Finding Haven (3 page)

“Oh.” Evan looked toward the trail covered in scrubby water oaks that led back to
the main island road. There were plenty of inns and motels on the island. Probably
had great little breakfast specials and ladies who told island legends and handed
out seashells, but those same places had people. People who might recognize him and
sell him out to the highest bidder.

“You know, I was hoping I could stay a few nights. I’m in no hurry.”

“Did you bring a tent? Anything?” The man eyed the Jeep’s backseat.

The movie star laughed. “No, I didn’t think of that.”

“Hmm. Well, we do have some campers for rent. They’re the old-style aluminum pull-behinds,
but I have them set up real nice and they’ve even been featured in a few camper magazines,
if you’re interested. They call them retro-chic or some kind of nonsense.” The man
shook his head and tossed his hands in the air.

Magazines were the last thing Evan was interested in, but he liked the sound of a
camper. The feeling had returned to his hand, but another night in the Jeep wasn’t
going to work. A throbbing shoulder here and an achy knee there would remind him he
had taken too many hits on the football field.

“Sold. I’ll take one.” Evan smiled.

The man squinted, this time tilting his head to the other side. “Does anyone ever
tell you, you look familiar?”

Evan kicked his boot along the sandy parking space, careful not to look up. “I must
have one of those faces or a twin.” He chuckled, hoping the man would stop staring
and stop trying to place his famous face.

“Yep, one of those faces. All right. Come on. Let me show you the Silver Belle.” He
walked away from Evan in the direction of the beach.

“Silver Belle?”

“My wife named all the spaces and the campers. She did all the decorating too. So,
if it’s too much on the feminine side, you can blame her.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Evan followed the campground owner along the sandy path
to a horseshoe shaped assortment of Airstream campers. There were five total. Evan
hoped the Silver Belle was the one at the end, farthest from the others and the rest
of the campground. It undoubtedly had the best view of the beach too.

The man limped past the first camper named “Shark’s Den.” Evan read the name of each
trailer until they arrived at the final one in the group.

Hot damn. Evan beamed at the twenty-two-foot silver structure. He couldn’t think of
anything more beautiful or perfect.

“Here she is.” The owner pulled on the handle. “Now, just crank down on this twice
and the door opens right up.” He ascended two steps into the camper.

Evan glanced around at the red-checked décor. At least it wasn’t pink or peach. Peach
would have been far worse. Instead, this kind of looked like a picnic table.

There was a bed at the far end, separated by a bi-fold door. In the center was a bathroom
with a standup shower, sink, and toilet; the kitchenette took up the majority of the
center space; and the end closest to the path was filled with a U-shaped bench and
round table. The panel of windows looked out on the waves rolling along the shore.

“What ya think?” The man had moved closer to the door. It seemed he was in a hurry
to end the tour.

“I think it will work.” The grin on Evan’s face was wide, showing off his million-dollar
smile.

“Good. You mind stopping by the office after you settle in and fill out your reservation
card?”

Evan’s chest tightened.

“Reservation paperwork?” He knew as soon as he wrote his name down, this venture into
anonymity was over.

“Nothing major. Length of stay, email address so we can send you our updates. That’s
my wife’s idea. She started a monthly newsletter. People seem to like it.”

The former football player relaxed his shoulders. “Certainly. I can do that, and I’ll
go ahead and pay up for the month.” Maybe if he paid enough up front cash, they would
leave him alone. His host seemed nice enough, but he had already spent too much time
studying his face for Evan’s comfort.

“The whole month? All right. Well, Shug will help you.”

“Shug?”

“That’s the wife. Short for Sugar. Long story that I’m sure she will be happy to tell
you.” He laughed. “I’m Harry, by the way. See you around.” He tapped on the doorframe
before exiting Silver Belle.

Evan laughed. Women and long stories—no way around it after all. Hopefully, the campground
would keep him safe from the rest of the world. He eyed the shower. Before he did
anything else, he was taking a shower.

E
VAN TUCKED
the corner of the towel along his hipbone. The Silver Belle had everything he needed
and nothing he didn’t. It was pure heaven. It didn’t matter that he barely fit into
the standup shower or that after seven minutes the water ran like a drippy faucet.
Freedom. He had run until he had finally found something he didn’t think existed anymore.

He ran a hand through his wet hair and slid into the booth overlooking the beach.

The campground patrons had already started setting up on the beach. A few umbrellas
dotted the horizon along with a few surf fishermen, and a pack of surfers headed to
the shore to catch a wave.

Evan’s head jerked and he hit his elbow when he heard the ring on his phone. He looked
at the name flashing across the screen.
Emmy
. He exhaled. He wasn’t ready to talk to her. There wasn’t anything to talk about.
Even if the stories weren’t true, even if the press had somehow twisted everything
around against her, he couldn’t convince himself anymore that the pictures weren’t
real. She was in Hawaii with someone else. Someone else held her hand, laughed next
to her on a paddleboard, and fed her tropical fruit. There were too many pictures
and too many of Emmy’s smiles for him to pretend anymore. There was some kind of truth
in that trash.

He exhaled when the ringing stopped. He reached for the phone, ready to delete her
number, just as the ringing started again. Dammit. This time it was Allan. He had
to answer it.

“Hey, buddy. What’s happening?” He dug deep into the Texas drawl.

“Buddy? What the fuck, Evan? Where in the hell are you? I have been looking all over
the damn city of Atlanta for you. Where did you go after your charity event?”

