7. Jenna
JENNA
I never wanted to be a damsel in distress, but I certainly plummeted right into that role this past week.
First, my mom died. That part, sadly, I was prepared for—she was sick for a long time.
But it still broke me. Then I lost the job I poured the past five years into.
My boss didn’t even pretend to be sorry to let me go.
Somewhere in that spiral, I thought it might be a good idea to get bangs. I was wrong.
Finding out about this house felt like a lifeline—until I saw it. It is a damn money pit. I don’t even know how it’s still standing. I’m not sure how I’m still standing. Maybe I am dissociating. Maybe none of this is real.
Except it is.
And so are the bangs.
But when the sunlight glows through the back bay window, I can picture what it could be—a home.
If money were no object, I’d knock out the wall between the kitchen and the dining room and open up the whole downstairs.
I’d love to vault the ceilings in the family room, add in some skylights.
Open shelving with seashore-themed decor.
I’d bring in soft coastal tones, white oak, and breezy linens. Warm and calm.
The kind of place I could call home .
These are the sorts of designs I’d assist with at work. It’s crazy to imagine doing it for myself.
But when I look around at the old linoleum, peeling paint, and the mystery spots on the kitchen ceiling, the dream fades away.
I barely sleep after Miles leaves. I order Chinese food and eat it while scrolling TikTok on my phone, since it’s the only form of entertainment I have in this godforsaken house. I toss and turn all night before finally waking up with the sun.
I pack enough clothes for three days, go for a walk, and Google some DIY projects that are probably way harder than they look.
When I’ve paced the house long enough, I sit on the front stoop and wait for Miles.
He’s taking me to Frank’s Auto this afternoon to get my tire fixed, then showing me his humble abode.
I’m trying desperately not to read into his kindness, but it is difficult.
It’s not every day an unfairly attractive, single guy does nice things for you without some kind of ulterior motive.
The last thing I need is to get mixed up with a local, especially one that looks like him and treats me like I matter.
But dare I say, I might be interested. In a fling, of course.
It could only be a fling. I am not staying here.
I don’t have a plan yet, but I know it’s definitely not staying here and falling for a surfer with kind eyes and a dimple that makes my knees weak.
Miles’s horn startles me from my thoughts, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He rolls down the passenger window and laughs at me. “You all right over there?” His hazel eyes sparkle with amusement.“You jumped two feet in the air.”
I hop off the stoop and grab my duffel bag. “I’m good,” I say, trying not to look directly at his handsome face—or that boyish dimple. “You scared me is all.”
“Sorry.” Miles grins, but he doesn’t look sorry at all.
I roll my eyes. “So, are you going to follow me over to Frank’s?”
“Somebody has to make sure you don’t blow that donut.” Miles winks, and my stomach flutters. I’m not sure if it’s Miles making me nervous or the thought of blowing out his spare tire on the way to the mechanic. I force myself to ignore the feeling and walk around to the car.
Miles cracks open his driver’s side door and leans out. “Why don’t you follow me? Since I know where it is.” It’s not really a question, and an embarrassingly large part of me likes his take-charge attitude way too much.
“Yes, sir,” I say, grinning as I get in the car.
Before I close my door, I hear him mutter only to himself, “Ooh, so the lady likes it when I tell her what to do. Noted.”
We drop off the car with no trouble at all. I even meet Frank of Frank’s Auto himself. His eyes lock on Miles and he does a double take when he sees me standing beside him.
“I didn’t know you knew Miles when you called,” Frank says, eyeing me curiously. But whatever surprise he’s holding onto disappears and he cracks a joke, promising to have my tire replaced in no time.
“Do you want to wait here for it?” Miles asks.
I wave a hand. “No, no way. You have to get to work. Just take me over to your place and we can get it after you’re done.
” I have always found that life feels easier when I accommodate other people instead of asking them to accommodate me.
My mom used to tell me that it was making myself small when I should be the same size as everyone else.
Even on her deathbed, she told me my feelings, my hopes, my fears, they all matter.
I don’t always believe that, and that’s why it’s a struggle for me to inconvenience Miles.
“I took the rest of the day off.” Miles grins, like he’s proud that he kept a big secret for an entire hour.
“You did?” I ask, not even trying to hide my shock. There’s a part of me that hopes he took the day off to hang out with me. I swallow that hope and say, “I guess you can do whatever you want when you own the place.” I nudge him with my elbow, fighting the urge to lean my body into his.
“Well, no. But I’ve worked a ton lately, and I haven’t really had any downtime.” He scratches the stubble on his chin and flicks his gaze to mine. “So, tell me what you want to do. Cape May is your oyster.” His smile is infectious.
I giggle and it sounds foreign to me. It’s been a really long time since I’ve been even remotely interested in a guy.
My friends got married and have their own lives.
I’m happy for them for sure, but after I’d gone to multiple weddings on my own, I started to wonder if it’d ever happen for me.
That’s the headspace I was in when my mom got sick, and then everything kind of halted.
I couldn’t possibly go on a dating app and look for a boyfriend when I spent every waking moment with my mom, wondering if it might be our last chance.
I haven’t even been on a date in over a year.
And as for sleeping with someone, it’s been way longer than I’d care to admit.
I’ve never been quick to jump into bed with a new partner but Miles kind of makes me want to try again.
The way he’s looking at me now makes my heart hammer in my chest—a stark reminder that I better pull it together. He is just a nice guy.That’s all.
“I don’t know.” I tilt my head thoughtfully. “Why don’t you start by introducing me to Pete.”
