talents. Fame and glory, that’s all they ever cared about. Raising well-adjusted kids—not so much.
In a small town like Blue Bay, and in a homestead like this one, I just bet they had sit-down dinners where they all talked—about real things, important things. They probably all swam and fished in the lake just beyond the house, and Christmas mornings were undoubtedly filled with love and laughter around a gigantic fir tree picked out by the kids and cut down by the father. I bet it was just laden with homemade decorations.
I chuckle slightly. I’m going all Hallmark here, but I can’t help it. I want to picture a home with a menagerie of happy kids, because it’s something I’ve always wanted. I love my brother dearly, and would be lost without him. Heck, with absent parents, Rock and I were there for each other through thick and thin, relying only on one another, because how could we possibly trust anyone in the cut-throat world we were thrust into? I shiver as I think about the kinds of people we’ve dealt with over the years.
This big homestead, however, probably housed a dozen siblings, boys and girls who fought like cats and dogs, and loved and trusted just as hard. I always wanted a sister—or even a friend who wasn’t nice just to my face. Will I find that here in this big house, in this small town, or am I simply channeling that old Norman Rockwell calendar I had in my teens? Lord knows I try to romanticize everything—my way of escaping reality, I guess. But lessons learned have taught me happily-ever-after only exists in the movies.
With no available accommodations in this former whaling village, a few cast and crew members are now making this gorgeous home our headquarters until our trailers arrive. Apparently Blue Bay Construction is run out of this place and the guys, I think someone said they were all brothers and cousins, will be working on building sets for us. Seriously though, opening your house to strangers is such a hospitable, small town thing to do, isn’t it? I don’t mind hunkering down here for a bit, as long as I have a soft bed tonight.
A yawn pulls at me as I take the last step up the porch and catch the voices spilling from the open window. The laughter and comradery coming from inside eases the tension inside me, although the voices don’t sound familiar. But the happiness does remind me of home and hearth—safety—everything I’d imagined as a child.
As I consider my safety—my stalker—I recall the apprehension creeping through my bones earlier. I jumped to conclusions, assuming that big hulk of a man following me from the parking lot at the Winchester was the same one leaving threatening notes. He was simply Tyler’s brother, and no doubt harmless.
Tyler Owens.
What were the odds that I’d run straight into his arms?
My cheeks warm, ribbons of embarrassment careening through my blood as I recall my kiss with him—my God, did I really do that? Yeah, I did and damned if I don’t want to do it again.
Get yourself together, Haven!
I didn’t recognize him at first sight, probably because I was so scared. Some part of me thought a solid guy like him would scare off whoever was following me. Or rather, not following me. It was a ridiculous thing to do, but I wasn’t thinking with clarity, and fear was guiding my actions.
To add insult to injury, I lied about it, telling him I had to kiss the biggest guy in the place. Hello, dim-witted moth to light. Nevertheless, he turned out to be the biggest guy in the place, and the hottest—at least to me, and to the girls two tables over. Yeah, I saw the way they were drooling over him, as well as the other Owens brothers. Not that I can blame them. The man is drool worthy, sexier than any leading man I’ve ever collaborated with.
Maybe you should collaborate with Tyler—in the bedroom.
No, no, no, I am not going to do that—he’s my brother’s enemy—and it would be in my best interest never to set eyes on him again. In a small town like this, I fear that might be impossible, though. I’m just glad I’m staying on the outskirts of town. I’m guessing he doesn’t venture too far from the action at Winchester’s.
I take another glance over my shoulder, and as I peer into the dark night, the hairs on the back of