Alec groaned. “Yeah, it’s been an issue.”

“Oh no.” Mia turned in her seat. “You’re not writing?”

He could kill Jake with his bare hands. Maybe he’d off him in his next book. If he wrote a next book. “All authors get it from time to time. Nothing to worry about.”

Cole braced his elbows on the table. “What’s your agent say?”

“I fired him two months ago.” Alec didn’t know why he was telling them this, but it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t hear about it.

Jake waved his hand. “There you go, Cole. Another client. My brother here needs an agent.”

Cole shook his head. “I don’t really handle horror. Mostly mysteries and memoirs, but if you have something, I can take a look.”

That would be the problem, wouldn’t it? He didn’t have a damn thing. “I’ll let you know.”

“Can I excuse Faith?” Ginny asked.

For the first time since he’d walked in the door, Faith grinned. It transformed her whole face from soft and frail to approachable. Sweet. “I think you mean may Faith and I be excused.”

Ginny nodded. “Yes.” She turned to Mia. “Can we?”

“Sure, pretty girl. I’ll come check on you in a while.”

Ginny pushed back from the table and rushed into the kitchen.

Faith stood. “She’s excited. Art’s her favorite subject.” Hesitantly, she turned toward Alec but didn’t meet his eye. “It was nice to meet all of you.”

Lacey stood. “I’ll come with you. I’m an . . . artist,” she added. “I’d like to hang out with you two, if that’s okay?”

Faith looked at Mia, who nodded.

“Lacey’s very good. She painted those acrylics of the ocean in the guesthouse.”

Alec wondered if she did the ones in his guesthouse, too. If so, she did have serious talent. Jake wasn’t kidding.

“Really?” Faith’s eyes widened, but damn it, he still couldn’t see their color while she was only offering her profile. “They’re beautiful. I’m a terrible artist. I have Ginny doing paint by numbers because it helps her recognize numbers, too, but I’m really bad with art projects. It would be great if you could offer ideas.”

“Good plan,” Cole confirmed. “I have to get back to work, but you guys carry on. Alec, great to see you again. How long are you in town?”

“At least until the wedding. End of August, maybe.”

Cole nodded. “We’ll be seeing plenty of you. Don’t be a stranger.”

Jake followed Lacey, Faith, and Ginny into the kitchen, leaving Mia and Alec alone. He offered to clear the table, but Mia refused.

“Listen, Alec, when Cole got back from Iraq, he was a mess. It took a long time for him to get back to where he is now. Writing helped him process the stuff in his head.”

Alec didn’t see her point.

“What I mean is, maybe you have the opposite problem. Maybe there’s too much going on in your head for you to write.”

A slow grin spread over his face. Mia had always been too kind and wise beyond her years. She’d picked the perfect profession, going into nursing. She was a natural. He didn’t have anything going on in his head, though. Nothing he hadn’t been living with for nine years, anyway. Thus, that couldn’t be his problem.

He pushed the image of Laura from his mind and rose. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for lunch.”

Alec stepped off the front porch and made his way to the mimosa grove, half expecting to see a younger Mia chasing baby Ginny through the rows. Or Cole watching from an upstairs window. Lacey would be sitting somewhere, looking coiffed and perfect, while Jake thought up countless ways to ruffle her feathers.

Alec was older than them by a few years, much closer to Cole and Lacey’s brother, Dean’s, age than theirs. At least before Dean died, anyway. The summer of the accident, the Covingtons had packed up and never returned to Wilmington, and Mia had gone off to college. Strange how vivid the memories remained, despite the passage of so much time. They weren’t close friends, any of them. Mia, Jake, and Alec were the help’s children. To be seen and not heard.

The sun beat down hard as he passed the grove and arrived at the black wrought-iron fence separating the properties. Hot, humid air made sweat trickle down his back from the mild exertion. Swinging the gate open, he bypassed the big house and walked to the guesthouse, thinking over Mia’s words.

A year ago, he’d finished final edits for the last book in his series and sat at his computer to start the new one. His fingers had frozen over the keys and his brain had shut down. Just like that. One minute he had characters screaming inside his skull and plot upon twisting plot to hammer out, the next there was nothing. Worse than nothing—the silence in his head had become its own entity.

The only time in twelve months something had started to stir was last night on the beach, with Faith. Awkward, plain Faith Armstrong.

The air-conditioning soothed his heated skin as he made his way to the bedroom. Sitting at the desk, he booted up his laptop and opened a document.

An hour later, he was still staring at it.

chapter

four

Faith walked the length of the beach, toes squishing in the sand. The sun felt good, warming her clear to her bones. Before arriving in Wilmington, a cold had resonated from within her body, something she wasn’t even aware of until she was standing in what she thought was the most beautiful location on earth. Granted, she hadn’t traveled anywhere else, but nothing could touch this place. It was peaceful but never quiet. Between the seagulls and the waves, there was a constant hypnotic lull.

She checked on Ginny, who was down the beach away, collecting shells for tomorrow’s art project. Lacey had given Faith some great ideas. She’d even offered to give Ginny an official art class at her home two days a week. Ginny was very excited at this prospect.

Faith closed her eyes and breathed deep, letting her body relax. Maybe if she and Hope had been able to make the drive to the beach, things could’ve gone differently. The fresh air and warm sunshine wouldn’t have cured her sister’s disease, but it would’ve lifted her spirits. Faith firmly believed that healing wasn’t just medicinal. It involved diet and exercise and, most of all, peace of mind. Hope would’ve found peace here.

Longing and memory tightened her throat, and she wished desperately Hope were there. Even while she was sick, Hope had been a steady stream of support and love. More than sisters, they’d been friends. Faith hadn’t had a friend since her sister died. Sure, she’d been friendly with coworkers and neighbors, but it wasn’t the same.

“Alec!”

At Ginny’s excited call, Faith startled and turned. Alec slowly made his way over, barefoot and wearing board shorts. Nothing else. The skin on his chest, sun-kissed and taut over lean, lithe muscle, was lightly dusted with black hair. He moved with the grace of a predator. His body wasn’t bulging like a bodybuilder, but his abs, shoulders, and biceps were defined. She swallowed hard and forced herself to take her gaze off his chest before he noticed.

“Whatcha doing?” He crouched down next to Ginny and peeked in her bag.

“Collecting shells. We’re going to do art.”

“Fun. You have a lot there.” He looked at Faith, a slow, lazy grin quirking one side of his mouth as he stood and closed the distance between them. Definitely predatory.

She forced her gaze to focus on his face so she wouldn’t be tempted to do something else, like touch him. She hadn’t been touched in so long. “Good morning.”

“It’s afternoon, actually.”

“Right. Yes.”

He dipped his head, leveling his gray-blue eyes on her as if probing for something he couldn’t grasp. After a few moments, he straightened and nodded. “Amber,” he announced.

“What?”

“Your eyes. They’re amber. Not quite like a good whiskey, but more like organic honey. Around the edges they darken to a golden brown.”