The young woman was slumped over the edge of the bed, her face half-buried in her arms. A few messy strands of hair had fallen across her forehead, hiding her beautiful eyes.
Morgan Joyce watched her, his deep-set eyes filled with a gentle light.
He raised his fingertips and gently smoothed the hair on Hannah Hale's forehead, his eyes crinkling with a smile as warm as a spring breeze.
Hannah Hale was sleeping soundly when the phone on the nightstand began to ring. She struggled to pry her eyes open, fumbled for the phone, and pressed the answer button.
"Sweetheart, your car is parked outside, but your father and I don't see you anywhere."
Hannah Hale's father had gone out for an early morning walk and saw her car parked in front of the villa, so he assumed she was back.
Hannah Hale sat up, rubbing a neck so stiff it felt like it was about to snap. "I'm at Morgan Joyce's place. He had a fever last night, so I stayed to take care of him."
