by Kat Cantrell
“Eyesore? It’s…” Well, it wasn’t beautiful, that was for sure, but Caleb couldn’t find the right way to describe it that wouldn’t sound like he was agreeing with Havana. “Quaint. And needs work. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“But you’re not the only one who has to do the work,” she reminded him. “And not everyone wants to stick around a dying town. I’m offering them the choice that I never had.”
Suddenly quite a few things fell into focus that he’d been missing. “You didn’t want to move here after your parents died, did you?”
Her expression froze into an emotionless mask. “Boy, Serenity kept no secrets from you, did she?”
Actually, that had been a complete and total guess, one she’d just confirmed. But regardless, once again, he found himself in the middle of this spat between Serenity and her niece. Or had he put himself in the middle, simply by coming here unannounced?
Well, Serenity could have told him to butt out and leave her be. But she hadn’t. She needed someone to curb Havana’s enthusiasm, and for a lot of reasons, he’d been the one to sign on the dotted line.
“Sorry if that bothers you. I’m here for good, and I won’t lay down so you can run over me either.”
She sighed. “I’m not trying to run over you. I know you think of me as a dictator. I don’t mean to come across that way.”
A little shocked, he eyed her in hopes of gauging her sincerity level. It was pretty high. He didn’t know what to do with that. Not only could she laugh at herself, she also had a sense of her own flaws and no trouble admitting them. That was a rare combo indeed.
His estimation of her grew. “Is that why you didn’t want to come live in Superstition Springs? Because you didn’t have a choice?”
“There were ten kids in our school. Total. In all twelve grades.” She gave him a moment to let that sink in, which didn’t take all that long. “Two of them were my sisters. Tallhorse was—still is—the only teacher in this area. He has a PhD from Yale in something outrageously inappropriate for school children, like Slavic Romantic Literature, but all the other students loved him. He told stories about the Tonkawa that roamed this area hundreds of years ago like he’d been alive at the time instead of being a descendent. Tallhorse is famous for doing rain dances in the middle of class for no reason. All of it was weird. I missed my parents, and I— Well, I just wanted a normal life.”
Yeah, a small school coupled with what sounded like yet another resident comfortable in his own unconventional mannerisms would be hard on a kid, especially after losing a home and parents in one fell swoop. When he’d lost his parents, he’d been twenty and on the ground in Iraq, covertly shutting down a Taliban party outside Kabul. It wasn’t the same at all.
And at the same time, they were exactly alike. Both searching for something that they knew was out there but had yet to find.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little normalcy in a life that has been turned upside down.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t ever get normal, not really. I thought I was moving toward it when I finally made the difficult choice to leave. And even then, that didn’t quite work out like I hoped.”
“What happened?”
Her mouth firmed into a no-nonsense line that said she’d reached the end of her patience with that subject. “Doesn’t matter. I’m home now, and I have the means to give people the choices I never had. Money. A new sense of purpose as we work toward a common goal. What’s so bad about that?”
Nothing. It was on the tip of his tongue to agree with her. She had a good heart, much more so than he’d guessed. That’s what was so difficult about all this. He genuinely believed that she thought she was doing the right thing.
Maybe she’d be willing to compromise. “Why not put the shopping center near the resort and give people even more choices? They can keep the town, revitalize it, and still choose to work at the resort if they want.”
“Because,” she said quietly, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what came next. “Damian’s investors won’t let him build the resort with the town still standing. It was part of the deal. I talk the people into selling, and I get the shopping center project. If I fail, there’s no resort or a shopping center.”
As the complexities sank in, a wave of righteous indignation spiked through his gut.
“They don’t want an ‘eyesore’ so close to their million-dollar property, is that it?” he asked bluntly. He shouldn’t be surprised or even care so much. But come on. Those investors needed to catch a clue that there was something special about Superstition Springs that would be a huge benefit to their bottom line.
“I don’t know their motivation,” she hedged. “Only what Damian and I agreed to.”
“Reconsider. The town has some quirks, I’ll give you that. But the people have a lot to offer. You have to admit there’s a certain feel to this area that might be interesting to capitalize on.” At that, she wrinkled her nose. “You’re not into the superstition part of the springs I take it?”
He would have put himself in the same camp thirty minutes ago. Now he wasn’t so sure.
She shook her head with a small smile. “Mysticism? No thanks. A, it’s not real. And B, I like knowing I have control over everything that happens to me.”
“Ah, but that’s the trick, right? Control is just an illusion.”
As he’d learned in full, vivid detail recently. Caleb and his strike team had become an embarrassment to the Navy. A PR nightmare that was easier to sweep under the rug than to do right by, and he’d had zero power to affect their decision to discharge all five of them.
What was he doing if not trying to take back some control in his own life?
“And surrendering your fate to the whims of gods isn’t an illusion?” The smirk on her face was her own answer to that. “I’ll believe in myself thank you very much. Since we’re airing all the dirty laundry here, what happened to you that makes you so hot to plunk down in the middle of my town and cause me trouble?”
