Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1) - Miranda Liasson Page 0,44

rain began to pour down in buckets. When he returned to his bed, the dog was in the middle, cozied right in with his head on Cam’s pillow, staring up at him with big, moony eyes. Cam climbed in, heaving a sigh. “You can stay, as long as you scoot to your own side, okay?”

An hour later, he woke up again, this time to a loud crash from outside that sounded like raccoons in the trash cans. Bowie’s long body was draped across his chest, his ears flopping beneath Cam’s chin.

“You might consider brushing your teeth before bed next time, bud.” He gently slid the dog off. He seemed to weigh a hundred pounds limp and asleep.

When he flipped on the outdoor floodlights and peeked through the kitchen curtains, he found Hadley rummaging around in her grandmother’s garage, loading buckets and flowerpots into her grandma’s Prius.

“What’s going on?” he asked, walking outside.

As soon as she looked at him, he knew something was wrong. And not because he’d forgotten a shirt and his hair was in a jumble from sleeping. “What is it?” He raked his fingers hastily through his hair to get presentable. “What happened?”

“Jared Chen called me. The ceiling is leaking over at the building.”

Before he could ask how the police chief had noticed, Hadley continued. “He was on his way home after a late-night call when he happened to see water gushing into the main room.”

“Gushing?”

“I have to get over there,” she said, slamming down the lid of the hatchback.

“Are there any dogs there?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Mayellen and Ivy took the two strays we’re caring for.” And of course Bowie and Jagger were safe with Hadley and him.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, turning back to the house. “Don’t leave,” he called over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He stopped at the doorway. “I’m grabbing a shirt and keys. I’m going with you, and we’re taking my truck.” He preempted the protest he was certain she was about to express, probably loudly. “You don’t have to like me, just my muscles, okay? And yes, I don’t just own a vintage car. Be right back.”

Cam called Nick to put him on standby for help with the roof. Then he and Hadley drove over together in the rain, because there was no way he was going to let her go alone. But first they grabbed some recycling bins, old storage containers, and whatever else they could find that would hold water.

He was protecting his would-be investment, he told himself. But honestly, he knew that for the lie it was.

A short while later, the rain still dumping down in buckets, he pulled his truck up to the back of the Palace and dragged in the empty trash cans that stood against the building. He had a feeling they were going to need all the help they could get.

That was confirmed a minute later when they stood in the middle of the main room, staring up at a gaping hole in the ceiling, watching a waterfall spill onto the old tile floor.

“I don’t even know where to begin.” Hadley shook her head incredulously.

Cam cursed, a sound mostly obliterated by the loud splatting of water. “It’s okay,” he said, although it definitely wasn’t. “We’ll clean it up. It’ll be all right.”

“How did this happen?” The dread lacing her voice made his stomach sink.

He followed her gaze to the ugly white-tile drop ceiling. An enormous water ring encircled a considerable area. In the center, the cheap foam-like tiles had fallen to the floor and broken into multiple pieces, leaving a gaping black hole.

“The water leaked into the space above the drop ceiling,” Cam said, “and it just couldn’t hold the weight.”

He should be glad on some level for this disaster. It might make Maddy want to give up the building for good. And it would surely make Hadley see what a money pit it was.

He should be feeling positive. Only he just felt bad. They were both entitled to make their case for the building, but this curveball might make the playing field uneven, because he could afford a thousand roofs. And he didn’t want to win that way.

But also, he hated to see her distressed and upset.

“You know, you don’t have to be here,” she said. “This isn’t your problem.”

He almost said that no matter how complicated things were between them, she could always count on him to be there. But instead he chose a safer response. “Well, I