17. Hattie

If there's such a thing as a perfect summer evening, then this is it.

The sun is just about to dive over the Atlantic looking like a melted orange popsicle as it meets up with the cerulean blue. The sky is turning shades of lavender and orange and the sea breeze holds the scent of both ocean brine and night-blooming jasmine.

And right about now the scent of crabcakes and French fries is kicking in as well.

Killion messaged me earlier and asked if we could have dinner at the Lobster Boil, Brambleberry Bay's premier seafood restaurant with a patio that spreads out onto the beach. And because of that sandy fact, it's also one of Brambleberry Bay's most pet-friendly dining establishments.

I parked Ginger a bit down the street. I'm not fond of valet parking. Not because I'm afraid they'll take Ginger for a spin and do donuts in the parking lot with her—heaven knows the old girl would probably get a kick out of it, even if it did throw her alignment out of whack. I'm more averse to tipping the valet when I can't even afford to tip myself a cup of coffee these days.

And boy, have I been craving more of that mocha latte that Hillary brought to the book club last night. I really do need to up my java game. And if I have any spare change rolling around in my sofas, it's going directly to that new coffee shop on Main Street. I can park my own car, thank you very much.

Cricket and Rookie jump and leap as we head around through the back entrance of the Lobster Boil. They've chattered all the way here about how much fun they're going to have tonight. Their excitement is palpable.

We make our way through the cobbled walkway that leads to the expansive patio out back and already we can see that the beach is bustling with energy. The entire back of the restaurant is decorated for the upcoming Fourth of July festivities with red, white, and blue twinkle lights crisscrossing over the dining area and onto the sand.

Each table has a tiny flag sitting in a vase full of red carnations and blue hydrangeas, buntings hang from the back of the restaurant, and the waitstaff is wearing crisp navy aprons with white dress shirts underneath and star-spangled bandanas tied around their necks.

The aroma of fresh seafood makes my stomach claw at itself. And despite the fact I've already fed both Cricket and Rookie, I know those two feel the same. It's sort of their MO. And mine, too, at this point.

Seafood paradise found, Cricket chirps. Case in point. This is it, Rookie! The Lobster Boil is the big leagues. Keep your eyes peeled for falling treasures from the sky. It's like an all-you-can-sniff seafood buffet.

Rookie jumps and leaps at the thought.

I finally found a miniature backpack made especially for dogs that Jolly Beary could fit in. He has his furry little head poking out of the top, per Cricket and Rookie's insistence, so he could see the world. The backpack is a baby blue color, and it only makes Jolly Beary's tan fur stand out more, and in turn, it makes Rookie look ten times more adorable.

I can"t wait,Rookie barks. Here's hoping they'll drop some lobster. Or maybe some grilled fish! Or maybe even a napkin? I'll eat anything.

It's true. I've seen that napkin thing happen before.

Cricket surveys the lay of the land as if plotting their next move. We need to position ourselves strategically. Under the tables is prime real estate. That's where all the good stuff lands.

Rookie nods. And everyone loves Jolly Bear, so with him on my back, we might even get some extra treats!

He's not wrong. On a normal day, Cricket and Rookie have their fair share of attention, but with Jolly Beary along for the ride, they've practically become an internet sensation.

They start to weave their way through the beachside tables, their noses twitching with the scent of the seafood bonanza at hand, and they're off like two furry pirates on a treasure hunt.

Just remember, Rookie,Cricket mewls. Act cute and innocent. The hoomans can't resist our charm.

I'm on it!Rookie barks with Jolly Beary bobbing along. Cute and hungry. That's my specialty!

"There are no truer words," I mutter.

They disappear under the tables, and just like that, they're off on their mission ready to claim whatever delicious morsels might come their way. I'm betting it will be more than their bellies can handle. I'm not really looking forward to the aftermath.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me I'm here to do the same just as a pair of strong, warm arms wrap themselves around me from behind and a woodsy-scented stranger lands a kiss to my cheek.

He plants a gentle, lingering kiss on my lips as well, causing a warm blush to spread across my face.

I spin around in his arms and smile up at the Irish god at hand.

"Getting bold in public, are we?" I tease with a playful smile.

Killion grins, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. "I figure the fireworks shouldn't be the only thing lighting things up this time of year."

"You're a real smooth talker." A laugh bubbles from me. "Keep that up, and you might just outshine the Fourth of July display."

He chuckles, his hold around me tightening. "I don't know about outshining, but I'm definitely aiming to make this evening memorable." Let's just hope Hattie thinks it's memorable in a good way.

"Oh, is that so?" I laugh once again. "And here I was thinking the seafood was going to be the highlight of the night."

Killion touches his nose to mine. "The night is young, and I have a few surprises up my sleeve. The seafood might have some competition." Lord knows I'll have to make it up to her for what happens next.

I inch back and frown. "What happens next?"

He cocks his head. "It is strange the way you seem to know what I'm thinking."

I clear my throat. "Couples' intuition, remember?"

He's about to say something when his attention is hijacked by way of my earrings.

"You're wearing them? The earrings your secret admirer gave you."

I'm quick to nod as I pinch one of the emerald beauties. "I figure if I bump into whoever sent them, I might actually figure out who they are. You know, they might say something that gives them away. Ooh, did you run the prints on the brooch?"

"In progress." He frowns. "Since I already have your prints on file it should be easy to determine if there are any others." He pauses to inspect me. "Hattie, we don't know this person's intentions. They could be dangerous. I don't like the fact you're trying to bait them."

"I don't either, but they sent a second gift. I really want to know who this is and what their motive is."

"I think we both know their motive." He waggles his brows. "You're amazing." He brushes the hair from my eyes. "And I can't fault them for being blinded by your beauty either. Don't worry. I plan on using everything at my disposal to keep you safe." He gives a sinister look around the place until his eyes snag on a couple just making their way in, and I gasp at the sight of them.

"That's Peyton and Duke," I hiss as I watch them make their way to a table set for four near the sand. "Quick, let's leave before they see us."

"That would defeat the purpose." He winces. "I may have let Duke talk me into a double date." Or was it vice versa? Honestly, I'm not sure I'm willing to admit the former right about now.

"A double what?" I say a little sharply without meaning to. "And when exactly were you going to tell me this? I'm feeling a little bit ambushed."

"I'm sorry. And I promise I'm going to make it up to you. I was going to tell him we weren't interested, but when you got that second gift, I thought maybe we could get to the bottom of this."

I make a face in their direction. "And just like that, I've lost my appetite."

We make our way over and Duke stands once he spots me. He looks decent with a dark button-down shirt and jeans. Peyton happens to have on a little black dress which just so happens to look identical to my own little black dress. And instead of feeling sexy, I feel as if I'm wearing the required uniform for Peyton's coven.

I smile their way, feigning surprise. "Peyton, on a date with Duke? And apparently, a double date with you and me? I never would have guessed."

Not in a million years.