CHAPTER FOUR
Bekah checked her makeup one last time before she entered Hazel Island’s most famous—or infamous—dive bar. The Salty Shack was known for its cheap beer and perpetually sticky floors.
As Bekah stepped inside, she felt her shoe stick to one particularly sticky spot near the entrance. Had someone doused the floor with maple syrup? She didn’t want to ponder the last time someone had used a mop in here.
Stop thinking about how dirty this place is. That’s not why you’re here, she reminded herself. Gathering her courage, she went to the bar, where a few men were gathered to watch some basketball game.
Jack Benson was furthest from the TV, nursing a beer, his expression blank. Tanned from working out in the sun, he was the essence of the word “rugged.” Bekah had no idea how old th
