Page 5 of Hook, Line and Mystery

She found herself leaning closer, drawn to the cadence of his speech and the fervor that seemed to vibrate through his every word. As she did, the murmur of the café seemed to fade away, leaving only the resonance of Kit’s convictions filling the space between them.

He shook his head. “Those chuckleheads at the Department of Marine Resources and the Marine Patrol need to wake up,” he said, seemingly unaware of Abby’s rapt attention. “It’s not just about protecting your livelihoods or even preserving a way of life. It’s about protecting the ocean’s delicate ecosystem. Once that’s gone, no amount of Valentines are going to bring it back.”

The strong words of those in the café resonated with Abby—an ember sparked into a flare of interest. The mystery of the lobster poaching seemed to be casting a shadow over the town, a dark cloud that had captured her interest. But it was the men, so clearly affected by the issue, who truly captivated her. Here was a puzzle, a mystery, a story with layers that promised depth and intrigue. Suddenly she understood Lori’s love of mysteries and the desire to unravel and solve them.

Abby watched as Kit collected his coffee and headed outside, his focus momentarily lighting on her. Within that fleeting glance was an acknowledgment of shared awareness. Perhaps they were both seeking answers in their own way. For Abby, it was the beginning of a tale she wanted to tell, and perhaps for Kit, it was a matter of wrestling to the ground the danger that was threatening his home.

The novelist in Abby couldn’t resist. The allure of the mystery combined with her undeniable attraction to the man beckoned her, urging her to delve deeper into the tapestry of intrigue and emotion that seemed to make up Badger’s Drift. She couldn’t find it in herself to leave The Anchored Bean. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she tried to capture the imagery of the place and the people who frequented it and tell the stories that seemed to be begging to be told.

CHAPTER4

KIT

Later that evening, Kit stood at the edge of the pavilion, watching those who had come to the annual dance and wondering why he had. Most of Badger’s Drift had turned up and were committed to revelry. Some of the restaurants in town were open, staggering their staff so that everyone could attend. The wind off the Atlantic made the strings of fairy lights and paper hearts that were strewn through the rafters of the structure as if they had been enchanted or possessed, depending on your point of view.

The weather was crisp, a typical February chill tempered by the warmth of flickering lanterns, heaters, and shared camaraderie. The townsfolk appeared to be well aware that it wasn’t just the dark of the night that needed to be combatted, but the cold as well. Heated brasiers and well-tended fires dotted the landscape, keeping at bay both the lack of light and frigid temperatures. It seemed as if everything and everyone was caught up in the same dance as the couples below, who moved as much to the rhythm of the waves lapping against the shore as they did to the hometown musicians who provided the tunes.

Kit wasn’t there for romance; his presence was a nod to community spirit rather than any desire to partake in the festivities. The soft melodies, the infectious laughter, and the sight of entwined figures served only to remind him of what he’d once had.

At first, the townsfolk, most of whom he’d known his entire life, had left him alone. But the longer Clara was gone, the more people tried to pierce the veil of his solitude and urged him to move on with his life. What they failed to understand was that he didn’t want to move forward without her. He wanted her back.

He felt smug and comfortable in his aloof superiority until his gaze landed on Abby. Abby, whose tawny hair had an ethereal glow cast by the moonlight. She looked like she belonged in another realm. She wore a dress the color of sea foam, a knit shawl he recognized from one of the shops in town that specialized in quality hand-knit items. The silky fabric of the dress and the delicate warmth of the shawl enhanced her curves and caught the light with each subtle movement of her sexy body as she swayed to the music. As he had the day she’d arrived, Kit felt a tightening in his groin, an unspoken pull at his core—a yearning he refused to acknowledge as he watched her laugh, her eyes sparkling like the ocean’s surface under a summer sun.

Kit resisted the urge to join her and the others at the dance. As he turned to leave, to retreat into the safety of his isolation, fate took charge instead. The dance organizer called out for partners to switch, and suddenly Abby was before him, an expectant hand extended in silent invitation.How the hell had she gotten there? What the hell am I supposed to do—refuse her? That would be rude. When did rude become something I don’t want to be?

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice a melody of the gentle tide as she drew him out onto the dance floor.

“It would be perfect if it wasn’t for the very real risk of frostbite,” he quipped as one corner of his mouth lifted despite himself.

Kit hadn’t danced with anyone since Clara’s passing.Passing? Clara is dead; dead and not coming back.

The music started and he started to move with Abby, but his movements were stiff, rigid, and unpracticed. Abby stumbled slightly, a misstep making her blush and her eyes sparkle with mischief. She grinned, but her green eyes reflected a depth that seemed to see right through him. For a moment, Kit forgot to be guarded, to be so damn cynical. The world narrowed down to the woman whose smile made him feel as if he might be able to breathe again.But do I want to?

“Sorry about stepping on your toes,” she said, laughing. “I always like to think I dance better than I actually do. Self-delusion is a wonderful thing. I’m Abby, by the way.” As if he didn’t know. “I’m visiting, staying at the Lighthouse. You’re Kit, right? The marine biologist?”

“That’s me. How’d you know?”

“I asked around. You’re pretty famous around here.”

“Me?” Kit shook his head. “No way.”

“You’re kidding, right? The tragic marine biologist. Wow, that sounds pretty snarky, and it wasn’t meant that way. People care about you. I saw you at the café and asked DeeDee about you.”

He nodded. “So, she called me tragic?”

“My word, not hers. She said you’d suffered a loss.” Abby’s eyes showed her compassion and concern that she might have caused him distress.

“Did they mention my rugged good looks?” he teased.

She grinned. “Nope. That I figured out all on my own.”

He chuckled, a sound that was foreign to him. “Nice to meet you, Abby.” Kit drew her closer in their dance and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t worry about my toes—they’ve had lobster pots dropped on them. What brings you to Badger’s Drift?”

She twirled under his arm, a glint in her pretty eyes. “I’m a writer. More specifically, I’m a romance novelist trying to break a writer’s block. A friend of mine thought coming here might help. She said she thought Badger’s Drift might inspire a new book.”

He quirked one eyebrow, feeling intrigued. “And has it?”

She returned his smile, her gaze brightening as she spun back to him. “So far, so good. You’re a local, right?”

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