“Okay,” Bell started. “Ford and I wanted to know what night would be good to take the kids to Rocco’s.”
I knew both Bell and Kenna adored my siblings, but I also knew they tried to take them off my hands once a week so I had a night to breathe. They hoped I’d used the time to do something for myself, but I typically used it to catch up on whatever I’d fallen behind on during the week—laundry, meal prep, bills. It wasn’t exactly a glamorous life, but it was rewarding in many ways. “I think Thursday would be good.”
“That should work for us. I’ll make sure Ford has someone to cover at the bar.”
“Sounds good to me.” I plated the sandwich for Bell and then lifted both meals onto the counter. “Lunch is served. Can I get you guys drinks?”
“I’ll take an iced tea,” Bell answered.
“Just water,” Kenna grimaced.
Her pout had me grinning. “Coming right up.” I grabbed two bottles from the drinks fridge and passed them to my friends. “Here you go. I’ll be right back. I need to make sure no one’s ready to check out up front.”
Kenna waved me away. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll just be here stuffing our faces.”
I chuckled and wove my way through the aisles, greeting a couple who looked to be tourists and telling them to flag me down when they were ready to check out. I rounded another corner and almost collided with a hulking form. “Oh, schnitzel! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going and—” My words cut off as my gaze met ice-blue eyes. “Griffin.” His name came out a bit breathy.
I cleared my throat. “Did you need to check out?” I glanced in his basket and frowned. A stack of frozen meals—like always. “You really should mix in some fresh produce with those.”
He grunted. “Been eating the same thing for years, haven’t died yet.”
The voice was exactly what you’d expect from a man with a six-foot-six frame and shoulders so broad, I was surprised he fit through most doorways. It was low and rough, and made me want to lean in a little closer, even though everything about Griffin screamed: “Go away!”
I gave my head a shake to clear it. “Want me to make you a sandwich or salad before you go?”
His expression gentled the slightest bit, or maybe I simply wished it did.
“Sure. Surprise me.” His eyes narrowed. “Sandwich. No weird vegetables.”
I rarely got more than twelve words out of Griffin at a time. But it had become a game of sorts for me to try and get as much out of him as I could. But the days where I made his lips twitch or eyes brighten were the ones I really felt on top of the world. “One surprise concoction, coming up.”
I turned on my heel and left Griffin to his shopping. I wasn’t sure why I got such ridiculous pleasure from providing the man one rounded meal a few times a week, but I did.
I froze at the end of the aisle as my gaze caught on Patti Jenkins. She stared at Griffin as he reached out to grab something from a shelf. I could practically see her gossip-hungry mind whirling. When he caught her stare fixated on him, she muttered something under her breath and tugged her toddler down the aisle and away from Griffin. He tensed but didn’t say a word, simply studied the chips in front of him with intense focus.
I fought the curse that wanted to surface and headed back towards my cooking station. That woman was a nosy and judgmental jerk-face. She had a daughter in Mia’s grade and was always condescendingly offering me advice and help. But seeing her cast that same judgment towards Griffin had me seeing red.
“Was that Griffin?” Bell asked as I rounded the counter.
I cut a sharp look in her direction. Too many folks on this island talked about the mysterious man behind his back, and I didn’t want my friends adding to it.
She held up both hands. “He helped drag my fiancé out of the ocean after someone tried to kill him. I’m team Griffin all the way.”
Kenna scooped up a forkful of salad. “He gave Grant a black eye, so you know I’m a fan.” Her expression sobered a fraction. “Just be careful.”
I growled in her direction. “He’s a good man.” I didn’t know with one hundred percent certainty, but everything pointed that way. He was polite if a little gruff. But that prickly exterior was understandable given everything he’d been through.
Bell grinned. “And it doesn’t hurt that you want to climb him like a tree.”
My face turned bright red. “Shhhh! He’ll hear you.” Yes, Griffin Lockwood was incredibly handsome. Gorgeous in a way that stole your breath and made you stupid. But he wasn’t for me. I simply felt a sort of kinship with the broody man. I knew what it was like to have the majority of our small island judge and whisper because of your familial history.
Griffin seemed to take it all in stride, though. He stuck to himself and his big, dilapidated farmhouse on the far side of the island. He only ventured into town with a purpose, never to sit and eat at a café or grab a beer with other locals. He was in and out, leaving only questions and whispers in his wake.
“Sandwich ready?”
The rough voice made us all jump. I was sure my face was the shade of the tomato I was about to slice. “Um, I’m, uh, just deciding what I should put on it. We got some really nice Roma tomatoes in, and the spinach is super fresh. Maybe I’ll do a tomato mozzarella deal with some balsamic and prosciutto.” My mouth kept right on spewing nonsense while Kenna and Bell struggled to hold back their laughter.
“It’ll be up in just a second,” I hurried to put an end to my runaway mouth disease. Right after I locked myself in the walk-in fridge and never came out.
2
Griffin
I heaved another pile of who knew what out the window and into the dumpster below. When I first returned to the farmhouse, I’d been a hell of a lot more meticulous as I went through each room. Now, if it looked like garbage, out it went.
The pile of detritus landed with a satisfying thunk. I turned back to survey the room, a muscle ticking in my jaw. The rose wallpaper my sister had loved so much was yellowed and peeling after years of age and the time it had been exposed to the elements. But that’s what happened when you left a home vacant for over a decade. Kids threw rocks at windows. People broke in and stole everything of value. They vandalized for the hell of it.
My stomach turned as I took in the graffiti on the wall—ugly words cutting across the roses my little sister had considered her private garden. I’d been back on the island for a few years now, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.
Sheriff Raines had been the one to finally get in touch to tell me that my family’s refuge was being destroyed. It was no easy task getting through to me. I’d made an art of running, and another of hiding. Raines had tracked me through lawyers and shell corporations until he finally found a cell phone number that only three people had.
I’d seen his call as a sign: time to return home and restore the home I’d once seen as a palace and had ruled as a prince. We’d called it the farmhouse, our family getaway from the hectic craziness of our normal lives. It sat on ten acres of pristine land on the far end of the island, away from curious eyes.