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“Me, too. Though I hate that it came as a result of all that’s happened to you. Oh—once things calm down? I’m thinking of surprising Hugh with a second honeymoon. He’s always wanted to go to Alaska, and I’ve put him off. I think it’s time we go.”
A knock sounded on the door and Rayna called out to come in. The door opened and her girls appeared.
“Mama? Are you okay?” Devon asked, watching Rayna with a wary expression.
Rayna stood and opened her arms, and Devon and Dara rushed to hug her. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine now that you’re here. I’m sorry I scared you,” she said before kissing both their cheeks. “I just needed time to myself.”
“Mama, we’ll figure something out with the lawsuit,” Dara said. “Adam’s going through the legal stuff now. It’ll be all right.”
She hugged her girls again. So long as she had them, she’d be fine. “I know.”
“Mr.— Connor made lunch. Are you hungry?” Devon asked. “I think he’d like to feed us before we head back to the ferry.”
Rayna smiled and ran a hand over Dara’s long braid. “Starving,” she said, realizing that her appetite had already returned.
“Did you know Connor knows Oz?”
Rayna smiled. “Actually, that doesn’t surprise me at all. Not much can at this point.”
Oz stared down at the empty computer screen in front of him, the blinking cursor mocking his attempts to meet his deadline. He had a book due to his editor by the end of the month, and now that Rayna Jo had been found, he’d locked himself inside his office to get some pages written. Not writing since Devon’s arrival had definitely put him behind.
As did coming up with a plausible escape for his heroine.
You’ve done it before; you can do it again. How many books have you written?
Feeling like a hack and an imposter was normal for any writer, but there came a time when he had to set aside the distractions, the doubts, and concerns that this book would be the last due to it being a disaster and push through.
Now was one of those—
His cell phone buzzed, and he muttered when he knocked over a mostly empty glass of water while retrieving it.
He used a napkin leftover from who knows when to sop up the water splashed over his notes while staring at the phone screen.
We have Rayna. She’s fine. Heading back soon.
The mass text from Devon was sent to everyone in their group, and he found himself clicking off of it and onto Devon’s name. How are you? he typed.
He saw the three dots appear indicating she wrote a reply, but then they disappeared, and seconds passed with no text.
Finally the dots appeared again and then—
We need to talk.
“Four terrifying words every man dreads hearing,” he muttered to himself. To her, he wrote, Dinner. Pick you up at seven.
This is exactly what we need to talk about. This isn’t a date.
A low chuckle emerged at her response, and he sighed, thumbs flying. Whatever you say.
Maybe she’d be happy with that answer. He, on the other hand, would take his chances and hope her agreement was—to use her words—a toe in the door and a step in the right direction. Maybe he was crazy to open himself up to heartbreak again, but something inside of him urged him to give it one last shot. She wasn’t married yet. BTW how did Rayna get to BHI?
She stole a kayak! Left Ft. Fisher and cruised all the way to Bald Head Island. See you @ seven.
A shocked laugh emerged from him at the news, and he tossed the phone aside to focus on his computer. The cursor blinked insidiously, but a thought formed and then…
The scene began to form in his head, and his fingers flew across the old-fashioned typewriter-style keyboard his father had gifted him at Christmas.
His determined heroine ran as fast as she could. She ignored the briars and sharp limbs slicing into her legs, hiding behind trees and bushes and rocks as she fled her captor.
