Finding Haven (24 page)

Travis’s expression had changed. Evan winced, remembering the exchange he had witnessed
between him and Haven. He hadn’t thought of it since, but now, standing between the
two of them, it was all he could think about. Something happened that made Travis
quit the store, and he knew it somehow involved Haven.

Evan pulled her closer. He wanted her to know he was here for her, that if this was
awkward or weird, it didn’t matter. He had her.

“How are things at Wave On?” She tried to sound cheerful and interested.

Travis’s stare bounced between them. “Really, Haven?”

“Yes, how are things going? Do you like it?” Evan thought he felt her shudder.

“I don’t know what Travis thinks about it, but if you ask me, it is the best job on
the island. Lucky, man.” Evan tipped his red cup in Travis’s direction. He hoped some
of the earlier man-to-man bonding would resurface. He was giving Travis a way out
of this mess.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s pretty cool.” He cracked a smile. “I get to surf. I’m on the beach
all day. Who has complaints?”

“Aw, I’m so glad it worked out for you.” Haven took a sip and nervously bit on her
lower lip.

Evan couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to get her out of here. “Nice to you see you
again. Haven was just getting ready to give me the grand tour. So, I’ll see you later?
Maybe on the beach.”

Travis reached out to shake his hand. “Sounds good. Have a good time. Catch you later.”

Evan pressed his hand into the small of her back, and steered her away from the railing
and into one of the adjoining sunrooms off the deck.

“You ok?” He searched her eyes for answers.

“Yes, I’m fine.” But he could tell she wasn’t fine. She was shaking.

He took the cup from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. It looked like this
room was decorated for South Beach. Everything was aqua green and pale peach. He wrapped
both arms around her and tugged against her until she crumbled in his arms.

“Shhh. Shhh. Whatever happened, you’re ok.” He stroked her hair, wishing he could
wipe away the tears and all the hurt in one swoop.

“It’s not.” She looked up. “I hurt Travis. I see it more now than ever. I’m a terrible
person.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re a terrible person. I doubt he thinks that either.” He held
her face between his hands. Did any girl ever look this beautiful when she cried?

Her gaze drifted to the floor. “It’s kind of strange to talk about this with you.
I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” He held her wrist. “You can talk to me about anything. Anything at all. Ok?”
He would sit in this dark sunroom all night if she needed him to. That he was certain
of. “Did you sleep with him?”

The look of shock on her face didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t want to be a jealous
ass, but he saw how Travis watched her. Why else would he be such a dick about everything?

“I shouldn’t have asked that. Don’t answer it.” Evan shook his head. “It’s none of—”

“No. I didn’t.” She tipped forward on her toes and met his lips with a soft kiss.
“You’re the only one I’ve been with this summer.”

Evan knew he didn’t deserve it and he didn’t deserve her, but he buried his face in
her shoulder and inhaled her shampoo, drawing her against him.

“Good, because I didn’t want to have to punch my surf advisor.” He nipped at her neck,
and smiled as he heard her giggle. As long as he was making her happy, he knew he
was doing everything right.

“Can we get out of here?” She chewed on her bottom lip, and her eyes sent waves of
seductive signals.

“Baby, I’ve been asking that since we got here. Hell, yes.” He took her by the hand.
“Want to go bunk?”

Haven’s laughter peeled through the sunroom. “You know that’s funny and wrong on so
many levels?”

He winked and led her home, where they could be alone, together, and lost in each
other.

“A
LLAN?
H
EY,
have you made any of those Austin calls for me?” Evan waited for his coffee to cool.

“I did. A few of the guys said to tell you hello. I told them you were on a little
vacay or you would have called yourself.” The agent chuckled.

“Thanks, man. So, what’s the verdict?” Evan was hoping at least one would be willing
to look over the songs.

“See, the thing is, Evan. People kind of like you. So out of the five I called, all
five want to see the songs.”

Evan blinked. “All of them?”

“Yep. They hear Evan Carlson is backing a songwriter, and it’s practically a done
deal. You’re kind of a superstar in Texas.” Allan was buttering him up for something;
he just didn’t know what it was.

“All right, so what’s the next move? How do I get the songs to them?” Evan had a notepad
in front of him, waiting for a rundown on how to submit Haven’s music.

“Well, they do want to know who she is. Where is she from? What’s her background?
You can understand. They don’t want to start publishing a crackhead. Not that you’d
endorse one, boss, but you know—general information is a good place to start.”

This was the threshold Evan was worried to cross, but Haven had told him several times
that she sent songs in every week. Those emails had to have some kind of contact information.
He sighed heavily into the phone.

“Ok. How about I email you a bio and a package with three songs. Will that work?”

“You still using email? I thought you had given the stuff up.” Allan laughed at his
joke.

“Funny, Allan. Yes, I’ve got email. Look for something from me in a couple of days.”

“I’ll look for it.”

“Now, the second reason for my call.” Evan slid the paper across the table. “What
is going on in that damn mind of Emmy Harper? I saw another article yesterday.”

“Look, there’s nothing else we can do on this end. If you’re not willing to do an
interview and you won’t let me put out a statement, my hands are tied. I tried talking
to her, but you’re forgetting America’s sweetheart is in love with you. Anything I
say makes us both look like assholes.”

