He was a true romantic at heart and figured it was about time his three nephews—KC, Brian, and Sean—became ones too, with a little help from him. He’d lost his only true love at twenty-nine after barely two years of marriage. He and Annie hadfallen hard on a blind date and eloped three weeks later, unable—or unwilling—to wait.
Almost a year after their wedding, Annie was diagnosed with leukemia at twenty-four years old. She’d begged him to leave her, her voice quiet but steady as she told him, “This isn’t what you expected or deserved when you married me.”
Dan had refused, not even considering it. Walking away had never been an option. Instead, they held on to every moment they had left, determined to make it count. Between his job and her treatments, they carved out time wherever they could, filling their days with long walks on the beach, picnics in the park, and spontaneous drives to places he’d heard about or nowhere in particular, just to see something new together.
She’d never been on a plane, and one day, he arranged for an army buddy who was a pilot to take them up in his private four-passenger aircraft. She’d been able to experience the thrill of flying above the earth and loved every minute of it. And he’d loved the smile that remained on her face for hours after they returned home.
Most of the time, though, they sat on the porch of the beach house they called home, watching the sunrises and listening to the pounding surf. He’dcherished every moment with her, greedily storing memories for the future. And at the end, he’d held his sweet Annie close to his chest as she passed into the afterlife and vowed he would love her always.
In the years following his wife’s death, he became known throughout the small community as a collector of strays—animal and human alike. He was always bringing home lost or injured animals, much to Jinx’s dismay, despite the dog having once been a stray himself. Dan nursed the ones he could back to health, then found them good homes, while the wild animals were released once they were strong enough to survive on their own.
When it came to people, he was no different. He never met anyone in need without trying to help, even if only in some small way. Sometimes it meant buying a meal or offering a ride. Other times, it was a few dollars to get someone through the day.
Maura Jennings was his latest project, and in her case, what she needed most was a place to stay.
He knew there was more to her story than what she’d let on. He had a sixth sense about people like her, the kind who carried more than they were willing to say. She’d told him she was recovering from an abusive relationship and looking for a freshstart, but he suspected pieces were missing—important ones.
She came across as strong, both physically and mentally, the kind of woman who wouldn’t tolerate being hurt more than once. Still, he knew better than to assume he understood everything she’d been through. Strength didn’t mean someone hadn’t been pushed too far or trapped in ways that weren’t easy to see from the outside.
What mattered was that she needed help, and whatever she was running from, Dan wasn’t about to turn her away.
For now, he let her stay at the beach house and hoped KC could get her to open up to him. It would probably be therapeutic for both. She needed a protector, and KC could use a break from focusing solely on his career. Dan knew his nephew was considering leaving his SEAL team for a stateside position. Maybe if he had someone waiting for him at home every night, the decision would be easier.
Chapter Four
It wasn’tuntil one in the afternoon that Moriah became aware of KC moving around in his bedroom. A moment later, the door opened, followed by footsteps down the hall, then the bathroom door closing. The toilet flushed soon after, and when the shower turned on, she started pacing the kitchen floor, her nerves tightening with every step.
Since she’d waited this long to talk to him, she figured she could hold out a little longer. Once he was showered and dressed, she would tell him he needed to leave and find somewhere else to stay.
As she straightened the already tidy kitchen, she searched for the right approach. She couldn’t afford a repeat of earlier, not with a man like KC, who didn’t strike her as someone who took orders well. Ifshe wanted him gone without a fight, she’d have to handle this differently—less confrontation, more persuasion.
After recovering from his unexpected appearance—and his quick disappearance—in the middle of the night, she’d gone back to the bedroom she was using and quickly gotten dressed, choosing jeans and a large red T-shirt, the hem falling low enough to conceal the gun tucked into the back of her waistband. A pair of sneakers completed the outfit in case she had to run.
She’d considered taking a shower, but the thought of being that vulnerable with him in the house had shut that idea down fast.
Her long hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and her face was bare of makeup. She’d almost reached for her usual eyeliner and blush earlier before stopping herself. She wasn’t trying to attract KC—if anything, she wanted the opposite.
The sooner he was gone, the better. She needed sleep, and after that, she needed a plan.
She jumped as the bathroom door opened without warning, the sound snapping her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized the shower had shut off.
Turning her back to the counter, she bracedherself as his footsteps came down the hall and into the small kitchen off the main living room. The space had already felt tight, but the moment he stepped inside, it seemed to shrink even more, his broad frame taking up far too much of it.
His hair was still damp, darker from the shower, and his face was clean-shaven now. The clean, masculine scent of soap and aftershave clung to him, fresh and subtle without being overpowering. She’d thought losing the scruff might make him look less intimidating, but she’d been wrong. If anything, it made everything about him sharper—more defined, more impossible to ignore.
Or maybe it wasn’t his face at all. It was him—all of him. The quiet confidence and the way he moved, like he belonged wherever he was.
He wore another fitted T-shirt—gray this time—and a pair of faded jeans that left very little to the imagination.
Her body reacted before her brain could catch up.Seriously?
She jerked her eyes away, gripping the edge of the counter as heat crept up her neck. She was annoyed—at him, at herself, and at the way her thoughts had veered somewhere they had no business going.
He barely glanced at her as he went straight to the cabinet above the coffee maker and grabbed a large mug. Her eyes flickered back to him and roamed over his broad shoulders and strong back. She tried her damnedest to keep her gaze above his waist but wasn’t successful.
He poured himself some coffee before returning the glass pot to its holder, then pivoted to lean his hips against the counter, ankles crossed. When he looked up and caught her staring, heat rushed to her face.
She turned away quickly, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the already spotless table for two, pretending she had something—anything—better to focus on. It also put a little more distance between them.
