“Bex!” he called out, swooping her into his arms for an intimate hug and nearly crushing the bag containing their lunch.

  She stiffened in his hold, robotically patting his back. Far too many memories of him as her passionate lover came rushing back with his embrace. “Good to see you too, Jack.”

  He released her with a deep, rolling laugh. “Sorry, I forgot you weren’t one for public affection.” His eyes roamed over her as he let out another chuckle. “You really haven’t changed. You still look fantastic.”

  On closer inspection, she realized he was wearing a light foundation application. “And you look camera-ready.”

  “We just shot a segment with the recruit,” he explained. “I sent my cameraman away for lunch so I could speak with you alone.”

  Bexley held up the bag from Pollo’s. “I hope you still like shrimp because these tacos are to die for.”

  He motioned to the little table where two full water bottles sat, sweating in the spring heat. “Let’s dig in. Although I want to hear every detail about this new husband of yours, there will be time for that tonight.”

  They settled across from each other at the table. As Bexley began removing the contents from the bag, she nearly gagged. It was odd, considering Pollo’s tacos were her favorite food in the entire universe. She held a wrapped taco out to Jack. “Does this smell right to you?”

  He blurted, “I’m being sued for sexual harassment.”

  Head tilted, Bexley met his gaze. “Sued, but not prosecuted?”

  “She knows she doesn’t have anything substantial enough to warrant a conviction,” he confirmed with a grim nod. “The accusations didn’t come until she learned I’d relocated here. Now she’s asking for five million in exchange for her silence.” He finally accepted the taco Bexley handed him and set it down on the table with a heavy sigh. “I interned for her back in New York. She’d only been an anchor for a few months and was a handful of years older than me. One night, she invited me out for drinks and claimed everyone from the station would be there. I found her sitting alone in a corner booth when I got there. She said everyone else had canceled.” He ruffled his perfect hair with one hand and glanced away. “I can’t say I’m proud of what went down that night, but we were both young and single, and she was a real stunner.”

  “It was consensual?”

  His eyes fell back on hers. “One hundred percent. If anything, she initiated it.”

  “So you slept together. Is there anyone who could corroborate your side of the story?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone because I was afraid of losing the internship.”

  She nodded. “That’s understandable. What happened next?”

  “The next day, I pretended like nothing had happened between us. She kept flirting and was constantly trying to get me alone. She finally slipped me her number, said we needed to meet again for drinks. I texted her later that night, saying I’d made a mistake and hoped the incident wouldn’t interfere with my career. After that, she started harassing me…sending suggestive texts and explicit selfies.” He paused, rubbing at his forehead. “One day, when she slipped a pair of her panties into my coat pocket, I decided I’d had enough. Instead of calling her out, I walked away from the internship. She disappeared from the industry after I left, only to reappear here on the West Coast a few years back. I figured I’d never have to deal with her again. Then, a couple of days ago, a Sheriff’s deputy served me with a lawsuit. She’s using the text saying I’d made a mistake as ammunition, claims I threatened her if she didn’t sleep with me or send me nude pictures, and claims I’d stolen the underwear.”

  “What’s this Jezebel’s name?” Bexley grumbled amidst a bite of her taco.

  “Tabitha Torres.”

  Shrimp and coleslaw stuck in her throat. “You’re joking.”

  Jack swiped a hand over his face, suddenly appearing 10 years older. “I wish I were.”

  Tossing her half-eaten taco back onto its paper wrapper, Bexley leaned back on the bench. Tabitha Torres was Papaya Spring’s most beloved news anchor, having survived a hostage situation involving her crazed brother-in-law. Last Bexley had heard, Tabitha earned seven figures between the network and endorsements through various clothing labels and jewelers. The news anchor had hounded Bexley for an exclusive interview after Bexley had survived a showdown with Dean Halliwell, Hollywood’s brightest star turned serial killer.

