Page 64 of Sins of a Husband

“Oh. What brings you to Key West?”

She’s nosy, and I don’t like it.

“The rain.”

“Excuse me?” Her face contorts.

“The rain. It rains too much in Seattle. It’s depressing, and I grew sick of it. So, I packed up and moved to the sunny state of Florida to soak up all the Vitamin D.” I smile.

“Well, we do get rain here. But usually for only five or ten minutes at a time. And we do get the occasional hurricane.”

I smile and hope she leaves.

“So, is it just you here? Or you and your husband?”

“Just me. I’m not married.”

“Oh, Kevin will be so disappointed. He always liked talking to the guy who lived here before.”

“Well, maybe I can find a guy and have him over so they can talk.” I smile.

Her brows furrow as she stares at me. She thinks I’m weird, and I like it that way. Maybe she’ll leave me the hell alone from now on.

“Anyway, thanks so much for the lovely welcome basket. I really need to start unpacking.”

“Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be right next door.”

“Thanks, Kris. I appreciate it.”

She leaves, and I shut and lock the door.

One Month Later

So far,life in Key West has been fantastic. My days are filled with sitting on the beach, dipping my toes in the ocean, reading, swimming in my fabulous in-ground pool, and shopping.

After one of my shopping trips, I stop at Jack Flats on Duval Street for a drink.

“Hey, Dahlia,” Tom, the bartender says. “Whiskey?”

“Yes. Thanks, Tom.” I smile as I perch myself on a stool.

“How about a Cajun chicken sandwich and a side of fries to go with this drink,” he says, setting down my glass.

Before I can answer, I hear a voice next to me.

“She’d love it.”

My gaze drifts to the man standing a few feet away. His striking blue eyes lock onto mine, and I can't help but admire his chiseled jawline and dark, perfectly styled hair. He's dressed in khaki pants that hug his toned legs, and a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. My heart skips a beat as he flashes me an incredible smile, and I can feel my cheeks flush.

“I would, would I?”

“Yes. This place has the best Cajun chicken sandwich on the continent.” He makes himself comfortable on the stool next to me.

“Okay, then. Tom, get me a Cajun chicken sandwich and a side of fries.”

“I’ll have the same,” the man says. He turns and stares at me, his lips curled with the same smile as moments before. “I’m Alex.” He extends his strong-looking hand.

“Dahlia.” I place my small hand in his.

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