Page 8 of Shades of You

“Protect people?”

“Something like that,” he replied, pocketing his money.

I managed a shaky smile, feeling the weight of his gaze as I motioned to the book in his hand. “Enjoy your adventure.”

“Thanks.” That nearly imperceptible softening around his eyes made an encore. “It was good to see you.”

“Likewise, Hunter.” His name still felt strange on my tongue, like a word from a forgotten language I was learning all over again.

He paused at the door, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I’ll be back. Clive Cussler did write quite a few books, after all.” He held up the battered paperback in a salute, his smile widening before he stepped out into the waning day.

The door closed softly behind him, and I was alone in the quiet shop once more. My legs gave out, and I slumped against the counter, my hands trembling. Who was this man who had just walked out of my store? The boy who’d left town years ago, the one who whispered Hemingway and Shakespeare as he smiled shyly had been transformed. He was as daunting as he was mesmerizing, a living paradox wrapped in tattoos and mystery.

My heart raced, not just with fear but with a curiosity that bordered on yearning. Because of that small sentence he’d uttered. “Especially… someone who means something to me.”

I knew who Hunter Markham used to be, but the question was, who was he now? And more importantly, was it safe to find out?

Chapter Four

Hunter

The unmistakable crackof bat against ball snapped me back to the present as I crouched behind home plate. I vaulted to my feet with a curse as the batter hit a clean double through the gap between first and second. He didn’t need to sprint to reach first base.

Shit! Gotta get my head in the game here.

The Calypso Key Stingrays were up against the Marathon Marlins today, and the heat wasn’t just coming from the blazing afternoon sun. Gabe wound up another pitch, and my muscles tensed in anticipation.

We were in the ninth inning, but I’d had trouble concentrating all game. My mind wouldn’t stop drifting back to Brenna’s bookstore. When I’d first walked through the door, it was like stepping into a different world. A quiet, familiar world I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed. I’d spent so many years imagining what she might look like now. And when I’d finally seen her yesterday, it had hit me like a punch to the gut.

My fantasies couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

Her light-brown hair had cascaded like a waterfall touched by the sun’s golden fingers. Her eyes, an easy soft green, seemed to reach right into me. She still moved with the effortless grace I remembered, but the rest of her was nothing like my old friend.

I’d frozen on the doorstep, completely flummoxed by how gorgeous she was. Tall, willowy, her skin held the faintest blush from the sun. Sharp cheekbones framed a full mouth. When she first saw me, her eyes had been full of surprise and maybe even a hint of fear. I was used to my appearance causing that reaction in people. But fear was the last thing I wanted Brenna feeling in my presence. Fortunately, after she recognized me, I’d actually been able to string a few sentences together.

The way the store had been decorated—the beachy pictures along with paintings of Main Street, the perfect mixture of new books and well-thumbed paperbacks with ratty covers. All of that made it clear that Bookshop in Paradise was more of an extension of herself than a business she ran. The awkwardness between us had eased and we’d been on the way to an honest-to-God real reunion.

Until her ex showed up and ruined everything. When I heard the petulant whine in his voice and Brenna’s tight refusal, I’d acted automatically. I hadn’t even thought twice before manhandling the guy. And like most bullies, he’d backed down quickly upon facing someone who could fight back. But that look on Brenna’s face afterward… like she didn’t know whether to be grateful to me or fear me?—

“Hey, daydreamer, wake up! We’re trying to win a game here!” Maia’s voice cut through my memories like the crack of a whip. I blinked and refocused on the diamond before me.

I waved an apology, then adjusted my catcher’s mitt as my gaze flitted over to first base, where Maia stood with her hands on her hips. Her straight brown hair was tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail that matched her personality—tough and businesslike on the field but with a laugh that could light up even my moods. A smattering of freckles danced across her nose when she grinned, but right now my little sister and team manager was scowling at me and no doubt wondering where my head was at.

From the mound, Gabe lifted an arm out and glared at me. “You still with us?”

“Absolutely,” I replied with a nod and waited for the next batter to approach.

Though a few inches shorter, Gabe was a big brother personified and not someone I wanted pissed at me. I’d seen him plenty angry at me not too long ago, and I didn’t want a repeat performance. As I crouched back down, I steeled myself, pushing all thoughts of Brenna aside. The dull thud of the ball hitting my mitt helped settle me. My reflexes snapped into place, sharp and ready, and I hurled the ball back to Gabe with precision. He caught it neatly, rotating his shoulder with a slight grimace. He’d asked about ice earlier, but you wouldn’t know he was feeling any discomfort from the quality of his pitching.

The batter in front of me hit a hard line drive. Stella’s boyfriend, Aiden, was at third. He leaped with impressive agility, snagging the ball from its flight before landing and tagging the current runner on the base in one fluid motion.

The sparse crowd erupted in cheers as the umpire’s hand sliced through the air. “Out!”

“Nice play, Aiden!” I shouted, clapping my glove as we jogged off the field. Aiden had been a great addition to the team. He played with a casual grace that made impossibleplays look easy. As we settled into the dugout and the sound of bats clinking and teammates chattering filled the air, I kept my head down, trying not to think beyond the game.

Stella and Liv sat to my right, their heads together. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” Stella said to Liv, who had a frown tugging at her lips. “You’re doing great out there in right field.”

Liv shifted on the metal bench, smoothing her team jersey over her curves. “Easy for you to say,” she mumbled. “You look like you were born on a diamond. I swear I’m the most unathletic person on earth.”

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