“Allan. Allan. Allan. I’m fine.” Evan stood in front of the window and stretched.
The lukewarm shower had barely touched the tightness in his neck.

“There’s nothing fine about you being missing.”

“I’m not missing. I’m on the phone with you. Man, it’s ok.” Evan opened a few of the
kitchen cabinets, hoping Shug had stocked it with a few snacks. A cold beer sounded
spot on right now. There might not be another way to get through this call with Allan.

“How am I supposed to know we didn’t have another Emmy Harper situation?” Allan stopped
mid-sentence. “That’s not what I meant. Hell, I meant—that something happened to you
or—”

Evan hung his head. “I know what you meant. You don’t have to explain. I haven’t been
kidnapped. I’m perfectly safe.”

“Fuck, man. You must be taking this hard. I can call her agent and find out what the
deal is with the guy in Hawaii. It’s just the press. She wouldn’t run out on you like
that.” Allan’s tone had softened. “Just tell me where you are. I can help.”

Evan paused his search. There was no way he was telling anyone where he was, not even
his agent, who usually had his every waking move scheduled on his calendar.

“Allan, you know I really appreciate that, man, but you need to let Emmy and me take
care of whatever is going on. Ok? I can handle it.” He slammed the last cupboard,
not finding a single saltine cracker. His stomach grumbled, and he hadn’t eaten anything
since the bag of peaches last night. He smiled, remembering there was still another
bag in his Jeep.

“Got it. I get it. You need your time. Understandable.” Allan sighed into the phone.
“Here’s what we’ll do. You take a few days. I’ll handle the appearances on your schedule
and tell them you have the flu or something. I’ll let everyone know you need a few
days to get your strength back—yada, yada. I’ll take care of it. Just tell me what
day you’ll be back.”

A group of preteen boys emerged from the dunes in the distance. They had on pirate
hats, and two reached for invisible swords. Evan watched, fascinated as the scene
unfolded in front of him. Clearly, someone was going down for stealing the treasure.

“Evan? Day. What
day
are you coming back?” Allan had lost his sympathetic tone.

Shaken from the pirate scene, Evan pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the
screen. Ten minutes. He had already been on this call for ten minutes when he could
be doing something much more enjoyable like playing pirate.

“I might not, Allan.”

“What the fuck? Are you fucking with me right now?” the agent fumed. “She’s just a
girl, man. She’s not worth all of this.”

Evan hung his head. He would never be able to explain any of this to Allan. Not everything
revolved around Emmy; it never did. And she had figured that out.

“You’re just going to have to take care of this for me for a while. I’m taking some
time off. Which also means, don’t shop around for any new films for me. I’m on permanent
hiatus.” He didn’t know the words would feel so good. “I’ll be in touch, Allan, and
thanks for taking care of everything for me.” Evan pressed end and tossed the phone
on the table before he caught another earful from Hollywood’s most tenacious agent.
He didn’t need it.

He had been a spy, a World War II hero, an ambitious politician, a fighter pilot,
the romantic catch, but now nothing sounded better than playing pirate. He was going
to take his life back, no matter the cost. And that was going to start with a cold
beer and some food.

T
RAVIS LEANED
over Haven’s back and whispered in her ear, “Did you hear Ben’s having another bonfire
tonight?”

She straightened her posture and cleared her throat. Mrs. Sawyer was standing at the
register, paying for sunscreen and an assortment of gossip magazines. Haven nudged
Travis away from her with her elbow. She hoped Mrs. Sawyer didn’t see the way she
had turned a deep crimson. Travis was getting to her way more than he should.

“Here you go, Mrs. Sawyer.” Haven slid the magazines into a paper bag and handed the
woman her change.

“Thanks, Haven. Today’s my first beach day all week, and I can’t wait to get caught
up with my celebs.” She patted the bag.

Haven smiled, unable to relate to the fascination the customer had with gossip, but
Mrs. Sawyer lived across the street from her parents and she couldn’t be rude to one
of their neighbors. Although, on Perry Island, everyone was technically a neighbor.

“Bye, Travis.” The woman winked before leaving through the storefront glass door.

Haven twirled on her heels and shot Travis a stern look. “What was that all about?”
Her neck still tingled from his breath. It annoyed her that it felt kind of good.

“What? You think I should ask Mrs. Sawyer to go with me instead? I think she’d say
yes.”

Haven lowered her voice and looked down the aisle, making sure there weren’t any other
customers in the store. “You know what happened between us was a one time deal, right?”

“One time? I don’t think so. That’s what you said the last three times.” He shoved
a piece of gum in his mouth and arched a shot with the wrapper. “Score.” The paper
landed in the center of the trash can.

“I’m serious, Trav.” She could tell he wasn’t taking any of it seriously—not her attempts
to deflect his advances or dissuade him from asking her out.

The flirting had been relentless since high school. He had cooled things off when
she left for college, but now that she was home indefinitely, he was in hot pursuit.
It didn’t help that she had stayed over at his place. She blamed the dullness of the
island—that and his body. Travis definitely didn’t look like that when they were in
high school. He was athletically built, tan, and eager to show her his new wave tattoo.
Although, ever since they had crossed the friendship line, she feared that they would
never be able to get back what they had on the other side. They weren’t even sleeping
together, but maybe she was wrong thinking guys were better equipped to handle casual
hookups.