Page 47 of Deep Tide

“Thanks,” she said, locking the car with a chirp.

“I was just stocking up on some things.”

She eyed the plastic bags in his hands as she followed him to the sidewalk. He’d been to Marcel’s Grocery on the corner, where tourists got gouged for beer, sunblock, and microwaveable burritos.

He reached the door to his condominium and pulled a key card from his pocket. The door buzzed, and he held it open for her. She stepped into the air-conditioned lobby, where a seventies-era tile mural of dolphins decorated the wall.

“You been here before?” he asked, leading her to the elevator bank.

“Not since prom night.”

He laughed. “I won’t ask.”

“It was nothing too crazy,” she said, stepping onto the elevator. “Some of my friends rented a place for the weekend. What floor?”

“Four.”

She tapped the button, and the door whisked shut. “We basically drank and played poker.”

“Uh-huh.”

It had been slightly more eventful, but nothing compared to the kind of wild partying her brothers were known for.

The door dinged open, and she stepped out first.

“To your left,” he said.

She walked left, and he stopped in front of room 404 and used the key card again. When she’d gotten up this morning, the last place she’d expected to end up was Sean’s rental condo. Butterflies filled her stomach as she followed him inside.

The place was small and generic-looking, with oversize leather sofas and seashell-themed décor. A bar separated the living room from the kitchen, and a laptop sat open on the counter beside some paperwork and an empty plate. He deposited the grocery bags on the counter.

“So, you were at the funeral today, I take it?” He closed the laptop and started unloading drinks into the fridge.

“It was this afternoon.” She stepped over to the sliding glass door that opened onto a balcony with a surfboard propped against the wall. “Nice view,” she said, peering out at the beach. The sun had just set, and the waves were a dusky lavender.

“Beats my view back home.”

She turned to look at him. He was still unloading, and she moved back into the kitchen. “Need a hand?”

“I’ve got it.”

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket to check the screen. His brow furrowed.

“I need to take this. You mind?”

“Go ahead.”

“Want some water or anything?”

“I’m fine.”

He eased past her and opened the sliding door, confirming her suspicion that the call was probably work-related.

Unless it was a girlfriend. But he’d told her he was single, and she believed him.

He slid the door shut and leaned on the railing as he took the call.

She unloaded the last of the groceries. He’d bought a meat-lover’s pizza, which she stashed in the freezer beside a selection of burritos. Then she added a six-pack of Gatorade to the fridge, which was empty except for some beer and a few packets of ketchup. Sighing, she turned around.

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