Page 18 of Finding You
I needed to get out and clear my head. I decided to stop by The Lighthouse, one of Havenport’s fancier establishments, to grab a beer. Perched on a bluff halfway between my house and the downtown area, it was a tourist hub known for fine dining and incredible ocean views. I came here for two reasons. One, because my friend Eric bartended here and always took good care of me, and two, because it was not a place that many locals patronized. When I came here, I knew no one would bother me, and I could sit and watch the ocean or enjoy a bowl of their award winning lobster bisque. Tonight I brought a book and was planning to just zone out and unwind a bit before heading home.
I came in and took my usual seat at the corner of the bar. “Hey, man, what can I get you?” Eric had been a friend for a long time. His older brother Jimmy worked for me on one of my crews and was a really good guy. It was one of the things I liked about Havenport—knowing people and their families. No one was ever really a stranger. You would think a loner like me would prefer anonymity, but I didn’t. I liked that most people knew me. It took a lot of the pressure off to make small talk or put effort into interactions. But some nights, like tonight, I just wanted to be anonymous. Which was why I loved The Lighthouse.
“Can I grab a pint of the Helmsman Double IPA and a menu?” My younger brother, Liam, was a brewer. He opened Binnacle Brewery here in Havenport a few years ago, and I always ordered his beers when I was out to support him. The business had been up and down over the years, but he truly loved it. It was actually when his fiancée, Cece, came on board to handle marketing that the place really began to take off. As much as I would never admit it to his face, his beer was excellent and I was so proud of him every time I went out and saw his product stocked somewhere. I was born into fishing, and it was in my blood. He came by brewing naturally—it was just his passion, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of him.
The bar was relatively busy for a Thursday. Well-dressed folks were milling around, drinking and picking at appetizers. I was clicking through emails on my phone when I heard a familiar, husky voice. “No, thank you. I’m just enjoying my glass of wine alone tonight.”
I peered around the side of the L-shaped bar and spotted a familiar curtain of white-blonde hair. Astrid was standing at the end of the bar, looking like a total knockout in a black sheath dress and sky-high heels. Damn, she was beautiful. But there was more to it. Her attitude, the way she carried herself, was nothing short of badass. Nora was right, she definitely had a Charlize Theron vibe happening. She was tall, blonde, and looked like she could kick my ass and I would thank her later. Her posture and body language said “don’t mess with me,” yet some bumbling idiot was definitely trying to hit on her. Poor schmuck. If I knew one thing about Astrid, it was that she could probably eat this dumbass for breakfast. But there was no way I was going back to my book now. My interest was piqued.
I moved a few seats over on the bar so I would have a better view of her. And that guy would not take a hint. He kept crowding her and, at one point, grabbed her hand which she immediately pulled away. I instantly stood up to say something. Then I got a good look at his face. Asshole.
I pulled myself up to my full six feet three inches and strode over there like I owned the place. I smacked my pint glass on the oak bar top, spilling some beer in the process.
“Flint. What are you doing here?”
Marcus Flint, my nemesis, looked me up and down disdainfully. Yes, I wasn’t dressed up exactly. But I was wearing nice jeans and a vest over my plaid shirt. It was my meeting attire, and it worked for me. I wasn’t a suit and tie type of guy, and the people I did business with appreciated that.
We stood, facing each other like two moose about to battle over territory. I hated him with every cell in my body. He wasn’t wearing his uniform tonight, thank God, but was all decked out in a shiny suit. Probably trying to score with some tourists. He was such a scumbag.
“Why are you interrupting me, Quinn? Can’t you see I’m chatting with this lovely lady?” He waved his hand as if I should walk away.
I looked at Astrid, and she winked at me.
“Sweetie, what took you so long?” she whined. “I have been waiting for more than thirty minutes.”
I casually shoved Marcus aside, wedging my large body between them. I grabbed Astrid’s waist and leaned down and kissed her cheek. “So sorry, killer. I got held up at work. Please forgive me.” She nuzzled into my side, and I pulled her in closer. We fit together perfectly. She was warm and soft and smelled incredible.
She smiled up at me, and my entire body felt warm. For a minute I contemplated kissing her on the mouth, but I figured we had sold the ruse so far.
I looked up at Flint who looked confused. “Were you bothering my girl, Flint?”
He looked at Astrid and then at me, as if he could not believe that we were a couple. “Is there a problem?” I continued.
Astrid playfully patted my bicep. I flexed. I couldn’t help myself. “Oh sweetie, be kind. Mark here was just telling me how he is a police officer here in Havenport.”
Flint grimaced. “It’s Marcus.”
“Of course,” she deadpanned. “It was so lovely to meet you. But Declan promised me a romantic dinner tonight, so if you’ll excuse us.” She pinned him with a sharp glare as if to say “move along,” and he nodded and excused himself. He walked back to the other side of the bar, muttering and shaking his head. Objectively, I was attracted to Astrid. She was beautiful and interesting, but watching her effortlessly dispatch my mortal enemy gave me chills. This was the kind of woman I could fall in love with if I wasn’t careful.
She gave me a patented Astrid glare. “I had that situation under control. You did not have to rush over here like a raging bull.”
I kept my arm around her waist. “Sorry, Marcus Flint just makes me see red.”
She gave me a dramatic eye roll. “Thank you.”
I kept her close, not ready to take my hands off her body. “My pleasure. It’s not every day I get to save a damsel in distress and stick it to my mortal enemy in the process.”
“Mortal enemy? Tell me more!” She perched her chin on her fist, pretending to be fascinated.
I smiled, thinking everything she did was adorable. “He’s probably more of a nemesis really, but basically we’ve hated each other since grade school. I had a really bad stutter growing up, and Marcus Flint bullied me endlessly.” That was a bit of an oversimplification. I didn’t speak until I was three years old, and when I did, I had a vicious stutter. My parents sought out every specialist and program for me, but I battled with it well into my teens. Because of it I was always really quiet and barely spoke. I struggled in school and had a hard time making friends. I hated social situations and avoided them at all costs. Even with Callum by my side, I never felt comfortable. It took until high school for me to really overcome it, and still sometimes I slipped when I got nervous.
“Wow. What a dick,” she said, sneering in his direction.
“I know. And we’ve just always hated one another.”
“I find it shocking that anyone bullied you. Look at you.” A sly grin spread across her face. I didn’t know what she meant specifically, but I liked the way her eyes swept all over my body, as if she was impressed with me.
“I got bullied a lot, trust me. Just because I’m big and have two brothers doesn’t mean I’m immune. There were plenty of bullies and lots of fights.”
