When a Man Loves a Woman (Willow Shade Island #5)

Chapter 1

Kiera Emmerson

The Barrett family room smells like popcorn and the lavender candle Kiki keeps on the mantel. I stare at my phone, my thumb hovering over the send button for approximately three seconds before I hit it.

Hey, I've been thinking about tomorrow. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all. I don't want to complicate things. Sorry.

There. Done. Smart decision, Kiera. Very mature. Definitely not running away from something good because you're terrified of getting hurt again.

I toss my phone onto the couch cushion beside me like it's contaminated and pull my knees up to my chest. On the floor, Skyler is narrating an elaborate drama involving her Barbie dolls, something about a wedding and a dragon attack.

The TV plays some animated show in the background, all bright colors and cheerful music that feels aggressively optimistic.

River's probably confused. Or annoyed. Or—worse—he's figured out exactly why I'm backing out and feels sorry for me. Poor damaged Kiera, can't even accept a simple job offer without spiraling.

I pick up my phone and pull up the apartment listing I've been obsessing over for the past week.

It's a studio above the bookstore on Main Street—small, but it has a kitchenette with an actual oven and a window that faces Main Street, and you can even see the harbor in the distance. The landlord wants first month’s rent and a security deposit.

Eighteen hundred dollars total to move in.

I open my banking app. I have just enough to cover it, plus a tiny bit extra. I saved every spare dollar from my shifts at Levi's bakery, but I bought a car last month which depleted most of it. And the apartment is $900 a month.

I barely make over a thousand dollars a month working part time for Levi. If I take the apartment, I'll have to live on beans and water. And I don’t even know how much utilities are. I might have to sell a kidney.

The math is brutal and unforgiving, just like sleeping on the streets was.

“Kiera, can Ariel marry the prince and fight the dragon?” Skyler asks, holding up two dolls.

“Why not?” I say, grateful for the distraction. “Ariel can do whatever she wants.”

“That's what I thought!” Skyler returns to her game, making explosion sounds.

The smart thing—the only thing—would be to take River's job.

Thirty dollars an hour, five times a week, plus ingredient money.

That would be almost two thousand extra dollars a month.

With my bakery shifts, I'd actually have breathing room.

I could save for the cooking competition.

I could eat something other than ramen and whatever Kiki insists on feeding me.

But.

River Stone is not safe. Not because he's dangerous—Heavens, no, he's probably the least dangerous person I've ever met.

But because he's interested. I've seen the way he looks at me, like I'm something worth paying attention to.

Like I'm not just the broken girl who got kicked out by her parents for being stupid.

And the worst part? I kind of want to let him look at me like that. I want to believe that maybe, possibly, someone could actually—

Nope. Not going there.

I've made this mistake before. I know how this story ends. I’d much rather swear off men then go through that again.

At least if I keep River at arm's length, I can't get hurt. And he can't use me. And I won't end up sleeping under a bridge again when it all falls apart.

The front door opens, and I hear Kiki's laugh before I see her. She and Tobias appear in the doorway, his arm around her waist. She's practically vibrating with energy, bouncing on her toes in a way that makes me instantly suspicious.

“What did you do?” I ask.

Kiki presses her lips together, trying and failing to look innocent. “What makes you think I did something?”

“You look like you're about to explode. Also, you only get that particular manic gleam in your eye when you're hiding something big.”

Tobias grins and squeezes her shoulder. “Should we tell her?”

“Tell me what?” I lower my feet to the floor, suddenly nervous.

Kiki crosses the room and turns off the television. Skyler pauses her playing and looks up at her. Kiki rocks back on her heels. “I'm pregnant.”

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water.

Pregnant.

Kiki is pregnant.

“Oh my gosh.” I blink at her, processing. “You're—really? You're sure?”

“Three positive tests and a doctor's appointment this morning.” Her eyes shine with tears, the good kind. “I'm almost eight weeks along. We're having a baby.”

Skyler jumps up. “We’re having a baby?”

Kiki grins and nods. “Yes, sweetheart. You’re going to be a big sister.”

Skyler’s eyes grow big. “I am?”

“Yes,” Kiki says, getting down on the floor with Skyler. “A new baby is coming.”

“Wow!” Skyler shrieks. She launches herself at Kiki, wrapping her arms around her. “Can we name the baby Princess?”

“We'll take that under consideration,” Tobias says, laughing.

“Holy cow.” I go over to Kiki and pull her into a hug because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? That’s what a good sister does when her older sister announces life-changing news. “Congratulations. That’s—wow. That’s amazing.”

And it is. It really is.

But underneath the happiness and the genuine excitement I feel for her, there’s something else creeping in. Something that feels uncomfortably like panic.

Kiki has a baby coming. She’s going to need space. Privacy. A house that doesn’t have a broke eighteen-year-old squatting in one of the bedrooms.

I force myself to smile, to act normal, to not let them see the calculation happening in my head. Because this changes everything. I have to move out now. I have to get my act together and stop being a burden on people who have their own lives to live.

Kiki needs this house for her family. Her real family. The one that doesn't include her screwed-up little sister who can't even accept a simple job offer without having a breakdown.

“When are you due?” I ask.

“Mid-January,” Kiki says. “Right after the new year.”

Seven months. I have seven months to figure out how to survive on fumes.

No problem. Totally doable.

My phone buzzes. River. I go back to the couch and grab it without thinking, then immediately wish I hadn't. His text startles me.

Why not?

Short. Direct. No accusation, just a question.

