Finding Haven (2 page)

He reached for the lever on his seat and reclined it as far as it would go. There
was barely enough room, but he propped his feet on the dash before pulling his hat
over his eyes.

It wasn’t a penthouse, a yacht, or a decked out guesthouse, but Evan smiled as his
tired eyes gave in to the sleep that had invaded his body. It might only last one
night, but he slept satisfied knowing there was no way anyone in the world would find
this movie star tonight.

T
HE ALARM
chirped cricket sounds for the fourth time. Haven threw the sheet off her chest and
kicked the quilt to the end of the bed. 5 a.m. Who in their right mind woke up at
5 a.m.? She tapped the screen on her phone to cease the joyous insects from a repeat
performance. This wasn’t the first time she had cursed the early wakeup call as she
stumbled to the shower and turned the water on.

There were water restrictions this time of year on the island. So many tourists, so
little rain, and only seven minutes a shower. It was her mother’s idea to use a kitchen
timer. Haven twisted the dial to the right and placed the timer on the counter before
stepping into the steady stream of hot water. If she had to take a quick shower, it
was going to be a good one.

She closed her eyes and lathered a handful of shampoo through long strands of auburn
hair.

He shouldn’t be stealing my heart and my breath

We said good-bye with one very last kiss

But no matter what, every corner I turn

I see his face, his eyes, and it burns, it burns

Haven raced to stop the water and hopped over the side of the tub. There had to be
paper in here somewhere. She tore through the first cabinet drawer and then the other.

“Ugh!” She exhaled, and then wrapped a towel around her chest before scurrying into
her room. Her writing notebook was still in her bag, and that was in the front seat
of her car. She repeated the words in her head faster this time, hoping they didn’t
slip away as quickly as they had appeared.

“Ah-ha!” She triumphantly pulled an envelope from a stack of unopened mail. Pens were
easier to find. She grabbed a ballpoint next to her bed and frantically jotted down
the lyrics on the back of the envelope. She read them again aloud and hummed a few
bars in a minor key. She smiled.

A shampoo trail slid along her temple. “Crap.” She touched the foamy mess still in
her hair and hesitantly left the envelope on her bed, walking back to the shower with
one eye on the envelope. Maybe if she stared hard enough, the rest of the song would
come.

Not knowing how much time she had actually spent in the shower before her burst of
lyrical genius, she reset the timer for five minutes and rinsed her hair.

The lyrics came at the strangest moments. Sometimes it happened when there was a guitar
on her knee and her writing journal within arm’s reach, but usually it was completely
inconvenient and random like this morning—the words hit her like an unexpected burst
of energy, needing to be expended in that moment or she would spontaneously combust—at
least it always felt that way.

Haven twisted her hair between her palms and squeezed the water from her hair. She
didn’t want to go to work before the song had hit her like a blast of cold air from
the freezer hitting her in the face, but now the thought of standing in the store
all day made her grit her teeth. She needed to finish it. She
had
to. If she called in sick, her mother would stop by, setting off a chain reaction
from her aunts that would last all day. If she tried to take the day off, her father
would never cease with the lectures on responsibility and setting a good example for
the other employees.

Good example
, she huffed. Her father’s every move was a bad example. It annoyed her to her core
how self-righteous he was when she knew how he spent his nights and sometimes his
afternoons. Just being in the same room with him made her sick.

He gave her one more reason to leave Perry Island. She wasn’t finished chasing her
dream, and the longer she stayed, the more she had to put it on hold. Just like the
lyrics on the back of that envelope.

She grabbed a towel and dried herself before stepping into a pair of khaki shorts
and a fitted T-shirt donning the logo for the island store where she worked.

It was dark as she walked to the side of the cottage. It was an oversized beach house
that had been divided into four apartments. Haven had one of the lower corner units.
There was a view of the cove from the deck. Luckily, the last renter had left a hammock,
and it was her favorite spot to summon the lyrics in her head.

It had been a battle with her parents to have her own place for the summer. They couldn’t
understand why she didn’t want to live at home. She didn’t understand why they didn’t
accept her adult status in life. Did everyone who graduated from college and was on
the brink of turning twenty-three have to deal with this? It would have been completely
unbearable living under the same roof as her dad. There was no backing down on her
part; she fought until they both gave in.

She pulled a turquoise beach cruiser from the bike stand. The island was small. Everything
was within riding distance. Haven rode to most places, enjoying the snippets of freedom
the bike gave her. She threw her leg over the bike and pushed down on the pedal.

“G
OOD MORNING
, sunshine.” Travis beamed as Haven reached behind him for an apron.

He moved closer so that her arm grazed the firm muscles in his shoulder. The pair
was almost eye level, and when he was this close, Haven could see deep flecks of amber
in his dark eyes.

