Navy Seal Promise. Amber Williams Leigh

had saved his life more than a time or two overseas as well as the lives of his teammates.

      As much as he’d like to give the engine another look, he sidestepped the car, giving it a wide berth. No, he didn’t know where or who it had come from. At this point, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

      It smelled like trouble in Goodyear tires and a double coat of dust.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      “THIS IS JUST EMBARRASSING,” Mavis mumbled, slouching farther into the white rocker on the front porch of Hanna’s Inn.

      “How long have they been at this?” Harmony asked from the next chair, scarfing a triangular-shaped sandwich. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Storm prep at B.S. had kept her and the other airfield employees hopping throughout the day. She still had to go home and put up her own storm shutters, but her parents lived on the bay. They didn’t just have to contend with the possibility of wind. There was the very real threat of flooding. So she’d come to make sure they were okay first.

      While her father and several other strong-armed fellas connected to Flora, Belle Brides and the tavern were still tying down and boarding up, the women had taken a well-deserved break with tall glasses of lemon ice water and cucumber sandwiches.

      Mavis frowned sideways at the others. “What’s wrong with them? They’re supposed to be the grown-ups.”

      Harmony gobbled another sandwich. “Mmm. Let them have their fun.”

      “Ooh, ooh,” Adrian Bracken said, straightening against the high back of her rocker. “He’s coming.”

      “Yes,” Olivia Leighton hissed as she leaned forward to get a better look down the street. “’Bout time. I’ve earned this today.”

      Harmony watched, amused, as her mother, Briar, ran her fingers through her medium-length hair and smirked when she caught Mavis inching up a bit in her chair. “Oh, good God.”

      “What?” Mavis asked, trying to look as surly as Kyle had the night before.

      “Look at you, trying to get a peek.” Harmony slapped her knee as she sat back and laughed. “You’re just like them.”

      “Am not,” Mavis said, offended.

      “Are, too,” Harmony returned.

      “Am not!”

      “Are, too!”

      “Sh, sh! Girls!” Olivia said, waving a blind hand at them as the object of their fascination finally jogged into view on the sidewalk lining the scenic highway beyond the gravel lot.

      He wore red running shorts, low-cut socks, running shoes and nothing else except a black band around his bicep that held a portable speaker. Music followed him, the crash of heavy metal angry enough for Mavis to appreciate. He’d been bronzed by the sun and was fit to please.

      A fine male specimen indeed. Harmony slowly licked a dab of dill cream cheese from the corner of her mouth and reached for the cool glass on the small table next to her chair. The temperature was rising.

      A shrill whistle cut across the porch, followed by the impressive strain of a rebel yell. When the man’s head swiveled, Olivia called out, “Get you some, hot stuff!”

      The runner grinned back and jerked his chin in their direction. “Right back at ya, ma’am!”

      Mavis groaned and turned fifty shades of red, failing epically to blend in with the yellow seat cushions.

      Harmony guffawed. “Do y’all do this every day?”

      “We have a standing appointment with Running Man every other weekday,” Briar admitted, having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by the display.

      “Rain or shine.” Adrian sighed. “He never disappoints.”

      “Does Dad know about this?” Mavis drawled.

      “He knows it’s harmless,” Adrian replied.

      Harmony tilted her head to see her mother better. “Is Bea with the guys? I couldn’t find her downstairs.”

      “In the breakfast room of the new wing,” Briar told her. “A visitor stopped by to help us prep, but she snagged him first.”

      Kyle. Harmony caught Mavis’s knowing look and brushed the crumbs from her blouse. The one person who knew about her long-ago feelings for Kyle was Mavis. They were close in age and had grown chummy through the years. Chummy enough for secrets. They never spoke of it, mostly because Mavis found the idea mortifying. No one was more relieved nothing had come of Harmony’s crush on Kyle than his baby sister.

      Someone clattered up the porch steps and Harmony turned her attention to Roxie Strong. She wore high-arched heels and an immaculate day dress. Nobody ever found a wrinkle on Roxie. She had aged superbly. Though lately she looked tired. Despite her busy hours as a wedding coordinator, seamstress and the taxing business of being a mother of three, she’d hidden the wear that came with her combined workload with admirable ease.

      “Harmony,” Roxie greeted, embracing her warmly. “I saw Bea earlier. I gave her sweets. I hope that’s okay.”

      “Did she give you the lip?” Harmony asked.

      “The pouty one, yes.” Roxie nodded. “It’s impossible to resist. How do you say no to her?”

      “I’m the local bad witch around these parts,” Harmony admitted. She narrowed her eyes on her mother. “Especially with the Good Witch on the loose.”

      Briar blinked innocently. “What? I’m the Mammy. I’m allowed to indulge her.”

      “Hmm,” was Harmony’s response. “I’m going inside. Hopefully, I won’t find her on the downhill slope of a sugar high.”

      Harmony left the women to their devices, retreating into the hushed cool lobby. The building encapsulated the essence of her mother’s soul. No wonder her father, Cole, had found refuge here. It wasn’t easy, the life of innkeepers. But his past penchant for wandering had washed ashore here at Hanna’s, and, under its roof, in Briar’s embrace, it had quickly checked out.

      Growing up the innkeepers’ daughter had had the opposite effect. Like Gavin, Harmony was more of a wild thing. Living in the third floor with guest suites below, there had been no running or stomping. She’d learned how to maintain a proper “inside voice” early on. Meeting new people every day and hearing their stories had always been a source of enjoyment. But was it any wonder she’d craved days at The Farm and its wide open spaces?

      There was something about coming home, however. As she followed the long, curving hall with its ornate line of floor-to-ceiling windows into the new wing, Harmony trailed her fingertips along the edge of an antique breakfront. The paintings lining the new hallway were local artistry, their subject dedicated solely to bay life. Today the view was obstructed by wood panels that would protect against surge should the storm bring it.

      The new suites were built into the far end of the wing, allowing more privacy. They were larger with modern touches that the old rooms, regardless of charm, weren’t able to accommodate. The bed-and-breakfast now boasted ten suites in all—four in the original floor plan, six more in the new. It would open with a spectacular showing in a few short weeks, courtesy of Roxie, whose party planning vision knew no rival. Harmony looked forward to watching the inn come alive in its newfound evolution. Her parents were already training new help to take on a percentage of the expanding workload.

      About time, she thought. Briar had held the same staunch notion for decades—since her mother, Hanna, had run the inn from top to bottom until her death, and so could she. Until recently, she’d ignored entreaties to hire a small staff.

      It wasn’t just the new rooms that had worn Briar down, Harmony knew. The pain in her hands, a gift from arthritis, had gone steeply uphill over