Maybe staying in Hope Harbor was imprudent.

Maybe taking a spur-of-the-moment job and agreeing to occupy a house owned by a secretive landlord was foolish.

Maybe driving all the way from Texas to Oregon to ask for a loan from a man who hated her had been crazy.

But being here felt right.

So before she got cold feet, she’d call the management company and arrange to sign whatever papers were necessary to lock down a six-month stay in the cozy cottage she’d stumbled across in the fog.

And she’d also pray her impulsive decision to upend her life wasn’t going to be another mistake that would add to the burden of regrets already weighing down her soul.

Not again.

As the first rays of sun crept over the hills behind Hope Harbor on Tuesday, Jack slowed the cruiser and stared down the drive that led to Sea Glass Cottage.

Christi’s Nissan was parked in front.

Fingers clenched around the wheel, he glared at the older-model car. Why would she come back here—especially after being given a pass once for trespassing? And how had she gotten past the padlock he’d put on the door? As far as he knew, the key had been sent to the management company, along with a bill from the city for the lock.

Even more important, why was she still in town? If she’d left Saturday after he spotted her through the window of The Perfect Blend, she should already be back in Texas.

But she wasn’t—and now he’d have to investigate.

Muttering a word his mother wouldn’t have liked, he swung into the drive and drove slowly toward the cottage.

Whatever her excuse for being on the premises again, he ought to use this opportunity to deal with the loan issue once and for all. Tell her to her face it was a no go and be done with it, rather than resorting to a text. Much as he disliked her, it was wrong to build up her hopes. Had he not been busy reconciling himself to the fact that he was a father, he’d have dealt with the issue three days ago.

He set the brake, slid from behind the wheel, and locked the vehicle. She couldn’t use fog as a justification for trespassing this go-round. The weather had been clear all night. But whatever excuse she came up with, he wasn’t cutting her any slack. And neither would the owners, if they were smart.

People who took advantage of you didn’t deserve your sympathy or consideration.

Squaring his shoulders, he strode to the front door. Once again, the padlock was missing.

He tried the handle. As on his previous visit, it turned but didn’t open. Nothing to do but resort to loud knocking.

“Hope Harbor police. Open up!”

Twenty seconds later, a lock was flipped and the door swung back.

Whoa.