2. Eden
TWO
eden
Nothing is fine.
Less than five minutes with my heels on the ground in the Sunshine State and I'm rethinking my strategy.
I'm lucky that Liz, Chase's agent, took my call. But we've always had a good working relationship, and she told me several times Chase needed me.
No way. I spent years trying to do that. I'm no longer in the business of saving Chase.
I'd gone down with that ship years ago.
Liz hadn't been sure if he was on the island right now, but his last known address she had was Cape Sands Beach.
I don't have time to waste and yet here I am, waiting in line to pick up a rental car in the Jacksonville airport.
Liz may not have been sure, but my gut tells me he's here right now. Although I'm not sure I can trust it where Chase Hanover is concerned.
I've made too many mistakes that have cost me more than I can think about when it comes to this man.
The chipper rental car clerk checks me in quickly, and with light traffic through Jacksonville and St. Augustine, I'm nearing the charming little beach town of Cape Sands in record time.
I head south toward the bridge that leads over to Cape Sands Beach, and when it comes into sight, I blow out a breath and tighten my hands on the wheel.
"You can do this, Mitchell. You're a professional. You're no longer a college girl in awe of the college baseball star."
Right. Sure.
I never think of Chase or the way he once meant everything to me.
As long as dreams don't count.
I'm here strictly for business.
I'm not here to make friends, to see how he's doing, or comfort him in any way.
Comforting him is a mistake I'm definitely not repeating again.
I roll down the windows, and the briny sea air fills the cabin of the SUV.
But one deep inhale brings back memories that I'd rather forget.
The windows go back up.
There's only one way to survive the short amount of time I'm here and that's to block out all the memories that threaten to break free and torment me.
If I lose sight of my goal, I'm finished.
Staying professional is the way to handle it. Which also means kneeing the asshole in the balls is out.
The wide bridge gives way to a two-lane road running through a little town area that embraces an eclectic mix of vintage, contemporary, and beachy.
My sigh of relief is deep when I see a coffee shop. The early morning coffee buzz wore off hours ago, and I need a pick-me-up to feel human before I see my ex face-to-face .
And proceed to beg with class and dignity.
I wish I knew who I'd pissed off in another life that has landed me in this situation.
When anxiety claws at me, I think about what's at stake. Not just my livelihood, but the financial lives of Katie and all my other workers.
Promises had been made to them, and failing my people isn't an option.
And if that means facing my past head-on, then I'll do it. Even if the anxiety makes me want to lose what little breakfast I ate.
I park in a public parking lot next to the row of buildings housing the coffee shop and step out into a wall of humidity that makes my clothes stick to me immediately.
Walking into the coffee shop, I find an air-conditioned, caffeinated heaven with the rich aroma of java that promises to pack the punch I need.
Judging by the line, it looks like the whole town is looking for their caffeine fix.
I shift my stance and do my best not to push along the woman at the counter telling the barista that her granddaughter finally graduated from the bottle to a sippy cup.
"It's a whole different pace around here," a deep voice says near my ear.
Startled, I turn around and stare into the face of a man who can give Chase a run for his money in the "Hey, I'm hot and broody" category.
And is as famous as Chase in his own right.
"I'm sorry, what?"
He chuckles and the smile I've seen in advertisements makes an appearance. "Well, I can tell you're not from here. The reason it's slow is because Ms. Odette up there"—he nods with his strong chin—"is telling Becky all about the new baby. "
"Oh, yes. Well, thanks."
"No problem."
I face forward again, before turning back to him. "How did you know I'm not from here?"
He waves a hand up and down. "The outfit."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. It just doesn't scream island time."
I look down at my trademark work uniform of a button-up blouse and pencil skirt. A glance around the shop tells me I couldn't look more out of place if I'd run through the coffee shop with my hair on fire.
"I suppose it doesn't," I say with a smile.
"Hey, there's a smile." He holds out a hand. "Nate Gentry."
"Yeah, I know who you are," I say, shaking his hand. "Eden Mitchell."
"Are you a fan of baseball, Eden?"
If he only knew…
"I've seen a game or two. But you're all over the place, so…"
He smiles. "Yeah, but it should slow down now."
As we move forward, I glance back. "You live on the island now?"
He holds a finger up to his lips and winks. "Shhh…don't tell anyone."
"How did you know that woman's name was Odette?"
He chuckles. "Everyone knows Odette."
"Ahhh…yes. Small towns."
