. He couldn’t think of anything more beautiful or perfect.
“Here she is.” The owner pulled on the handle. “Now, just crank down on this twice and the door opens right up.” He ascended two steps into the camper.
Evan glanced around at the red-checked décor. At least it wasn’t pink or peach. Peach would have been far worse. Instead, this kind of looked like a picnic table.
There was a bed at the far end, separated by a bi-fold door. In the center was a bathroom with a standup shower, sink, and toilet; the kitchenette took up the majority of the center space; and the end closest to the path was filled with a U-shaped bench and round table. The panel of windows looked out on the waves rolling along the shore.
“What ya think?” The man had moved closer to the door. It seemed he was in a hurry to end the tour.
“I think it will work.” The grin on Evan’s face was wide, showing off his million-dollar smile.
“Good. You mind stopping by the office after you settle in and fill out your reservation card?”
Evan’s chest tightened.
“Reservation paperwork?” He knew as soon as he wrote his name down, this venture into anonymity was over.
“Nothing major. Length of stay, email address so we can send you our updates. That’s my wife’s idea. She started a monthly newsletter. People seem to like it.”
The former football player relaxed his shoulders. “Certainly. I can do that, and I’ll go ahead and pay up for the month.” Maybe if he paid enough up front cash, they would leave him alone. His host seemed nice enough, but he had already spent too much time studying his face for Evan’s comfort.
“The whole month? All right. Well, Shug will help you.”
“Shug?”
“That’s the wife. Short for Sugar. Long story that I’m sure she will be happy to tell you.” He laughed. “I’m Harry, by the way. See you around.” He tapped on the doorframe before exiting Silver Belle.
Evan laughed. Women and long stories—no way around it after all. Hopefully, the campground would keep him safe from the rest of the world. He eyed the shower. Before he did anything else, he was taking a shower.
EVAN TUCKED the corner of the towel along his hipbone. The Silver Belle had everything he needed and nothing he didn’t. It was pure heaven. It didn’t matter that he barely fit into the standup shower or that after seven minutes the water ran like a drippy faucet. Freedom. He had run until he had finally found something he didn’t think existed anymore.
He ran a hand through his wet hair and slid into the booth overlooking the beach.
The campground patrons had already started setting up on
the beach. A few umbrellas dotted the horizon along with a few surf fishermen, and a pack of surfers headed to the shore to catch a wave.
Evan’s head jerked and he hit his elbow when he heard the ring on his phone. He looked at the name flashing across the screen. Emmy. He exhaled. He wasn’t ready to talk to her. There wasn’t anything to talk about. Even if the stories weren’t true, even if the press had somehow twisted everything around against her, he couldn’t convince himself anymore that the pictures weren’t real. She was in Hawaii with someone else. Someone else held her hand, laughed next to her on a paddleboard, and fed her tropical fruit. There were too many pictures and too many of Emmy’s smiles for him to pretend anymore. There was some kind of truth in that trash.
He exhaled when the ringing stopped. He reached for the phone, ready to delete her number, just as the ringing started again. Dammit. This time it was Allan. He had to answer it.
“Hey, buddy. What’s happening?” He dug deep into the Texas drawl.
“Buddy? What the fuck, Evan? Where in the hell are you? I have been looking all over the damn city of Atlanta for you. Where did you go after your charity event?”
“Allan. Allan. Allan. I’m fine.” Evan stood in front of the window and stretched. The lukewarm shower had barely touched the tightness in his neck.
“There’s nothing fine about you being missing.”
“I’m not missing. I’m on the phone with you. Man, it’s ok.” Evan opened a few of the kitchen cabinets, hoping Shug had stocked it with a few snacks. A cold beer sounded spot on right now. There might not be another way to get through this call with Allan.
“How am I supposed to know we didn’t have another Emmy Harper situation?” Allan stopped mid-sentence. “That’s not what I meant. Hell, I meant—that something happened to you or—”
Evan hung his head. “I know what you meant. You don’t have to explain. I haven’t been kidnapped. I’m perfectly safe.”
“Fuck, man. You must be taking this hard. I can call her agent and find out what the deal is with the guy in Hawaii. It’s just the press. She wouldn’t run out on you like that.” Allan’s tone had softened. “Just tell me where you are. I can help.”
Evan paused his search. There was no way he was telling anyone where he was, not even his agent, who usually had his every waking move scheduled on his calendar.
“Allan, you know I really appreciate that, man, but you need to let Emmy and me take care of whatever is going on. Ok? I can handle it.” He slammed the last cupboard, not finding a single saltine cracker. His stomach grumbled, and he hadn’t eaten anything since the bag of peaches last night. He smiled, remembering there was still another bag in his Jeep.
“Got it. I get it. You need your time. Understandable.” Allan sighed into the phone. “Here’s what we’ll do. You take a few days. I’ll handle the appearances on your schedule and tell them you have the flu or something. I’ll let everyone know you need a few days to get your strength back—yada, yada. I’ll take care of it. Just tell me what day you’ll be back.”
A group of preteen boys emerged from the dunes in the distance. They had on pirate hats, and two reached for invisible swords. Evan watched, fascinated as the scene unfolded in front of him. Clearly, someone was going down for stealing the treasure.
“Evan? Day. What day are you coming back?” Allan had lost his sympathetic tone.
Shaken from the pirate scene, Evan pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the screen. Ten minutes. He had already been on this call for ten minutes when he could be doing something much more enjoyable like playing pirate.
