Page 48 of Deep Tide

The laptop caught her eye. He’d been very smooth about closing it when he walked in here. She glanced at the balcony, where he stood facing the beach with his phone pressed to his ear. A pile of papers peeked out from beneath the computer, and Leyla stepped closer. The top page was a printed news article from the Seattle Times.

TECH MOGUL ACQUIRES RIDESHARE APP, read the headline.

Leyla nudged the laptop aside and skimmed the first few paragraphs. She glanced at the balcony and gathered up the empty grocery bags as he opened the door and came back in.

“Sorry. Work.” He darted a look at his computer.

“You keep these?” she asked, holding up a bundle of bags.

“Drawer by the sink.”

She stashed the bags and checked her watch. “So, what sounds good? Did you eat dinner yet?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” If a zucchini muffin could be considered dinner.

“How about a drink?” he asked. “There are plenty of places on the beach I haven’t tried.”

“Sure.”

He grabbed his keys off the counter. No leather jacket tonight to conceal a holster, but she noticed the bulge above his boot, which told her he was armed. She wouldn’t have expected otherwise.

They rode the elevator down in silence, and she could feel his gaze on her. He smelled good again—some kind of bodywash or aftershave. But he had a day’s worth of stubble along his jaw, so he hadn’t shaved recently. Maybe he’d showered after a run.

The door dinged open, and they stepped out. He held the elevator as a woman with two little boys in swimsuits got on, dragging a turtle-shaped float behind them.

“This way,” Sean said, leading her to the lobby door that faced the beach. The passed a smallish pool surrounded by faded lounge chairs and rusted umbrella tables. Leyla still didn’t know what precisely Sean’s job was, but the government clearly wasn’t splurging on his accommodations.

He opened the metal gate that led to the wooden bridge over the dunes. She looked out at the beach, where night was falling and people strolled along the shoreline.

A gust whipped up, and Leyla twisted her hair into a knot at the top of her head as they crossed the bridge.

She looked at him. “Did you run today?”

“This afternoon. You?”

“No.”

As usual, exercise was the first thing to fall off her list when things got hectic. They reached the beach, and she paused on the stairs to take off her heels. She tucked them into her purse and stepped onto the cool sand.

“Where to?” he asked, looking north, toward the high-rise hotels. “There’s Buck’s Beach Club.”

She made a face.

“Okay, how about the sports bar? O’Toole’s?”

O’Toole’s was better than Buck’s, but there was a chance she’d run into Owen there.

“How about the Hut?” she said. “It’s a dive, but you can hear yourself talk.”

“Sounds good.”

She nodded in the opposite direction. “It’s just past the next bridge there.”

“Guess we could have taken the street.”

“This is better,” she said, looking out at the water. She liked the wind against her cheeks, and the sand felt good between her toes as they walked.

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