He doubted Dakota would feel any better about it if Gabe explained that he was suspicious of everyone, not just teenagers with juvenile court records.
Gabe even had his suspicions that Kayla was keeping something from him. He wanted to know everything he could about this stranger with the porcelain skin and long silky hair. But the timing was all wrong—not least because he was afraid she might be in danger.
He’d spoken to the detective on her case back in Seattle. It sounded bad. Very bad. It obviously hadn’t been just a random attack. There had been phone calls leading up to it—threats, harassment. And then, on the night at the gallery, the attacker had told her that it wasn’t over.
No, this definitely wasn’t a time when either one of them needed the distraction of a relationship.
Three minutes later, he stepped out onto the landing, securing the buttons on a crisp white dress shirt, his hair combed back, shoes on his feet.
Well, just because he wasn’t looking for a relationship was no reason not to look his best.
He’d stopped to knock on Dakota’s door. “Ready?”
“I’ll be down in a minute,” the teen muttered, the steady thump, thump of music carrying through the wood paneling.
Gabe descended to the ground floor and headed straight for the kitchen, where he found Molly pouring a stockpot full of clam chowder into two large soup tureens.
“Hold that, will ya?” She handed him the stockpot, hot pads and all, and scraped the last drops of soup into the serving dish.
“That’s an awful lot of soup for the four of us.”
“We have additional guests coming for dinner.”
Gabe’s gaze drifted around the kitchen.
A smirk lifted one corner of his sister’s mouth. “She’s out on the porch, taking in the sunset.”
“Who?”
Molly shook her head. “Don’t play dumb with me. You had your hands on her long enough to grow roots.”
Heat rose around Gabe’s collar. His sister knew him all too well. Probably better than he knew himself. “She stumbled.”
“Yeah, but you held on—never mind.” Molly took the stockpot from him and plunked it into the sink. “Tell me all, and make it fast, I have to get this on the table before the guests start bellyachin’.”
Gabe stiffened. “There’s nothing to tell.” And, really, there wasn’t, just a feeling. He barely knew the woman.
Molly snorted. “Bull.”
Gabe refused to elaborate. Molly was stubborn, just like their father, but so was Gabe. “How’d she end up here?”
“She brought Dakota home. His bicycle tire is flat. You’ll need to help him fix it. Since she was nice enough to bring my nephew home, and I had enough clam chowder to feed an army, I invited her to stay for dinner.” His sister grabbed a tureen and backed into the swinging door. “Don’t just stand there, bring the other,” she commanded.
Gabe grinned, lifted the tureen and carried it into the large dining room where a long table had been set with seating for eight.
“Who do we have joining us?” Gabe asked, not really interested, but stalling for a chance to freely observe Kayla through the window.
“The Johnsons are still with us and while I was in town purchasing supplies, I ran into Jillian and one of her clients. I told them I was making clam chowder and asked if they wanted to come to dinner.”
As if on cue, an older couple emerged from the first-floor hallway, hands joined like newlyweds, which they were, having chosen Cape Churn and the McGregor B and B for their honeymoon.
Dakota shuffled down the stairs, headphones jammed in his ears, carrying his iPod, shirt untucked, hair uncombed, the crotch of his jeans drooping nearly to his knees.
Gabe closed his eyes and fought against the urge to tell the young man how to dress. He’d been a teen once. He’d worn weird clothes, listened to his music and basically drove his parents crazy.
He let Dakota’s appearance slide, his thoughts shifting to the woman he could see through the front window, leaning on the porch rail, staring out at the steely-blue waters of the cape.
Molly came to stand beside Gabe, wiping her hands on her apron. “We’re just waiting on Jillian and her client. Why don’t you go talk to our guest. She seemed kind of quiet, and very jumpy. Why, I don’t know. I’d try to get her to open up, but I have to get the food on the table. Until Jillian and her client arrive, you have time.” Molly’s mouth slid sideways. “You know you want to.”
Gabe shook his head. Molly’s exuberance didn’t hide the fact that she was also very intuitive when it came to people and their feelings. She had a way of seeing through him, not that he’d been trying to hide anything.
Kayla Davies intrigued him. He tried to tell himself it was because of her involvement in the murder investigation.
Dakota plopped into an overstuffed leather chair in the sitting room as Gabe passed by, headed for the front door.
When the screen door squeaked, Kayla glanced his way, her green eyes widening for a moment, that haunted look lingering in the shadows beneath her eyes.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she said, turning her back to him, her gaze skimming across the rugged, rocky coastline.
“I’m kind of partial to it.”
Kayla’s fingers twisted a strand of long auburn hair, her attention on the view, not him. “Is this your hometown?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He leaned against one of the wide columns and stared at her rather than the scenery. “Lived here most of my life except the time I spent as a Seattle street cop.”
“Seattle?” Her gaze shot to him.
“Hard to picture me fighting crime in the big city?”
“No. It’s just that we came from the same city.” She shrugged. “Just shows you what a small world it is.” Kayla glanced out at the sea. “What made you come back to Cape Churn?”
“My son, Dakota.”
She spun to face him, her eyes wide. “Your son?”
“You look surprised.” Gabe grinned.
“I’m sorry.” She glanced down at where her fingers tugged at a loose strand of hair. “I’m so new to town, I didn’t know.”
“Trust me, you can’t be half as surprised as I was when I found out I had a son.”
She frowned up at him. “When was that?”
“Four months ago.”
Her auburn brows rose up her forehead. “Four months?”
Gabe