“Hey.” She stepped back, slipped the straps over her neck, and tied the strings tightly
around her waist. Nothing was more unflattering than these canvas aprons her father
made everyone who worked at Owen’s General Store wear.

“I’ve had better greetings,” the store clerk teased. He had stopped sweeping. He leaned
against the broom handle with one arm while his free hand roamed Haven’s hip, resting
on the curve of her waist. His palm felt warm through the thinness of her T-shirt.

Haven rolled her eyes. “I’m not a morning person. You know this.” She tugged at his
wrist, working herself free.

“I wouldn’t forget something like that.” He smiled. She noticed he was overdue for
a haircut. However, most surfers let their hair grow long in the summer. Travis wasn’t
any different.

“Just stop with the chipper-chipperness.” Her cheeks flushed pink with the memory
of waking up under Travis’s tanned arms. That had been two days ago. She glanced over
his shoulder and read the clock above the register. 5:45. Even with rushing around,
she was still fifteen minutes late. God, she had to get out of here.

Travis gripped the handle and turned his attention to the strokes of the broom across
the store’s hardwood floors. “Got it.”

She hadn’t meant to snap at him. He was just being Travis, and she was doing what
she always did—lashing out at him when he was only being nice. But, it was too familiar,
too intimate. True, things had taken an awkward turn since they had made out after
Ben Jordan’s bonfire party, but somehow Haven had convinced herself they could do
those things to each other in the dark under the influence of too many red cups, and
it would magically disappear when they worked together at the store. It didn’t go
as planned. It never did.

“Trav, I’m—” Before she could complete the apology, her father barged through the
back hallway. She bristled when he appeared.

“Haven? You late again?” The white-haired man avoided his daughter’s eyes and looked
at Travis.

Unbelievable. This happened almost every morning and every morning Travis covered
for her, but this time she didn’t deserve her ass to be saved. Her eyes darted toward
the dark-haired boy as if to say, “It’s ok. I know I’m toast.”

“Haven was here, sir. Right on time.” Travis circled around, concentrating on the
dust pile and not Haven’s wide eyes.

“Good. Travis, would you mind giving me a hand? There’s a delivery out back on the
docks. Bait shrimp’s in.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Owen.” Travis winked as he handed his broom to Haven. “Maybe you
could finish this for me.”

“Uh. Sure.” She took the handle and watched as the two men disappeared into the hallway’s
delivery entrance.

Travis would certainly give her a hard time about the whole exchange; he always did.
If he thought covering for her would lead to more alone time, he had the wrong idea
about what happened between them. Haven couldn’t deny they had chemistry and the night
at the beach was hot—hotter than it should have been.

Things had gradually escalated in the past month since she arrived home from college
graduation. It started with an accidental kiss in the shadows of the employee parking
lot after work, and then one night the kiss moved to the backseat of the car when
Haven thought they had technically rounded second base. It was as if Travis had transformed
into the hot new guy when she was gone last semester. Everything about his body was
new to her.

She secretly admitted she liked getting to know this side of him, but the there was
one thing about him that hadn’t changed. He wasn’t interested in stepping one toe
off the island, and Haven didn’t want to keep one toe on it. No amount of flirting
or hot kisses could change that.

“H
EY, HEY,
you in there?” Evan heard a raspy voice through the fog of sleep. “Do you hear me?”

The groggy star shifted his feet from the dash of his Jeep and rubbed the back of
his neck. There was a crick running from the base of his skull to his fingertips.
His entire right arm was numb. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in
a car. Maybe this would be the last—it should be.

“Mornin’, sir. What’s the problem?” Dammit. He had meant to cover up his accent. Maybe
it wasn’t too late. He reached for his sunglasses.

“The problem is that you spent the night in my campground without registering or paying.”
A man wearing a plaid shirt and a white mustache hovered outside the window. There
was a pack of cigarettes peeking from his shirt pocket.

Evan adjusted his hat. “Oh, sorry about that. I can set— I mean, I will take care
of the bill right now.” Pleased the words didn’t sound one bit Texan, he smiled and
then reached for the door handle. Where was his voice coach when he needed to boast?

The man stepped back to allow the Jeep door to swing open. “I don’t usually wake up
to find people sleeping in their cars. Little unusual around here.”

Evan flipped through the bills in his wallet. “Again, I’m sorry. It was late and all
of the hotels on the island were closed. This place seemed like a saving grace at
the last minute. So thank you.”

The man walked around to the back of the Jeep and eyed the license plate. “Georgia,
huh?”

Evan froze. The story hadn’t come to him yet. Was he supposed to be traveling for
the summer on his own? Was a friend on the way to meet him? The only thing he knew
was that he wasn’t ready to be Evan Carlson yet.

“No, sir. It’s a rental.” He handed the man a one hundred dollar bill.

The man cocked his head to the side. “Son, it’s ten dollars a night to park and camp.”