“Fine,” I grumble.
“Have you heard?” Sean asks.
I eye my brother. “Heard what?”
“Grandma Nellie is housing a couple of the cast.”
My head snaps up. “Why the hell did she do that?”
He shrugs. “Hotels and cottages are all booked, and you know Gram, that’s what she does. She’s never met a stranger.”
“Do you think Haven is staying at the house?” Jared asks, and jumps to his feet.
“I’m not sure,” Sean says.
He arches his brow again, the brunette he’d been eyeing earlier no longer his focus. “Maybe I’d better go check.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and push him back into his seat. “Sit down, little brother.”
Jared laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
2
Haven
Stars twinkle in the velvety sky overhead, and crickets chirp in the nearby fields as I hurry down the long, dark road and try to put that awkward encounter at the Winchester behind me—not an easy task when my lips are still tingling from the atomic kiss. Who the hell kisses a stranger with a passion so off the charts it’s a wonder we didn’t blow the place up? Cripes, I can’t even imagine what his kisses would be like if he meant them, and don’t even get me started on the way my body is still responding, right around the juncture of my legs.
With trees hugging either side of the winding road, I round the corner to find a big old homestead rising up in the distance. The swing on the wide expanse of porch, along with the welcome sign above the door instantly puts this out-of-tower at ease. Everything about the place exudes warmth and contentment—a happy family—and I smile as I let it wrap around me like a comforting hug.
I grew up in California, and both my parents are managers in the movie industry. My older brother Rock—his stage name, of course—and I definitely didn’t have what I’d call a normal upbringing. Heck, I’d been starring in commercials since I was four months old and schooled every afternoon on the set. Rock acted right along with me, until my parents discovered his fighting skills, and redirected his 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 my neck stand on edge again.
You will be mine.
My God, I guess that last threatening letter frightened me more than I want to admit. By rights, I should go to the police, or even the director and tell him I’m getting letters from some crazy stalker, but after the trouble on set during my last movie, I can’t rock the boat. Honestly, in this business, you’re only as good as your last movie, and not only was mine a flop, the off-set feuding between me and the male lead—who just happened to be my ex—was tabloid fodder. I’m lucky any director wanted to work with me after that.
Now my motto is head down, work hard, no relationships of any kind during a shoot, and especially no relationships with anyone involved in the industry—ever. With that last thought in mind, I plaster on a smile and work to shake off my discomfort as I reach for the door to let myself in.
My hand stills when gravel crunches behind me. I turn, search the dark driveway, and see one headlight slowly coming down the lane. My thoughts instantly go back to Tyler Owens. I honestly had no idea he lived in Blue Bay, but I’d bet my warm bed tonight that the town’s bad boy drives a motorcycle. But he’s probably already between the sheets with one of those girls who’d been admiring him from across the bar.