Page 43 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“Happy to help. And if you need me to cook for you, let me know.”

“Cook?”

“I cooked for Kyle a lot when he was up here. He loved good meals, but he didn’t have the patience for the work. I was supposed to cook for you two on Friday night.”

“Really?” Seems odd Kyle would have wanted someone else in the house when we were really getting to know each other.

“He was going to surprise you.”

“Wow. That’s so nice.”

“Seriously, if you need me, call. I’m minutes down the road, near the forest and woodlands.”

“Will do.”

This is Kyle and Devon’s world, and I’m the interloper. I need to leave before the afternoon storms. Time to move on, close the door to the past.

A cold wind blows off the water, slithering under my jacket and sliding up my spine. “Thanks, Devon. I’m going back inside to make sure all my things are collected.”

“Be prepared to stay longer. The beach isn’t letting anyone travel today.”

“Right.”

“The place is yours for as long as you want it.”

“Great.”

I toss Devon one last wave before shoving my hands into my pockets and trudging over the dunes toward the house. My head is ducked as I push against the wind’s icy hands that shove me forward.

Back at the house, I open the sliding glass doors and step into warmth. I don’t feel relieved as I close and lock the door behind me. This house doesn’t want me here, but the beach is determined to keep me here for now.

I walk to the base of the stairs, careful not to stand where Kyle’s body had lain. The longer I linger, the more questions claw the underside of my skin. “What were we fighting about?”

We couldn’t have been fighting. We were only in the house an hour. I was smiling, excited when we stepped in the front door. He showed me the kitchen, then his office, and his hand had pressed against the base of my spine as we climbed the stairs toward the bedrooms. I was sipping from a champagne flute when he flipped on the bedroom light.I paused when I saw the big bed. I dropped my purse as he set my overnight bag down.

He lays a hand on my shoulder. “Nervous?”

“Sure, a little.” I face him. “Aren’t you?”

“No.” He traces my collarbone with his thumb. I’m nervous about the idea of sex. He knows that and is charmed. “Have another sip of champagne.”

Crystal brushes my lips. “I’ll be drunk and asleep before you know it.”

Smiling, he kisses my lips. “I’ll keep you awake.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You won’t. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

And then we were at the top of the stairs. I was annoyed. Agitated, even. Why? What would have upset me in a matter of minutes?

Maybe I brushed past him, slipped, and he grabbed me hoping to stop my fall. Bad, random shit does happen to people.

“Kyle, what happened?”

The persistent uneasiness that has stalked me since I arrived won’t release me. I thought coming here would give me closure, but the longer I’m here, the more questions I have.

The house feels small. It has four thousand square feet, vaulted ceilings, and massive windows. But as I stand by the stairs, the air in the house shrinks, tightens around my throat until I don’t feel like I can breathe.

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