After quickly changing into a spring sundress with a lightweight wrap, April walked the short distance down Beach View Lane to Ryan’s stark, modern white house on the corner facing the beach. On a street of colorfully painted houses, his stood out. Too much so for the artist colony of Crown Island. Chic, but out of place here.
“The door is open,” Ryan called out.
April stepped inside. He’d seen her through the wide plate glass windows that should have looked out on the expansive ocean view, but now only faced the plain white wall that surrounded his huge property. She wound her way through the beige and white living room.
She found him in the spotless kitchen with a wooden center island. It didn’t look like he’d been cooking, but something smelled delicious. He held a bottle of wine.
“
