Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

31 unread messages on WhatsApp?I might be in luck.

I start by tapping on the Social Committee message thread. These sweet, mischievous older ladies—and my friend Felix—always know what’s up.

I’m in their chat group to help coordinate restaurant and ferry hire… and get the best gossip.

Today, all I see is one forwarded message:

I saw a young man walking around the old orchard………anyone know what’s happening?

My heart pounds with excitement. They’ve gotta be talking about this guy, right? Maybe the Coffee Shop Neighbours chat knows more.

HERBERT:

Looks like the orchard really is for sale… I heard a potential buyer is on the island today! Best foot forward, people!

IRENE:

The Russells are selling??

Shirley Jean wouldn’t have wanted that, I’m sure

What a shame…

CROOKED JIM:

I can’t see it listed anywhere! Private sale?

I chew my lip as I back out of that chat and try the Keep Sunrise Wild group instead.

GEORGIE B:

When’s the next town council?? I’ll get a petition started this weekend!

We’ll fight them on development permission… we can’t lose our beautiful old orchard!

I squint and scroll up quickly through a couple dozen messages. It looks like they think he’s a property developer here to tear down the orchard and build houses.

I’m still no closer to any real answers about who this guy is, but I’m going to make it my job to get this guy talking—flirting, if possible—and find out. Call it my community service for the day.

“Ahem.”

Holy shit. He’s standing right in front of me, watching me scroll through my phone.

“Oop!” I squeak, nearly jumping out of my skin.

How the fuck does a guy that big move so quietly?

“Sorry,” our mysterious newcomer apologizes. “I don’t want to interrupt you.”

I blush furiously, clutching at my chest and shoving my phone away. I look up at him—and I keep on looking, until my neck is finally craned back enough to see his face. He still isn’t smiling, but his eyes are crinkled with amusement.

The fucker’s teasing me, and… I’m not even mad about it. I just can’t tell if he read anything on my screen. It puts me on the back foot, and I so rarely get flustered that I don’t know what to do with myself when I am.

Worse still, he’s even hotter up close. I can see the softness of his lips and the hard planes of his chest, and my downstairs brain is way more awake than my upstairs brain right now.

Fuck me.

“No, no,” I laugh. “I mean, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have—it’s—sorry…”

He winks at me. “It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Holy shit. Did I see that right? Yeah, I must have.

I feel like a giddy schoolkid with my first crush. I’m all nervous and excited and flustered, and it’s one little wink that probably doesn’t mean anything.

But my boldness always wins, and I can’t stop myself keeping up the banter with a calculated risk.

“Good thing it wasn’t Grindr.”

I’m just about positive this guy plays for my team. He dresses so nicely and flirts so readily, after all… and there’s no quicker way of finding out.

He gives me a knowing look, and I want to pump my fist in victory—and excitement.

“At work? Island life sounds… pleasurably laidback,” he drawls, resting an elbow on the counter and leaning over it slightly.

My brain seizes up for a minute. I lick my lips, and his eyes flicker down to the tip of my tongue.

He’s interested. Flirt, you idiot. If there’s one thing you can do in life, it’s flirt. Come on. Say something.

But—unusually for me—I barely know what to say.

There’s a chance this guy is the full package: single, into men, nice, mindblowingly hot, and living nearby. Most of the time, I settle for three out of five. Just the big two when it’s late at night and I’m desperate enough.

The moment I meet his gaze and hold it, the crackle between us raises all the hairs on my forearms. I’ve sure as hell never felt that way before.

What if this is the Prince Charming I’m always telling people to send my way?

Then I’d better make sure I catch his eye, hadn’t I?

“Laidback? All the time,” I answer him, folding my arms on the bar top. My heart is flip-flopping against my ribs like it wants to bust out and run a marathon. “Sometimes forward, sideways, up against the wall…” I make a point of looking him up and down. “But that’s just the big, strong ones.”

Ohhhhh, fuck. It’s happening.

A boyish grin is slowly appearing on his face. The rainclouds of his grumpy scowl crack open, and suddenly white teeth flash like a sunbeam of blue sky on a winter’s day.

It’s almost too much, having the full force aimed at me.

Kill me here and now, I was right. He’s gorgeous when he smiles.

My heart is racing so fast that it disappears in the thrum shivering through my whole body, head to toe. Something in me is lighting up, humming in a strange, shivering note like a wine glass full of water when a finger drags around the rim.

“Gage,” he says simply and offers me a hand. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“Kieran. Thanks for noticing.”

All I can imagine is those big hands running up my shirt, demanding and claiming and exploring, all night long. But I push myself off the counter to stand upright so I can take his handshake.

“Impossible not to—” he starts.

Static electricity sparks between our hands at the slightest touch. He breaks off, and I yelp and leap backward, nearly losing my footing.

“Whoa!” He reaches over the counter to steady me on his feet, then drops it when he sees that I’m fine. “I guess we’re both as shocked as each other, eh?”

“Ahh,” I tease him right back, my eyes twinkling. “You do sound like you’re from around here… eh?”

His eyes sparkle. He doesn’t say anything—just looks at me thoughtfully, in a way that steals the breath right from my lungs. A few seconds pass, and then I glance at the table and I finally remember where I am and what I’m doing.

Serving him—pretty badly, so far. He’s done eating, so I should probably clear the table and ask if he wants dessert. Before I can do anything really dumb while I’m on the clock, I duck around the end of the bar and head over there.

There are a bunch of photos spread out—old-looking photos. I think they’re pictures of the orchard. But I’m too busy juggling baskets and trying to avoid spilling ketchup all over everything.

Once again, autopilot comes to my rescue. “Can I get you anything else?”

“If I could borrow a pen, and a slice of pie for dessert…?” Gage prompts me, still leaning on the bar. “Well, I’d rather keep the pie. But I’ll give back the pen, if I can hang out here for a bit.”

I can’t stop the giggle of surprise.

Most of my customers say the same things all the time, and I like the rhythm of it… but it’s been a long fucking time since I let anyone catch me off-guard like this.

“Y-Yeah. Of course. Let me grab that for you.” I glance over my shoulder before I disappear into the kitchen, just in time to catch Gage winking at me once more.

He retreats to his table, whistling softly as he walks away.

I dump everything on the kitchen counter and fully embrace the fridge, thumping my head against it softly.

Holy shit. My knees are weak. My cock is distressingly hard in my pants. I want to melt into a puddle on the floor. And I still feel like I’ve been flustered right out of all my words.

What in all the nine hells is happening?

Gage knows exactly what he’s doing, and I gotta admit, that makes a real nice change.

I’ve got a name, and I know Gage is happy to flirt with me. That’s a great start. And now I have the chance to find out everything else I’m wondering about him.

May the luck of my homeland be with me, because I need it like never before.