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“Sure,” he said.“Listen, I’m a simple guy, and I’m not sure what non-beach-house furniture looks like.Send me a picture of what you’ve got that doesn’t fit in a beach house?”
Cass laughed, and that made Harrison’s entire day.Heck, his whole week.“I will.I’ll talk to you soon.”
The call ended, and Harrison watched the screen on his phone turn dark.Then he grabbed it and assigned Cass’s name to the number, feeling like he’d just won the lottery by having her in his contacts.
Days passed,and Harrison’s back ached.He went to a physical therapist who gave him some stretches and exercises to do, and one of them was walking as actual exercise, not simply counting his job as his physical activity.
The private beach his property bordered had become his gym, and he was on his way home one evening when he heard someone scream.His attention jerked to the homes along the water, and he found himself about to pass Cass’s.
It was too early for her to be on the island yet.She’d told him she and her son would be there on Friday night, and it was only Thursday.
Still, something told him to go check.He’d taken the first step when a crash sounded from somewhere—and it sounded suspiciously like it had come from inside her house.Even if she wasn’t there, someone was, and possibly not someone who should be.
Harrison jogged through the sand and up the stone steps to the backyard.He’d removed his, so he didn’t have to mow a hundred square feet, but Cass hadn’t been in town to do that.Maybe she didn’t want to.
“Hello?”he called as he went up another set of steps to the patio.He did like this patio, and as her lot was bigger than his, she had a massive outdoor space that he really liked.
“I’m fine,” someone said, and it did sound like Cass.
The back sliding door sat open, and Harrison slowed his step as he approached.“I heard someone scream.I’m going to come in.”He peered into the house, but he couldn’t see anyone.
The house now held all the finest materials, from the flooring to the cabinetry, as well as a dining room table that could seat eight easily, and a couple of wrapped-in-plastic couches in the living room to his left.
“Hello?”he asked again, committing to entering the house.“Cass?”
“I’m in the kitchen,” she said, her voice resigned.“I twisted my ankle, and I’m not sure I can put weight on it.”
Harrison strode with purpose then and went around the dining room table and the island with the fancy lights hanging down from the ceiling.
Cassandra Haslam sat on the floor, one knee bent and that foot planted beside her other leg.She rubbed her left wrist and looked from her limp left foot to him.A gorgeous blush colored her face.“Hey, Harrison.”
