Chapter 2
Chapter Two
D amn. Max was in trouble. Why in the hell hadn’t Sophia told him that her bestie was smoking hot? Like, really, really hot. The smoldering look she’d given him as she’d left his table had taken hours and a very long walk in the chilly night air to finally leave his system.
Somehow, her hazel eyes had bored into his soul and had left a mark. When he fell asleep that night, her voice haunted his dreams.
Over the course of the next few weeks, he continued to clear all of the old furniture from his new property. The back-breaking work cleared his mind and was oddly satisfying. He worked with Palmer daily on the plans for the remodel and got to know the man more and more.
Juliette was right. Palmer and his brother Parker were from good stock. The brothers were closer than Max was with his sisters, Ally and Faye.
In the following weeks, it was obvious that the brothers were also hardworking.
Every day that he worked to get his new property ready for its makeover, he hoped it would be the day that Juliette would take him up on his offer.
The Monday after Palmer had been attacked on his land by his and Parker’s parents, he stood back and watched the brother’s destroy his old well house and dig a new well closer to the barn. When the brothers’ crew left at the end of the day, his property was worse off than it had been before. Still, he had a new well that was already hooked up to the plumbing in both the house and the barn. All the new pipes would be buried tomorrow after they were tested and proven watertight.
“You’ve got to break some eggs to make an omelet,” Parker told him, slapping his shoulder. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
It was an improvement. When he showered next, the water sprayed from the shower head with a force that he hadn’t felt since moving onto the property.
He rode that excitement from the shower into the kitchen to make some coffee. When he turned the faucet on, the water sprayed in his face, soaking his shirt and the countertop.
He tried to stop the water flow, but the faucet handle came off in his hand, and more water sprayed in his face. Quickly, he opened the cabinet under the sink and turned the knob on the plumbing. With a groan of the pipes, all of the water stopped. The pipes shook slightly, but at least the water spray was over.
Lying on the floor with his head half under his kitchen sink, he heard someone knocking on his front door.
When he moved to stand up, he hit his head on the cabinet and fell back down.
“Hello?” someone called out as they stepped through the front door.
“Back here.” He groaned through the pain.
“Oh no!” Juliette rushed to kneel beside him. “Are you okay?” She took the towel from his countertop and pressed it to his forehead. “You’re bleeding.”
His eyes locked with hers and, for some reason, maybe the pain in his head, he blurted out the first thing he felt. “Marry me.”
Juliette’s laughter shook him from his stupor.
“I think you’re concussed.” She helped him sit up.
“My plumbing burst,” he said, still in a stupor. She helped him stand up and move over to his makeshift kitchen table. “Old pipes.”
“Hold this, Romeo.” She took his hands and wrapped them in a towel. He sat there while she rummaged through his cupboards for something.
“Don’t you have anything? A first aid kit? A Band-Aid?” she mumbled to herself while she looked.
“Second door.” He pointed. “Bathroom. Under the sink.” He groaned and rested his head back, letting the towel slip.
When something cool landed on his face, he opened his eyes. Juliette was leaning over him, her eyes locked on a spot on his forehead. She looked even more beautiful than the first time he’d seen her in the restaurant.
“Marry me,” he said, a little clearer this time.
Instead of laughing, she narrowed her hazel eyes and looked into his.
“I almost believe you were serious that time.” She touched his forehead with something that stung and he hissed.
“I am.”
“Well, I might just take you up on that offer, if I wasn’t pretty sure that you had a slight concussion. I think I need to drive you to see Dr. Stevens.”
“No.” He shook his head to clear it and managed to only groan slightly at the pain. “I just bumped my head. How bad could it be?”
She pulled the towel away and the amount of blood on it made him wince. He sobered.
“Yeah, probably best to have that checked out,” he admitted.
An hour later, Juliette helped Max back through his front door, her arm firmly around his waist. He leaned into her slightly, still feeling a little off-kilter, though he’d never admit it.
“Well, at least it’s not a concussion.” He sighed dramatically, pressing the ice pack to his forehead like he was nursing a mortal wound.
