Page 31 of All Along The Watchtower

BREE

I’d spent the past week getting back to business as usual. There’d been questions about Ford and Peyton. Everyone was talking about his surprise daughter and opining about whether they remembered her mother from that long-ago summer. But I’d managed to redirect most of those. Monty was dying of curiosity, but had recognized that pressing would only result in grumpitude and retribution, neither of which he was interested in dealing with. The rest of my staff had likewise steered clear, which was fine by me.

Pop had brought the photo albums by. I hadn’t contacted Ford about it because I didn’t want him to think the status quo between us had changed. It hadn’t. But they’d be there for the next time I saw Peyton. If the stack of them in the corner of my living room mocked me, trying to draw me down a dangerous road of nostalgia, I ignored it. I wasn’t putting myself in a position to relive the glory days or delude myself into questioning whether I’d been too harsh or, worse, somehow wrong.

Ford had hurt me. Period. Not maliciously, not in any calculated way. That wasn’t the kind of guy he was. But his thoughtlessness had been even worse. It had showed me exactlywhere his priorities lay, and I’d finally given up the foolish hope that they’d ever be with me. No more pining. No more wasted effort dreaming of a future where my best friend ever saw me as anything more than one of the guys. I’d moved on with my life without him at the center.

In a sense, he’d done me a favor. I’d thoroughly learned my lesson that men couldn’t be trusted. That they’d never stay. That I’d never be important. So I treated them accordingly. As friends or the occasional plaything for mutual itch scratching. Nothing more. If I had the odd pang of longing when I looked at the likes of Willa and Sawyer or Caroline and Hoyt, well, I was only human. But romantic entanglements simply weren’t a priority for me. I cared far more about the family I’d made and the business I’d built.

I needed to get to that business in the next hour. I was expecting deliveries to come in on the next ferry, including a special order of winter seasonal hops that Monty had been pestering me about for weeks. “C’mon, Keeley. Time to head home.”

My pup clamped her ball between her teeth and laid down on the beach, giving me her best sad-pupper face. The same one that had prompted me to bring her home from the shelter when I’d stopped by “just to look.” Those big blue eyes and floppy ears had done me in completely, just like they were trying to do now.

“We’ve already been out here for an hour.” The winter wind was picking up, whipping hair across my face.

She dropped her ball between her extended forelegs and barked, obviously determined to negotiate. This wasn’t a new game. My girl was nothing if not persistent, and she knew exactly how to play me.

“I have to go to work.” I planted my hands on my hips, trying to look stern.

Her tail began a hopeful wag, and I knew what she really wanted. The same thing she always wanted when she got like this.

“You wanna go hang with Pop today?” He spoiled her rotten with treats and belly rubs, but I couldn’t really blame him. She had that effect on everyone.

Keeley barked and snatched up her ball, shooting past me to head for my Jeep, her nails clicking against the wooden deck boards of the boardwalk as she ran.

Knew that would work.The two of them mutually adored each other. Pop spoiled her shamelessly, but I couldn’t bring myself to try to rein him in. Besides, if he was spoiling his granddog, he was less likely to be out doing something strenuous or dangerous, like trying to catch another marlin to replace Marv. He might be in denial of his age, but I was sure as hell aware of it, and of the fact that he couldn’t do everything he used to. The last time he’d overdone it, he’d ended up in the ER.

Keeley leapt into the backseat with her usual enthusiasm, and we made the short drive from the beach to home. A delivery van from Beachcomber Bargains was parked in front of the cottage next door, with a couple of guys hauling in a cream-colored sofa through the narrow front door. Huh. I wondered if the owners had decided to shift into the vacation rental market instead of property rental. So many people on the island had because tourism was a big chunk of what kept Hatterwick running. But I hated to see the housing market for locals continuing to shrink. God knew, it was hard enough for the people who actually lived here year round to find affordable places as it was.

As soon as I opened the door, Keeley jumped out and made a beeline for next door, her golden fur a streak of sunshine against the weathered boardwalk.

“No! Keeley! Come. Damn it.”

I’d gotten spoiled in the off season, not having to keep her on a leash all the time. With fewer tourists around, she’d had more freedom to roam our stretch of beach. I hurried after her, ready to apologize to the owner or property manager or whoever was overseeing the furniture delivery.

A delighted female laugh told me at least they didn’t sound pissed.

I stepped into the house. “I’m so sorry. She got away from me.” Then I stopped dead at the sight of my dog giving Peyton a tongue bath. The girl sprawled on the floor, giggling, while my traitor of a dog showed where her true loyalties lay.

“Hey Bree! Hey Keeley. Who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl.”

Keeley’s tail went into full helicopter mode.

My brain didn’t want to work. “What are you doing here?” A dozen possibilities flashed through my mind, each more unlikely than the last.

“Moving in.”

I couldn’t have heard her correctly. The words bounced around in my head like a pinball, refusing to make sense.

“I’m sorry?” My voice came out higher than usual, squeaking like a rusty door hinge.

“Hey, neighbor.”

Every cell in my body went on high alert at the sound of that voice. The deep rumble of it sent an unwanted shiver down my spine. I forced myself to turn and face Ford, doing my best to maintain a neutral expression despite the way my heart hammered against my ribs. “Neighbor?”

But, of course, I already knew. My mind just didn’t want to accept reality. The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor and an apparent vendetta against my peace of mind.

“We’re the new tenants.” To his credit, Ford had the good grace to not be cocky or blasé about it. There was a definite look of concern in those familiar green eyes.

---