“Pete,” Miles repeats, a smirk playing on his lips. “The first thing you want to do is meet my dog?” He barks out a laugh and my chest pulls tight at the sight of his dimple again. “I can live with that. Come on.”
Ten minutes later, we’re at Miles’s condo complex which overlooks the beach.
He pulls his car into the lot and hops out, jogging around to my side to open my door.
That’s when I feel it. Butterflies again.
I couldn’t say the last time I felt them like this, but now they swarm my insides with every nice thing Miles does for me.
I climb out of his front seat while he opens the back passenger door and grabs my bags.
I try to take them, but he refuses. There they are again, flit flit .
“I’m on the second floor.” He gestures to the upstairs condo and grins. “Better views. Follow me.”
Miles leads me up two flights of stairs to a landing with a condo door on either side.
He walks to the one on the right. The building is a cream-colored stucco and the doors are slate blue.
There is nothing hanging on his front door, unlike the one across the landing, but there is a doormat that reads I like it dirty .
Heat creeps up my neck when I read it and I smirk.
“You like that?” Miles winks, unlocking the door.
“I mean–” I stammer, searching for something to say that won’t further add to the blush I feel creeping all the way across my face
As soon as the door opens, a loud, joyful bark echoes through the foyer as the sweetest copper colored boxer barrels up to greet us.
He has a white chest and black mask on his face making him look like a mischievous bandit.
His wrinkled forehead furrows with curiosity as he sizes us up.
His underbite tugs into a playful smile as he immediately bypasses Miles and launches himself at me, nearly knocking me over.
I catch his white front paws, and he stands on his hind legs, bending his head to eagerly lick my arm.
“Pete!” Miles snaps. “Get down.”
Pete obeys but then proceeds to walk around and sniff my rear. I giggle and shove him away. “Well, hello there, Pete! Nice to meet you too.” I skirt away from his wet nose and cover my butt.
“He doesn’t get out much.” Miles chuckles awkwardly, scratching the nape of his neck. “He’s not so great with the ladies.”
“Well, you better teach him a thing or two then.” I tease, following Miles past the entryway.
“I’m trying.” Miles rolls his eyes. Then shooting Pete an exaggerated scowl. “Come on, man. You’re making me look bad.”
I laugh heartily and ruffle Pete’s ear. “He’s fine.” I give Miles a reassuring pat on his bicep.
Miles turns back to me, his expression unreadable. He almost looks nervous as he clears his throat. “Come on, let me show you the space.”
Miles leads me down the small hallway to his open kitchen.
“This is it,” he says, holding out his hands.
I walk around, admiring the modern finishes.
The cabinets are white on top and navy blue on the bottom with shiny quartz countertops.
The walls are pale gray throughout. There is a round table with four chairs in a breakfast nook off the kitchen.
In the living room, a gray sofa sits in the center between two white end tables, facing a large TV mounted above a gas fireplace.
But the real showstopper is the double sliding doors leading to a balcony overlooking the ocean. I gasp when I see it.
“Nice, huh?” he asks with a grin.
“It’s amazing.” I walk to the sliding doors and my eyes drift across the gentle rise and fall of the tide. “I would sit out here every day.”
“Open the door,” Miles urges, so I do.
I step onto the balcony and inhale the smell of the ocean.
It’s the first time I’ve laid eyes on it since I’ve come back to town.
To my right, four surfboards lean against the side of the condo.
There are two Adirondack chairs with a small table in the middle.
To my left, a huge and inviting woven hammock.
I walk over to it and finger the material—until I catch Miles watching me.
“You can lie in it,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement.
I try to laugh it off, but I’m caught—I’m completely starstruck by this condo and he knows it. I shake my head quickly, warmth creeping into my cheeks.
Miles cocks his head toward the door. “Come on, you can have my room.” He slides open the door and I sheepishly follow him back inside and down the hall.
“This is the only bathroom.” He gestures into a small bathroom with a tub-shower and small vanity.
Not five feet from it is a door he pushes open. His room.
A king-size bed sits centered against the wall with nightstands on either side.
Miles must have cleaned up for me. No man’s room looks this neat.
It smells of lemon Pledge and cologne. There’s a tall dresser, a mirror hanging on the wall, and a desk.
There’s no TV in here and I find it low-key sexy that he can’t be bothered to watch TV in the bedroom.
The bed is made with a white down comforter and sage green sheets.
A dog bed sits in one corner and in the other, a hamper, full to the brim with men’s clothes.
I sit on the edge of the bed, smiling up at him. “Are you always this neat?” I marvel.
Miles lets out a little gasp, like I called him out on his secret. He rocks back and forth on his heels, something I’ve discovered to be a nervous tick of his. “I might’ve cleaned up for you.” He chuckles, scraping his hand along his jaw. “I definitely changed the sheets, too. Just so you know.”
“Noted and appreciated.” I beam.
We stare at each other for only a few moments, but it feels much longer.
I imagine hopping off his bed and into his arms. He’d catch me and hoist me up, my legs curling around his waist as he cups my jaw and kisses me hungrily, like I’ve never been kissed before.
I’d run my fingers through his wavy brown hair and tip my head back, so he could kiss my neck, letting out a little groan as he hardens beneath me.
But that doesn’t happen, and I am embarrassed when he disrupts my lustful fantasy. God, it has been too damn long.
“Jenna,” Miles says, a teasing note in his voice that makes me feel exposed.
I blink, realizing he must’ve said my name more than once. “Sorry—what?” I shake my head to play it off but my grimace betrays me. He can’t possibly know what I was just thinking but I’m self-conscious anyway.
Miles laughs and shakes his head. “I was asking… Do you want to learn to surf?”