He had to laugh, even as he realized he couldn’t stop liking Havana Nixon if he tried. She didn’t quit. It was as sexy as it was infuriating. “I needed a hobby.”
“Try again.”
Her arched brow had so much attitude he had an inexplicable urge to kiss it away.
“There was a little mix-up with Uncle Sam, and we opted to part ways.”
The details weren’t classified, but some laundry didn’t need to be aired. Though he couldn’t quite figure out why he’d felt compelled to share that much.
“And yet here you are as well, in Superstition Springs at the same moment as me. Not what either of us expected to be the next chapter in our lives, I suppose, but it seems as if we’re both determined to make it work.”
The reality of that unsettled him. She’d nailed it. He didn’t know how he felt about her canny insight. Did she share Serenity’s ability to tap into the universe for clues about what went on in a man’s soul? Or had it been a lucky guess?
Serenity’s prediction took on a whole new dimension, and as much as he’d like to ignore the romantic nature of it, he couldn’t. She’d plainly stated he’d meet his soul mate during the process of replanting of his roots. Surely her already-engaged niece hadn’t been the woman she’d had in mind. Especially not given how much tension there was between Serenity and Havana. That alone gave Caleb enough pause. If she wasn’t right with her aunt, then she wasn’t right with him. Havana couldn’t be his soul mate. It was unthinkable.
Flirting with her on the balcony had been one thing. A tactic designed to knock her off-balance. This was something different. A shared connection that went far deeper than surface-level attraction. The springs had cast some kind of spell on him, and that wasn’t going to fly. He had to break up the coziness that they’d fallen into far too easily.
“The thing is,” he said. “I’m here to help Serenity save her town. You and I are at cross-purposes on how to do that. How do you suggest we proceed?�
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“May the best woman win?” She smiled coyly, causing him to wonder what tricks she had up her sleeve that she hadn’t revealed yet. “Or man. Though I’m pretty sure I was right the first time.”
That only whetted his appetite to beat her at this game. “You’re on.”
And somehow that shifted everything. He’d needed that push to set him on the right track. The key to getting over his hesitance wasn’t to blunder around looking for answers written on the wind. It was to surge ahead with one hundred percent commitment until he got where he was going. Or hit a brick wall.
That’s when he’d call on his team. The guys would band together to get everyone over the wall. Blow it up. Tunnel under it. Take it apart brick by brick until there was a clear path. A couple of times, one of them had led him to a completely different path that required none of the above. That’s why they were all still alive, still watching each other’s backs. Rowe was the brother of his blood, and Hudson, Tristan, and Isaiah were brothers of his heart.
Together, they could do anything. Except stay in the Navy.
He would not fail them this time. There was no room for second-guessing his next steps, a default he’d fallen into after Syria. His guys needed sanctuary, and Caleb would give it to them or die trying.
Eight
Aria chattered until the clock flipped over to a.m., and that’s when Havana stopped paying attention to the time. Her sister must have saved up or something and chosen tonight to unload a year’s worth of words.
Normally, Havana would love what was basically a sleepover for grownups since they were sharing a room, but she couldn’t concentrate. Mr. Hardy wanted a war? He’d get a war.
For a few minutes she’d actually bought into the idea that he’d honor the truce. Silly Havana, tricks are for other women. She shouldn’t have been so easy to fool. Nor should she have been so nice to him.
The man was trouble. In more ways than one. The look on his face when he’d first spied the springs—breathtaking. There was something really affecting about that place, and the fact that he’d experienced it at such a visceral level told her he had a depth that made her want to delve deeper.
Except she wasn’t interested in exploring a man’s depths. At all. Especially not that one. They were complete opposites, and he’d pitted himself against her shopping center, which should have killed every iota of her perplexing attraction to him. It hadn’t.
And now she was left wondering what on earth she found so compelling about him. He wasn’t her type in any way, rough around the edges where she liked her men smooth and cultured. Caleb had been in the military, had probably seen combat. She didn’t even like it when a man killed a spider, let alone other people. But then he’d left the armed forces, so maybe he’d had a change of heart?
A little mix-up with Uncle Sam , he’d said. What was it? Her curiosity was killing her but only because of the color in his voice, as if there was so much more to the story than the simple explanation he’d offered. And what if there was? It didn’t matter unless it offered her some kind of edge in the all-out war they’d declared.
And that’s what she should be concentrating on. How to beat him. Except she didn’t know a thing about his tactics. Was this battle going to be guerrilla warfare or psychological? If the former, she’d have to learn a thing or two. The latter was more her style.
Aria yawned, cutting off her endless flow of conversation that she’d never seemed to realize had been largely one-sided. “Wow, it’s late. I’ve kept you up. We can talk more in the morning.”
“That would be great.”
And she meant it too. A good night’s sleep would do her wonders and also banish Caleb Hardy from her mind. Then she could indulge in some really honest heart-to-heart talks with her sister, like in the old days. That would fix… well, not everything. But it would make Havana feel like she might actually get to a place where she didn’t constantly think about how she’d left Aria behind.
