Page 6 of Lost Love Cove
Carrie’s eyes snapped toward the rocks at the edge of the cove. For just a moment, she caught a flicker of movement — a sleeve, a shadow, something slipping quickly out of sight.
Her heart leapt.
She shot her gaze back to the children. Maggie and Cody still ran with the dogs, oblivious, their laughter skimming across the waves. Relief punched through her, but it didn’t quiet the unease.
Carrie pushed to her feet, her sandals sinking into the damp sand as she moved toward the rocks. There was no one there. She scanned the ground with practiced eyes. The sand was mottled with footprints, but one set stood out: they were narrow, with smooth soles and a clean edge. They were not sneakers or flip-flops.
Carrie crouched. Her fingertips brushing the indentation. Years of police work had trained her eye—these were loafers. Who wore loafers on a beach?
The detail-rooted unease deep inside her. Whoever it was, they hadn’t come to walk the shoreline. They had been standing there, watching. The question was: were they watching Carrie and the kids?
Carrie glanced around the cove and looked down the other side of the beach. There was no one else there. She straightened, her pulse quickening as she swept her gaze over the stretch of rocks. Nothing moved. The breeze whispered through sea grass, andwaves lapped steadily at the shore. Whoever was watching was gone.
Still, Carrie’s instincts refused to quiet. She turned back toward the children. Maggie and Cody squealed with delight as the dogs bounded in circles, sand flying beneath their paws. Their laughter rang against the cove walls, sharp and clean.
Carrie’s chest tightened. They were only yards away, safe, but the image of those footprints clung to her. And the thought once again reverberated in her mind, Someone had been here—watching. She turned and walked back to the picnic spot.
“Maggie. Cody,” Carrie yelled. “It’s time to go.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the chorus of Aww and barks from the dogs who plodded back toward her, looking all sad. Her smile grew. She knew that look. It was emotional blackmail to try to get her to stay for a while longer. And where Carrie would usually give in… she glanced around uneasily. She was no longer feeling comfortable being here.
As she packed up and they started walking back home, a nagging at the back of her mind told her that their summer in Lost Love Cove might not be as peaceful as she had hoped.
4
MATT
The steady rhythm of hammer against wood echoed through the quiet cove. Matt leaned into the swing of his arm, sinking the nail flush with the plank that stretched across the half-finished porch. He straightened, wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, and stepped back to survey the line of new boards that ran along the front steps. Three weeks ago, this porch had sagged, its railings loose, its paint curled and gray from years of salt air. Now it was sturdy, straight, and slowly reclaiming the clean lines it must have once had.
It was the kind of progress that mattered. Not grand, not fast, but something that could be measured with his own hands.
The house had been little more than a shell when he bought it. Locals had called it haunted, shaking their heads at the peeling paint and the shutters that hung crooked like half-closed eyes. Inside, the walls had needed painting, the wiring had been a tangle, and more than one floorboard had groaned with rot. But underneath, the bones had been good. Solid. All it needed was someone willing to strip it down and put in the hours.
He found a kind of peace in that work.
The scrape of sandpaper, the scent of sawdust, the smell of fresh paint clinging to the air—it all gave him something to hold onto. When his mind drifted, when memories tried to claw their way in, he could press them back by focusing on the grain of the wood beneath his hands or the way a fresh coat of paint transformed a room.
He shifted, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders, and set another plank across the sawhorses as the front door opened with a bang. Matt sighed but didn’t turn around. He knew Alisha had just stepped through it, and he could feel her intense gaze boring into his back as she barrelled toward him.
Young people were always in such a hurry,Matt thought, amused, glancing at Alisha as she stopped beside him. Her hair was pulled back in her preferred style, and she had a pen and notebook in her hand. She shaded her eyes with one palm against the midday sun.
“Dad,” Alisha addressed him, “I was thinking about running into Key West. They’re having that summer festival and market. I could pick up some vegetables, maybe some fresh bread.”
Matt lowered the saw, resting his hands on the wood. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“I thought I might take Cody with me.” She tilted her head, watching him for a reaction. “I think he’d like the fair.”
“I’m sure he would,” Matt agreed with his daughter. “You used to love fairs at his age.”
Alisha nodded. “I was thinking of maybe asking Maggie if she wants to come along too. Cody and her seemed to instantly strike up a friendship.”
The mention of Maggie unexpectedly pulled an image of Carrie into his mind, and his heart gave an unwelcome jolt. Annoyance shot through Matt, and he shook the picture from his head. He shouldn’t be thinking of her. He had too much work, too much else to carry. But the image of her snagged, unwilling to slip free.
He cleared his throat and set the saw aside. “That would be nice of you. I’m sure Maggie would love that.”
Alisha smiled faintly, jotting a note on her pad. “I’m going to need to take your pickup truck.”
“Sure.” He hesitated, then added, “If you don’t mind stopping by the hardware store, I could use a few more fittings. Maybe some extra lumber if they’ve got it cut to size.”
