Page 26 of Moonlit Hideaway
“Are you reminding me of the picket fence?” She bit her lip, looking into a hallway mirror. “Even with the different hair and no makeup, people might still recognize me.”
“I think you’ll be just fine,” Hank reassured her. “Anyone who looks close enough might notice a resemblance, but they won’t leap to the conclusion that a major pop star is hiding out here.”
Sierra nodded but considered her features—which were obviously still the same. “I might not look like a pop star, but people will wonder who I am and where I came from.”
“We need a cover story,” he said. “Something the town will believe.”
“According to the hardware store guru, I’m a waif you found in your travels. Do you do that a lot?”
“If they’re stray cats,” he chuckled. “Although they get adopted as quickly as I find them.”
She didn’t know if he referred to real cats or women, and she wasn’t sure why it should bother her. His mother’s concern hinted that he’d been hurt more than once, and it wasn’t her business.
“Well, if it’s believable, then maybe no one will question it when I leave?—”
“Let’s run with it.” He chuckled good-naturedly. “Half the battle’s won if you have the Thompsons gossiping about you. They already think you’re my girlfriend. Let’s say you’re a homeless woman I met on my last trip off the island. Offered you a place to stay until get back on your feet.”
“Quite the scandalous tale. But I suppose it could work. As long as I’m not ruining your reputation.”
“If anything, you’re enhancing my reputation,” Hank replied. “Everyone in town’s been trying to matchmake me and get me to start dating again. I just hadn’t met the right one until you came along—at least, that’s our cover story,” he added hastily.
Sierra wondered if she should read more into this arrangement or not. In her experience, people who were too kind to her wanted something. Every offer had strings; perhaps Hank needed her to soothe his ego. Or he simply wanted temporary companionship. A man had needs, and he couldn’t hit up locals without things turning serious.
As long as he kept it casual, she could leave without feeling guilty.
She could handle the transaction. That was the way her dad taught her. Everything had a price, and no one got a freebie.
“You’d really do this for me? What happens after I leave? I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Especially his mother, who’d warned her, and his daughter, who would get her hopes up. “I don’t know…”
“I want you to be safe.” He gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I want you to have the peace you’ve been searching for.”
His all-encompassing gaze focused on her—a warm tint of gray, no longer stormy. In that moment, she felt a connection deeper than anything she’d ever experienced. A man she barely knew would put himself out there for her. “You’re making me hope, and that’s dangerous.”
She trembled as he drew close—so close that the urge to kiss him overwhelmed her. The vulnerability in his eyes echoed her fears and hopes, drawing her like a magnet, melting her reserve, and the excuses why she’d soon be leaving felt too shallow.
Their lips were on the verge of touching when the front door opened with a gust of wind.
“Hello there,” called a male voice. “I’m here about the handyman job. Name’s Liam Walsh.”
Hank looked over as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cash register, but being an innkeeper, he recovered quickly. Sierra, however, worried that the blush was still on her face.
“Welcome to the Moonlit Inn,” Hank said, extending a hand to the newcomer. “I’m sure we can find something for you to do around here.”
The muscular, bearded man surveyed them with interest, his eyes lingering on Sierra. “Say, do I know you from somewhere?”
“No, sorry. I have one of those plain-Jane faces everyone thinks they know.” She cut him off with a sharp tone as she walked away.
Chapter Ten
“Well now, Mr. Walsh, how did you hear about us?” Hank asked as he observed the man wearing overalls and a tool belt. His presence spooked Sierra, and Hank ached at the thought of her discomfort.
“Word gets around,” Liam replied, offering a card to Hank. “I’m a bit of a traveling contractor. I surf in the summer and pick up work in the winter. Noticed you could use some help with the paint job here.”
“That’s right,” Hank nodded, looking over Liam’s card. “Did some siding replacement myself this summer, but it sure could use a decent coat of paint. There’s also some work needed under the house, shoring up a few pilings.”
“I can start first thing tomorrow. Is it all right if I park my trailer on your lot?”
“Sure, and we have hookups for water and electricity.” Hank gave him a registration form. “I’ll need to see some identification and a list of references.”
