1. Katrina

CHAPTER 1

KATRINA

" S top here."

"Here?" The cab driver looked over his shoulder at me, his brows meeting in the middle of his sweaty forehead.

"Yes," I said. "Here."

I hadn't given him an actual address when I got into his cab at the Charlotte airport. I just told him to drive towards the coast and then along the way through smaller towns with fewer people. He didn't like the idea at first, but then he must've calculated how much money he could make off me and agreed. I said I would tell him when I found what I was looking for, and that's where we'd stop. Three and a half hours later, that's exactly what I did.

"What's this place called?"

We had been directed off the main coastal highway due to some road work and spent the last five minutes meandering around one of the cutest-looking areas I'd ever seen—so sweet it could give me a cavity. Growing up, I never saw myself settling down in a small town, especially not one as sickeningly charming as this one. But a lot had happened in the last ten years. A lot had changed.

"Solara Bay," said the cabbie. He had a Northeast accent that I noted right away. I wondered what he was doing down south. "Are you sure this is where you want me to drop you off?"

"You don't think this is a nice place to live?"

"It's a nice place to visit for sure, but if you don't already have a place to stay lined up, I'm not sure you'll be able to make any last-minute bookings. This is a vacation spot, and seeing as we're coming up on summer, things are going to be full. And expensive."

"I'll figure it out." With what little money I would have left over after paying for the ride, I was going to have to spend the night on the sand no matter where I asked him to drop me off, so I figured I might as well camp out in what seemed to be a very safe little community. I fished the last big bills out of my pocket and handed him four. He looked at them with an even deeper frown.

"It's going to be at least 6."

"I only have $450," I said, throwing another fifty onto the stack.

That truly was everything I had, save the five-dollar bill in my back pocket, but I really didn't like the idea of handing this man literally every cent to my name.

He curled his fingers over the money but didn't stop staring at me.

"I'm serious. That's all I've got."

"Well, then you better figure something out," he said. "Or else I'm not letting you into the trunk to get your luggage. I'm not running a charity."

I weighed my options. How much was the stuff in the back really worth? A few changes of clothes, some jewelry that I planned on hawking if things got really bad, and a small photo album. Aside from the pair of diamond earrings and gold chain, nothing in my bag would be useful to the cabbie, and the jewelry would more than pay for my ride.

Shit.

I didn't have any other option.

"Open the trunk," I said, getting out of the cab. "Let me get something out of the back. It'll cover the whole cost plus some, and I can take my cash back."

He smirked. "I think I'll hang onto this money in the meantime. Just in case you try to make a run for it." The man opened the trunk but got out of the driver's side door and watched me carefully as I went around to the back of the car.

He'd parked on the curb in front of what appeared to be the city hall building. It was a small, square structure with dark brick and white pillars. Very stately but adorable at the same time. I unzipped the front pocket of my backpack and dove my hand inside, scraping my fingers along the bottom of the pouch until I felt cool metal. The gold chain. I hated parting with it, but at least then I could get the cash back and call it a day. "Here."

I held the chain out to him. When he reached for it, I drew my hand back. "Trade me for the cash."

He shook his head. "No way. I don't even know if that's real."

"It is."

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" He laughed. "Yeah, right. Try again. You got anything else in that bag that I could take a look at?" He walked closer to the open trunk, but I was too quick, slinging the backpack over my shoulder and grabbing for the handle of my duffle.

"It's either the $450 or this chain that's worth at least $1000. That's all I have to offer, and if you so much as lay a hand on me, I will scream bloody murder."

"Are you kidding me?" He narrowed his eyes. "This is ridiculous! You're playing me."

"No, I'm not. This chain is real. I swear to god." I looked around the nearby shops but didn't see anything advertising itself as a place to pawn goods. "I would go with you to a pawn shop if there was one to prove it, but I don't think that's an option in this town. But I swear this is legit."

The man's face softened slightly, and I could tell he was considering the chain with a bit more zeal. "Where'd you get it?"

"Who cares?"