Did her sister resent Havana for leaving? She’d never asked because the answer might drive another wedge between them.
But when she woke up, Caleb had not vanished from her thoughts, and the fitful few hours of sleep she’d gotten left her more tired than when she’d gone to sleep. Aria slept like the dead and didn’t even stir when Havana slipped from the king-sized bed in her sister’s room.
A low hum of water running through the pipes in the walls filled the bathroom the moment she closed the door. Likely, Caleb was in his bathroom too on the floor below her. Maybe taking a shower. If not, he should definitely be shaving given the dark shadow of whiskers that had covered his face yesterday.
Not that she’d noticed how it gave him a daring edge that shouldn’t have been so devastating on him. Besides, she didn’t know what he looked like clean shaven. Maybe that would be worse.
After taking her own shower in the antiquated claw-foot tub that probably hadn’t even been new in the sixties when the hotel had been renovated, she spent a frightfully long time getting her makeup right. Then she surveyed her limited wardrobe choices, cursed that she hadn’t brought more clothes with her from Austin, and finally threw something on because what did it matter? She wasn’t dressing to impress anyone, least of all a man. Jeans and a T-shirt was practically the uniform of Superstition Springs, and that’s what she’d wear.
Damian came by to pick her up, and they spent the day going over the resort plans on site, ensuring they’d indeed picked the right spot, tramping around the river to view the surrounding area from all angles in case the exhaustive surveys they’d had done missed something. The entire time, she had an underlying awareness that all this work could be for naught if Caleb Hardy had his way.
The sun beat down on her, no less brutal in April than it would be later in the summer. Sheer frustration put her in a snappy mood. By five o’clock, Havana was done with being outside and wondering why she’d bothered to take a shower.
Back at the hotel, she looked for someone to soothe her frustration away, but neither Aria nor Serenity could be found. There was a handwritten note taped to the refrigerator that simply said “At Ruby’s.” The primitive communication method in a world that worshipped text messages was faintly amusing, but it worked. If she wanted to eat, and she did, she’d have to trek to the diner.
Havana jumped in the shower to scrub the sunscreen from her skin. Damian had fished the bottle from his glove compartment without comment and handed it to her, because he was a nice man who looked out for her.
If only he could be the one.
But she’d known him for two years, mostly through Cole. It would be too weird to strike up any kind of romantic relationship with her ex-fiancé’s friend, who also did nothing for her. Not even a ping when she looked at him. Shame. He was really handsome, wore a suit with an innate sense of style, and had standing reservations at all the best restaurants.
Totally her type. If she was in the market, which she was not!
Why was she even thinking about anyone’s qualifications for “the one”? There was no one. Serenity’s prediction must be getting to her. The part about meeting someone through work—why couldn’t it be Damian? She’d already stacked up the dominoes for crying out loud.
Annoyed with herself and with Damian for not getting her girl parts going and with Aria for abandoning her and definitely with Serenity for issuing that ridiculous prediction in the first place, Havana pulled on a sundress and stalked to the diner sans makeup. It would take too long to apply, and she needed a cheeseburger now, before she bit someone’s head off. Skipping lunch had been a terrible idea.
Nearly everyone in Superstition Springs had packed into Ruby’s, which wasn’t all that unusual, except ninety percent of them ringed the big corner booth, watching something. Aria and Ruby included, which nixed the idea of food since they were the only waitresses in the place.
She drew up next to her sister and murmured, “What’s going on?”
That’s when Lennie Ford, who was big enou
gh to get his own zip code, shifted aside, unblocking her view of the table. The one man she’d tried to avoid thinking about all day held center court at the booth, playing cards fanned out in one hand and his brow furrowed in concentration.
Her entire day went to blazes in a beach chair as he lifted his head. Their gazes locked, and Caleb watched her as he plucked a card out of his hand, placing it squarely on the table while several of his mates made loud noises of disgust.
He hadn’t shaved.
Why that irritated her even further, she couldn’t say. Yes, actually, she could. It was because of the very unwelcome tug at her core, the place that should be doing the can-can over Damian, but no. Her treacherous insides had no taste when it came to men, obviously, if they preferred a rough-and-tumble sailor.
Of course, Caleb had beautiful eyes too. And he also had things like principle and determination on his resume. Nice arms. A better-than-average sense of balance and command of his body. He’d gone out of his way to be sure he wasn’t stepping on Damian’s toes when she’d invited him to the springs.
But he stirred her up. Too much. They were sworn enemies at this point.
“Hard at work, I see,” she called to him, but he only grinned.
“Shh. I’m about to take these jokers to the cleaners,” he said and jerked his chin at his friends, who were also sitting at the table. Which she’d just realized because her attention had been wholly consumed by the stubble-faced thorn in her side.
Someone else came up on her other side, and she glanced over to see the petite frame of Cassidy Calloway.
“Hey, Cassidy.”
“Hey, Havana.” Cassidy tore her gaze from the game in progress long enough to engulf her in a hug without hesitation, and it was such an unusual greeting from a Superstition Springs resident that she hugged her old friend back.