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Chapter 1
Chapter 1: The Double Booking
Olivia Chen-Morrison pulled into the gravel driveway just as the sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the Outer Banks sky in shades of tangerine and rose. The beach house stood exactly as it had appeared in the listing photos—weathered gray shingles, a wraparound porch with Adirondack chairs, and a view of the Atlantic that made her chest loosen for the first time in weeks.
She turned off the engine and sat for a moment, letting the silence wash over her. No phone calls from her mother asking why she wasn't bringing a date to Thanksgiving dinner. No texts from her sister Margot about the seating chart. No passive-aggressive emails from her father about "the importance of family traditions." Just the distant crash of waves and the cry of gulls.
For the next seven days, she would be gloriously, peacefully alone.
Olivia grabbed her overnight bag and the box of groceries from the back seat—enough provisions to sustain her through a week of reading, beach walks, and absolutely no conversations about her love life or career choices. At thirty-two, she was tired of explaining why she'd left her corporate law job to open a small bookshop, and even more tired of deflecting questions about why she and Marcus had ended their engagement eight months ago.
The lockbox code worked on the first try, and she pushed open the front door to find exactly what she'd hoped for: a cozy living room with overstuffed furniture, a stone fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows facing the ocean. The kitchen was compact but well-equipped, and a quick exploration revealed three bedrooms upstairs, each with its own bathroom.
Perfect. She could spread out, leave her books on every surface, and not speak to another human being until she was good and ready.
Olivia had just finished putting away her groceries when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel. She froze, a can of chickpeas in her hand. Probably just someone turning around. The house was at the end of a dead-end road—easy to miss the driveway for the neighboring property.
But the engine cut off. A car door slammed.
Footsteps on the porch stairs.
Olivia set down the chickpeas and moved toward the front door, her heart beating faster than the situation warranted. She was being ridiculous. It was probably the property manager, stopping by to make sure everything was in order.
She opened the door just as a man reached for the handle.
They both jumped back.
"What the—" he started.
"Who are you?" she demanded at the same time.
He was tall, with dark hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in several days and the kind of stubble that suggested he'd given up on shaving around the same time. He wore a flannel shirt over a gray t-shirt, jeans, and an expression of complete bewilderment.
"I'm Jake," he said, as if that explained everything. "I rented this house."
"No," Olivia said firmly. "I rented this house. I have a confirmation email. I have a receipt."
"So do I." He pulled out his phone, tapping at the screen. "See? Sandpiper Cottage, November 23rd through the 30th. Confirmation number right there."
Olivia stared at the screen, then pulled out her own phone. The confirmation emails were identical except for one detail: different booking platforms.
"This is impossible," she said. "How can the same house be listed on two different sites?"
"Apparently very easily." Jake ran a hand through his already-disheveled hair. "Look, there's obviously been a mistake. Let me call the property management company."
"It's almost seven o'clock the night before Thanksgiving. No one's going to answer."
"Then I'll leave a message."
He did, speaking in clipped, frustrated tones to a voicemail that promised someone would return his call "during normal business hours." When he hung up, they stared at each other across the threshold.
"I'm not leaving," Olivia said.
"Neither am I."
"I drove four hours to get here."
"I drove six."
She crossed her arms. "I have nowhere else to go."
Something flickered across his face—a shadow of recognition, like he understood exactly what she meant. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me neither."
They stood there for a long moment, the ocean wind whipping between them, neither willing to be the first to back down.