I stare at the screen while Kiki and Tobias discuss baby names and Skyler lobbies hard for “Princess Sparkle Barrett.” My thumb hovers over the keyboard. I type a quick response.

It's complicated.

Three dots appear immediately. He's typing. My heart does this stupid flutter thing that I deeply resent.

I'm not asking for complicated. I'm asking you to cook dinner a few times a week.

I shoot back a response.

For an insane amount of money.

Not insane. Fair. You'd be saving me from starvation and my own terrible life choices. That's valuable.

I almost smile. Almost.

You could hire an actual chef for that.

I hate to break it to you, but you’re going to be an actual chef. Plus I want someone who won't judge me when I eat cereal for breakfast at 3pm because I forgot time exists.

The mental image of River Stone, former child actor and current way-too-attractive filmmaker, eating Lucky Charms in his boxer shorts at 3pm is... distracting. Why did I imagine him in his boxers, anyway? That’s ridiculous. I shove it away and type back to him.

This feels like charity.

It's a job. You cook, I pay you, we both benefit. How is that charity?

Because you don't need someone to cook for you. You need to set a phone alarm.

I need both. Look, I get it if you just don't want to do it. That's fine. But if you're saying no because you think I'm doing this out of pity or something, you're wrong.

I don’t believe him, but I ask anyway.

Then why are you doing this?

I'm legitimately concerned I'm going to pass out during editing and wake up three days later surrounded by empty coffee cups and protein bar wrappers.

I hold in a laugh. Another text from him comes in.

Also, your cooking is incredible. I remember those dumplings you made for the Barrett family dinner. I ate six.

I remember those dumplings too. The way River's eyes closed when he took the first bite, like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. The way he came back for seconds and thirds and then asked me for the recipe.

Seven. You ate Seven. I was counting.

See? You pay attention to details. That's exactly the kind of quality I need in a personal chef.

Despite myself, my lips twitch.

“Everything okay?” Kiki asks, and I realize I've been staring at my phone with a dumb expression on my face.

“Yeah, fine.” I lock the screen. “Just... job stuff.”

“River's job?” She grins knowingly, because of course she knows. Kiki knows everything, including things I haven't even figured out myself yet. “You should take it.”

“It's complicated.”

“Why? He wants to pay you to do something you're good at and need practice for. Seems pretty straightforward to me.”

“Because—” I stop myself. Because what? Because I'm scared? Because I don't trust him? Because every time I let my guard down, I end up sleeping under a bridge?

“Because nothing,” Kiki says softly. “River's a good guy, Kiera.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know that sometimes taking a risk is the only way to move forward.”

I want to argue, but Tobias picks that moment to scoop Skyler up and declare it's time for her bath, and suddenly Kiki and I are alone.

“I found an apartment,” I blurt out.

Her eyebrows rise. “What?”

“Studio on Main Street. Above the bookstore.” I pull up the listing and show her. “I can afford the deposit if I take River's job.”

Something flickers across her face—surprise, maybe hurt, definitely understanding. “You don't have to move out. You know that, right? You're not a burden.”

“You're having a baby.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “You guys need space. And I need to start figuring out my own life.”

“Kiera—”

“I'm eighteen. I graduated. I can't keep mooching off you forever.” The words taste like chalk, but they're true. “Besides, it's a good apartment. Close to the bakery, close to everything. I can make it work.”

Kiki reaches over and squeezes my hand. “If this is what you want, I support you. But please don't think you have to leave because of the baby. We have plenty of room.”

“I want to,” I say, and surprisingly, it's not entirely a lie. Part of me does want my own space. Wants to prove I can survive on my own. Wants to be something other than the charity case sister who sleeps in Noah's old room.

After Kiki heads upstairs to give Skyler a bath, I look at my phone again. River's message stares up at me.

I'm doing this because I'm legitimately concerned I'm going to pass out during editing and wake up three days later surrounded by empty coffee cups and protein bar wrappers.

I switch screens. The apartment listing calls to me. Nine hundred dollars a month. Freedom. Independence. The first step toward not being a burden anymore.

My fingers move before my brain can overthink it.

Fine. I'll take the job. But this is JUST a job. You pay me, I cook, that's it. No weirdness.

Three dots appear almost instantly.

No weirdness. Scout's honor.

Were you even a Boy Scout?

No, but I played one in a commercial once. Does that count?

Despite everything—the fear, the doubt, the voice in my head screaming that this is a mistake—I smile.

Tomorrow at six?

Tomorrow at six. I'll have ingredients ready. Any requests?

A kitchen that's actually been cleaned this month would be nice.

I'll see what I can do. Thanks, Kiera.

I don't respond. Just pull up the apartment application before I can change my mind. The form is straightforward: name, employment history, references, bank statements.

Under “Current Employment,” I type: Crumb and Get It, part-time.

Under “Additional Income,” I hesitate, then add: Personal chef services.

It feels official. Real. Like maybe I'm actually capable of being an adult who makes her own decisions and doesn't immediately self-destruct.

I attach my bank statement and hit submit.

The confirmation email arrives thirty seconds later. Thank you for your application. We'll be in touch within 24-48 hours.

I lean back against the couch, my phone warm in my hands, and stare at the ceiling.

I have a job. An apartment application pending. A sister who's about to be a mother again. Tomorrow at six, I'm going to walk into River Stone's apartment and cook him dinner. This is either the first step toward independence or the beginning of another disaster.

Knowing my track record, it's probably both.

But for once I'm going to try. I'm going to show up, do the work, take the money, and not let myself get hurt.

How hard can it be?