Long Shadow (Veiled Intentions #2) - Elle Keaton Page 0,6

orange stripe along the side—before it disappeared again. What was it with RVs trying to kill him?

Muttering about crappy drivers and nearly being run down by a camper from the set of Escape to Witch Mountain, Niall pulled into the empty parking lot, yanking on the parking brake hard enough that his battered Subaru jerked to a complete stop, throwing him against the seat belt.

“Dammit.” He banged his palm against the steering wheel in irritation. This was the third or fourth time he’d spotted the camper since he’d been back on Piedras, and it pinged all his internal warning signals. “Sorry,” he said to Fenrir, who’d slid to the edge of the back seat.

Niall peered out his side window, staring back down the road, but a spring fog had descended, seemingly held in place by towering evergreens and the island’s rocky crags. Even if he had X-ray vision—not the superpower he’d dreamed of as a kid anyway; that had been invisibility—Niall wouldn’t have been able to see the RV now through the mist.

“Dammit,” he growled again, irritated he’d missed the license plate.

Between Ricky’s bombshell and Mat Dempsey, who was being kind and patient and playing it very cool with Niall, Niall was in a generally cranky humor, even though he knew Mat didn’t deserve to be the butt of his current frame of mind. His temper was his own fault; Mat had gotten under his skin. And as much as Niall had tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sexy sheriff.

After turning off the engine and stuffing his keys into his coat pocket, Niall glanced into the rearview mirror, where amber eyes regarded him with silent reproach.

Niall groaned. “I’m sorry. I can’t take you into the grocery store. Sage likes you, but you are not a service animal.”

Niall’s adopted wolfhound released a soft humph, twisting and curling around into a ball in the back seat. The car rocked back and forth as he moved around. His back was decidedly directed toward Niall.

“I’ll leave the window open,” Niall offered by way of apology.

Fenrir chose not to answer, and Niall shook his head. He really needed to get out more if he was expecting the dog to reply. It was as pointless as wanting Mat Dempsey—as if Niall was suddenly going to be the kind of man Mat needed in his life. Mat thought he wanted Niall, but he didn’t really know Niall, did he? Hunching his shoulders against the damp, Niall stomped across the asphalt, attempting to crush the traitorous thought that, maybe, he could be the man for Mat.

Chester’s was the main grocery store on Piedras Island, the one locals frequented instead of the more-expensive store in Hidden Harbor with its organic this and brand-name that. Chester’s stocked Western Family brand, and if its produce was organic it was because it had always been grown that way. If he was going to find a place for himself and Fenrir, it would likely be advertised here.

Niall planned to check out the bulletin board first, but… he might as well pick up a few groceries, a cup of coffee, and maybe one of Chester’s legendary cinnamon rolls while he was at it. Probably he should get coffee first and read the board second.

Sage was at the cash register. “Good morning, Niall,” she called.

Sage was one of the only people on the island who completely ignored his moods, cheerfully greeting him no matter what state he arrived at Chester’s in; he kind of admired her for it.

“Morning, Sage.” Niall kept moving toward the waiting coffee, a beacon of caffeinated hope he could hold in his hand.

The bulletin board was fixed to the wall beyond the coffee station. A quick scan of the tattered flyers and index cards tacked there informed Niall he was going to have to consider other options. He’d check out the laundromat’s board, but at this point he figured it was a losing bet.

As he strolled through the produce section sipping his coffee, his thoughts floated back to the mysterious camper. He hadn’t gotten a clear view of the driver, only an indistinct dark profile he thought was male. He’d noticed the camper parked at Chester’s a few times, but it had always been gone by the time he was done shopping. And he’d spotted it around the island over the past few weeks—never twice in the same spot—but he’d never seen the occupants.

It was an older-model RV, twenty years or more, and small, the kind with a cab at