"What about you? What brings you to the island? It's kinda lousy timing. There's a storm coming in."
"I plan to be out of here by tomorrow. Sooner, if I can find a…friend of mine."
"Oh yeah? Who are you looking for? I may be able to help."
"Chase Hanover?"
"Seriously? "
"You know him?"
He chuckles. "He's my neighbor."
My breath catches. Holy shit. I found him.
Is my luck finally turning?
"Wow, small world."
He gestures behind me. "Becky's ready for you."
"Oh,"—I turn to face the barista—"I'd like a large vanilla latte, extra hot, triple shot."
"Sure thing."
"Can you add Eden's to my order and I'll take two large coffees, black."
The young girl nods. "Sure thing."
Before I can protest for Nate generously paying for my coffee, it's rung up and paid.
I smile at him as we move to the designated waiting area. "Thanks for that. You didn't have to buy my coffee."
He shrugs. "No big deal. It's just a coffee."
"So, do you happen to know where Chase is right now?"
"He's told me he'd be at one of his properties getting it storm ready." He tilts his head. "How long have you and Hanover been friends?"
"Since college."
"Ah, college sweethearts?"
Thankfully, before I have to answer or dodge that question, our names are called. Once we get our coffees, he holds the door open for me as we leave.
"I'm headed there now, if you want to follow me."
When he pulls his truck out and heads onto the main highway, I follow him, trying to figure out what I'll say when I see Chase.
"Hey, Chase. Remember me? You know, the big mistake you made?"
Yeah, that's not going to go over well .
Sighing, I look around, hoping the sand or beach houses will give me some inspiration.
"Let's see… Chase, good to see you…" I shake my head. "Ah, Eden, let's keep the lies to a minimum, okay?"
My head keeps reminding me of the last words we said to each other. Anger and hurt ran deep between us.
But my heart?
That stupid bitch is pounding at the thought of seeing him again. The way it always did when I knew I was going to see him.
My stomach flip-flops, but I shut down all the memories that will do nothing but threaten any bravado I've mustered to come here.
The farther down the island, the farther apart the houses become until we reach a dead end to the road.
Nate takes a left onto a street with just a handful of houses. To my right, the Atlantic stretches out in all its mysterious deep blue beauty.
The only sign a storm is on its way are the winds that have picked up a bit. But the blue skies are promising that I can get what I need—for Chase to say yes—and get my ass on the next plane back to New York.
My confidence about Chase's reaction to my request isn't as promising as the skies, though.
Nate pulls his truck into a short, crushed-shell driveway of a beach home on stilts behind a blacked-out truck.
Chase isn't anywhere to be seen, and with the house looking deserted, if Nate wasn't who he is, I'd start to wonder why I followed him.
Parking on the street in front of the house, I stall for a moment before blowing out a breath and getting out of the rental. Between the oppressive humidity and my nerves, nausea roils in my stomac h
Squaring my shoulders, I head in the direction where Nate went. As I approach, the ocean winds blowing around me, I hear a couple of male voices though I can't hear what they're saying.
As I round the corner, Nate says, "I brought you something,"
"As grateful as I am for the coffee, I hope like hell it's a six-pack of beer."
I freeze, the click of my heels on the concrete silenced.
I haven't heard his voice in four years, but it affects me just the same. That deep-timbered rasp caresses my skin like a lover's touch.
Nate chuckles and squints up to the side of the house where the ladder leans against it. "Better. Bring your ass down here and see for yourself."
The ladder creaks and jostles. Work boots hit the rungs, followed by jean-clad legs. I nearly swallow my tongue as that sexy-as-hell happy trail comes into view when his T-shirt rides up.
All the times I ever touched that happy trail—with my fingertips or my tongue—play in my head, making it feel about two hundred degrees out here.
"What did you?—"
Chase stops when he looks over at me. His worn and faded baseball cap—his lucky Gators cap—is pulled low, but it doesn't hide the flash of anger in those emerald-green eyes.
His hands land on his hips, back ramrod straight. Those lips—my body recalls just how perfect they felt on my skin—flatten into a straight line.
Maybe I should have broken my sex drought before I came here. Because the anger I wanted to hang on to so desperately has abandoned me.
"Is this a joke, Gentry?" Chase's voice is tight and cold enough to freeze over the ocean just beyond the house .
Nate looks back and forth between us, confusion written on his face. "This is Eden Mitchell."
"I know who the hell she is."
"She says you're friends."
"She fucking lied."