Page 5 of Plot Twist in Pelican Point
"It is."
"Ah well, learn something new every day.”
He sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Tell me, if I looked up the word relentless in the dictionary, I'd find your picture, wouldn't I?" It's a bit sarcastic, but for the first time, his voice isn’t sharp but shaded with something almost like amusement. The sarcasm’s still there, but there’s less heat behind it. Like he’s not trying as hard to be a wall.
His shoulders ease just slightly, tension bleeding away as he looks at me longer than necessary. Not soft, exactly. Just… less guarded.
“Absolutely. Relentless, resourceful, and renting the guest cottage for six months,” I say with a grin. “A ray of sunshine, ifslightly caffeinated, and your charming literary neighbor—like it or not.”
For the first time, something flickers in his expression. Not irritation. Not dismissal. Something almost curious.
“I’m not here to bother you,” I press my palms to my thighs, anchoring myself. Vulnerability doesn’t come easy—but this part matters, so with a bit more softness, I continue, “I’m just… here. To write. To figure out what comes next.”
His gaze lingers. “You running from something?”
“No,” I answer truthfully. “I’m running toward something. I don't know what that something is just yet, but I'm sure I'll figure it out.”
He grunts, and I swear one of his brows lifts the tiniest bit. Like I’ve surprised him. Like he doesn’t quite know what to do with a woman who doesn’t flinch or fold.
His silence stretches, thoughtful this time. Another long pause. Then, “Don’t let the town fool you.” There’s something haunted in his voice. Not fear. Experience. Like he’s seen what hides behind charm and shutters. “Pelican Point’s pretty, but it can have a dark underbelly.”
The words hang in the air longer than they should, like the salty breeze isn’t in a rush to carry them away. A chill tiptoes up my spine despite the heat. It’s the way he says it—like he knows something I don’t, like he’s seen under the polished surface and found something dark squirming underneath. My writer brain kicks into overdrive, a hundred plot twists blooming all at once.
I blink. “That sounds ominous... almost like a warning.”
“It is.”
And with that, he lifts the mangled bracket and walks off.
That night, I can’t stop thinking about him. About the way his muscles flexed beneath the morning sun, the faint lines of tension carved into his face. The way he looked at me—like he was trying not to look at all.
I crack open my laptop.
A man made of shadows and scars. Beautiful, broken, and completely unaware he’s about to be undone by a woman with nothing left to lose.
I pause. Blink at the words. Then keep going.
It’s the first time in months I’ve felt the words arrive like that—unforced, electric, alive. Like the dam cracked open and the flood finally found me. Not all at once. But enough to breathe again. Enough to hope. And all it took was one maddening, infuriating, gorgeous man with a jawline sharp enough to slice through my writer’s block.
The story’s back... and it starts with him.
CHAPTER 2
SEBASTIAN
Kate Lawrence is a goddamn menace. The kind that sneaks under your skin before you realize you're bleeding.
I’ve survived deployments, deadlines, and more bureaucratic hellscapes than I care to remember—but apparently none of them prepared me for a woman with a Southern accent and a smile that should be registered as a lethal weapon.
The first time I saw her—really saw her—she was standing barefoot on her porch, balancing a box of underwear and eyeing me like I was some rare jungle cat. And when she nearly faceplanted trying to sneak a better look, I should’ve turned away. Ignored it. Gone back to work like a sensible man.
But I didn’t.
Because something about her pulled me in like the tide— bright, chaotic, persistent as hell. The kind of pull that makes your chest tighten and your grip falter.
And now? She’s in my head, steady and unpredictable, like weather I can’t ignore no matter how hard I try.
It’s not just the smile—though that’s a problem all on its own. It’s the way she talks to me like I’m not intimidating. Like she's read the manual on how to handle guys like me anddecided to throw caution to the wind and just wing it. It’s the way she crouched beside me this morning, completely uninvited, cracking jokes like we’ve known each other for years. Like she belonged there, in the middle of my mess.
