CHAPTER SEVEN
A HERON PERCHED on the railing that led down to the boat ramp, his neck outstretched as he basked in the afternoon sun, ignoring Willow as she made her way across the parking lot and down the sidewalk leading to the boats. She had texted Benson that she was on her way; hopefully, he kept an eye out for her. She rattled her brain on the trip over, when she wasn’t doubting herself about what she was doing but couldn’t remember what he had said was the name of his boat. As much as she stalked all his social media profiles over the past couple of years, she would have thought that tidbit would have stuck in her brain.
The breeze off the water tugged at her hair as she passed through the park and onto the walkway of the marina, her sandals slapping the wood under her as she walk
