Chapter 2

• And after one incredible night together in his uncle’s beach house, I stupidly thought it meant something to him.
• But I’m not a teenage girl with ridiculous notions about romance anymore.
• And fixating on Grayson Cole isn’t healthy or productive.
• Besides which, what are the chances I’ll even see him again, let alone have a chance to demand an explanation?
• ***
• GRAYSON
• I take the stairs two at a time and hope my contact here will be as accommodating as I need him to be.
• Luckily, the owner of The Standard, Haven Beach’s only independent paper, meets me at the top of the stairs.
• Mike’s greeting is laced with a sardonic bite. “Here he is. The hotshot investigator.”
• I manage a smile as I take in the heavy-set man dressed casually in jeans and a shirt.
• He makes a big deal about looking at his watch before he extends his arm. “We run on Eastern time here.”
• I smirk at him and grasp his hand. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
• He steps back and gestures around the almost empty newsroom. “Feel free to use anything you need. But I’m sure Jerry told you, we’re just a rag running on the bones of our ass. Our resources aren’t limitless.”
• I barely glance at the room or the people in it. “I’ll be working from my hotel room. The less time I spend here, the better.”
• He nods sagely and gestures to his office. “Jerry hasn’t given me the details of why you’re here, just that I’ll benefit from agreeing to this.”
• I nod as I take a seat inside his messy little office and hope no one recognized me. “You’ll benefit.”
• He leans back in his chair and eyes me. “What exactly is it I can do for you? Jerry wasn’t clear.”
• This is why I came, so I choose my words carefully. “I need a research assistant and someone who can accompany me to events. In return, I’ll give you the exclusive rights to the story.”
• His bushy eyebrows rise. “And the story is?”
• I keep my expression blank. “For now, the details are confidential. But it involves prominent residents of Haven Beach.”
• “And you want me to ask one of my staff to be your personal assistant?”
• At the incredulous expression on his face, I know that’s too much of a stretch. “I’ll pay for expenses and reimburse you for any hours they work.”
• He rubs at his chin stubble before he leans forward and taps on his keyboard. “I can’t spare any of my experienced staff. But if you’re looking for a hard worker, who’s qualified, and is on my payroll, I may have someone.”
• I nod my head. “I’ll take whoever you have. But a woman works best for this. Pretty and young would be ideal.”
• He pauses and frowns. “I have a junior who assists the reporters here when needed, but since we’re short on office space and equipment, she mostly works from home.”
• I nod quickly. “Do people know she works for you?”
• He shakes his head. “She writes the advice column under a pen name.”
• At the hesitation in his voice, I know he’s withholding something. “What’s the problem?”
• He shrugs his hefty shoulders. “I’m not sure she’s up to something of this caliber. She mostly does background research.”
• I nearly growl the words. “I don’t have time to mess around. I need to be in place ASAP.”
• I catch a flash of anger on his face and know I’ve pushed a little too hard. “Watch it, son. You might have helped Jerry out, and Lord knows I owe that man, but I don’t know you, and I’m not about to foist you and your ego onto one of my junior staff.”
• He looks so pissed; I have to admire the way he’s protecting his staff. I lean a little closer and make sure he knows I’m sincere. “You have my word; I’ll keep her out of harm’s way.”
• He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods warily. “See that you do. Isabel Riley is a good girl, and I’d hate to see her mixed up in anything.”
• Ice trickles through my veins and I have to clear my throat. “Isabel Riley works here?”
• He scratches his chin. “Has done since she graduated.”
• I nod vaguely, trying to hide my surprise that Jack didn’t tell me she was still there.
• But I never really told him about Isabel or that we stole his Malibu the night I lit a bonfire on the beach.
• He eyes me. “You know her?”
• Knowing her is an understatement. And now instead of thinking about the job I came here to do, pleasant memories are tickling at my brain.
• Blonde hair, blue eyes, and curves in all the right places. The good girl I never should have gotten involved with. The good girl who left way too big of an imprint on me considering we only had one night together.
• Fuck, fuck.
• I force a smile and rise to my feet. “I spent a summer here a long time ago, I think she worked at the hotel or something.”
• I’m not sure he’s buying it, there’s an element of wariness that wasn’t present before I opened my big mouth, but he rises and tells me where I can find Isabel.
• When he shakes my hand again, I’m barely aware of what I’m saying to him.
• I’m already formulating how I’m going to explain this all to Jack.
• ***
• ISABEL
• Early morning sunlight makes me squint, I push open the door and I’m greeted with a smile as I enter the coffee shop directly below The Standard’s offices.
• Chloe, the barista, and one of the few people who know I write the Agony Aunt column is cleaning a table as I walk in.
• Her purple-streaked hair is tied back, and her grin is as warm as her home-baked muffins. “I thought you might stop by. The column’s due, isn’t it?”
• I smile back at her and hold up the USB drive. “Mike decided I can write from home, but he refuses to use the drop box, so I still have to come in.”