Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
J enna’s ankle throbbed the next morning as she eased herself out of bed, but she refused to let it stop her. Determined to make more progress on the guest room, she wrapped her ankle with the bandage again, securing it tightly. She limped into the kitchen, greeted by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Nothing better than an automatic coffee maker that welcomed her every morning with her much-needed coffee.
She grabbed a quick breakfast and then moved to stand by the window, sipping her second cup of coffee. A brisk breeze whipped up the waves, and whitecaps dotted the expanse of water. Waves danced restlessly to shore, curving with frothy curls before crashing onto the beach. She checked the weather app on her phone and saw that a storm was predicted for later this afternoon.
As she cleared up her breakfast dishes, she heard the voices of the men coming to work on her house. Nash had told her that some of the gutters needed replacing. The list just kept growing longer. But she was still convinced it was going to be a lovely cottage when all the work was finished.
She spotted Nash on the deck, already hard at work on the railing. She opened the door and called out a greeting. “Morning.”
He turned around and an immediate smile flashed on his face. “Good morning. Wasn’t sure if you’d sleep in this morning. How’s the ankle?” He motioned toward her foot.
She dragged her gaze from staring at his eyes and his smile and glanced down at her ankle. “Aches a bit, but it’s better. I’ve wrapped it so I can finish painting the guest room today.”
His brow creased with concern. “You sure you should do that? Wouldn’t hurt to stay off of it another day or so.”
“I’ll be fine.” Probably. At least she was going to give it a try.
He shot her a skeptical look but didn’t try to convince her to rest. No doubt he’d figured out how stubborn she could be.
“I’ll see you for a coffee break mid-morning?” she offered, hoping to appease him somewhat.
He nodded, still frowning.
She turned and headed back toward the bedroom. She got out the brush to finish cutting in around the closet and windows, carefully and precisely starting in on the task. Her ankle started to ache more, but she ignored it, determined to work on the project.
Later, Nash’s deep voice startled her from her concentration. “Hey, you about ready to take that break?” His eyes were filled with concern. How long had he been standing there watching her? Had he seen her wincing with each step?
She glanced at her watch, surprised to see how much time had passed. “Sure, that sounds good.” She set the roller on the paint tray and covered it with a plastic bag. That would keep it for now.
She followed Nash to the kitchen. “Coffee should still be hot in the insulated pot.”
“How about I get it? You go sit on the couch and put that ankle up for a bit.”
“Pretty bossy today, aren’t you?” She shook her head, but smiled. “I’m fine. But, just to please you, I’ll go and sit down.”
She limped over to the couch and sat down, propping her foot on a pillow to relieve some of the dull ache. Moments later, Nash entered the living room, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed one to her, and she accepted it gratefully, savoring the warmth against her hands, tired from gripping the paint roller.
He settled into the chair across from her and motioned toward the wooden box resting on the coffee table. “So, did you decide to look at the letters?”
“I… I did. I read one of them.” She frowned, still remembering how she’d wavered back and forth on whether she should look at them. “But then… then I felt like I was peeping into their lives. Invading their privacy. So I put it back.”
“What did the letter say?”
“It was kind of a love letter. Whoever wrote it was leaving the island and saying how much they’d miss whoever they wrote to.” She paused, tracing the rim of the mug with her finger. “Oh, and something about finding a way to get the letters safely delivered. I’m not sure what that was about.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you curious to find out more?”
She smiled self-consciously, her gaze dropping to the wooden box on the coffee table. “I am a bit. But I still feel like it’s not really my right to pry into their private correspondence.”
“What if you could find out who wrote them and get them back to their heirs? That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
She chewed her bottom lip, a flicker of temptation poking her. “But if they went to all these lengths to keep a secret, maybe they wouldn’t want their family to know.”
“Good point.” Nash nodded. “But… maybe it wasn’t a secret that needed to be kept forever.”
“Maybe.” But the nagging voice of her former investigative instincts begged her to leave it alone. And hadn’t she promised herself not to go looking into things that didn’t concern her? No more investigating.
“I could help you try and figure it all out. Figure out who wrote the letters and who’s in the picture,” he offered.
It did tempt her to work on it with him, but she still wasn’t sure she should even be reading the letters. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.”
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”
“I will.”
“I saw you got another wall of the guest room painted. Are you pleased with your choice of color?”
