She heard him inside the cottage. He hadn’t bothered knocking or waiting for her to let him in, which made her wonder just what Carine had told him. But, Hank wasn’t one to stand on ceremony when he set out to do something.

The screen door creaked open, and he walked down the back steps to the small yard that was mostly overgrown with bearberry and beach roses, with a few patches of juniper, foot-tall doomed pine and oak saplings. Lilacs, long out of bloom, grew along one side of the cottage. An invasive, nasty patch of poison ivy swarmed up a stand of pitch pine that marked the yard’s far border.

Antonia noticed she’d pushed through a cobweb on her way out from behind the rosebush. She brushed it off her arm and picked it out of her hair. “Hank, what a surprise.”

His blue eyes raked over her, and he didn’t smile. “You’re looking a little pale there, Doc.”

“Am I?”

“Did I startle you?”

“A little.” It wasn’t an outright lie. “I’m supposed to be alone out here. Don’t you have campaign appearances?”

“I canceled them.”

His tone was difficult to read. Was he angry? Worried? She’d piqued his curiosity—that much she could see. “I haven’t heard the latest report on the hurricane. Anything new?”

“It’s not looking good.” He sounded calmer, his tone less abrupt. The sun hit his eyes, which seemed as blue as the sky and sea. “It’s picking up speed. It could hit the Cape after all before it makes its turn east. That would put you in the bull’s-eye.”

The bull’s-eye. She’d hoped being out here would take her out of the bull’s-eye, at least her stalker’s bull’s eye.

What was the saying? Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Out of the way of a stalker who might not be real, into the path of a hurricane that was very much real.

“I’ve got plenty of time to evacuate if a watch goes up,” she said.

“How did you get out here?”

“Kayak—a new one. I bought it just for this trip. I know I shouldn’t kayak alone, but there were enough boats out in the inlet when I paddled over here that I wasn’t worried. I had a water taxi bring my supplies.”

“Quite the adventure.”

She ignored the bite—the hurt—in his tone. She hadn’t told him she was coming down here. It was that simple. She shrugged, giving up on any attempt to smile. “It’s been fun.”

His eyes stayed on her. “Seas could get rough fast for a kayak.”

“It’s not that far to the mainland, and I’m a pretty good kayaker. I’d wave down help if I needed it.”

“Would you?”