Page 66 of Rogue Wave

Well, crap. There went a good beach day collecting shells on my day off.

“Mom, Auntie, and I are going to move all the animals inside Saturday evening just to be safe.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I replied.

My job was indoors, so I rarely paid attention to the weather forecast. Plus, everyone else in my family was either a meteorologist of some sort, or had a job that required knowing the weather, so one or all of them were always texting about the weather—which was often the only way I knew bad weather was coming.

We hung up with the promise to call each other Monday after the storm to make sure everyone was okay.

I grabbed my lunch as well as my rain jacket, just in case, and made my way out my door to my car.

I heard Hank’s voice as I locked my door and turned to find him standing in his driveway, talking on his cell.

I had no idea who he was talking to or about what, but I knew it wasn’t a friendly conversation.

On the surface, he just looked like he was having a normal conversation, but in the short time I had gotten to know Hank, I’d learned how to read his body language and voice. And everything about his voice and demeanor showed that he was stressed.

His jaw was tight as if he were grinding his teeth. He also rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, as if he were trying to release stress built up in those muscles.

I wanted to help, but I also didn’t want to interrupt. I dropped my lunchbox and purse in my car and then walked over to him and silently wrapped my hands around his waist, hugging up against him.

Never missing a beat while he continued his conversation, he wrapped his left arm around me and pulled me tighter to his side. It made me feel good, knowing he needed and wanted me at his side.

I stood there just hugging him and tried not to listen to his call.

Okay, that was a lie.

As soon as I heard mention of Crescent Coral Beach, I knew this was about the case with the drugs I’d found, so it was impossible not to listen.

“Have the Coast Guard send someone over to collect them, but make sure our evidence team is done taking photos of everything they need first,” he said gruffly into the phone. “I want to make sure we cross all our t’s and dot all our i’s with this new brick.”

New brick?

Had more drugs washed up on shore?

I watched the lines on his face ebb and flow with the conversation—the way the wrinkles on his forehead grew more prominent as his eyebrows shot up in shock and confusion, and the way the lines around his lips pursed together when he got frustrated with the caller.

“Thanks. Call me back if you need anything,” he said and hung up, sliding his phone into his back pocket before taking his right arm and engulfing me into a full hug.

I squeezed him tighter and then began to move my hands up and down his back in what I hoped was a soothing manner.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He gently kissed the top of my head. “Much better now.” His voice was muffled because his mouth was still buried in my hair.

I knew I was already falling hard for this man, but hearing that made my heart ache in the best way possible.

He pulled back and looked down at me, his thumb softly stroking my cheek, while his other arm—still wrapped around me—pulled me in impossibly tighter. His eyes softened when they met mine, and for a moment, I felt like the only person in the world.

Seeing that look in his eyes—like I hung the moon and stars and somehow made his life better just by being in it—I knew there wasn’t any point in pretending anymore.

I wasn’t falling. I’d already landed. Face-first in love with Hank.

Completely, hopelessly, and utterly in love with him.

I stared back at him, meeting his gaze as that realization came over me. All I could do was smile, thinking how lucky I’d gotten to find a man like him. A man who, while covered in a grumpy exterior, was full of kindness, fairness, empathy, and passion.

“Hazel, you keep looking at me like that, and you’re gonna be late for work.” His voice was a soft, guttural rumble, like an animal that was on the prowl.