He bit the inside of his lip, dimpling the skin above his chin.

"Trade me," I said. "And go to the nearest pawn shop to see for yourself. If it's not real or you don't get enough money for it, then you'll know where to find me. I'm not leaving this town any time soon, and it seems like the kind of place where you could track me down pretty easily. How does that sound?"

He rocked back on his heels. "Why would you get into my cab and ask me to take you to the coast if you didn't think you had enough money to pay for the full trip?"

"I didn't know how much it was going to cost." That was the truth. After traveling around the world for most of my adult life, I'd lost track of how far the US dollar went in the actual US. "I'm not trying to screw you over. I get that you work for a living and that you've got bills to pay. That's why it's in your best interest to take that chain and go have yourself a great payday."

He folded his arms and sighed.

"Please. Just trust me."

After a couple of tense seconds, he held the money out, and we made the swap. "I don't trust you," he said. "Just for the record. But I have a kid I'm trying to put through college, and an extra three or four hundred bucks could help pay off his books this semester. Plus." He grinned. "Like you said, I know where to find you if I have to."

"You won't have to." I rearranged my duffle bag so that I could carry it on my shoulder along with my overstuffed backpack and closed the trunk. "Thanks again."

"Good luck," he said as he got into the car once more.

"With what?"

"With whatever it is you're doing out here," he said. "Seems to me like you might need it."

I didn't respond. He shut his door and drove off. Once he had turned the corner and was out of sight, I stuffed the money into a sock and put that at the bottom of my backpack. Then I sucked in a deep breath and took in my surroundings. There was a corner market across the street, a swim shop, and a boardwalk stretching out to my left, and finally, a bar up a block on my right.

"Thank god," I muttered under my breath. I had that fiver left in my pocket, and I saw a sign for half-off drinks for the next two hours. "I need a drink."

"Want another?"

Al, the sweet middle-aged man who had poured me my first beer, was pointing at my now-empty glass with a raised brow. The bar was called "Smart Choice," named after the owner, Al Smart, or so I'd learned when I read the little plaque in the bathroom.

"Nah, I'm tapped out," I said, tossing my five-dollar bill across the way to him. I didn't like letting people know how much or how little cash I had on me. The cabbie was an exception. "Keep the change. Not that there's going to be much."

He picked up the crumpled bill with a confused expression. After putting it into the register, he picked up my glass anyway and filled it to the brim.

"I wasn't lying," I said. "I can't afford any more drinks right now." If I was going to try and make the last of my money stretch in this town for a while, I would have to be stingy. Sleeping on the beach wouldn’t help much if I blew the rest of my money on overpriced booze.

"I know. This one's on me."

I possessed a healthy amount of skepticism when it came to people I didn't know—especially men—so I didn't reach for the glass right away. "Why?"

"Because I've been in your shoes before," he said. "Although I will say that I was a little too smart to spend my last five dollars on a crappy beer. You could've gotten a shot of semi-decent whiskey for the same price."

"I wanted it to last."

He nodded, and I eventually pulled the frosted glass closer to me and took a tentative sip. He smiled and ran a hand through his graying hair. "So what brings you to town anyway?"

"Is it that obvious that I'm new around here?"

"To me, yes. But only because I've lived here my entire life, and I know just about every local in the area. And because you're wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt when it's sunny and 75 out."

I smiled into my glass. "Ah, yeah. I guess that's making me stick out like a sore thumb. I just got in today. I've been looking for a new place to live, and Solara Bay seemed like a good spot to settle down. You must agree since you never left."

"I think it's a great spot. But I hope you're not planning on buying a house out here—because prices have skyrocketed, and every time a new one goes up on the market, it gets snatched in a matter of days. Hours even. For someone who's paying their tab with a crumpled-up bill, I'm not sure you're going to have much luck with the housing market out here. No offense."

"None taken," I said, stifling a laugh. "I wasn't looking to purchase a house, as you already ascertained. Not here—or anywhere, really. I'm just looking to start over."

