Page 23 of Island Homecoming

Workingnightsalwaysmeantgetting creative about the routine and keeping herself sharp. It was all too easy to get her internal clock turned around. During her years as a cop, she’d trained herself to fall asleep when it was time, no matter the schedule. Last night’s restlessness was an anomaly and completely tied to her date. She hadn’t been able to shut down the questions racing though her head after having dinner with Nash.

She’d had fun. Actual real-world, real-people fun. Her fears of social retaliation never came to pass. In fact, being out with him, talking over the meal, hadn’t felt awkward at all. She hadn’t had a date go that well in ages. Considering that surely wasn’t his initial intention somehow made it even more satisfying.

And weird.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when her first waking thought was of Nash.

That was dangerous territory, and in a move that made her feel like a teenager again, she wished for a girlfriend to help her hash out her silly fascination with her ex. Back in the Keys, she would’ve vented to her partner or given one of her friends at the Cove a call.

Then again, maybe not. She didn’t typically get this flustered over anything. Especially not anything as personal as a pseudo-date.

By the time she finished off a challenging workout with a calming yoga breathing sequence, she was ready for a decent breakfast. She opted for a veggie omelet since she’d be loading up on ice cream in a few hours.

With her laptop open on the breakfast table, she ate as she skimmed the report Frasier updated at the end of each shift. Last night had been another quiet night of no disturbances at the warehouse. Good news all around.

The last paragraph of the report was an update on the boat. The diver she’d chased off on her first night had prompted another search of the seized vessel, conducted by Chief Caldwell. He and the investigators from the state had found over a million dollars in cash layered behind false panels in the galley cabinets.

That was interesting. No wonder the diver had risked boarding the boat. That kind of cash could mean life or death in the drug trade. Probably death for the crew who’d lost control of it, assuming they were still alive.

Clicking over to the next report in the file, she reviewed the progress on the rest of the case.

State authorities were working in tandem with the DEA and the Coast Guard, doing everything possible to drop a net over the people behind the shipment that had gone awry.

What if Brookwell was the intended destination after all?

There wasn’t a ton of evidence to answer that question. Any number of problems could’ve caused the boat crew to try and come ashore here. Failed navigation, illness, a deadly conflict. Anything.

If the shipment was supposed to land here for distribution, her hometown was in for a rude awakening. Surely the chief shared her concerns. Caldwell was being cautious and smart about the whole situation. Jess appreciated the tactic and hoped it proved effective for the case and the community.

She wasn’t entirely comfortable with her reasons for coming home. Definitely not comfortable with carrying a gun yet. But she didn’t want to see this special island crumble under the pressure of criminal outsiders trying to take advantage of small-town hospitality.

As she cleaned up her breakfast, she spotted a note from her mom, urging her to pack leftovers for her overnight shift. She smiled. Not having to cook was a great perk of running away.

She wrote a quick thank you note in reply, and once she was packed up, she headed out to do some exploring before she expected Nash to call. Or text.

The man was incorrigible, but she loved his sense of humor.

She parked a couple blocks away from Island Freeze, backing into a space on Central Avenue so she could easily get out again. With her uniform shirt, belt, holster, and gun secure in the trunk, Jess walked along, noticing the changes along what passed as the main thoroughfare on the island.

Nothing was quite like she remembered it.

The candy shop was in the same location, but the sign over the door advertised a new name and logo. The bank on the corner had changed names. Probably more than once. The library seemed smaller, though it was surely the same, and there was an eye-catching mural on the wall that tourists would see as they drove into town. There were electric scooters for rent now in addition to the classic neon-pink bicycles. It was a relief to see the Bread Basket bakery hadn’t changed anything except their new window display and lighting.

She should stop in and see Ms. Connie soon. Along with a range of breads, the older woman made the best strudel Jess had ever tasted.

Her phone hummed and it was indeed a text from Nash. By the time she made her way to the ice cream shop, Nash was waiting out front. His smile when he saw her stirred up a flutter of butterflies in her belly. They were friends.Newfriends. Keeping that in mind was in her best interest of surviving this visit with her heart intact.

“You’re not in uniform.”

She glanced at her reflection in the glass. She didn’t look much like a local or a tourist with her white tank top over dark tactical pants and running shoes instead of the boots she would need later. It hadn’t seemed like a good idea to go strutting through town on personal business while decked out for her protective detail.

“Same goes.” He wasn’t wearing anything with his business logo on it.

He shrugged. “Seemed best to trade in the grass-stained gear for something clean.”

“More room for ice-cream stains,” she teased. He looked good. Better than good, though she wouldn’t saythatout loud. They were trying to have a friendship here. He wore a colorful short sleeve cotton shirt untucked over trim khaki shorts that hit just above his knees, revealing his strong masculine legs and feet, since he wore island-standard flip flops.

She’d expected to see tan lines from his work, but apparently he got out enough that the skin she could see was a mellow sun-kissed bronze all over.

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