Page 20 of Key West Promises

Will studied her for a long moment. "That’s not how I work. I don’t just drop in and grab a few soundbites—I stay. I follow through. That’s why my last documentary took two years to make. It’s about the people, not the footage."

Kaitlyn folded her arms. "Two years? That’s a commitment."

Will nodded. "Yeah. And if I’m lucky, this project will take just as long."

Elena leaned in. "I really do think Will’s work could help bring awareness in a way we haven’t been able to. I’ve got to get to my office. Perhaps you can answer any questions Will has." Elena looked at Will. “I’m sure Kaitlyn will be happy to help.”

Elena walked away and Kaitlyn looked back at Will. She hated when she was put on the spot, but she also hated the idea of dismissing someone just because she didn’t trust easily.

Kaitlyn looked back at Will. "All right. Prove it. Show me your work."

Will didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his phone and pulled up a website, scrolling until he found a link. "Here. My last documentary,Under the Surface, is about the fishing communities that are being priced out of Florida’s coastal towns. No sob stories. Just real people trying to hold on to the life they’ve built."

Kaitlyn took the phone, watching the short preview video. The footage was raw but striking—stunning ocean shots juxtaposed with interviews of fishermen discussing rising costs, the struggle to keep their businesses afloat, and the impact on their families.

Handing the phone back, she tilted her head slightly. “Okay, so you’re not a hack. What beach is that?”

Will smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment. That’s Smathers Beach. Haven’t you been there?”

Kaitlyn shook her head. “No. I haven’t had a chance to check it out. I didn’t think there were many good beaches here.”

Will let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Now that is a shame. It’s one of the best around. I go there all the time. I’d be happy to show it to you.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got too much to do to take a beach day.” Her response came out sharper than she intended, and she immediately regretted the defensiveness in her tone. “Besides, I’m more than capable of finding it on my own.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Suit yourself.”

Kaitlyn turned and strode from the room, but not before catching the flash of confusion that crossed Will's face. She told herself she couldn't trust him, yet found her gaze drawn to the window throughout the day, watching Will Moreno as he worked outside.

By the time she left Paradise Harbor House that afternoon, her thoughts were still tangled. Will Moreno was…interesting. He wasn’t just another tourist chasing a cheap headline. He was thoughtful, and serious about his work, but it didn’t change Kaitlyn’s opinion that he was someone worth keeping an eye on.For professional reasons, of course.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Leah stepped into The Lost Anchor, the sound almost lost beneath the whir of ceiling fans.

The bookstore wasn't on her carefully planned route for the day, but she'd noticed it while walking back from another failed attempt to get local business support for Paradise Harbor House. A hand-painted sign in the window had caught her eye: "Books for every journey, maps for every soul."

The interior was a reader's dream—floor-to-ceiling shelves created intimate nooks and crannies, while comfortable chairs invited lingering. The air smelled of old books and fresh coffee, with something else underneath—salt air drifting in through open windows, reminding visitors they were still in Key West despite the literary sanctuary.

"We're not a tourist shop," a voice called from somewhere behind the shelves. "If you're looking for Hemingway merchandise, try Duval Street."

"Actually, I need books on nonprofit management and grant writing," Leah replied, following the voice. "Preferably something published this decade."

She rounded a corner to find a man sorting through a stack of books, his silver-streaked dark hair falling across his forehead as he worked.

He looked up, and Leah found herself caught by sharp green eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He had the kind of face that showed he smiled often, though right now he was studying her with amused skepticism.

"Nonprofit management?" He set down the book he was holding. "That's refreshingly specific. Usually people just want beach reads or local history."

"I like to be specific," Leah said, straightening her shoulders slightly. "It saves time."

"Ah, a pragmatist." He moved toward a different section of shelves with the easy familiarity of someone who knew exactly where everything belonged. "And what worthy cause brings you to the exciting world of grant writing manuals?"

"Paradise Harbor House. We're trying to expand our programs, but—" She paused as he held up a hand.

"Elena's place? The women's shelter?" His expression shifted from mild amusement to genuine interest. "Now that's a story worth telling. Though I'm guessing you're more interested in the funding chapters than the narrative ones."

Leah blinked, surprised by both his knowledge and his insight. "You know about Paradise Harbor House?"

"I know about most things that matter in Key West," he said, pulling several books from different shelves. "Jack Calloway, by the way. Former journalist, current purveyor of literary escapes and caffeinated salvation."

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