For as long as she could remember, the photograph of the sandcastle hung in their apartment. And she’d been drawn to the idyllic setting, the way the sun seemed to shine extra bright, and the water stretched on farther than her eyes could see. As an only child, she made up imaginative stories about the two girls who didn’t have a care in the world. And sometimes, the stories would feel so real, she almost believed she had set foot on the sandy shore herself.
She’d never told her dad about the happy place she’d chosen. He’d told her not to, claiming it was best to keep it a secret, safely tucked away so fear could never find it. As silly as it sounded, she almost wished shehadtold him. Because then, just maybe, he could visit her there.
The kettle screeched, dragging Penny from her reverie.
As she situated herself back at the desk, the fresh cup of tea steaming by her side, she stared blankly at the typewriter.
But no words came.
Instinctively, she wrapped her hand around her upper arm, cupping the same spot where Colt had held her that afternoon. Her pulse fluttered as she recalled how comforted she’d felt tucked against him. And how for a fleeting instant, she’d forgotten all about her fear of heights, savoring the sensation of being safe in his arms.
Safe…it seemed like a foreign concept in connection with Colt. Especially since he’d roped her into a series of adventures way beyond her comfort zone. And each one only seemed to increase in risk and intensity.
In fact, merely thinking about the next activity made her palms sweat.
Popping open the secret drawer, Penny slid out her father’s envelope. Holding it gently in her fingertips, she whispered, “What should I do, Dad? I’m not brave enough for this.”
As the confession left her lips, a vision of Colt flashed into her mind—his eyes filled with warmth and kindness as he distracted her from the dizzying heights.
Suddenly, she realized the question for her father had nothing to do with the remaining adventures….
And everything to do with protecting her heart.
Chapter 13
As Bree helped her unpack a crate of antiques in the storage room, Penny noticed the girl’s tired, swollen eyes.
“Is everything okay?” she asked gently, pushing aside the crumpled newspaper used for packing material.
“Huh?” Bree glanced up, her brow furrowed in thought.
“Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”
Bree shook her head, her blond bob of soft finger waves grazing her shoulders.
Today’s ensemble boasted 1930s-style wide-legged trousers and a cream chiffon blouse. And in Penny’s opinion, it looked chic even by today’s standards.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” While she spoke with a lighthearted tone, she hoped her warm, steady gaze communicated her sincerity.
Bree returned a faint smile in appreciation, though it didn’t quite reach her seafoam-green eyes. Puffy and pink-rimmed, they held a sad glint Penny found disconcerting.
Although, on some level, she could empathize with the somber atmosphere. She’d barely slept a wink, tossing and turning until she finally slipped out of bed just before sunrise. As if she wasn’t already an emotional mess after their zip-lining excursion, Colt exacerbated the issue when he asked Cassie to bring her leftovers from the barbecue. The sweet, thoughtful gesture left her even more conflicted than before.
She had no idea what to make of the man anymore. Except, he certainly wasn’t the same Colt Davis she knew from her childhood. Buthowmuch he’d changed—and whether or not he could be trusted—was yet to be seen.
Fortunately, the mysterious crate had served as a welcome distraction from her addled musings. Around eight o’clock, she’d received a phone call from an estate sale agent wanting to unload everything that hadn’t sold over the weekend. While this only happened on occasion, Penny didn’t mind paying a modest fee for the items, sight unseen. Usually, she more than made her money back.
“What do you think we’ll find today?” she asked, carefully unwrapping a lumpy, oddly shaped item.
“I hope some of it is vintage jewelry. Or something else that’s rare and valuable.” For the first time that morning, Bree’s eyes brightened. “Remember when we found an old vinyl record of the Beatles? I think it wasSgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club. A customer actually paid five hundred dollars for it. That was so cool.”
“It was pretty exciting,” Penny admitted, but she couldn’t quite match Bree’s level of enthusiasm.
TheSgt. Pepperreference made her think of Colt, evoking memories of the nickname he’d given her in elementary school. Why had she allowed him to get inside her head? She drew in a frustrated breath, exhaling sharply through her nose.
“Well… what is it?” Bree gave her a nudge, drawing her attention to the object in her hand.
Realizing she’d paused mid-unveiling, Penny quickly crinkled back the remaining newspaper, then instantly regretted it.