Evan slumped in the seat. Sort of like the hurricane that had swept through last week,
he thought Emmy’s two-week publicity stunt would die down. That was a rookie thought—she
was gorgeous, popular, and publicly declaring her love. People were going to eat that
up as long as she was putting it on the buffet.

“Dammit, Allan. We have to shut this down.” His stomach was in knots, thinking Haven
was going to figure this out any day. It was a sordid puzzle on public display—the
pieces all around her, she just didn’t know it. How would he explain Emmy and the
lies she was spreading? Everyone believed her. She was Emmy freakin’ Harper.

“Ok. Ok. I haven’t tried all my sources. Give me a few days, send that email, and
we’ll regroup.”

Evan closed his eyes. He could count on Allan to figure this out. It is why he was
known as the best and why Evan paid him so much.

“Sounds good. I knew I could count on you. Thanks.” Evan laid the phone on the table
and took a sip of the coffee.

He was going to have to get the songs from Haven. That part of the plan he hadn’t
worked through. It was Saturday, another full day off. He could sit on the beach all
day and figure this one out.

H
AVEN PARKED
her bike in the rack in front of the library. Her song portfolio was tucked under
her arm. Jay had asked her if he could have copies of the songs she sang for him.
He wanted to read them again, he said. The library was the only place on the island
she could make copies without prying eyes. If she stepped anywhere near the copier
in her father’s office, she would get the lecture on how she had wasted too much time
on lyrics.
Get a real job, Haven
. She had heard it a thousand times. Since it was Monday, he was in the office going
over bills and accounts.

She smiled, clutching the music to her side. If Jay wanted her music, it must mean
something to him. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and opened the door to the
one-room island library.

It had been three weeks since he started at the store. She knew she was supposed to
find a replacement for him, but he hadn’t brought up his temporary status lately.
He seemed happy at the store, like it was something he actually enjoyed. Honestly,
she didn’t want to hire someone else. They got to spend four days in a row together
at work, and then she knew they would spend the next four nights rotating between
her house and Silver Belle, depending on who had the following day off.

She loved waking up in Silver Belle. It felt like they were the only two people in
the world when they were there. Who needed other people? She giggled as she dropped
quarters into the copier and placed the first page face down on the scanner. She hit
copy.

If she could wake up every day with him, she would. But she was trying to be careful—give
him his space. Guys liked space. She couldn’t help feeling though that he was ok with
a little too much Haven time. Maybe it was because he always pulled her back under
the covers, or because he called on the nights when they were apart to check on her,
or because he snuck her into the storage closet at work and kissed her like it was
their last day on Earth.

She placed the next sheet down and hit copy.

The summer days were slipping by and she didn’t know how long he was going to stay.
It made her stomach hurt thinking about him leaving. What if she was the one who left?
Nothing had changed with her music. It was her soul, her reason for existing, but
lately, she knew she had a new reason to exist and it had something to do with a hot
Texas boy.

She exhaled and put another page of lyrics on the screen. She watched the green laser
shoot under the lid when she heard the voice—the voice that made her want to vomit
and punch something at the same time.

“Rosie, do you have any of those new steamy Raven books? I can’t get enough of those.”
Betra Meeks was ten feet behind her at the library desk, whispering and laughing about
some tacky romance smut.

Rosie, the only librarian on the island, slid her glasses forward and smiled. “Two
more came in over the weekend. They aren’t even on the shelves yet. Wait here and
I’ll get them for you.”

Haven clenched her teeth and whipped the pages into her portfolio. Two songs were
copied, but she still had one more. The only thing keeping her at the task was that
Jay wanted them. This meant something to him.

“Well, hey there, Haven.” Betra tapped her on the shoulder.

She didn’t know if she could turn around and face the woman who had been sleeping
with her father. Betra ran one of those seashell gift shops that was only open in
the summer. Come October, she packed up and headed to Florida for the winter where
she bragged about her Tampa condo. Haven sometimes wondered if there was a real condo.
Could you really make enough money to last all year selling painted starfish for three
months? She choked on the realization that maybe Betra’s winter paradise was funded
another way—by someone who had steady, substantial income. Oh, God, she couldn’t look
at her; she couldn’t stomach it.

“Honey? You ok?” Betra tilted her head to the side.

Haven gathered the last page off the copier, shoved it inside the folder, and darted
out of the door. The July heat fell around her like the curtain of awareness that
had just come down. Her father, Betra, the affair—it wasn’t new. It couldn’t possibly
be new. She gripped the handlebars, nudged the kickstand up, and headed toward the
store.

“H
EY, KILLER,
where are you going?” Jay called from the rental booth. Haven shoved the bike into
the rack and stormed toward the employee entrance. He was quite possibly trailing
her. She heard the screen door slam behind her.

The store was cool, but her neck was damp with sweat and her chest heaved with anger
and exertion. Her father’s office was at the end of the hall. The door was closed.

“Whoa, Haven. What’s going on?” Jay’s hand landed on her shoulder, and she spun around
to face him.

“I have something to say to my father. To ask him.” Her hand was shaking and her bottom
lip quivered.