The Sea Wolf's Mate (Hideaway Cove 2)

Fifteen years since the late-night fights she’d had to pretend she couldn’t hear. Since her grandparents started to sigh and purse their lips when they looked at her. Since the vacation that had ended with her grandparents telling Lainie and her mom and dad never to come back. That they were no longer welcome in Hideaway, and never would be.

Fourteen-and-a-half years since her father walked out on Lainie and her mother forever. Anywhere between fourteen and nine years ago that Lainie’s granddad had died. She didn’t know exactly, because no one had bothered to notify her or her mother, who were by then living in a small apartment in the city.

Eight years since Lainie’s grandmother had gone into a care home. And four weeks since she’d died.

Lainie groaned. Counting down like this usually helped. Separating a problem into little squares, and looking them one at a time made her feel more in control. But breaking up her life like this just left Lainie with more questions.

The biggest question of all was the one she’d never dared speak. Not to her Mom, not to her Dad before he left, not even in her own diary.

What did I do wrong?

She gripped the steering wheel. It’s too late to worry about that now, she told herself sternly. Granddad’s dead. Grandma’s dead. Dad’s gone—who knows whether he’s alive or not, but he disappeared so completely he’s been declared legally dead. Whatever reasons they had for what they did have gone with them.

Her grandmother’s will had come as a shock. The news had been delivered by a neat little lawyer in a fussy suit and shiny shoes, who’d clearly spent some time preparing his explanation of the situation.

Mrs. Iris Eaves had left her entire estate to her only son, Mr. Anton Eaves. As Mr. Anton Eaves had been declared dead in absentia, the inheritance fell to his only child, Ms. Lainie Eaves.

After fifteen years of being completely stonewalled by her father’s side of the family, suddenly, Lainie had inherited everything they had owned.

Which was what had brought her back to Hideaway Cove.

Lainie took a deep breath. You can do this, she told herself, mouthing the words. You’re a grown woman now. And this is business. You’re good at business.

“And as for you,” Lainie said out loud, glaring at the steering wheel, “I did not pay through the nose for a rental just to have it die on me! Come on…”

Holding her breath, Lainie turned the key in the ignition. The engine revved—and revved—and turned over. She sighed with relief.

“One night, and then you can leave all of this behind you,” she promised herself. “A fresh start without Hideaway Cove.”

Harrison

Harrison squinted into the afternoon sun as he stepped out onto the main street of Hideaway Cove. Behind him, the front door of Sweet Dreams Ice Cream Parlor swung shut on a cacophony of children’s excited screams. He ran a hand through his hair, grinning at the scene he’d just left.

As he stood on the sidewalk, enjoying the afternoon sun on his face, the door swung open and shut again behind him, jingling merrily.

“How does it feel being the hero of the day, Sparky?” he said, looking sideways at the man who’d just followed him out.

Apollo Jenkins—Pol to his friends, and Sparky to his boss, at least when his boss was deliberately teasing him—was tall and lanky, with blond hair that flopped over his face when he didn’t keep it tied back.

Harrison always felt strangely land-bound when he hung out with him. His human form was heavy and sturdy beside Pol’s loose-limbed frame. He supposed they looked an odd pair, though oddness was nothing strange here in Hideaway.

Pol’s human body sometimes looked almost as ethereal as his shifter form, with his Legolas-like hair and pale golden eyes. Next to him, Harrison couldn’t look more ordinary. Brown hair, crooked nose, tanned skin. His work often left him a bit grimy, with wood shavings curled into his hair or oil rubbed into the lines of his hands.

Harrison wasn’t sure whether Pol had ever actually worked with his hands in his life. He certainly didn’t now. His particular talents meant he didn’t need to touch so much as a circuit breaker to look after Hideaway’s electrics. Which was why, while Harrison had been re-hanging the sign over the door that had come loose in the last storm, Pol hadn’t even taken a toolbox in with him to fix the broken ice cream freezer.

But for some reason, right now Pol didn’t seem to be properly appreciating the fact that all he had to do was wave his hand over broken electronics to fix them.

Pol groaned dramatically, and glared at Harrison over the top of a triple-decker cone piled high with sprinkles.

“I think that just took ten years off my life. One per ear-shattering screech. Why didn’t we leave that job until tomorrow, again?”

Harrison laughed. “If we’d left the job any later, Tessa Sweets would have taken twenty years off your life. The first real sunny day we’ve had in weeks, and the parlor’s ice cream freezers break down? Every kid in the town must’ve been breaking down her door since school let out. Imagine the chaos if the ice cream ran out.”

Pol shivered elaborately and took a long lick of ice cream. “Well, frankly, I don’t know what their hurry is. It might be sunny, but have you noticed how the sun isn’t actually warm yet? Tessa had better gird her loins for public complaints if any of the little tykes get too cold and go crying home—oh, hello.” His expression of put-upon misery evaporated, and was replaced by a keen grin. “There’s fresh meat around. Ooh. Apollo likes.”

“What are you on about?” Harrison raised an eyebrow at Pol, whose eyes were narrowed in concentration.

“Oh, just a little exotic interloper. Weren’t you expecting an out-of-towner this weekend?”