“I am. It really makes the room more cheerful. After I get finished, I think I’ll order new window treatments and a new bedspread. Spruce the room up a bit. I’d like a dresser for in there too.”
“There’s a great second-hand shop here in town, Second Finds. It’s owned by Dale, a local. He refinishes furniture he finds. He has some nice things in there.”
“I’ll take a look. Thanks for the recommendation.”
Nash stood. “I better get back to work. Want to see how much we can get finished outside before the storms come in.”
She glanced out the window at the clouds. “I should get back to my painting while I still have some good natural light in the room.”
“Or… you could rest.” He eyed her sternly, but his eyes twinkled, like he knew he’d already lost that battle.
She rolled her eyes at him. “But, I’m not going to.”
He chuckled. “Of course you’re not.” Giving her one more smile, he headed back outside.
She finished her coffee and then got back to work. The room darkened as the storm inched closer. She finally had to turn on the overhead fixture, but the puny light didn’t really give her good enough illumination to paint. It was a good time to quit. And besides, her ankle was throbbing steadily now, not that she’d admit it.
Nash glanced up as the thunder crashed in the distance. Lightning flashed over the sea, illuminating the waves crashing to shore. He quickly gathered his tools, glad he’d sent the other workers home earlier. Just then the heavens opened up and poured down the fury of Mother Nature. He was drenched within moments.
The next flash of lightning illuminated Jenna, standing at her door, motioning him to come inside. “Hurry. Come in out of the storm.” Her voice was nearly drowned out by the wind and the pounding rain.
He grabbed his toolbox and sprinted for her door, stepping inside out of the downpour. Water puddled around him. “I’m sorry. Afraid I’m making a mess.”
“That’s no problem. It will clean up. Let me get you a towel.” She disappeared and came back with a white, fluffy towel.
He took it and tried to dry himself off as best he could.
“If you give me your shirt, I’ll toss it in the dryer.”
He shucked off the shirt self-consciously, very aware of Jenna’s gaze lingering on his bare chest. When she finally met his eyes again, a faint blush tinted her cheeks before she quickly averted her stare.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll get you a shirt to wear.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not your size.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
She paused, as if flustered by his playful quip. “I sleep in large t-shirts. I’ll grab you one.” With that, she turned and disappeared down the hallway.
He watched her go, imagining her padding around the cottage in an oversized t-shirt. He shook his head at his thoughts. Getting distracted by fantasies about his client was unwise, no matter how enticing the prospect. He needed to rein in his unruly imagination before it led him down a path that might not be such a smart one to take.
She reappeared, clutching an oversized Giants t-shirt in her hands. Nash accepted it with a smile, and his fingers grazed hers as he took the soft, well-worn fabric. “You a baseball fan?” he asked, amused by the logo emblazoned across the front.
“Nope, not at all. My sister is, and she gave me that in hopes I’d become one too. It didn’t work, but the shirt is soft and one of my favorites to sleep in.” She shrugged.
Slipping the shirt over his head, he caught the delicate scent of fabric softener. He drew in a deep breath as the soft fabric settled against his skin. “Now let me mop up this mess.”
“I’ll get it,” she insisted, already turning toward the kitchen.
He reached out, his hand circling her wrist to stop her. “No, I insist. And you should be off that ankle anyway,” he teased. “It’s been hours since I’ve been able to nag you about it.”
Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she pulled away. But not before he’d felt the warmth of her skin beneath his palm. “So glad you came in to boss me around again.” Her lips curved into a smile as she walked away and returned with a mop.
Wordlessly, he set to work sopping up the puddles, careful to thoroughly dry each plank of the hardwood floor. When the last drops disappeared, he straightened with a satisfied nod. “I think I got most of it.”
“I really need to get some rugs for in front of the doors. Just haven’t had time.” She took the mop back, her fingers brushing his as she did. A deafening crash of thunder shook the cottage, and she jumped. She sent him a tiny smile when she recovered.
“Looks like we’re getting quite the storm.” He glanced out the window. Rain pelted the glass, and the wind howled outside.
“It is quite the storm. You should stay until it eases up some.”
“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” There was no use getting out on the roads with a storm like this. That was the only reason he’d agreed with her. Not because he wanted to spend more time with her. Of course not.
He followed her into the kitchen and she put the mop away.
The lights flickered momentarily, casting the room in fleeting shadows before the warm glow returned. “You got candles?” He glanced around the kitchen.
