CHAPTER 25
JONATHAN
The storm had been threatening all morning. When it finally broke, it did so without mercy—rain hammered the roof, wind shook the treetops, thunder rolled long and low across the lake.
Inside the cabin, it was warm.
Another stack of envelopes sat on my desk.
Half the mail arriving today was worthless—maintenance notices, supply invoices, bills, and a letter from the Everwick Historical Society trying to get me to sponsor their fundraiser.
But then there were ones that weren’t so harmless.
Thick envelopes with embossed logos and wording that made my shoulders tighten.
Polaris Equity. Northridge Holdings. Names that had been circling my family’s land like vultures since before my father had died.
A headache began crawling up the back of my skull. I rubbed at my stiff neck. The storm outside wasn’t helping, each rumble making the windowpanes tremor.
I glanced over.
Blanche didn’t notice me staring this time.
She sat in my armchair, bare legs stretched out, wrapped in my flannel with my father’s ancient laptop balanced on her knees—its screen dim and flickering like it was on life support.
Every few seconds, the hosting-setup loading bar crawled forward a fraction of an inch. It now read 12%.
In between the glacial progress, her hair had slipped into her face, and she’d brush it back.
She continued to scribble notes on a pad propped against the chair: shapes, sketches, bullet points, even a tagline crossed out and rewritten twice.
Rough concepts for the future redesign of the Juniper Hollow B&B website.
She didn’t seem to mind this work. If anything, she looked energized by it.
Blanche had a certain look when focused…
lip caught between her teeth, brow scrunched, head tilted like she was listening to something only she was attuned to.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d stare too long.
Not just because she was beautiful, but because that quiet, fierce determination of hers was almost luminous, making it impossible to look away.
The stark contrast between us at the moment was obvious.
She was immersed in sketches, color palettes, and something creative taking shape.
My tasks were the opposite. Bleak paperwork and bills, that felt like chores.
Her work gave her energy. Mine drained it.
She was building something new, something hopeful, while I sifted through relics of old problems, old debts, and old ghosts.
I leaned back, letting the chair squeak. She looked up instantly.
“How goes the battle?” I asked.
She huffed a breath, pointing at the laptop like it had personally offended her. “Your father’s laptop is older than some civilizations. The hosting is taking forever to set up, so I’m sketching ideas while it thinks about its life choices.”
Another rumble of thunder shook the walls. Blanche didn’t even flinch, only remained focused.
“Juniper Hollow needs a strong visual identity,” she said, flipping a page. “Your cabins are gorgeous, but your branding…not so much. But we’ll get it there.”
There it was again. That simple offer. That earnestness I didn’t know what to do with.
I looked back at the envelope in my hand. The corner was creased from how hard I’d been gripping it.
“What’s that?” Blanche asked softly. Of course she saw.
I hesitated. She tilted her head, waiting. I sighed, then rubbed my thumb along the embossed letters. “One of the many investment companies my father used to deal with. Thought they’d lost interest.”
Her brows knit. “Is that…bad?”
“Not a good one in the pile.” I dropped it onto the desk. “Doesn’t matter.”
A beat of silence passed before she spoke again. “You know you can tell me things, right?”
Just then, lightning cracked outside, bright enough to flash white across her face, interrupting us. A half second later, thunder shook the floorboards.
And then the power died. Just—gone.
A dismayed gasp left her mouth as the laptop screen went black. It was so old, it couldn’t hold a charge without being plugged in. I reached for the emergency lantern on the mantle and flicked it on, bathing us both in amber light.
Blanche groaned, sinking back. “No, no, no…I had progress!”
I walked over, leaning down beside her armchair. Her face was inches from mine, lit warm by the lantern. The shirt’s collar slipped slightly off one shoulder. For a second, my pulse forgot what it was supposed to do.
“I’m sure your hosting setup saved something.”
“Gods, I hope so,” she replied, tapping the keys of the laptop. “Dammit.”
The storm deepened, drumming harder. Leaves slapped the siding. Wind moaned through the gaps in the eaves. Blanche shivered slightly.
“Cold?” I asked.
“A little.”
I picked up the woven blanket from the couch and draped it around her shoulders. It pooled around her like a cocoon. My hand brushed the side of her neck and lingered a moment before I pulled away.
