Page 65 of Sea Glass and Second Chances (Carolina Cove 3)

She saw an old shed up ahead. A place to hide? Find a weapon?

She glanced over her shoulder, her imagination running rampant because it turned shadows into the monster of a man who’d kidnapped her hours before.

The shed was dark and dank, and she held in a scream as something scampered across her foot, brushed against her lower leg as it fled out the door she’d left open.

Other than a stack of old buckets and a few bales of moldy hay seen by the light of the moon shining in through the hole in the roof, the shed appeared empty. There were no pitchforks or shovels or anything that would help.

Desperate, she rounded the shed and tripped over something in the dark, falling face-first into the wet, mossy sand. Her ankle throbbed, but when she turned her head—

An old kayak leaned up against the outside of the building. Who knew if it leaked, but there was only one way to find out.

Limping, gasping, she grabbed the paddle she’d tripped over and tossed it in, then dragged the kayak into the murky depths of the nearby stream.

She paddled away, the current aiding her, just as her kidnapper broke through the scrub behind her and roared in rage.

Hours later, Oz still typed, the words flowing like they hadn’t for quite some time. He’d always been a plotter, but he also wrote by the seat of his pants in how he got from plot point to plot point.

With his heroine on the run and getting sucked farther and farther downstream, her kidnapper was in hot pursuit. But he wasn’t the only danger she faced as she paddled through the murky trenches of the marshes.

Oz typed until his arms ached and he ran out of words, finishing the scene in a place that would help him get started tomorrow and whistling at the word count he’d racked up.

In a matter of hours, he’d made up for the time he’d lost during the week. Keep up the pace and he’d have no problem hitting his deadline. He just had to figure out what came next.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and shoved his chair away from the desk. Thanks to his push to get his words down, he now had to rush to shower and get ready for his dinner with Devon.

Thankfully it didn’t take long, and he was on his way to Rayna’s house in no time.

“You’re late,” Devon said as he made his way up the walk.

He turned his head, spotting her in the swing hanging from the gnarled live oak on the corner of their property. “I’m right on time,” he countered, changing direction. “How’s Rayna?”

“Exhausted. She’s already in bed.”

“She stole a kayak?” he asked. “I have to hear that story.”

He watched as Devon grimaced, her hands gripping the seat of the swing a little tighter.

“I can’t stand thinking about it, to be honest. The current, snakes, alligators. When I think of what could’ve happened to her…”

“But it didn’t. She’s fine,” he said, hoping the reminder would bring comfort.

One of the things he’d learned over the years was that everything was fodder for story. Small details became big ones at just the right time. “Logan said in the group text her mind seems clear?”

“Crystal. She’s calm, too. Like, ridiculously so. It’s like she found some magic potion on the water.”

“Maybe she did. Sometimes it takes facing the scariest challenges in life to make us realize our strength. Maybe last night was her realization.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, taking in her appearance as she remained on the swing.

She wore green shorts and a white top, nothing fancy, but she looked beautiful. No wonder the camera loved her. “How about we continue this discussion on the way to the restaurant? I booked us a table at Eddie’s.”

“Oz, this isn’t a date.”

“You still have to eat. And so do I. I’ve been writing all day and haven’t eaten since breakfast.” He tilted his head. “Mushroom ravioli,” he coaxed, naming her favorite dish from memory. “Come on. As much as I love the Babes’ cooking, you have to be getting tired of heating up leftovers, yeah?”

With one last wary look at Oz’s handsome face, Devon stood and fell into step beside him. Oz would have to remember her favorite meal and coerce her with it. The memory alone left her mouth watering.

Eddie’s was located near the pier, which meant they could easily walk. They meandered across the road to the boardwalk, elbows brushing periodically. Seagulls squawked overhead and grackles made that weird little chirp they made, the blue-green sheen in their shiny black feathers brilliant as they perused them from their high perch atop signs listing the rules for the beach.

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