"I hear that," he said. "But you should know, everything is expensive out here, not just the houses. You have a job lined up or something?"

"No."

"A friend you can stay with?"

"No."

"So you were just planning on showing up and...?"

"Winging it."

He chuckled and then walked through the open door behind the bar. "Sit tight. I've got something for you to fill out." Al was gone before I could ask any follow-up questions. He returned a minute or so later with a piece of paper and a pen.

"What's this?"

"This is a job application. I've been looking to hire someone to help me out around here for a while now, so this will work out well for both of us. A win-win, if you will. No need to put anything down for the address since you'll be staying in the apartment right above us."

"What?" I gawked at him. "I will be?"

"If you want. You don't have to, obviously, but I figured it would be a hell of a lot better than sleeping on a park bench or whatever you were thinking of doing."

"... Beach."

"Oh no, that's a bad idea," he said gravely. "It's illegal to sleep on the beach around here, and they really crack down on it. You'd be arrested before the sun rose, for sure." He pointed to the ceiling. "The apartment upstairs is tiny, not even a one-bedroom. More like a studio. But you have your own entrance from the stairwell on the side of the building. I own the lot behind this little building, and that's where my two-bedroom is located, but you'll have enough privacy up on the second level."

"I'm—I'm not worried about privacy."

"Then what are you worried about?" he asked. "Because you're looking at me like a deer in the headlights suddenly."

"I just—" My mouth was dry, so I took a big swig from the glass. I couldn't remember the last time someone had been this nice to me. And without any provocation. I hadn't even given him that good of a tip. I put the mug down and glared at him. "I don't understand. What's in this for you?"

"A good bartender, I hope," he said. "And one that's never going to be late for work." He laughed, but I didn't. I was still completely taken aback by this entire interaction. Could this really be happening? Did this man really not have an ulterior motive? "Have you ever worked in food service before?"

"Yes," I said. "And I've tended bar."

"I had a feeling that was the case." He wagged his finger at me. "You've got that look about you."

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"For $18 bucks an hour plus tips, I hope you'll take it as a compliment."

This made me smile. "Can't say no to those numbers."

"Good. Just get that paperwork filled out then so I can get you on the payroll, and you can start tomorrow if you'd like. Thursdays aren't usually too busy, but there will be enough people to serve that you actually have something to do."

"You don't need me to start tonight?"

"No," he said. "I can handle things tonight. Plus, you need a good night's rest. I can tell you're exhausted."

Al was right. I was exhausted. And the prospect of getting to lie down in a warm, safe bed without the threat of being harassed by local police or passersby who wanted to look for treasures in my backpack was too good to resist. I didn't even care if there was somehow a scam involved here or if Al was a closeted creep. I had pepper spray and a mean right hook. If this man tried anything, I could take care of myself.

But something told me he wasn't that kind of guy.

The look in his kind, light green eyes told me he was just genuine and decent.

What a welcomed rarity.

I clicked the pen and started filling out the sections of the job application that I could—which was mainly just my name and phone number. I didn't have an up-to-date email address, and my work history was too much to get into. Thankfully, Al didn't question any of the parts I left blank. He took the paper from me when I was done, scanned the page, and nodded.

"Looks good." Then he paused. "Katrina O'Mally?"

I gulped. "Ye–yeah."

"That's an Irish last name." He eyed me for a moment. "You don't look very Irish to me."

"I am a little," I said. "On my dad's side. But going back a long way."

"Hmm."

"Under all this bleach blonde," I said, pointing to my head of short, spiky hair that I'd lightened in a motel sink a few weeks back. "There are strawberry-colored locks. And you should see a picture of my grandmother—she's got fiery red hair and freckles for days."

He cocked his head to the side but shrugged. "If you say so." Al put his hand out for a shake. "Welcome to the team, Katrina."

I smiled through my anxiety and took his hand. "Thanks. It really means a lot."

"Don't mention it. Just work hard and don't cause any trouble, and I have a feeling this will work out swimmingly for all involved."

I nodded and locked eyes with him to let him know I was serious.

"I can do that."