“Hold on,” I murmured. “Let me get a fire going.”
Even though it was a summer storm, there was a cool breeze blowing down through the forest. A fire would give us light and a bit of warmth.
I crossed to the hearth, stacking kindling and a few dry logs from the basket.
One strike of a match, a soft flare of sulfur, and the flames caught quickly, crackling up the chimney, spilling warm, flickering light across the room.
She swallowed. “I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured. “This stuff…all of it…it makes me feel like myself again. I haven’t felt like that in a long time. This was fun.”
I lowered myself onto the arm of the chair, the lantern between us. I watched her fingers drift over her notes, the slight tremble in her breath, the spark that hadn’t dimmed since she’d started.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed feeling that way.”
“I can see that,” I replied. “You have a different energy when you’re working on this stuff. Should be the golden rule for all of us to follow our hearts in life and stop wasting time with the stuff that takes it from us.”
Blanche blinked, finally seeming to take in the stillness around us—the steady rain, the dark windows, the dead laptop. “You think the power is going to be out for a while?” There was a hint of worry in her voice.
“Power goes out all the time up here,” I said, adjusting the lantern. “Part of being this deep in the woods. Blackouts were normal growing up. We’d just light some candles and wait it out.”
“Shouldn’t you go check on May?” she asked. “She’s alone.”
“She’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Main breaker’s at the reception lodge. She’s probably working on it already.”
“But how does she…?”
I cut in gently. “It’s not like she needs light, right? She has a system. Can find anything on this property, while I can’t even find my tape measure half the time in daylight with both eyes.”
Blanche’s eyes softened as the obvious clicked.
A small, self-aware laugh escaped her. Then she pivoted.
Her eyes flicked to mine, darting back and forth between my irises.
I inhaled a slow, deep breath, her clean scent, mingled with my own, filling my nostrils.
I liked my scent on her. It made me feel…
possessive. In a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“So…”
“So…” I repeated, my eyes catching on her collarbones. I reached forward, smoothing my thumb against it. I heard her hard swallow and tried to fight a smile, even as the air began to crackle between us.
“What do we do now?” she asked, her fingers plucking at the hem of the shirt she wore. In nervousness? Or was what excitement building?
I nearly grinned, but instead, I shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
“Hmm…what are our options?”
The way she delivered it, feigning innocence, was obvious. The mischief in her tone suggested that she had something specific on her mind but wanted me to say it first. Ah. A game. Well, if that was what she wanted…I’d play.
I put on my most serious face. “How about…a thumb war?”
A spark flickered in her eyes, but she pressed her lips together, pretending to take me seriously. “Ooh, too violent,” she countered immediately. “Footsies?”
“Too dirty,” I teased, letting my voice drag over the last word as I inched closer, a mischievous smirk making it clear I was up to no good.
On cue, she shot back, “The only dirty thing here is that mind of yours.”
I grinned wider as I prowled closer, but she managed to dart from the arm chair to the couch.
I followed until she was inching slowly across the faded leather.
My knees dug into the cushions as I followed.
“I’m shocked you’d think that of me, Miss Redfield.
I’ve been nothing but a gentleman, don’t you think? ”
“Gentle-man is not exactly how I’d describe you up at Cryer’s Point,” she shot back, her voice starting to sound a little breathless.
“Oh? Cryer’s Point…” My hand wrapped around her bare ankle, stroking my thumb over the little bone, making her lips part.
I could feel the anticipation rising as flashes of Cryer’s Point returned to me, my tongue between her thighs, her moans echoing into the night. “And how would you describe that?”
She bit her lower lip, clearly replaying the moment in her mind—our moment. A twisted grin told me everything before she had a chance to reply.
“Monstrous. Beastly. Feral. But certainly not gentlemanly.” Then, she tossed out, “Gentlemen wear tuxedos and suits…and if I recall, you wore nothing.”
“I’d call that a birthday suit.”
“I’d call that naked.”
I shrugged. “I seem to recall you ending up naked too.”
Blanche pointed a finger at me, her cheeks flushed pink. “Not my fault…you attacked me.”
“You liked it,” I shot back. “Besides—if you hated it, you should’ve stopped me.”
“I couldn’t,” she said dramatically. “You’re too strong.”
I softened. “I can be gentle.”