Penelope Bishop stared out the big picture window that took up most of the front wall of the tiny island “diner.” Although she used that word loosely to describe the place she'd been sent to cool her heels. Yes, they served food and yes, they had a couple of tables to sit at (mostly outside) but that's where her expectations had come to a screeching halt. The makeshift establishment looked more like a food trailer that someone added a small enclosed area to. In fact, that's exactly what it was right down to the silver bullet camper the base of the diner was made from.
It had a certain unexpected charm though. The walls were lined with warm wood with subtle color variations and the hanging light fixtures were giant hunks of reclaimed wood wrapped in thick ropes with Edison bulbs dangling from the ends. Framed tide maps lined the meager wall space and an electric fireplace at one end obviously heated the tiny interior on cold days. She could easily see tourists to the island loving the rustic charm as well as locals finding it the perfect place to congregate for an early morning pick me up before they started their day.
At least if anyone asked her later about her experience on the island, she could provide them with these kinds of interesting details. After all, it was her job to notice more than most. Speaking of the job...
She glanced around the room at the other customers. With the grill and counter taking up eighty percent of the space, it was order at the counter and then seat yourself. For now, she stood waiting for a place to sit since the few tables were occupied.
She had no idea what this Sawyer person she was supposed to meet looked like, but no one looked in her direction like they expected her. Instead, the patrons kept their heads down and seemed to avoid eye contact with her. The whole situation made her uncomfortable to the point it took every ounce of her own restraint to not keep her eyes aimed down to avoid them as well.
This was her first lead assignment with the Bureau and they were counting on her to act like a leader, not a scared little mouse. Not an easy feat growing up under the shadow of her larger than life father while working at his beloved Bureau where he had a certain reputation. They called him a hardass, no nonsense investigator with impeccable instincts. She had definitely inherited his knack for seeing the truth, but somehow she’d missed the hardass genes. What he lacked in empathy she’d received in spades.
Hence, her lack of field experience. The powers that be preferred to hide her inside an office conducting research and far away from an actual crime scene.
Until this case.
Out of the blue her boss had called her in and notified her she was going on a field assignment. He also had gone out of his way to make sure she knew everyone would be watching to see how she handled this one. Her future likely relied on this oddball multi-layered case that involved the destruction of an adult nightclub on the tiniest island in the middle of nowhere.
Who even put a club like that where it was almost guaranteed to get no traffic?
Except that her in depth examination into their tax records showed more than a brisk business took place here. Leading her to believe that the outward appearance of a sleepy island with only a small tourist season was misleading. There was more going on here than met the eye. She was sure of it.
The door to the diner opened, snagging her attention away from her thoughts. She turned to look and a gasp slipped from her mouth before she could stop it. Not only did the man coming in through the door stop and stare, but all the other customers turned and glared at her, too.
She tried to recover and avert her eyes, but it was no use. She couldn't not stare. At six foot something, the man standing there simply towered over her five foot, five-inch frame. But it was more the breadth of his shoulders and the way they filled the doorway that took her breath away. Then there was the matter of his seemingly magnetic, mesmerizing dark eyes that pulled her in and threatened to never let her go.
It was like looking into an eclipse and being unable to look away right down to the golden rim around the dark center.
She clenched her teeth. Of course that wasn't a cheesy thought at all.
Still, neither of them had moved and their staring continued, beginning to feel a bit like a silent contest of who would look away first.
Except the muscle in his jaw. That moved several times.
In addition to a penchant for details, she also had good peripheral vision allowing her to not only notice the sexy stubble on his jaw, but other parts as well. His strong chin. Full lips that seemed made for...you know.
And then there were the scars. Not the first thing she’d noticed, but unable to be missed. The right side of his face was no longer smooth. Pale pink, puckered flesh, from a burn it looked like, ran from his forehead down to the corner of his lips. That little jagged line just meeting his upper lip intrigued her as the urge to touch him there almost made her move.
Luckily, the unconscious sway of her body in his direction jerked her back to reality. Of course his lips pursed and she swore she caught sight of a tiny smirk before he schooled his expression.
He stood taller, if that were possible and lifted his brows in a silent question.
She shrugged off a response and remained silent, still entranced by the scars as she trailed them down his neck and underneath his shirt.
Often scarring such as his made people uncomfortable to the point they tried to hide it. However, in his case that was simply not the deal. The man standing in front of her exuded masculine confidence in spades.
She really wanted to ask how it had happened, although she suspected she already knew the answer. Either way, it made him no less appealing to the eye. He was a frigging gorgeous, rugged wall of muscled giant and those scars were the only thing about him not carved from perfection. They made him real.
Or at least as real as a man could be with perfect and beautiful bone structure that no amount of mangled flesh could cover up.
Or maybe it was the aura surrounding him that she'd immediately picked up making him bigger than life. He exuded strength like nobody’s business and she was pretty sure that trait attracted women all the way back to the caveman days. A woman could count on a man like him to protect her.
She cocked her head. Where the heck had that strange thought come from?