  “I know…it’s a lot to process.” Jack uncapped his water bottle and took a long swig before crossing his arms over his chest. “I think she’s embarrassed that I turned her down and doesn’t want me encroaching on her new turf.”

  “Or maybe she’s merely beating you to the punch, worried you’ll go after her,” Bexley suggested.

  “You think that’s what this is about?” A small, tentative smile curled his smooth lips. “Does that mean you believe me?”

  Uncapping her water bottle, she nodded before washing the taco down. “Are you kidding me? You’re one of the good guys, Jack. It makes you an easy target for powerful women like Tabitha Torres.”

  His smile grew, blinding Bexley with glowing white teeth. “Does that mean you’ll take the case?”

  “Without question. I’ll even give you the ex-husband rate. Nothing makes me more upset than a woman falsely accusing a man of something he didn’t do.”

  Jack reached across the small table to squeeze her hand. “I don’t know how to thank you, Bex. What do you need from me?”

  “Bring the papers you were served to dinner.” She pulled her hand away from his with a friendly smile. “And you’re gonna want to change out of that suit before you come over. Our place has more of a barefoot-in-the-sand kind of vibe.”

  They finished their tacos in silence. Before they parted ways, Bexley gave him her home address. Although she genuinely believed Jack’s side of the story, a part of her was nervous that Jack’s affectionate ways would ignite a new side of Brewer she had yet to witness.

  2

  Moments after Bexley parked beside her husband’s classic GTO in the driveway of their slice of heaven on the beach, her phone buzzed with an incoming call from their eccentric neighbor. Twila occasionally watched Brewer and Bexley’s rescue dog, Captain, and had been casually dating Bexley’s former boss and friend, J.J. Stronghold, for several months. She had become a surrogate mother of sorts to Bexley, constantly checking in and giving her worldly advice.

  She answered with a smile that could be heard in her voice, “No, I have not tried those ‘special’ cookies you baked me⁠—”

  “It’s not that,” Twila assured her. “Hope I’m not bothering you. I’m calling because…I believe I’m in need of your services.”

  Bexley slid out of the car and engaged the locks. “Have you talked to J.J. about whatever’s going on? You know he’s always looking for something to keep him busy.”

  “I will have to ask that you use discretion on this one, Bexley. J.J. mustn’t know.”

  “I can be discreet,” Bexley promised, reaching for the handle on their front door. It would be difficult to keep something from her mentor, but she’d do it for Twila. She only hoped it wasn’t anything too serious. “I’m just walking into our place, Twila. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll stop over.”

  “Thank you, my dear. I’m sure having to work after hours is the last thing you want, so I put a bottle of that sparkling wine you like on ice.”

  Inside, Bexley was greeted by Captain’s enthusiastically warm tongue and the blast of rock music. Brewer’s deep baritone from outside joined in with the singer’s raspy voice on the chorus, attempting an octave too high for his range. Bexley slapped a hand over her mouth to contain a sudden burst of laughter. She couldn’t believe the myriad of ways Brewer continued to surprise her in the time they’d been together.

  She gave the wiggling mass of blag fur the appropriate amount of attention, scratching the dog’s belly and behind his ears before she kicked off her shoes and ventured farther inside the cottage, discovering the sliding doors in the back wide open. Brewer knelt on the patio, brushing stain over the rocking horse he’d slaved over for weeks.

  Bexley leaned against the open door, legs crossed at her ankles, admiring the view of her handsome husband at work with the Pacific Ocean roaring off in the distance. He still wore the same sleeveless T-shirt and old jeans he’d left in that morning for work, but his shirt was covered in dark spots of oil—likely another one for the trash, she noted with mild irritation. She’d been unable to talk him into wearing coveralls to save his wardrobe.

