Page 5 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

Chapter Three

Callie set one of her suitcases next to the full-size bed she hadn’t gotten around to sleeping in last night and headed back outside into the warmth and sunshine. She smiled as she listened to the birds twittering in the forest and breathed deep on her way to the SUV, certain she would never tire of the earthy scents of salt water and pine trees intermingling. She looked up to the bright blue sky and rolled her loose shoulders, boldly convinced that there was something magical about this place. A mere twenty-four hours on the island and she already felt more refreshed—like she actually had a little pep in her step.

Maybe it wasn’t magic per se. Perhaps her burst of energy had everything to do with the fact that she’d slept like a rock on the lumpy couch, not waking even once when she usually got up two or three times to pace away her anxiety. She reached into the back seat for the tote bag full of travel snacks and paused when she realized her temples weren’t throbbing with one of her usual midmorning headaches. Chuckling her delight, she grabbed another piece of her royal-blue Samsonite set and rolled it toward the door, figuring it would be better to make a pile close to the cottage and bring it in from there.

She glanced at the empty U-Haul trailer still attached to the hitch on the vehicle. Luckily, she could say she’d already dealt with her glass and other equipment, piling it into the rather spacious utility closet and shutting it away until her muse was ready to cooperate and work with her again. During her longer-than-necessary shower, she’d decided a week—two, tops—would be all the time she needed to unwind, then get back to creating again. Seven to fourteen days gave her plenty of downtime to do whatever the heck she wanted, which was a new concept she was determined to enjoy. Exploring the island, perusing a few of the antiques shops, reading a couple of good books, taking some pictures, and pulling herself together away from the paparazzi’s ever-prying eyes was bound to be heaven. The next few weeks were her chance to regroup—to get healthy again. Mom had suggested she take more time when they talked earlier this morning, but she was already certain she would be ready to crawl the walls if she didn’t get back to her art sooner rather than later.

But all of that was for another day. Right now, she needed to finish unpacking, then go for a run. She was already dressed in her favorite navy cargo joggers and comfy white T-shirt, anticipating all of the new sights she would see as her Nikes ate up the miles on Route 1.

She went back to the Land Rover and grabbed the basket of shoes and her camera bag, then stopped when a vehicle started up the road. She frowned as she read Carter County Sheriff on the side of the sleek black Tahoe. Then she spotted Nate Carter behind the wheel and her eyes widened.

He pulled to the side, said something into his radio, and got out, tossing her one of his sexy grins. “Looks like you’re settling in.”

She studied his broad shoulders and hints of well-defined pectorals in his black short-sleeve polo, ignoring the immediate uptick in her pulse—the same one she’d noticed yesterday but had been too tired to pay much attention to—and glanced at the gun holstered on the waist of his jeans. “Yes. I just have a few more things to bring in. You— I didn’t realize you were a police officer.”

He held out his hand to her. “Sheriff Nate Carter, ma’am. Clean hands today and everything.”

She smiled and returned his shake, feeling rough calluses against her palm as his warm hand swallowed hers.

“How’s day two of vacation going?”

“Good.” She tucked her damp hair behind her ear and looked down at the pine needles littering the crushed seashell path before she met his gaze again—a bad habit she’d developed over the past couple of years and a defense mechanism to counter the attention she often received but didn’t want. “Although I haven’t done much more than sleep.”

“Sounds like you’re off to an excellent start.”

She smiled, relaxing again as it became apparent that he still had no clue who she was. “I fell asleep on the couch after you left. I didn’t wake up until seven thirty this morning.”

“Way to go, champ.” He stepped closer, bringing his cologne and laundry soap scent with him, as he narrowed his eyes and studied her face. “I have to say you definitely look more rested.”

She cleared her throat and struggled not to step away, refusing to acknowledge that his proximity had anything to do with the sudden rush of butterflies wreaking havoc in her belly.

He flashed her a grin. “I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No,” she said with an adamant shake of her head. “No, it’s just—I’m just—God, I’m so bad at this stuff,” she finished in a horrified huff.

“What stuff?”

“Small talk.” Or she was lately. For weeks, she’d been going out of her way to avoid people—socializing only when she had no choice.

He shrugged. “Seems like it’s going okay to me. Words are coming out of your mouth; they’re coming out of mine…”

She laughed as she stared into his friendly blue eyes, finding his attempts at putting her at ease sweet.

Chuckling, he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on the heels of his black boots. “So, I talked to Jeremy over at the hardware store. He does general contracting and appliance repairs on the island. It’s looking like it’s going to be a couple of weeks before he can get out here to look at your washing machine.”

She crossed her arms at her chest—another not-so-great habit she needed to work on. “Oh. Okay.”

“He’s pretty backed up. Now that the high season’s mostly over and all of the tourists are gone, he’s up to his eyeballs in repairs at everybody’s rentals.”

She heard the slight change of inflection in his tone when he said tourists. “You’re not a big fan of visitors invading your island.”

He shrugged again. “It’s not that I don’t like them. They’re the lifeblood for the people here, but by August my fellow Sandersonians and I are ready for things to quiet down. After Labor Day, we’re all pretty much toast.”

“A lot of people come?”

He nodded. “About five to eight thousand visitors a day—depending on the weather. Sometimes more.”

She gaped. “But this place seems so small.”