“I might not, Allan.”
“What the fuck? Are you fucking with me right now?” the agent fumed. “She’s just a girl, man. She’s not worth all of this.”
Evan hung his head. He would never be able to explain any of this to Allan. Not everything revolved around Emmy; it never did. And she had figured that out.
“You’re just going to have to take care of this for me for a while. I’m taking some time off. Which also means, don’t shop around for any new films for me. I’m on permanent hiatus.” He didn’t know the words would feel so good. “I’ll be in touch, Allan, and thanks for taking care of everything for me.” Evan pressed end and tossed the phone on the table before he caught another earful from Hollywood’s most tenacious agent. He didn’t need it.
He had been a spy, a World War II hero, an ambitious politician, a fighter pilot, the romantic catch, but now nothing sounded better than playing pirate. He was going to take his life back, no matter the cost. And that was going to start with a cold beer and some food.
TRAVIS LEANED over Haven’s back and whispered in her ear, “Did you hear Ben’s having another bonfire tonight?”
She straightened her posture and cleared her throat. Mrs. Sawyer was standing at the register, paying for sunscreen and an assortment of gossip magazines. Haven nudged Travis away from her with her elbow. She hoped Mrs. Sawyer didn’t see the way she had turned a deep crimson. Travis was getting to her way more than he should.
“Here you go, Mrs. Sawyer.” Haven slid the magazines into a paper bag and handed the woman her change.
“Thanks, Haven. Today’s my first beach day all week, and I can’t wait to get caught up with my celebs.” She patted the bag.
Haven smiled, unable to relate to the fascination the customer had with gossip, but Mrs. Sawyer lived across the street from her parents and she couldn’t be rude to one of their neighbors. Although, on Perry Island, everyone was technically a neighbor.
“Bye, Travis.” The woman winked before leaving through the storefront glass door.
Haven twirled on her heels and shot Travis a stern look. “What was that all about?” Her neck still tingled from his breath. It annoyed her that it felt kind of good.
“What? You think I should ask Mrs. Sawyer to go with me instead? I think she’d say yes.”
Haven lowered her voice and looked down the aisle, making sure there weren’t any other customers in the store. “You know what happened between us was a one time deal, right?”
“One time? I don’t think so. That’s what you said the last three times.” He shoved a piece of gum in his mouth and arched a shot with the wrapper. “Score.” The paper landed in the center of the trash can.
“I’m serious, Trav.” She could tell he wasn’t taking any of it seriously—not her attempts to deflect his advances or dissuade him from asking her out.
The flirting had been relentless since high school. He had cooled things off when she left for college, but now that she was home indefinitely, he was in hot pursuit. It didn’t help that she had stayed over at his place. She blamed the dullness of the island—that and his body. Travis definitely didn’t look like that when they were in high school. He was athletically built, tan, and eager to show her his new wave tattoo. Although, ever since they had crossed the friendship line, she feared that they would never be able to get back what they had on the other side. They weren’t even sleeping together, but maybe she was wrong thinking guys were better equipped to handle casual hookups.
“I will pick you up at eight.” He pointed at her as he backed out of the space behind the register.
“Trav, you’re not listening.” Her hands flew to her hips, and she gave him her most severe glare. It wasn’t working. He winked in response. Then the words smacked her.
“No, you’re the one not listening. See you then. I’ve got to get all the kayaks checked in. It’s that time.”
She didn’t hear the last part. She ripped a handful of register paper from the feed and grabbed a pen from the mason jar on the counter.
Why can’t you give me what I want?
It can’t all be in my head
It’s so easy to feel since we’ve met
Could it be that you’ve always known
And you’re ok leaving me alone
Haven tapped the pen against her cheek. Gah! She couldn’t get the next verse out. As suddenly as the words popp
ed in, the rest had slipped away from her. Time was the only answer. Time with her guitar, her hammock, and no more distractions.
“Miss, do you have any crab nets?” An older gentleman whose shorts were embroidered with marlins stood in front of the register.
“Huh?” Haven shook her head. “Oh, crab nets. Yes, yes, we have plenty of crab nets.” She walked from behind the counter, leaving the lyrics next to the register.
She guided the man to the side of the store lined with fishing tackle. “Do you need child size or adult size?” she asked the man.
“There are different sizes for different size crabs?” He scratched his head.
Haven repressed a sigh. Tourists. “No, I meant is the net for a child or an adult? We have some with extenders that makes it easier for the kids to scoop up the crabs if they’re crabbing from the piers.”
He chuckled at his mistake. “Oh, I see. Well, we need both. We’ve got the whole family here for two weeks. My grandkids, my son, and his wife. It’s going to be a big time.”
The register paper fluttered when the air conditioning kicked on. Haven saw it slip to the floor and panic gripped her. She should have stuffed it in her apron pocket.
She forced a smile. “That sounds nice. Where are you from?” This was part of the job—making small talk with tourists. Her parents had been in business for twenty-five years, but her grandparents had run the store before them. It was a family business based on southern hospitality, and she needed to get with the program even though her lyrics were lying somewhere on the floor.
“Pennsylvania. Our friends from church vacationed here last summer, and they couldn’t stop talking about it. Thought we’d give it a try. This is our first time on the island.”
Haven didn’t want to tell him how obvious that was. “Well, I hope you and your family have a great time.” She reached for the crab nets. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“How about some of these fishing gadgets?” He pointed at one of the pink lures. “The boys might want to try it. They’d have fun trying to catch something.”