Page 8 of Lost Love Cove
“Hi, Paula,” Matt stopped at the gate and took the tin. “This is kind of you.”
Muttley barked and plopped his front paws on the gate.
Paula laughed and pulled a chew bone from the basket. “I didn’t forget about you.” She leaned forward, patting Muttley’s large head before giving him the bone.
Muttley took it and then dashed off with it, as if he was afraid Matt was going to take it away.
“You spoil him and Cody,” Matt told her.
“It’s nice to have people and dogs to spoil,” Paula told him with a warm smile, then glanced toward Lori’s house. “I believe Lori’s summer guest has arrived.”
Of course Paula would come and investigate. She had done the same thing the first day after Matt arrived, having bought the house.
“Yes,” was all Matt said, glancing back at Lori’s house before turning his attention to Paula. “I had better go. I have some calls to make.” His gut twisted a bit at the lie. “Again, thanks for the cookies and the bone for Muttley.”
“No problem,” Paula replied. “I thought I’d go say hi to the newest resident of Sunset Keys.”
“I’m sure Lori’s guest will appreciate that,” Matt said, hiding a smile knowing that Carrie probably wouldn’t. He didn’t knowmuch about Carrie, but he could see someone trying to run or hide from something.
“Bye for now, Matt,” Paula called cheerfully, riding away.
“Bye,” Matt called back, giving a small wave.
Matt wandered into his weathered beach house, the screen door creaking behind him. He popped open the vintage tin, releasing the warm scent of chocolate and vanilla. The cookies inside were golden-brown with chocolate chunks still glistening. He plucked one out, savoring the first bite as it crumbled between his teeth, sweet and buttery. As he crossed the worn pine floorboards toward the kitchen, Muttley suddenly appeared in the hallway. The dog's usual friendly demeanor had vanished—lips curled back to reveal sharp white teeth, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. Before Matt could react, Muttley shouldered past him with surprising force, nails clicking frantically against the floor as he bolted onto the front porch. Outside, the dog's massive frame went rigid, his copper-colored fur bristling along his spine like a ridge of warning flags.
"What is it, boy?" Matt demanded, lunging after Muttley onto the porch. The dog's barking had transformed into something Matt had never heard before—a guttural, primal sound that raised the hairs on Matt's arms.
Matt's foot had barely touched the first step when an unfamiliar black sedan shot past, tires spitting gravel. The engine didn't just snarl—it screamed, a predatory howl that seemed to hang in the air even as the vehicle vanished around the bend.
Matt's body went rigid, his heart hammering against his ribs. Every instinct he possessed was suddenly, violently awake.
Coincidence, he tried to tell himself. But the word died in his throat.
Carrie's question about loiterers crashed back into his consciousness with the force of a physical blow, and the unease that followed wasn't just lingering—it was burrowing deep, making a home where his peace had been.
5
CARRIE
Carrie carried the picnic basket into Lori’s kitchen and set it on the counter with a soft exhale. The quiet pressed around her, an abrupt contrast to the morning’s noise and laughter. Without Maggie bounding from room to room or Cody trailing close behind her, the house felt still, almost too still.
She opened the basket and began unpacking it piece by piece—plates stacked neatly, the folded napkins, the container of leftover muffins that Maggie had sworn she would eat later but had already forgotten. Carrie wiped a crumb from her thumb, sliding the container into the fridge before lowering herself into one of the kitchen chairs to eat one of the muffins with the leftover coffee in the flask.
The silence left her thoughts to roam free, and she tried to push the uneasy ones about the watcher on the beach away.
Instead, she let her mind circle back to Cody’s words on the beach, his solemn face as he admitted his father was gone, and Maggie’s too-bright attempt to soften her own confession. Carrie pressed her palms flat against the table, her chest tightening. She had known her granddaughter carried questions about thefather who had walked away, but she had not realized the wound still sat so close to the surface.
Carrie rubbed at her temple. She wanted this summer to be healing—for Maggie, for herself—but already she could feel old griefs rubbing against fresh ones, never quite settling. The thought of the summer sent her thoughts sliding toward Matt Parker. His name, his voice, the way his eyes had locked on hers across the yard earlier. She pushed the thought aside, irritated with herself. He was a neighbor, nothing more.
A knock on the front door had Luna’s ears prick. She barked and rushed to the front. Carrie’s brow knitted, and she followed the dog whose tail was wagging as she sniffed at the bottom of the door. Carrie pulled it open, and a woman, around Carrie’s height, with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing flowing pants, a matching top, and a wide-brimmed hat, greeted her with a warm smile. She had a tin in her hands.
The woman on the doorstep radiated a kind of practiced welcome, the sort Carrie associated with seasoned hostesses or elementary school teachers—not the treacherously friendly Florida of chirpy real estate agents, but something more genuine. The tin in her hand was decorated with faded images of flamingos and palm trees, the kind of thing you found at a flea market and couldn’t resist. Luna, having satisfied herself that this person ranked somewhere between “mailman” and “person who brings treats,” stepped aside, tail sweeping the threshold.
“Hi there! Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you in the middle of something…” The woman’s accent rolled with old Key West, vowels rounded and easy. She tucked a strand of hair under the hat and extended the tin. “I’m Paula Day. Thought I’d come say hello while the sun was still tolerable and bring you a little something.” A second later, she produced, from a canvas bagslung over her shoulder, a large rawhide bone, giving Carrie a conspiratorial wink.
Carrie startled herself by smiling back. “I’m Carrie. Ware.” The word hung there. She had not yet figured out how to reintroduce herself to the world—as the captain on medical leave, as the failed wife, as the only grownup in a house meant for vacationers. “And this is Luna, but she seems to know you already.”
“Oh, dogs always remember the treat people.” Paula handed Luna the bone, who accepted it reverently and retreated to gnaw it on the welcome mat. “I saw you arrive yesterday. Wanted to bring you these before the humidity turned any cake into soup. But mostly, I just wanted to meet Lori’s mysterious guest. You know how it is—small town, new faces, and all that.”
