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“We’ve got two apartments upstairs—one for Mom and one for me.” She cocked her head and regarded him with those hawk-sharp chestnut eyes. “Did Cheryl find you somewhere nice to stay?”

He waggled his hand. “Meh. It’s pretty dumpy, but it’s got a view of the ocean.” A tiny sliver of view, but still. “Want to see?”

She flashed a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m kind of hard-wired to be nosy.”

“Comes in handy for a reporter.”Nothing ventured, nothing gained.“You’re cold and wet, thanks to me. Come up for a hot drink and satisfy your curiosity—though I’ve gotta warn you, my temporary digs don’t reflect my usual style.”

More lip nibbling.

“Just a coffee. Or tea, if you like. I picked up an herbal blend at Trappers Market—orange and spice.” When she still hesitated, he bobbed a little bow. “My intentions are honorable.”

For now.

She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Okay, a tea would be great.”

The rain was gaining speed and strength, so they pulled their hoods low and jogged toward Narwhal Lane.

“Yikes, I’m getting soaked!” Her merry laugh rang out as they rounded the corner and nearly collided with a fire hydrant.

“It’s just up ahead.” He trotted to a stop in front of the ugly cement shoebox he now called home. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too put off by the peeling paint and utter lack of architectural charm.

She planted her heels and gawked at the building, her face a portrait of horror and disgust. “No,” she choked out and stumbled backward, hands up as if expecting an attack.

He rushed to steady her before she toppled over the curb. “Hannah, what’s wrong? Are you…”

Dazed and bone-white, she swayed on her feet as her eyes filled with tears.

He gripped her elbows. “Are you ill? Can I call someone?”

She yanked herself free and pierced him with an accusing glare. “In a town full of charming beach cottages, you picked this monstrosity?”

“Um…it was the cheapest choice.”

“For good reason. It’s an abomination.” She whirled and stalked back the way they’d come.

“Hannah, wait.” He caught up to her at the corner and pulled her beneath the awning of Gelateria Paradiso. “Okay, the building is ugly as sin, but is that a crime?”

She folded her arms tight across her chest, hunched under the weight of her emotions. For a long time, she stared at the sidewalk, her breath sawing in and out. Finally, she raised her watery gaze to his. “That was my childhood home.”

“You grew up in one of those apartments?” Poor Hannah. No wonder she cared so much about preserving Trappers Cove’s bohemian vibe.

“No.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I grew up in a cute little house that stood on the lot until my dad left us, and the judge split everything right down the middle.” She stabbed a finger in the direction they’d come. “Absolutely everything. Mom couldn’t afford to buy out Dad’s share, so she had to sell the only home I’d ever known. I loved that place.”

“And the buyer tore it down?”

“With bulldozers and jackhammers and…” Her voice cracked, and she swiped her streaming eyes with her sleeve. “I still have nightmares. Twenty-five years later, I can’t walk past the site without wanting to puke.”

“Oh, Hannah, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry that happened to you.” He gathered her into his arms, and she let him, thank God. What an utter oaf he was, spoiling their fun evening by stumbling into her childhood trauma.

“It’s not your fault. People have to live somewhere.”

He nuzzled his cheek against her damp hair. “You’re absolutely right—the building is hideous and doesn’t match anything on that street. Why was that even allowed?”

“Crooked politicians on the city council. As soon as we moved into the apartments above theBeacon, Mom wrote a feature exposing their back-alley dealings with a sleazy developer. It was too late to save our home, but she saved lots of others and got those scumbags voted out of office.” She pierced him with a steely look. “And that’s why a local newspaper is so important. If people don’t know what’s going on behind closed doors, they lose their power to shape their community.”

Guilt weighted his chest. “I’ll call Cheryl Rossi tomorrow and find another rental.”

“No, you don’t have to—”