Page 75 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“I reminded him of himself?” Or Nikki, as Detective Becker suggested. I gulp another swig of beer.

“Or maybe the kind of woman he grew up with. No one put on airs around here.”

“He left his past behind.” Some men did gravitate back to their roots as they neared their mid- to late thirties.

“He’d started reconnecting the last few years.”

Would reminders of his youth have sustained us? I’ll never know if we’d have gone the distance. Eventually, I suspect he’d have grown tired of my crazy work hours, constant budgeting, circle groups, and school schedule. Poor and struggling gets old even for me sometimes.

“Did you love him?” Reece asks.

The question catches me off guard. Kyle and I had never spoken of love. “After three weeks?”

He shrugs. “It happens.”

“I’m not sure there’s such a thing as love. The best any of us can do is find someone that fits into our life and then build from there.”

He raises a brow. “That sounds good to me.”

“Maybe.” I think back to the last moment Kyle and I shared in the bedroom. If it’s a true memory, then it’s cast a shadow over the entire three weeks we were together.

He clears his throat. “Let me turn on the grill. Help me carry plates downstairs.”

From the fridge he grabs a box of burgers on a plate and hands it to me before snagging a metal spatula and a sleeve of buns. “Follow me.”

He opens a back door and leads me down a rear staircase to the concrete parking pad under the house. We both weave through the construction supplies to a covered gas grill. He pulls off the plastic cover, opens the lid, and presses the starter button.

I shift the plate to my right hand so I can burrow my left hand in my pocket. “Is this how you eat?”

“No takeout up here unless I’m willing to drive thirty miles south. But I’m ready to get out of the house. The grill is my compromise forboth. Just a few more days, and I’ll return to the mainland.” He takes the plate from me and sets it on a strip of plywood resting on two sawhorses.

I shove my right hand in my pocket. Despite the chill, I feel less constrained with the air blowing around us.

“Any more footprints or open doors?” He closes the gas grill lid and sips his beer.

“All quiet.” But I remain rattled and uncomfortable in the house. “I have no idea what happened.”

He opens the grill and drops raw burger patties on the hot grate. They sizzle.

“Think whoever might be lurking around my house could’ve done the damage here?” I ask.

“I suppose that’s possible.”

“Maybe they were scoping out my place, realized I was there, and backed off.”My place.I’ve become too acquainted with Kyle’s beach house. It’s not mine. Not ours. Not anything.

“Maybe Devon came up to the house to see if you were still here,” he offered. “She realized you were, and then she left.”

“That’s very plausible.” I take a long pull on the beer. “What do you remember from Friday?”

He regards me for a long beat. “I wasn’t paying that close attention to you two. I had my hands full dealing with the flooding in this house.”

He reaches for the spatula and flips the burgers. Melting fat sizzles. My gaze is drawn to his hands and the way his watch encircles his wrist. So few guys wear a watch anymore, which is a shame. It’s kind of sexy. No wedding band on those long, calloused fingers. Which doesn’t mean anything. Lots of guys in construction don’t wear rings for safety reasons.

I clear my throat. “But you spoke to Kyle. You knew each other.”

“It was a quick greeting,” he says. “He said we’d talk later. He wanted to get you settled in the house.”

“I don’t remember you.”

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