Chapter Three – Coastal Warnings
762 Words
Chapter Three – Coastal Warnings
The rain had stopped by the time Isla left the café, but the gray skies still hung low over Marlowe Cove like a heavy blanket. She wrapped her blazer tighter around her and walked slowly down the narrow street, watching the locals chat like nothing in the world existed outside their bubble.
Everyone here seemed to know each other. Everyone except her.
And him.
She caught sight of Aiden again up the road, lifting a heavy beam onto the back of a pickup truck. His muscles flexed under the fabric of his damp shirt, and he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
Isla should’ve looked away.
But she didn’t.
And then he turned—caught her staring.
Their eyes met again.
She quickly turned and walked off in the other direction, cheeks flushed.
What is wrong with me?
---
By the time she reached the old Marlowe Cove Resort, the sea wind had dried her hair into soft waves. The building itself was a shell of its former glory—peeling paint, cracked windows, a sign that read “CLOSED FOR REPAIRS” hanging lopsided at the entrance.
She unlocked the gate with the key the company courier had dropped off, stepping into the lobby.
Dust floated in the air like lazy ghosts. Faded wallpaper peeled at the corners, and the old chandelier swayed with every gust of wind that creaked through the boarded windows.
Still… she saw potential.
This place could be beautiful again.
She wandered through the halls, snapping pictures, mentally sketching renovations. Marble flooring. Ocean-facing spa suites. A rooftop bar. Modern, but with coastal charm.
Something warm and timeless.
Just like…
Her thoughts trailed as she heard something creak behind her.
She turned quickly—and nearly screamed.
Aiden stood at the end of the hallway, tool belt slung low on his hips, eyes unreadable.
“How’d you get in here?” she asked, heart racing.
He raised a brow. “I’ve got keys. I help maintain the place, remember? Mr. Marlowe hired me before things went quiet.”
She crossed her arms. “And you’re just… casually following me now?”
“I’m fixing the broken door in the west wing. You’re the one trespassing in my workspace.”
She scoffed. “This property belongs to the company I represent.”
“And the town you’re walking through doesn’t belong to you, either. Doesn’t mean you don’t tread heavy.”
She stared at him.
“Why do you hate me so much?” she asked quietly.
He blinked. “I don’t hate you.”
“You act like you do.”
Aiden shifted his weight. “I hate what you represent.”
“Corporate greed? Luxury? WiFi in a fishing town?”
He didn’t smile. “Change that doesn’t care who it hurts.”
That struck a little deeper than she expected.
Isla looked away.
“I’m not here to bulldoze the town. I’m here to help. My plan includes local input. I want to preserve the culture, not erase it.”
Aiden studied her. “Is that what you really want… or just what you’re paid to say?”
She flinched.
He took a step closer.
“You think charm and a polished plan will fix what this town’s been through?”
“I think trust can.”
He shook his head with a humorless chuckle. “Then you’re in the wrong place, Reyes.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then—his voice softer.
“You should go.”
She held his gaze.
“Why?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away.
“Because you make people want things they shouldn't,” he said finally.
Before she could ask what that meant, he turned and walked away, his boots echoing down the empty hallway.
---
Back in her room that night, Isla sat on the edge of her bed, staring out at the dark waves crashing against the cliffs.
Aiden’s words kept echoing.
You make people want things they shouldn't.
What did he want?
And why did it sound like a confession?
She ran a hand through her hair, heart twisted in confusion and heat.
This job was supposed to be simple. In and out. Plans approved. Deal signed.
No handsome distractions.
No soulful looks.
No unspoken things crackling in the air between kisses that hadn’t even happened.
Yet.
But the tide was changing. And deep down, she already knew—
Marlowe Cove wasn’t the only thing in danger of being rebuilt from the ground up.
- Writer
