Chapter Seventeen #2
She could not imagine creating something that was so universally loved that it had been made into a movie—soon to be a second
and a third, from what she understood—and now had the potential to be a building set.
“That is amazing. Did you ever imagine when you started writing that you might one day be in this place?”
He gave a rough laugh. “When I started writing, I couldn’t even imagine ever finishing a book. I’m not sure any writers think
that their words are going to resonate so strongly with readers that one day their books are going to become a franchise with
a huge fandom. I wouldn’t have expected that, with my weird, esoteric fantasy novels.”
“I think it’s wonderful. You should be so proud.”
“Even though I write love scenes like I’ve never even met a woman?”
She groaned. “I have a feeling you’re never going to let me forget that.”
He chuckled, a low, rich sound in the night. She turned away with her flashlight, and as she did, she caught a glimpse of something out of place in the grass. Immediately, Rosie dropped to her knees. “I saw something. Not sure what,” she said.
Andrew dropped as well. They scoured the grass as the first few raindrops began to fall.
“Is that it?” Rosie asked, caught up in the thrill of the quest.
He dug around in the grass, then pulled his hand back. A small figure rested in his palm, dwarfed by the size of his hands.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I’m so happy we found it. I would have hated for Finn to lose something he loved in my yard, and then
forever associate us with disappointment and loss.”
He rose as well, graceful and masculine. “Oh, he’ll be thrilled that we found it. I don’t believe he expected to see it again.”
He gave her a close look. “Thank you for helping me look. I’m sure you have a million things to do. I know it’s no fun cleaning
up after a party.”
“Not a million. Maybe half a million.”
“I can help you. You helped me. It’s the least I can do.”
She thought of that mountain of dishes inside awaiting her. She wasn’t about to let her mother balance on her crutches at
the sink to take care of them.
“That would be great, actually. Would you mind helping me put the folding tables and chairs back in the garage?”
“Not at all.”
After pocketing the minifig—and zipping his jacket pocket for safekeeping—he grabbed some of the folding chairs and began
collapsing them, carrying two on each arm. “Where do they go?”
“Against the back wall.”
“Are these all yours, or do you need to leave some out to return to neighbors?”
“All the neighbors who brought some have taken them home. The rest are mine.”
He looked at the collection of chairs. “Why do you have a dozen folding chairs? Just curious.”
“You never know when you need a folding chair, right? We have various meetings here sometimes for the construction company.
And parties, book clubs, Thanksgiving dinner when I need a few more chairs. Every homeowner should have at least a few extra
chairs.”
“I don’t. I don’t believe I’ve ever owned a single folding chair.”
“Because you are an established introvert. You already told me that.”
He smiled, apparently unoffended by her teasing. “What else can I do?”
“I will probably save the rest inside for tomorrow.”
“What else?” he pressed.
“I have a sink full of dirty dishes but I’m not sure I’m up to washing them.”
“Fine. Sit down and I’ll do it. I don’t know you as well as I would like, Rosie, but I suspect you’re not someone who usually
leaves a task undone. I think you’ll feel much better if we finish tonight so you don’t have to face it in the morning.”
What did he mean, he didn’t know her as well as he would like? Did he want to know her better?
Either way, she could not deny he was right. She probably would have ended up washing the dishes herself and then spending all night drying and putting them away. Two hands definitely were better than one, and she was foolish to reject his help.
“Thank you. I appreciate that. We could at least start a load of dishes in the dishwasher, and then I can take care of the
rest.”
He nodded, and together they walked into the kitchen, with Dottie following close behind. Inside, the dog immediately went
to her bed, curled up and fell asleep.
Rosie loved her kitchen, which she considered the heart of her home. During the day, soft, natural light streamed through
the large window above the sink, offering a glimpse of the ocean beyond. The walls, painted a soothing seafoam green, complemented
the weathered white cabinets that lined the room.
The well-loved wooden table that occupied the center of the space bore the marks of countless family meals and friendly gatherings.
Mismatched chairs surrounded it, each with its own character and story. Open shelves displayed an eclectic collection of beach-themed
mugs and plates, interspersed with jars of sea glass and shells collected over the years.
Of course, the kitchen she had dreamed about for Stormhaven would have been spectacular. She had envisioned soaring ceilings,
natural light, perhaps a skylight, and two huge islands with storage underneath.
That dream was gone. His own plans for the kitchen were still lovely but not quite as extravagant as her own had been.
By the time they organized the dishes, loading what they could in the dishwasher and clearing out the sink, she had decided
they might as well do all of them.
“Do you want to wash or dry?” she asked.
“I don’t know where anything goes in your house. I’ll wash, you dry.”
She handed him a dishcloth, and Andrew went to work.
She was fiercely aware of him. He smelled delicious, male and clean and outdoorsy, and she wanted to lean her head against
his shoulder, close her eyes and simply inhale.
“Thank you for pitching in,” she said instead as she dried one of her favorite serving bowls. “You’re absolutely right. I’m
not very good at leaving things undone. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” he said, his shoulder brushing against hers.
Oh, this was incredibly seductive, standing here beside him in her quiet house, even doing a mundane task like washing dishes.
“I had a minute to talk to Emma tonight about the bookstore. She’s excited about making some changes,” he said.
