Page 30 of Hook, Line and Mystery

She turned to see Kit leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and an amused smile playing on his lips. “I have a surprise to share with you,” she said, smiling brightly.

“The book is done?” The warmth in his voice wrapped around her like a comforting shawl.

“How’d you know?”

“I just figured. You seemed to be writing like a woman possessed. I’m told it’s a sure sign an author is closing in on the end of a book.”

She shook her head. “I think you know me too well.”

“I think I want to spend the rest of my life figuring out every little thing about you, every nuance, every hint as to what is going on behind those sparkling eyes. You’re the mystery I doubt I will ever solve, but one that I will enjoy puzzling out.”

She handed the laptop to Kit, who sat down at her desk and began to read. As he read her characters’ final confessions of love, his eyes flicked up to meet hers, finding them unwavering, and filled with a wild love that was as untamed as the sea. His breath caught; he seemed to realize that the words she’d penned were more than fiction; they were a mirror to her soul laid bare before him.

“Your words...” Kit’s voice thickened with emotion. “They’re beautiful.”

“Because they’re true,” Abby whispered, swallowing the knot in her throat.

“Like you.” Kit joined her on the window seat, reaching out to trace a line down her arm and igniting a trail of fire on her skin.

“Like us,” Abby said softly.

Out beyond the window, floating just above the horizon as the sun hovered at its zenith and cast a golden hue over the ocean’s expanse, was an endless canvas of blues and greens that churned under the light. The open window allowed the evening breeze to play with Abby’s tawny hair as she let her gaze rest on Kit. There was a softness in his eyes, like the calm after a storm, that drew her in.

“Sharing this with you,” she murmured, “feels like coming home.”

“Home isn’t always a place, is it?” Kit’s voice was a low hum that settled in her bones as he pulled her close. “Sometimes it’s a person.”

Abby nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle within her. His past heartbreak seemed like a distant whisper. She leaned forward, and their lips met in a kiss that was the culmination of every whispered confession and promise between them. It was a kiss that tasted of salt and sunshine; Abby felt the world fall away, leaving only the press of his lips against hers and the steadfast beat of her heart. Kit’s hands cupped her face, anchoring her to the moment, to him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Kit,” she breathed against his lips, the words filling the space between them with the enormity of what they signified.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Abby.” His forehead rested against hers.

She took a deep breath, the sea air mingling with his scent. “You do know they’re going to crown us as Cupid’s Couple tonight, right?”

Kit groaned. “I figured. It’s a smart decision. I think we ought to celebrate the newest author of Badger’s Drift by creating our own story.”

A smile bloomed on Abby’s face, bright and fearless. “Our own happily ever after.”

“Isn’t that just for fairytales?”

“No, silly. Every great romance novel has to have a happily ever after.”

“Never thought I’d be grateful for a woman getting writer’s block,” he teased, his breath warm against her ear.

“Sometimes leaving what you know is the only way to find where you truly belong.”

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “I lost my bearings a long time ago, Abby. But with you, I’m home.”

And in that moment, the pieces of both their once guarded hearts assembled anew. This was more than a romance borne from the pages of her book; it was the beginning of their own story.

Kit’s thumb gently caressed her cheek, a gesture so full of tenderness that it stole the breath from Abby’s lungs. She leaned into his touch, closing the distance between them with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head. The kiss they shared unfolded like the petals of a flower daring to bloom in the first light of dawn—tentative at first, then yielding to the warmth of the sun.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his fisherman’s knit sweater, drawing him closer. The texture against her skin was rough, real, grounding her in the moment as their lips moved in a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and achingly familiar.

With every brush of Kit’s lips against hers, Abby felt layers of past fears peel away, leaving behind only the raw intensity of the present. His hand slipped into her hair, cradling the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. It was a feeling like plunging into the depths of the ocean—terrifying in its vastness but enveloped by a sense of coming home.

The passion that flowed between them was as boundless as the horizon stretching out beyond the window. There were no maps for where they were heading, no guarantees of calm seas, but in each other’s arms, they had found a safe harbor.

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