It wasn't until one of the other customers came over and clapped him on the back that he finally broke their standoff and turned away from her to greet the man who interrupted. Which gave her an opportunity to examine the rest of him without the stare down.
Broad chest that tapered down. Covered by a flannel shirt, she couldn't tell one hundred percent, but based on the rest of his muscles, she imagined six pack abs resided underneath that fabric. She clenched her fists to keep from reaching out to find out for herself.
Good night. What the hell was wrong with her?
She forced her gaze away from his body to find him again watching her as he spoke to the other man. "Yeah, Charlie, everything is fine. Everything is healed and I'm here to get back to work." He nodded in her direction, forcing the man to turn and stare at her as well.
A shudder worked down her spine. The residents of this island had a way of looking through her that unnerved her. Or maybe this was simply their way of trying to intimidate her. Either way it prickled the hairs on her neck and left her feeling suspicious. On edge wasn’t the way to start an investigation.
So as much as she wanted to disappear into a crowd right about now, she stiffened her spine, pulled up her big girl panties and took a step forward. "You must be Sawyer," she said.
"Yup."
The one syllable word directed at her sounded clipped and uncomfortable. Apparently, her island escort didn't want to be here anymore than she appreciated being handed off.
Well, too bad. She had a job to do and it seemed playing nice with the locals was the only way it was going to work. Her predecessor on this case had gotten exactly nowhere with the residents of Devils Point and her job was to dig deeper and come up with a viable suspect for the strangeness that seemed to surround this island and their current residents.
The fact it was private property and no local or Federal judge felt obligated to force the property owners to cooperate didn't help. Just another question mark in the long list of oddities in her mind. Of course at this point, it didn't escape her that she was likely given this case because of her gender. Bulldozing these people wasn't going to work. This situation called for a gentler hand.
"Great. How about we—"
"Did you eat breakfast this morning?" he interrupted.
His abrupt question caught her off guard. "What?" she hesitated, drawing in a deep breath to calm her reaction. Something about the tone of his voice made her nervous.
Penelope sighed. Definitely not the foot she wanted to start on. Kill them with kindness. That was the motto. Not weird them out with her lack of finesse.
"No. But I often skip—"
"Good, then we'll eat. I'm starving and Finn back there makes an amazing Howler that you're going to love so much you'll want more." He turned to the man still standing next to him. "Charlie, thanks for checking in. How about I meet up with you and Creed later? We'll go for a beer since it's been a while."
A big grin spread across the man's face as he looked between her and Sawyer. "Sure thing. Whatever you want, big guy." His statement ended on a low chuckle.
She had no idea what the hell was so funny, but she was pretty sure it was at her expense. "You don't have to leave on my account," she said. "I can go outside and wait until you're done with your friend and your breakfast."
This time Charlie snickered and she glared at his back as he walked through the door without another word. Dammit. She really didn't like this. They were not getting off to a good start with the two of them sharing some sort of secret joke at her expense.
"You're eating, too." Sawyer brushed her cheek with his fingertips and tucked the one stray hair that refused to stay put behind her ear. "Skipping meals isn't good for you."
Her breath clogged in her throat. The familiarity of his touch was as magnetic as his stare. Her skin burned in the wake of his hand. Again, she didn't understand the sudden thread of longing that swept through her. Never mind the inappropriateness of it. All of which kept her silent over his take charge attitude.
"I'll go order. You go grab us that seat in the corner before someone else claims it and I'll be right over." Of course he didn't wait for an answer, or any response at all for that matter. He obviously expected whatever he said or suggested would be followed. The hairs at the nape of her neck bristled over that idea. Less than five minutes in and she was already losing control of the situation.
She had half a mind to walk out the door and wait outside until he was done. Except her stomach grumbled and she had to admit whatever the cook was making behind that counter smelled exceptionally good.
Reluctantly, she nodded and turned to the now vacant booth next to one of the windows. From force of habit she first grabbed some napkins from the table dispenser and wiped down the table and both chairs. She then arranged the plastic silverware, also provided in a wire basket, in a setting for two along with some napkins. When she finally sat and looked up to check on Sawyer's progress she again found most of the customers staring at her.
Clearly, she stuck out like a sore thumb here. So she had a bit of a cleanliness complex. Most people appreciated that nervous trait. Even found it useful most of the time.
She glanced toward the counter and collided with Sawyer's gaze, already settled on her. She tried to read his thoughts from his expression and body language and found it impossible. He either had no thoughts on what she was doing or he'd make one hell of a poker player.
Moments later, and before she could finish analyzing him, he grabbed two plates from the man behind the counter and brought them over to their table and placed one in front of her. Staring down at the food, her mouth watered as she tried to puzzle out what the heck it was that smelled so good.
"Thank you," she said, grabbing one of the extra napkins she’d prepared and placing it in her lap. Picking up her fork, she began poking at the food.
There was a perfectly cooked over medium egg on top, apparently meant to smother some sort of meat and potato mixture. She moved the egg and poked at the shredded beef? Maybe? She did recognize the Yukon gold potatoes though. They were her favorite. Who could resist their natural buttery taste?