  His arms weren’t quite as massive as they’d been after he’d served his jail time, but they still held a respectable amount of muscular mass in proportion with the rest of his fit body. His brown hair was long enough to tuck behind his ears, and a few days’ worth of scruff lined his fierce jaw. Before she’d been reunited with her old classmate while on a case, she never would’ve dreamed she’d fall for someone as rough around the edges or someone with more inked than untouched skin. She’d also never been with a man who’d worn his heart on his sleeve or had been so understanding of her passion.

  She thought she might burst into tears when she envisioned Brewer crafting another rocking horse for their child. Although her too-cute-for-words nephew had wormed his way into her non-maternal heart since he came into the world three months prior, she still wasn’t ready to sacrifice their flexible lifestyle to care for a baby. Whenever the subject came into conversation, Brewer agreed it wasn’t something he was prepared for either—maybe ever.

  She inhaled the briny air that always helped her instantly relax and beamed at her husband. “I can’t decide if you’re vying for the title of favorite uncle or practicing for an audition with Dave Grohl.”

  Brewer spun around to face her with a devilishly attractive grin, honeyed brown eyes shining brighter than the stars above them. A streak of dark stain grazed his cheek, and another ran along one of his forearms. “Welcome home, beautiful.”

  They embraced for a long, satisfying kiss that made her belly buzzy. She even felt a little dizzy when she backed away, still gripping his broad hips. “Now, that was a greeting worth coming home to. Does your enthusiasm have anything to do with the fact that you’re about to meet my first husband?”

  He answered the question with a lighthearted chuckle, then kissed her forehead. “Not at all. Can’t a man simply be happy to see his hot wife after a long day?”

  “That sentiment will never grow old,” she decided, kissing the tip of his nose. “While you clean up, I’m going to run over to Twila’s. She just called to say she wants to hire me for something but doesn’t want J.J. to know about it.”

  Brewer’s dimpled smile evaporated. He had become just as close with Twila as Bexley had, even once referring to her as the mother he wished he’d had. “Everything alright?”

  “I don’t know. Hopefully, it’s nothing too serious.” She began to turn away. Brewer stopped her, drawing her back into his arms. Bexley was convinced the sinful smile he gave her could literally melt butter. “Just so you know, I’m not getting in the shower until you return to join me.”

  “Now, that would be an awkward way for you to meet my ex.” Laughing, she squeezed her arms around him. “Go clean up on your own, Hawk. There isn’t time for those shenanigans…at least not until later tonight, after he’s left.”

  Through the open back door of Twila’s small cottage, Bexley found the home to be just as warm and welcoming as always. The gentle lull of a piano and a woman’s breathy tenor played from the antique turntable in the living room. A soft, twinkling glow emanated from a lamp covered with a piece of sheer pink fabric adorned with rhinestones. The strong scent of fresh flowers and incense sparked Bexley’s senses when she prepared to announce her arrival. She realized there was no need as Captain had already slipped past her, and Twila was gushing his name in greeting.

  “Bexley, come on in!” Twila called from the kitchen. “Your glass is on the table!”

  Bexley swiped the hand-painted glass tumbler off the table and took a long, satisfying sip of the Prosecco as she watched Twila give Captain a homemade dog treat. She couldn’t help but notice her neighbor’s long silver hair flowing down her slender back rather than being in its usual braid. She also wore a colorful kimono paired with whimsical, uncharacteristically wrinkled pants. The normal oodles of gypsy-like jewelry were oddly absent.

  “Thanks—I needed this after the day I had,” Bexley said. She’d spent her afternoon researching Tabitha Torres’s lawsuit and had decided Jack was in for an uphill battle against the wealthy star. “What did you want to talk to me about? Is everything alright?”

  Twila gestured to Captain with a hand, and he stood on his hind legs to give her a high-five. Laughing, she shook her head at Bexley. “It’s nothing, really. But it seems I’m being harassed. Or…maybe even stalked.”

  “That’s far from nothing, Twila.” Concern weighed heavily inside Bexley’s stomach. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve received two phone calls this week that involved nothing but heavy breathing. And just yesterday, I received a strange package. Someone sent me several daffodil bulbs.”

