Page 6 of Secrets in Calusa Cove

However, Dawson had taken to Calusa Cove like bees to honey. He loved almost everything about this town—the quirky people, the funky places, the smallness of it—and especially, the quietness. He loved that. When he’d first decided to come here, he’d thought he might miss the snowy winters or even the change of seasons, but he hadn’t. He enjoyed the palm trees and the perpetual warmth.

Still, there were two things Dawson didn’t like about his new home.

Gators and mosquitoes the size of gators.

And maybe one more thing. The lack of available single women. But Dawson had had his heart ripped out once, and he’d rather be in a place like Calusa Cove than some town where a woman could steal his soul—especially a redhead.

So why was his pulse purring like a damn kitten?

“Yeah, it’s me,” the pretty redhead said. “I guess I should’ve known that even after all these years, I wouldn’t be able to fly under the radar.”

“Not with that hair.” Fletcher laughed, waving his finger over the top of his head. “Besides, you had to register. Everyone knows you’re coming,” Fletcher said. “It’s been what—sixteen years since you left?”

Audra… Ken…

Dawson didn’t know the entire story, but he knew enough.

“Something like that,” Audra said. “Look, I’d love to sit here and shoot the breeze, but I’ve got to get going.”

“I can’t believe you came here—of all places—to do the Python Challenge.” Fletcher leaned against the vehicle.

“It was time to come back.” She turned, leaning across the seat. “And for more than one reason.”

Dawson pushed his glasses to the top of his head and glanced around the lot. He counted fifty cars. That was five more than last year. According to Parks and Recreation records, this was the second year the challenge was open to this area. Different areas in the Everglades would get well over two hundred participants, but the reality was that less than a thousand would hunt during the ten-day challenge.

The number of pythons that would be removed would barely put a dent in the problem, but it still helped.

“I would hope the number one reason is to capture and kill the pythons,” Fletcher said, “considering how your dad felt about keeping the Everglades intact. I bet he would’ve been out there every day trying to remove as many as he could.”

“If this challenge had been going when he was alive, he’d have run it. But it’s not like he wasn’t wrangling snakes before he died.” She lifted a large camera. “Killing pythons is one of the reasons I’m here, but I’m also here to take some pictures of the wildlife and the hunt for a collection I’m putting together and an article I’m writing on the situation.”

“You should sit down with our friend Keaton Cole,” Dawson said. “He’s Fish and Wildlife, and he’s got an opinion about the pythons and this challenge.”

“Dawson’s right about that.” Fletcher nodded. “We’re all passionate about the removal of the snakes. We’re just not all thrilled about this.”

“You can say that again,” Dawson said under his breath. This area didn’t get too many novice participants, but others did, and every year, someone got hurt. “I don’t mind the professionals, but take those guys over there…” He jerked his chin toward two men leaning against a fancy foreign sports car wearing golf shirts, slacks, and god-awful shoes that some company sold for a small fortune to men like that, claiming they were “boat shoes.” It was an utter disgrace—worse than those Army-grade backpacks sold online that came from China. Dawson had a bad feeling about those two and had texted Hayes and Remy to make sure they did a thorough check of their boat.

But something else about those two got under Dawson’s skin. They stood out like a sore thumb, and that made him twitchy.

“Technically, I’m not a professional snake hunter, although I’ve done this before in a different area and grew up catching rattlers and water moccasins.” Audra cocked her pretty little brow. “Do you have a problem with me?”

Dawson cleared his throat. “I guess I walked right into that one,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to insult you, ma’am.”

“You didn’t, but keep calling me ma’am, and we’ll have a problem.” She laughed. “If I can wrangle an alligator, I believe I can deal with a python.”

Fletcher bent over, placed both hands on his knees, and full-out laughed.

“What the hell is so funny, Fletch?” Audra narrowed her stare. “That gator might have only been four feet long, but I got him, and you were there. You lost fifty bucks that day.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at the idea of you wrestling a snake—or a gator. Really, I’m not. I’m sure the fiery redhead I remember back in high school can do it all again. What I’m having a good chuckle over is you coming out of that swamp after wrestling that gator and the shirt Ken bought you?—”

“Oh, buzz off,” Audra mumbled. “You got to see breasts that day, even if they were itty-bitty. You should be grateful. Now get your ass the hell off my car so I can hand in my paperwork, get my boat in order, and get me some snakes.”

Fletcher lifted his hands and backed away.

“Nice meeting you, Officer.” She lowered her glasses over those mesmerizing eyes that Dawson would not allow himself to be captivated by.

“Feel free to call me Dawson,” he said.

---