Safe In His Arms. Anna J. Stewart
backpack. She could hear him humming as he handed a bright yellow bag to Phoebe, who hauled it up the little hill to the carriage house.
The house she’d finished restoring just last month. The only thing left was to fill the window boxes with something bright and cheery like red geraniums, but she figured she’d ask Matt’s wife, Lori, to do that in the spring. Lori Knight could just look at a window box and fill it with color and life, whereas Kendall...well, Kendall killed everything she touched.
“Just leave things by the front door, okay, kiddo?” Hunter called before stretching his arms over his head. He turned suddenly, his brown-eyed gaze landing firmly on the house. Kendall ducked out of sight, both mortified and irritated at her reaction.
She scrubbed at the paint splotches on her fingers to give herself something to do as she waited for them to go inside. Bracing herself, her heart hammering as she listened for Phoebe’s voice, her laugh, an excited squeal at the majestic image of the ocean mere feet away.
Their front door closed. Kendall finally let out a breath that didn’t feel tinged with fear. In the next second, she grabbed her wallet and her sweatshirt and headed out, ready to take the two-mile hike into town at a far brisker pace than usual.
It didn’t dawn on her until she was halfway there that she’d never heard a sound from Phoebe.
Not one little sound.
FOR ONCE IN his life, Gil Hamilton had not exaggerated. Hunter unloaded the last of his and Phoebe’s bags into the cottage, and only then did he take the time to stop and look around. It was small, cozy, but the perfect size for him and Phoebe. Especially with the two small bedrooms separated by an updated bathroom complete with a claw-foot tub. He’d bet Phoebe could deep dive in that thing.
He thought the white walls would be blinding, but the starkness was broken up with splashes of blues and greens reminiscent of the sea. As promised, Hunter found a desk situated beneath a window that overlooked the ocean and updated outlets in the walls. The perfect writing location once he got his laptop set up.
The kitchen lined the wall closest to the door, a galley style that more than suited their needs for meals at the square table steps away. He found dishes, pots and pans, and plenty of glasses and flatware. What the kitchen didn’t have he probably did in the motor home. A small sofa and two chairs bookended the stone fireplace. The bedrooms each had a small flat-screen television and DVD player, no doubt in preparation for renting this place out to vacationers, Hunter imagined. He’d have to use the motor home for his photography work. He didn’t want to clutter the place with all his equipment. He wanted this place to feel as much of a home as possible. For Phoebe.
Phoebe.
Hunter sighed and dragged his hands through his too-long hair. What was he going to do about Phoebe? She should be in school, something he’d argued extensively about with her paternal grandparents, who had taken serious exception to his being granted custody after their only son’s death. A bachelor father, they’d called Hunter, and a nomadic one at that. As if he was some throwback character from the ’50s incapable of taking care of a child. He’d been as big a part of Phoebe’s life as he could from the day she was born, arranging jobs so he could stay with Juliana while her husband traveled for work. Besides, Hunter was the only family Juliana had. Now Phoebe was the only family he had, and he was going to do whatever it took to give her the best life possible.
He knew he had some serious decisions to make, but his niece was doing okay with her homeschooling. She could read better than he could, and she was pretty good at math. He’d done enough research online to know what she should be studying. Socialization was where she was lacking, and that was top of his list now that they’d be staying put for even a short while. Hopefully there were some kids her age in town who would help bring her out of her shell and have her uttering more than one or two words at a time. And maybe remind her that the world wasn’t a completely bad place.
Maybe he should have consulted more doctors other than the two who had assured him she’d come out of it when she was ready. They’d told him not to push. To let Phoebe move through her grief in her own time. Or maybe he was second guessing himself constantly because he was terrified of the one thing he couldn’t control: a custody battle.
Movement outside the kitchen window, brought his attention to where he could see the lighthouse standing tall and proud against the wind. Kendall Davidson. She reminded him of Phoebe in a way. She wasn’t particularly loquacious. A woman of few and bullet-pointed words. But the way she’d looked at his niece... That expression of hers might very well haunt him for a while. He’d bet she liked her space and the peace and quiet, which was why, when he heard her front door slam, he didn’t venture outside. Instead, he stood at the window and watched as she headed—on foot—down the road he and Phoebe had traversed moments before.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him it had been a long time since breakfast. He’d been so anxious to get here he’d driven straight through lunch. Phoebe—ever reliable, responsible, adult little Phoebe—had shoved an apple into his hand a little over an hour ago before munching on one herself.
“Phoebe! You hungry?”
She popped up in the doorway of her bedroom almost instantly.
“You want to go into town on our bikes or do you want to eat here? Gil told me about a diner that has milkshakes and hamburgers.”
Phoebe’s mouth twisted as she considered. “Strawberry milkshakes?”
“I’d bet on it. Get your coat on, okay? It’s probably going to get chilly. Don’t forget your helmet!”
She disappeared into her room as Hunter stepped outside, scanning the area and deciding once they got back he’d repark the monster in the little grove behind the house. Depending on how long they’d be here, he figured he could buy a cheap secondhand car, but Butterfly Harbor was a pretty small town. Why add to emissions or subtract from his bank account when his feet and bike would do just fine? “All set?” he asked when Phoebe joined him at the monster and hopped on her bike. She gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay then. Our first trip into Butterfly Harbor. Let’s do this, kiddo.”
KENDALL STOOD OUTSIDE the Butterfly Diner, scanning the booths inside for a sign of Mayor Gil Hamilton. After stopping at the still-under-construction town hall, which was scheduled to reopen later this year, she’d been told by his assistant at the temporary offices that he was out and about. Of course he was, Kendall thought. It was, after all, an election year, albeit late March. Now she’d have to trek all over to hunt him down.
She needed to talk to him as soon as possible. She needed him to change his mind and make Hunter MacBride and Phoebe stay somewhere else. She needed her solitude back.
While there were plenty of people enjoying the homemade offerings at the diner, Kendall didn’t find a hint of blond hair and political ego anywhere on the premises. Hands shoved in her pockets, she fidgeted in place, peering at the customers through the large windows.
“Only time you bounce on your toes is when you don’t know what to do.” The friendly male voice from behind her had her turning. “What’s going on, Hacksaw? Take a wrong turn at the hardware store?”
Kendall grinned. There were fewer things on this planet that could make her smile easier than Matt Knight. Make that Deputy Matt Knight, who was looking mighty proper in his khaki uniform. “You seen the mayor anywhere?” she asked.
“Not today. Then again, I’ve been stuck in the office the whole time. First ray of sunshine I’ve seen since I left the house.” He tilted his scruffy chin to the sky and basked for a moment. “Can’t wait for Ozzy and Fletcher to get back from that law enforcement conference so we can resume our regular patrol schedule.”
“Taking