Page 8 of Secret Sins

Bailey

One thing I enjoyed was a good mystery, and it was clear that was what I'd stumbled upon with Van. Ellie had mentioned how sweet he was, but how closed off he acted. In such a small town, we all talked at some point throughout the week, and newcomers were hot topics. But he was not sweet around me, and I didn't know why. When I saw him eating breakfast, I wanted to sit and chat, but instinct told me he wouldn't want that. In the park, he'd ignored me steadily until I gave up and walked off, wondering why he kept himself so insulated from other people.

All afternoon, heavy clouds threatened the coastline, daring anyone to make plans to go outside. The lower the barometric pressure dropped, the worse my head ached. Since we were dead at the store, I'd sent Riley home. She helped me out on Fridays and Saturdays if we were busy, but she had better things to do at home if I couldn't use her. I seriously considered locking the doors and heading home before the storm broke, but I had everything I needed right there, including peace and quiet.

The heavens finally broke loose, and rain fell in sheets outside my shop doors. I loved the coziness of hot tea and books on a damp afternoon, the faint scent of the roses outside snaking its way in through the vents. Curled in the armchair with tea, cookies, and Charlie in my lap, I focused on the pages in front of me.

Okay, I tried to focus, but I couldn't get through one entire page without rereading it to catch what I'd missed. Replaying the scene of Van saving Andrea, I contemplated the situation. We weren't close or anything, but I knew she'd been trying to shake Larry for a while. There was a quality . . . a feral quality inside Van. The man and the dog, synchronicity in action, forcing Larry into submission. Anger, certainly, but also shame radiated off Van in waves when he should have been proud of himself. What I witnessed was him wishing he didn't have to step in, but feeling compelled to do so. It was also a bit odd to me that Heidi was so highly trained. Most everyday men didn't have affable pups with an underlying knowledge of tactical skills. She'd been more in tune, in step, with her master than seemed normal.

A shiver ran through me, and Charlie pried open one leonine eye to glare balefully at the disruption of his nap. The man had exuded heat in that moment, and I was woman enough to admit I lusted after him. All of us had dreamed of putting Larry down like the abusive asshole he was, but Van had actually done it. And as I sat there contemplating it, I couldn't shake the impression that he knew what he was doing.

Oh, how my imagination ran away with me then. Was he an undercover agent sent here to crack down on some illegal trade I knew nothing about? Did he come here to kidnap the heiress of a shipping magnate? My thoughts turned darker, and I wondered if he was secretly a serial killer. Or maybe an assassin sent to take one of us out when we least expected it.

Shivering for an entirely different reason, I tried to calm my racing heart. Surely that wasn't it. He couldn't be a mercenary, not a man who altruistically prevented domestic abuse. One with a pretty-eyed dog and split knuckles who worried about repaying the price of kindness. No, I refused to believe he was here for nefarious purposes.

Yet when the door opened, letting in a rush of raindrops, I couldn't hold back the tiny yelp.

Taking his cap off, Van slicked his hand over his hair and perched the cap back on his head. "Sorry to startle you."

Mary, Mother of God, that voice. Charlie had jumped down and made his way to the counter, so I stood from the chair. "I was just daydreaming. This type of weather doesn't bring in many customers." Pointing to the pegs on the wall, I gestured for him to hang his wet anorak.

Wandering to the counter, he scratched absently at Charlie and accepted the head bump. "I've, uh, realized I have nothing to do with myself in my downtime."

I bet I could conjure up all kinds of things for us to do together in a rainstorm. Locked away alone in a secluded cocoon, the rage of the sky competed with the fierceness of the ocean. I would gladly drown in Van’s wake if given the chance.

Swallowing thickly, I hauled my thoughts up out of the gutter and gestured to the store's interior. "We've got the cure for boredom."

He paused with his hand outstretched toward a stack of old encyclopedias. "We?"

"Me and Charlie."

There went that humming-grunt noise he liked to make. "It's just you, then?"

What about him made me want to spill my guts? "Well, let's see. I'm single, an only child, and an orphan. That's about as just me as it gets."

"Christ."

Raising my brows, I said, "What?"

"You just seem so . . . content with your life, I suppose." He curved around the end of the nearest bookshelf to inspect the crime dramas.

"Oh, you mean my shopkeeper mask? It hasn't occurred to you that I have others?"

"Everyone has multiple masks." He slipped a book from the shelf and inspected it. "Daughter, sister, friend, wife, entrepreneur. Happy, sad, pissed, jubilant. Comedy and tragedy."

"And you?"

The book thumped back in place. "There's nothing to me. I have a dog, I live alone, and I process fish in exchange for a paycheck."

I'd bet millions I didn't have that there was much more to him than what he shared. "I have a foster mom, a cat, and good friends. I have the security of my community to fall back on, and I need this job to breathe."

"Interesting turn of phrase." A few more steps, and I could no longer see that golden hair stubbornly peeking out from beneath the baseball cap.

"My soul is embedded in these stacks, Van." His arm jolted when I used his name, and he fumbled a book. "My heart is buried in the floorboards."

"Poe?"

"Mm." Damn, it pleased me that he caught the reference so easily. That meant he was educated, and one tiny puzzle piece fell into place. "I can't quote The Tell-Tale Heart."