“She’s really taken charge. I’m thrilled. I hope that means she and Olive will stick around longer.”
“She’s only here temporarily?”
She looked toward the stairs but heard nothing. No footsteps, no water running. She suspected Emma might have fallen asleep
in Olive’s room while reading to her. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.
“I asked her to come back to Wood Briar to help me run the bookstore while my mom is laid up with her broken ankle. But I’m
hoping Emma loves it so much, she decides to stay. It’s so lovely having my daughter and granddaughter here.”
“Where were they living before?”
“Las Vegas,” she said.
“Oh, wow. That must have been tough on you.”
She debated how to answer and finally decided there was no reason not to simply tell him the truth.
“Emma ran away right before she turned seventeen and cut off all ties with me.” She looked down the hall to make sure her daughter didn’t suddenly wander into the kitchen, but again heard nothing.
“We’ve only reestablished our relationship since Olive was born. I’m working hard to make things right with her now that she’s
back in town.”
“Make things right with her? What went wrong?”
She pondered her words before she finally spoke. “Her father’s death was tough on both of us. I didn’t handle it well, I’m
afraid. I wasn’t the mother she needed me to be during that time.”
She glanced at him. “You probably understand better than most people how hard it is to lose someone you loved with all your
heart.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw and he seemed to focus on the cookie sheet he was washing. “Yeah. It’s a rough road.”
“Your kids seem to be doing well, though.”
“Finn had nightmares for months after Tracy died, afraid I was next. Zara kind of shut down and didn’t want to talk about
it at all. I had to push her into therapy so she could figure out how to process her grief and her sadness and her anger.”
“I didn’t insist on counseling for Emma. Nor did I go myself. I should have. Instead, I fell into a deep hole for a long time
and didn’t want to climb back out.”
“You must have loved your husband very much.”
“Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but he was my best friend.”
“Were he and Emma close?”
“Very. They adored each other.”
“You said he died in a car accident?”
“Yes. He was taking Emma to practice her driving when the accident happened. They were driving on the cliff road. She skidded on a wet patch of road and overcorrected. The car rolled down the cliff and into the water. It’s a miracle Emma survived.”
“Poor girl. How traumatic for her. Was she badly hurt?”
“Broken arm, scrapes and bruises. And, of course, she blamed herself for the accident, even though it could have happened
to anyone.”
“Rough.”
“She needed me to assure her I didn’t blame her for what happened. Instead, the two of us seemed to drift farther and farther
apart. I wasn’t there for her. I’m not sure she will ever be able to forgive me for that.”
“Sounds to me like you need to forgive yourself first.”
His words seemed to punch her right in the throat. “That’s a big ask,” she said, her voice gruff.
“You were doing your best at the time. Everyone processes grief differently. That’s one lesson I’ve learned since my wife
died. Also, grief is not a straight line. It’s more like . . . the ocean out there. Some days, it’s calm and you feel you
can breathe again. Other days, it swells and crashes, threatening to pull you under. But even in its stormiest of times, you
have to remember that the tide always recedes and in time learn to navigate its ebbs and flows.”
He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed at his own eloquence. “Or so I’ve heard. I’m still waiting for those calm seas.”
She pondered his words as they finished with the dishes, even as they talked about other inconsequential things. She almost
didn’t want to be done but finally they washed and put away the final dish and he drained the soapy water from the sink.
“I should go,” he said.
Was that a similar reluctance she heard in his voice?
She didn’t allow herself to wonder long. Surely she was mistaken. Instead, she walked outside with him.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”
“My pleasure. It’s the least I can do after you rescued Darth Vader from a potentially horrible fate.”
Why was she so darned attracted to him? This was definitely going to be awkward, especially since she would have to work with
him over the next few months as they tried to finish work on his house.
The night air was cool and fragrant with the scent of ocean and flowers and rain. Andrew stood close, his presence both comforting
and electrifying. Rosie looked up, meeting his gaze, and felt the world around them fade away. The intensity in his eyes made
her breath catch, and she found herself drawn to him like a magnet.
Andrew’s eyes dropped to her lips, and Rosie felt a thrill of anticipation course through her. Without conscious thought,
she swayed toward him, closing the small distance between them. Time seemed to slow as Andrew leaned down, his intention clear.
When his lips finally met hers, it was as if a spark had ignited. The kiss started soft, almost tentative, but quickly deepened.
Rosie’s hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath his shirt. Andrew’s arms encircled her waist,
pulling her closer.
The kiss was everything Rosie had forgotten she needed. It was passionate and tender, awakening sensations she’d thought long
dormant. She lost herself in the feeling of his mouth on hers, the gentle pressure of his hands on her back, the solid strength
of his body against hers.
As the kiss intensified, Rosie felt a warmth bloom in her core, spreading outward until she felt flushed from head to toe. It had been so long since she’d felt this alive, this desired. She melted into Andrew’s embrace, savoring every sensation, every gentle caress of his tongue against hers.
When they finally parted, both breathing heavily, Rosie felt dizzy with desire. She looked up at Andrew, seeing her own hunger
reflected in his eyes. For a moment, they simply stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of what had just happened
settling over them like a warm blanket.