"Are you going to play with it or eat it?" he asked.
"I was just trying to figure out what all is in here. It smells delicious."
A deep laugh rumbled from his chest, the low vibration of it sliding across her skin like rough velvet. Her stomach tumbled and goose bumps rose on her arms. What an usual sensation. She swallowed thickly, trying to reorient her now jumbled thoughts.
"Babe. It's a Howler. An island specialty and Finn's creation. Whatever is in it is all part of his secret recipe. Even I don't know everything that's in it. Of course, the main thing is the beer braised pork over potatoes with an egg on top. Great way to start or end your day. Maybe instead of trying to deconstruct it, you should just try it." He grabbed a forkful of the pork and thrust it into his open mouth.
Penelope's body quivered. No, seriously. It freaking quivered, making her squirm to get it under control. Her hand tightened on the fork and she grabbed the bottled water he'd also placed in front of her for something else to keep her occupied.
"If you have a problem with it, I can get Finn to make you something else. I guess I should have asked if you had food allergies or something. That's the politically correct thing, right? Do you need something gluten free or organic? Although I can assure you that most of what is in it is grown right here on Devils Point. I know a lot of you city dwellers have picky palates, but you can trust me on this."
Penelope fought the urge to roll her eyes. He might not be wrong about her fellow Seattleites, but he was wrong about her.
She shook her head. “I’m not a picky eater, just curious,” she said, making a mental note about locally sourced produce and what that might mean about the residents’ preference for sustainability and privacy. "This is fine." To show him she had no problem, she quickly speared a potato and put it in her mouth. To her delight, just that tiny taste was so good, she moaned. Her gaze flew up and met his.
Crap.
Had she done that out loud?
Double crap.
The grin that spread across his face at her discomfort took her breath away. As if he wasn't already attractive enough, that smile reached out and tickled her ovaries. Was there something in the air on this island that made it impossible for her to focus or had they sent this beautiful, scarred god to distract her?
Either way, she needed to pull herself together and pronto.
"The name is Agent Bishop."
"Huh?" he looked confused.
"You called me babe. My name is Agent Bishop. Not babe. I'm not a babe. I mean—" She sighed. Apparently around him she was meant to trip over every word out of her mouth.
He leaned back in his chair and kept his grin firmly in place. "You most definitely are a babe. But if you want me to call you Agent Bishop, I can do that too. Maybe."
Thankfully, his cocky tone finally brought her back down to earth. And since she wasn't about to dignify that babe BS with a response, she dug into her food. They ate silently and she devoured every bite. The combination of potatoes, pork, egg and what tasted like fresh baby spinach and a perfect combination of various spices she couldn’t quite peg, turned out more sophisticated than she'd originally thought. She had a feeling that the chef in residence was more than a self-taught local boy. His skills indicated training at a culinary school.
Although why someone would train like that to only end up here in this tiny makeshift diner made absolutely no sense. He had to have roots in the community that drew him back...
She made a mental note to look into Finn's background. Find out when and where he lived before settling here. And where he studied. She inwardly smiled. The devil was always in the details.
"You still with me?"
His question yanked her again from her wandering observations. "Yes, of course." She placed her fork on the empty plate and sat back. "You were right about that dish. It's really good. Is it called a howler because of the egg on top or something?"
He picked up their plates and stood. "Something like that." He carried them to the counter where they were whisked away by the chef.
Penelope kept her eyes on her would be guide as he strode back the few feet to their table. It gave her a fleeting moment to get another look at the rest of him. Besides the sexy lumberjack flannel, he wore jeans that hugged his legs to perfection and brown leather boots on his feet. Nothing out of the ordinary should have jumped out at her and yet, everything about him did. The scars, the mesmerizing eyes, the fingers that had touched her skin...
She straightened in her seat and ignored the warmth flowing through her body. Since she could make no sense out of her reaction, she simply chose to ignore it and get down to business. When Sawyer retook his seat she began.
"You no doubt know why I'm here. So why don't you tell me why you're here. Why do I need a chaperone to go about my investigation?"
"Is that what you think I am? Your babysitter?"
She nodded her head. "That's exactly what I think, what I don't know is why? So please, enlighten me."
"You're a no-nonsense kind of woman. I think I like that. You're also a little stuffy when it comes to your surroundings, even if you are mentally taking note of everything you see. I'm curious about that. Why don't we start with you, Agent Bishop? Don't you think we need to establish some trust between us before we start working together?"
Her mouth dropped open for a moment until she forced it closed. She had no idea what she'd expected from this beautiful man, but it wasn't that perfectly logical thought process that practically saw right through her.
She grabbed the napkin in front of her and twisted the ends. "I guess that's a reasonable request, all things considered." Not that she wanted this man in her head anymore than he already was. Time to turn the tables. "So what would you like to know? My age? My dress size? Whether I wanted to be an FBI agent when I was a little girl? Was that what you had in mind?" She squirmed in her seat, leaning forward. "Twenty-seven, fourteen, and yes. Does that work for you?"