  “Could you have ordered the bulbs a while back and forgot?”

  Shrugging, Twila bent to scratch Captain behind an ear. “Doubtful. There wasn’t an invoice, and the bulbs were simply thrown in the box without any packaging.”

  “What about a return address?”

  “There wasn’t one.”

  “Do you still have the box?”

  “It’s in the garage.”

  Bexley took a long swig of her drink. She was starting to understand Twila’s concern. “I’d like to see it before I leave.”

  “There’s one more thing…” Twila attempted a friendly smile, but her lips trembled, and her blue eyes sparkled with moisture. “It’s better if I show you.”

  After Twila commanded Captain to stay, Bexley set her glass back on the table before following her to the front door facing the road. Twila opened it and stepped aside so Bexley could see the dead albino mouse on her front step.

  “It was here this afternoon when I headed out to run a few errands.” Twila squeezed her hands together, grimacing. “I didn’t move it, so you could see exactly how I found it.”

  Bexley bent down to inspect the rodent and snap pictures with her cell phone. It was clearly not the type of mouse that lived in the wild. It must’ve been purchased from a pet store. As much as she wanted to tell Twila it was nothing to be concerned about, the way its neck hung slack in an unnatural direction from its body made it clear it had been broken. The creature’s death was no accident.

  “The poor little guy,” Twila said, her voice thickening with unshed tears. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Bexley glanced up at her. “Can you think of anyone who might be upset with you enough to do something like this?” Although the idea of anyone having a grudge against her sweet neighbor seemed ludicrous, it was the first question she asked any of her clients in similar situations.

  “I no longer know very many people in Papaya Springs. Pretty much all of my friends and family in the area have either died or moved on since I lived here last.”

  “What about someone from your past? Someone who doesn’t live in the area but may have tracked you down through your art?”

  “They can do that?”

  “Your work is featured on the gallery’s website,” Bexley reminded her, standing to touch her neighbor’s arm. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell J.J. what’s happening? I’ll keep my word and not say anything, but Twila, this could be serious business.”

  “You know how his health has been. I’m afraid this kind of thing could put him in the hospital.”

  “There isn’t anyone you can think of who might be angry with you?”

  Twila swiped a wayward piece of hair away from her face with a deep sigh. “I’ve been wracking my brain all afternoon. There was an older girl who tirelessly harassed me in middle school for having a long neck, but I found her obituary online. I honestly can’t think of anyone else.”

  “Sounds to me like this older girl was simply jealous of your beauty.” Bexley bit down on a smile, amused that Twila would think a bully from sixty-some years ago would return with a vengeance. “I’m going to dispose of this little guy before I head home with Cap and that box from the garage. Why don’t you come over in half an hour and join us for dinner? Brewer can install some cameras on your property when we’re done. We have some left over from a package he bought before he went to jail.” Bexley could add the live feed to her phone app and keep an eye on Twila’s house throughout the day.

  Twila cocked her head. “I thought Brewer said you were having company over for dinner.”

  “As a matter of fact, we are, and I’d love to have you there as a buffer.” Laughing, Bexley ushered Twila through the open door. “My new husband is about to meet my old husband.”

  “You mean the hottie you married in college?”

  “That’d be the one. He’s a sports commentator and just moved out here.”

  “Dinner and a show?” Twila’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  3

  Brewer emerged from their bathroom as Bexley returned home to freshen up and change. His hair was slicked back, and he wore a long-sleeved, white button-down and tan chinos that her best friend, Kiersten, had gifted him from an up-and-coming designer. Bexley sensed he was overly worried about making a good first impression.

  “Damn, it Hawk, I just invited Twila to join us for dinner,” Bexley teased, snaking her arms around his neck and inhaling the designer cologne she had gifted him for his birthday. “Now I’m going to have to spend the entire night making sure she doesn’t steal my man. Must you look so undeniably attractive?”