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I asked Brax to drop me off at The Chronicles. What I didn’t mention was how I was marching right up to my father’s office to ask him what in the hell he’d been thinking. We’d gotten plenty of letters over the years addressed to Ms. Seaside, and my father had never printed one of them. I had been trying to work out my anger the entire ferry ride back to Seaside. My father knew the history between me and Brax.
I slowly shook my head. That was it. My father knew the history there and probably thought this was the best idea since sliced bread. Well, all he knew was that Braxton had broken my heart.
Brax pulled into the parking lot of the paper and parked in my spot.
“Why are you parking?” I asked.
“We still need to talk about Ms. Seaside. I think she got wind that we were onto her.”
“You. That you were onto her.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I have a feeling she changed the drop-off location. And after I wrote that response, I’ll bet you she’ll be even more keen to throw us off now.”
“You. To throw you off.” And he had no idea how correct his statement was.
“The last I remember, you were sitting in the truck right alongside me yesterday.”
I sighed. “Because I had a moment of insanity when I agreed to help you find her. Besides, I think I might have an idea of who she is after that article yesterday.”
He damn near turned his whole body to look at me. My eyes drifted to his mouth, and I forgot how to breathe for a moment as I remembered what those lips felt like on me last night when I cried out his name.
Closing my eyes, I gave my head a little shake. Focus, woman! Focus!
“Tell me.”
My eyes snapped open to meet his interested gaze. “Tell you what?”
He let out a soft chuckle. “The clue you think you read, and who you think Ms. Seaside is.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Okay, so in the article, she said she was at the Valentine’s Day dance.”
His brows furrowed. “That’s right, she did say that.”
I smiled. “Right. So, that automatically takes one or two people off both of our lists since they weren’t at the dance.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I was mingling with everyone at the party. And last night when I couldn’t sleep—”
“Before you came to visit me.”
I glared at him. “That was a moment of desperation. It was sex and that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.”
He smirked. “But you did enjoy it.”
I gave him a one-shoulder shrug. “I’ve had better.” When he silently studied me, I sent up a prayer that he couldn’t tell I was lying. “Can we get back to this?”
“Last night…” he prompted.
“Last night, I got to thinking about who was at the dance. Kelsey Roberts was there…and she was carrying a small notepad.”
Brax gave me a blank stare—before he dropped his head back and laughed.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Kelsey Roberts? The art teacher?”
“Yes. What makes you think it’s not her? She was carrying around a notepad, Brax.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe she was sketching. Palmer does that sometimes.”
“Not at a damn dance! I’m telling you, she’s Ms. Seaside. I think we need to focus on her.”
Something moved across his face, and I swore I saw the corners of his mouth twitch with a hidden smile. I was pretty sure I was starting to get paranoid.
“You really think it might be Kelsey?” he asked.
I nodded.
Brax rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I can’t picture her as Ms. Seaside.”
Shrugging, I opened the door to his truck. “You asked me to help you figure out who she is. I think it’s Kelsey. Take that and do what you want with it.”
I slipped out of his truck and pulled my hat and gloves out of my pocket, not sure why since I was only a few feet away from the entrance.
Suddenly, Brax stepped in front of me to open the door to the paper.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “I don’t have time for this right now, Brax. I need to check in and get some work done. Since I bugged out on helping Sutton at the store yesterday, I said I’d help her later today.”
“I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here for my business meeting.”
I was positive my jaw hit the floor. “Who are you meeting with?”
“Don’t you mean whom? Actually, maybe not. I always get that mixed up—when you’re supposed to say whom.”
“What?” I asked, shaking my head in total confusion.
“I think it’s ‘you’re meeting with whom.’ Or maybe I’m screwing up that rule. I better brush up on my English grammar skills.”
My heart felt like it lurched up to my throat. “Why would you need to do that?”
Brax looked at me and winked. “Your dad offered me a job.”
