I toyed with a strand of my hair as I walked back into the Yacht Club, thinking about South's whimsical invitation. He wanted to sweep me away for a weekend in New Hampshire.

And, of course, he wanted me to climb a mountain with him.

I let out a little laugh as I pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Yacht Club, my lips still buzzing from his kisses.

Everything about South seemed surreal—from the way he came into my life, to our first night together, then how I'd seen him at the wedding and realized our families were tied together.

And now, he'd shown me a piece of him that no one else saw, his vulnerable side, and it made me want him even more.

Being with South was like one big adventure in breaking out of my comfort zone and doing the things that scared me. He made me believe I could be the person Lydie always wanted me to be—bold and daring.

And as much as I wanted to hide in the mountains or sail away with South, I knew no matter how far we ran; we'd never escape his dad.

Sandra gave me a wink and a knowing grin as I walked by the reception desk, and I humored her by winking back. "I want details," she told me behind a cupped hand. "I saw you two out there. You make such a beautiful couple."

I walked back into my office, buoyed by South's invitation and Sandra's support, to find the strangest thing: Connor was still sitting in my office chair, and my boss was perched on the edge of my desk beside him. And they were laughing.

Lianna and I still hadn't talked after our bathroom blowout, and I wasn't sure if we were cool.

"Hey," I said, peeking inside. "Did I miss the party invite?"

Connor's face was beet red when he reluctantly tore his bright blue eyes away from Lianna. "I just met your boss. Turns out her dad owns the apartment building I'm staying in. Crazy, huh?"

Not exactly crazy. Lianna's family were real estate tycoons back in the day. Her job at the Newport Yacht Club was the pinnacle of nepotism, as her family owned the building. I tried to look genuinely surprised by this fact but wasn't sure I was successful. "Really... crazy."

Lianna was all smiles when she pushed off my desk. "Well, I should get back to work. It was nice to meet you, Connor." She turned to me, her smile fading slightly. "I sent you a few emails that need to be handled by end of business today. Okay?"

"No problem," I chirped back.

Fake. Fake. Fake.

"Bye, Connor," Lianna said in a flirty voice over her shoulder. "Don't forget about the oyster bake on Saturday. I expect to see you there."

"Wouldn't miss it. Sounds wicked fun."

As Connor and I both watched Lianna sashay out of my office, I couldn't decide if she was trying to get back at me by flirting with Connor or if she was genuinely interested in him.

Even though I had no desire to be with Connor—not in that way—I felt weirdly protective of him.

Connor pushed back his hair and gave me a sheepish grin. "You don't care if I hang out with Lianna on Saturday, do you?"

"No," I said quickly. "She's fun. I mean, I'm sure you'll have fun. You should totally go. I mean, you're going. Which is cool and totally not my business."

"If you're sure." Connor stood up and stretched, glancing over at the schedules sitting on my desk as he made his way towards the door. "I'll see what else I can dig up on Admiral Tenney, but no promises. Okay? He's a wicked secretive person, and I don't want to end up on his shit list."

I took a seat at my desk and clicked through the emails Lianna had mentioned, not meeting his eye. "I get it."

"Is everything okay?" Connor asked. And again, I had this strange need to protect him. "You seem tense."

"I didn't get any sleep last night," I answered, not untruthfully. "You should get back to Admiral Tenney before he runs out of people to yell at and starts looking for you. We'll talk soon."

Connor didn't say anything to that. Instead, he gave me a tight-lipped smile before closing the door behind him as he left.

I glanced around my now-quiet office. My elbows landed hard on the desk, and my face fell into my hands.

Could I do this? Could I spy on Les Tenney with a private detective while asking Connor to risk his career and possibly ruining South's relationship with his dad?

Furthermore, did I have a right to be doing this? To play private eye? I mean—this wasn't a television show. This was real life. I didn't go to school for Criminal Justice. I didn't know the first thing about interviewing clients or putting a case together. I'd probably fuck the whole thing up and end up losing my job.

This job was all I had. Public Relations was all I knew. I was just the smiling, polite, go-to bubbly blonde girl. The one who listened to problems and offered solutions.

