Most of Trappers Cove streamed toward the sound of guitar music and the scent of kettle corn wafting from the town’s little park. Flowerbeds surrounding the lawn had been refreshed with bright pansies, and vendor booths lined the gravel paths, their awnings snapping in the coastal breeze. In the quaint gazebo, town council members handed out fliers for community events. Squealing kids chased each other around a bronze statue of a fishing crew hauling in a net.
Hannah snapped shots of the merry ruckus. “This one’s a memorial to fishermen lost at sea. And that one—” she pointed to a marble bust of scowling, jowly man— ”is George Arthur Baron, founder of Trappers Cove.” A fat seagull flapped down to roost on the founding father’s head. Served him right, grumpy old fart.
“Is he the guy who built the castle up on the north bluff?”
“That’s him.” Hannah panned the crowd, snapping more photos. “Hey, did you hear? The castle’s occupied now. Some tech investor guy bought it and is converting the old school building into a community center.”
“Rich benefactor, eh?” Xander gave her waist a squeeze. “Why not tap into that?”
Hannah bristled. “I beg your pardon? Besides, he’s dating Annie Scott from the antiques shop.”
“No, no, I—” He doubled over, laughing at his own ridiculous blunder. “I mean, why not ask him to bail out theBeacon?”
She tilted her head back and regarded him through narrowed eyes, though the beginnings of a smile twitched her lips upward. “You sure about that?”
“Sweetheart.” He grasped her hips and snugged her tight against him. “I have zero interest in sharing you with another man.”
“Even if it means saving theBeacon?” She was teasing now, her eyes alight with mischief.
“I’d deliver every newspaper personally before I’d agree to that.”
When she gave him a skeptical look, he added, “In my dinosaur boxers.”
Giggling, she goosed his butt. “Don’t tempt me. You know I’m desperate to save my newspaper.”
“Then seriously, why not ask the rich guy?”
Her sigh fanned his cheek. “Honestly, I’ve thought about it. But I need theBeaconto succeed on its own merit. Old Mrs. Jankowski never tried to influence our reporting, but a new benefactor might. And relying on some rich guy’s good graces makes us vulnerable, you know?”
Xander nuzzled her hair. “I get it. You’ve got something to prove—to your mom and to yourself.” He, of all people, understood exactly how that felt.
“Something like that, yeah.” She held him for a long, sweet moment, then stepped back and blinked hard. “Okay, let’s go explore.”
They stopped at every booth, chatting with vendors of everything from empanadas to gleaming fruits and veggies to goat-milk soap. They joined a gaggle of kids listening to a local author read from his picture book about pelicans. The musician warbling about spring days and bumblebees turned out to be Alysson Lee, sister of Hannah’s bookseller friend Daphne and brewery owner Ryan. He shook her hand, grateful she didn’t ask about aliens or UFOs.
Farther down the path, they passed a purple tent with flapping Tibetan prayer flags. Inside, Zora was giving a tarot card reading. The old hippie mama glanced at their joined hands and gave him a wink.
Their last stop was a plant vendor, his already picked-over shelves holding potted herbs with hand-lettered signs. “Good Vibes Garden,” he read aloud.
A familiar face popped up behind the shelf. “What’s up, Hannah? Hey, Xander.” Gemma, Zora’s niece from the crystal shop, grinned knowingly. “Did you take Aunt Zora’s advice?”
A beefy, bearded dude in a flannel shirt and overalls draped his arm over Gemma’s shoulders. “Always take the Moore women’s advice.”
“Hi, Jesse.” Hannah introduced them. “Meet Xander Anagnos, Gus’s nephew. This is Jesse del Toro, herb farmer extraordinaire.”
Jesse gave him a solemn nod. “Sorry to hear about Gus. Good guy. So, you guys together now?”
Gemma poked his ribs. “Duh. They’ve been together for a while.”
Jesse raised his bushy eyebrows. “Well, how would I know? I spend most of my time on the farm, minding my own business.” He lifted his chin. “Congrats, man. She’s a good one. Helped me out with a big story when last year’s storm destroyed my greenhouses. That online fundraiser saved my bacon.”
Hannah ducked her head and blushed cotton candy pink, a shade so pretty Xander wanted to taste her skin—again. “No need for thanks, Jesse. That’s what family’s for.”
“You guys are related?” he asked Hannah.
Gemma laughed. “She means our TC family. You’re part of it now.”
Xander reined in an eye roll. They were laying it on thick with this town-as-family stuff. In his experience, family equaled pressure to do things the family way. He sure as shit didn’t need more of that in his life.