“I do. I remembered how the electricity would often go out in the storms here on the island, so I picked some up.” She opened a drawer, revealing a neat row of thick pillar candles and a box of matches.
“Lanterns, candles, batteries, bottled water. Food to eat that doesn’t need to be cooked. Always need a supply of them all. Especially during hurricane season.”
She frowned, her eyes clouding with uncertainty. “Never been here during hurricane season. Is it bad?”
Leaning back against the counter, Nash considered how to explain the cold, harsh realities of life on the island during hurricane season without alarming her too much. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Most people leave the island and seek shelter on the mainland if one is headed this way. The ferry shuts down, so you’d be stranded if you stay.”
Her frown deepened as she processed his words. “I never even thought of that when I bought this place.”
He gave her a reassuring smile and reached out to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It’s just part of island life.” He realized his hand was still resting on her shoulder and he quickly took it back. “Anyway, we can just enjoy being all snug and inside while this storm blows through.”
Just then, the lights flickered, and they were plunged into darkness. Jenna clicked on the flashlight on her phone and pulled out some candle holders from the cabinet. He helped her light the candles and place them in the holders. The candles threw flickering shadows around the kitchen.
“Are you hungry? We could make us a snack.” She turned to him.
“That sounds good.”
He sliced up the apples she handed him while she put together a plate with cheese and crackers. She poured them each a glass of wine. The domestic atmosphere of the moment wasn’t lost on him. It felt natural, comfortable, being here with her like this.
They carried their impromptu picnic into the living room, setting everything on the coffee table. Nash settled onto the couch, acutely aware of Jenna’s proximity as she sat down beside him. The candlelight softened her features, highlighting the glow of her skin.
“This is nice,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. “Almost makes me glad the power went out.”
He chuckled. “There’s something to be said for slowing down, taking a break from the constant buzz of electricity and screens.”
She nodded, selecting a slice of apple from the plate. “I’ve been so focused on getting the cottage fixed up, I haven’t taken much time to just… be. And I specifically moved here to slow down.”
“It’s important to do that, to find those moments of peace amid all the chaos of daily life.” He reached for a cracker, his fingers brushing hers. A tingle raced up his arm at the contact.
They chatted easily as they nibbled on their snacks, the conversation flowing from their shared love of the island to childhood memories to hopes for the future. The cozy atmosphere felt like they were the only two people in the world.
Nash found himself opening up to her in a way he rarely had with anyone else. There was just something about Jenna that made him feel at ease, made him want to share his thoughts, his dreams.
As the evening wore on, the candles burned lower, casting intimate shadows around the room. He became increasingly aware of the subtle attraction simmering between them. The way Jenna’s gaze would linger on his a beat too long, the way his own eyes were drawn to the curve of her lips as she spoke.
He set his wineglass down as he suddenly realized, with crystal clear clarity, that he was beginning to develop feelings for her. Feelings that went beyond the simple desire to help a newcomer settle into life on the island. No, this was something deeper.
How could that happen when he’d only known her for such a short time?
And he hesitated to act on those feelings, unsure if Jenna felt the same way. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable or jeopardize their budding friendship. So he convinced himself he was content with simply enjoying her company, enjoying their conversation as the storm raged on outside.
Eventually, the wind died down, and the rain tapered off to a gentle patter against the windows. Nash knew he should probably head home, but he was reluctant to leave the cozy bubble they’d created. “I should probably get going,” he said grudgingly, setting his empty wineglass on the table. “It’s getting late.”
Jenna nodded, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “I suppose so.” She walked him to the door, the candlelight casting a soft glow over her features. “Thanks for staying, Nash. It was really nice having company during the storm.”
“Anytime,” he said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. “And, truly, if you ever need anything, just let me know. You know, besides just helping you with your home.”
She smiled, and for a moment, he thought he saw a reflection of his own longing in her eyes. But then it was gone, and she was opening the door, the cool night air rushing in to replace the warmth of the cottage.
“If it’s raining tomorrow, we won’t be here. Going to work on another project where the work is all indoors.”
She nodded—and was there a bit of disappointment in her eyes?
With a final goodbye, he stepped out into the darkness. His heart was full of uncertainty, knowing he would have to tread carefully, to let things develop naturally between them. That is, if she was beginning to feel the same way about him as he felt about her.
He let out a sigh as he climbed into his truck. Relationships were complicated.