The employee bosses only remembered when they needed something.

The fake one.

I brushed it off, trying to ignore how much that hurt. I should be happy that I had this job. It paid well, I could walk to work in the summer months, and I got to rub elbows with Newport's elite.

But, there was a little voice inside telling me that I was more than this—that I could do more and be more than just the PR girl if only I were brave enough.

Maybe I had no right to be playing private detective, and maybe I'd lose everything I had in the process, but I couldn't stand by and watch another innocent person die because I was too much of a pussy ass bitch to discover what Les Tenney was up to.

Then I thought about Stella. And West. And all the other people Les Tenney had undoubtedly hurt over the years, and I made my decision. Apparently, I was very good at being fake. So, why not fake being a PI?

I spent the rest of the morning answering the emails Lianna needed me to take care of before racing out to my car to meet Jack for lunch at Castle Hill Inn.

The restaurant sat at the top of a towering bluff overlooking the jagged Newport coastline. This far into summer, sailboats, and fishing vessels were zipping around the harbor, and the sun was shining in bright patches on the waves.

I adjusted the brim of my floppy hat as I strutted like an important journalist up the path to Castle Hill Inn, where Jack Dougherty was waiting for me.

He flashed a bright white smile before removing mirrored sunglasses and tucking them inside his suit coat.

"Aren't you supposed to be in disguise?" I asked by way of greeting as we were shown to our table on the back patio.

Jack rolled his dark eyes. "I'm always in disguise."

The two of us ordered drinks and chatted as we waited for our lunch to arrive. Sitting under the shade of an umbrella and soaking in the sun as it danced over the water. The air was tinted with the scent of simmering seafood and blooming wisteria.

Jack and I talked about his small detective agency that he'd started after getting out of the Navy and how the business had taken off.

"I travel all over the east coast, following jobs that turn coin and pay per diem," Jack explained after our food arrived. "I never get bored, and every new case brings its own set of mysteries."

"You sound very passionate about your work," I replied, taking a bite of seared scallop that was perfectly buttery and decadent.

"I am. And," he added thoughtfully, "I get to meet new people all the time. Like you."

I gave him a dismissive wave that didn't stop heat from flushing my cheeks. "You're just being nice."

"I don't make a habit of being... nice, as you say. But I know talent when I see it. You're a natural at this. It's a shame I don't have more people like you on the payroll,"

Natural talent? That wasn't possible. I'd doubted myself the entire time. Scared of getting caught or upsetting South. But, the thrill of solving a case had been better than the high of jumping out of an airplane or finishing that half marathon.

Only... I let out a nervous laugh.

"Girls like me don't become private investigators, do they?"

Jack studied me with a confused look on his face. His perfectly manicured brows pushed together. "What do you mean, girls like you?" When I didn't answer, Jack's smile returned. "You might want to believe you were born to smile at Yacht Club millionaires—but deep down—you'd make a damn fine detective, slummin' it with the rest of us hourly workers. That is if you want it bad enough."

Nothing about Jack's tailored Tom Ford suit or his shiny Volvo said he was slummin' it.

"Take the lead," he said with another grin. "Get us back to see Red."

I took a bite of scallop and swallowed, giving myself a few moments to process what Jack had just said. He wanted me to take the lead?

"Come on, Camilla. Show me what you got. Who better to get us back to see the head chef than you?"

I set my fork down, thinking. I was supposed to be a journalist, wanting an interview. But, another idea sprang to me as our server came by.

"Excuse me!" I called out, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack settle back in his chair.

"Yes, madame?"

I set my face to public relations mode—with a touch of flirty bubbling beneath. "We would like to pay our compliments to the chef." I leaned conspiratorially in, and so did the server. "If it's not too much trouble, of course. I know you're very busy."

The server gave me a cheeky smile. "No problem. If you follow me this way, I can take you to him."

I slid out of my chair, and so did Jack, and we followed the server back to the kitchen inside Castle Hill Inn.

A/N

So much to unpack here! As always, thank you so much for reading! I added a picture of Castle Hill Inn that I took the last time I was in Newport, RI.

xx
AJ