The Griffin's Mate (Hideaway Cove 1)

Well, screw them. As long as no one tips creamed corn in my hair, they can stare all they like.

Lainie dipped her spoon in the creamy chowder and glanced sideways. She didn’t look at the other diners directly, but at the window beside her table, which reflected the room like a mirror.

The reflection in the window wasn’t the clearest, but she could still see half-a-dozen pairs of eyes gleaming at her from the glass.

Lainie’s stomach clenched.

Stop it, she told herself. They’re just nosy because you’re new in town. It doesn’t mean anything.

Behind her, the restaurant door opened, letting in a gust of wind. Luckily, whoever was walking in also distracted Lainie’s audience. With the pressure of their eyes gone, Lainie breathed a sigh of relief and put the spoonful of chowder in her mouth at last.

It was as delicious as it smelled, rich and creamy and thick. Lainie closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. That was one downside of living away from the coast: nothing beat really fresh seafood.

She dug in, only vaguely paying attention to the rest of the room. Behind her, whoever had just come in was holding what sounded like at least three conversations, occasionally punctuated by cheerful greetings as he saw people he knew around the restaurant.

“You can’t tell me that—hey, Carter, how’s things?—this sort of thing hasn’t happened before. And maybe she’s got some sort of connection with this place, or—evening, Guts, great to see you on your feet again—I mean, sure, maybe it’s just chance that brought her here, but…”

His voice trailed off. Lainie, still intent on her dinner, felt a strange regret. The man’s voice was deep and rich, and just… nice to listen to. Like smooth, warm chocolate.

She thought, briefly, that she would have liked to be one of the people he was talking to with such casual friendliness.

She glanced back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man with the gorgeous voice. He was facing away from her, leaning over another table and talking with the family seated around it in a low voice, too quiet for her to eavesdrop.

He was tall, with broad shoulders that stretched the back of his faded flannel shirt. He wore it with the sleeves rolled up over his tanned forearms, which Lainie had a great view of as he leaned one hand on the back of a chair.

And so far as Lainie could tell, the person he’d been talking to when he came in… was a dog.

A big dog, with thick black hair, a sharp muzzle, and inquisitive blue eyes. Man’s best friend, sure, but not the sort of friend you’d expect to hold an in-depth conversation with.

Lainie blinked. The dog stared back at her with its wet dark eyes, and whuffed quietly.

Its owner turned around. Lainie jerked, intending to return to her meal and pretend she’d never been sneaking a look at anyone, certainly not him—but he caught her eye before she managed to move.

His eyes were a warm hazel, with deep smile lines at the corners. He was tanned and clean-shaven, with no beard or stubble to hide his strong jaw and sensitive mouth. As he caught Lainie’s eye, a surprised smile spread across his face.

She mustered a weak grin in return, and turned back to her chowder.

He was still looking at her. She didn’t need to look in the window to know that.

I can’t believe he caught me staring at him, she thought, her cheeks getting hot. I hope the waitress saw that. At least it would let her know she’s not the only one to embarrass herself tonight.

There were footsteps behind her, the clink of workman’s boots on wooden floorboards. Then the scrape of a chair. Lainie looked up.

The man who’d caught her staring was standing beside her table, the surprised smile still playing on his lips.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, in that gorgeous voice.

CHAPTER FOUR

HARRISON

Her eyes were a dark brown, almost black. They stood out like coals against her blonde hair and pale skin. As she looked up at him, they widened with shock—narrowed with suspicion—and, finally, flicked away from him.

“Sure, go ahead,” she said, her cheeks going pink. She put her spoon down and rested her hands on the edge of the table, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

Harrison slid into a chair opposite her. His heart was pounding. This was the woman he’d seen earlier, in the car. She’d sent him reeling then, and that had been from ten feet away, through the windshield. Right here, right now, she was close enough that he could reach out and touch her. His head was spinning.

“I’m Harrison,” he said, forcing back the impulse to hold her hand and kiss it instead of shaking it like a normal person. And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.