“Yeah, I’m just thankful I decided to stop by after work,” Juliette said, shaking her head. “I’d hate to imagine how long you would have waited to get that looked at.”
“I was fine,” he muttered, though even he wasn’t convinced.
Juliette shot him a knowing look and squeezed his arm. “You were sprawled on the floor when I found you.”
He opened his mouth to argue but closed it again when he realized he didn’t actually know how long he’d been there before she showed up. Or was it her arrival that had thrown him off guard and made him injure himself in the first place? Those lines were blurred now with pain.
He sighed and pulled the ice pack away to poke at the bandage on his forehead. “I’ve never had a stitch before.”
She chuckled. “You still don’t. Dr. Stevens glued your skin together. Remember?”
“Right.” He frowned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Feels like I should’ve gotten something more impressive for all that suffering.”
Juliette smirked. “You want a trophy? Maybe a sticker?”
“A sticker would be nice,” he muttered as he shuffled towards the couch, sinking into it with a groan. She followed, hovering a little, as if afraid he’d tip over again.
“Oh man,” he sighed, glancing around the room. “I promised you a tour.”
“It’s okay,” she said gently, sitting beside him. “I can take a rain check.” Her fingers brushed his forehead. “How about I scrounge us up some food? You’ll need it for the pills Dr. Stevens gave you.” She shook the bottle lightly for emphasis.
“Right.” He nodded, pleased that his head didn’t spin. “I have some frozen dinners…” He pushed off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen, but he skid slightly on the floor.
Juliette was there in an instant, gripping his arms. “Whoa. Easy, big guy.”
He blinked down at the floor. Right. The water. He’d meant to clean that up.
Juliette sighed and steadied him. “Sit. I’ll clean this mess up and make something.” She guided him to a chair at the kitchen table before planting her hands on her hips. “Stay.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, resting his cheek against the cool table with a sigh.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, a plate was set down in front of him, and the smell of something warm and rich pulled him from his haze.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing at his mouth quickly to make sure there wasn’t any drool.
Juliette smiled. “It’s okay. Dr. Stevens said you’d be drowsy.” She slid into the chair across from him and placed another plate in front of herself. “I found some chickpea pasta and whipped up some spaghetti. No garlic bread, though—you were out of bread.”
“I’m trying to cut out carbs,” he said, rubbing his face.
She gave him a flat look. “That’s why these noodles took a while to cook?”
He twirled some around his fork and took a bite—then stilled.
“What’d you do to this?” he asked, frowning at the plate.
Juliette hesitated. “Is it bad?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head as he shoveled another forkful into his mouth. “It’s amazing.” He took another bite, then another. “The best spaghetti I’ve had in years.”
Juliette laughed softly, watching him in amusement. “It’s just spaghetti, Max.”
“No it’s not.” He groaned in appreciation, shoveling more food in. His head felt clearer with every bite. By the time he finished his second plate, the dull ache in his skull had faded, and the room didn’t feel like it was tilting anymore.
Juliette propped her chin in her hand, watching him. “Feel better?”
He sat back with a satisfied sigh. “A little.” He rolled his shoulders. “Pretty sure your spaghetti has healing properties.”
She smirked. “Good. Because I’m not carrying you back to the doctor’s office if you pass out again.”
“I didn’t pass out,” he pointed out, and then he asked. “Would you at least call me an ambulance?”
Juliette pretended to think. “Depends. If I can show myself around your place and have a look?”
And just like that, the ache in his head was almost worth it.
“I think I feel good enough for a short tour.” Max stretched with caution and ignored the slight ache in his skull. Standing, he held out his hand to Juliette, palm up. “You up for it?”
She smiled as she took his hand. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it, tough guy?”
“Positive,” he murmured, curling his fingers around hers as he led her forward.
The air shifted as they moved through the house, the salty tang of the ocean drifting in through unseen cracks. The distant crash of waves against the cliffs hummed beneath their footsteps.
“Did you know that one of the first lighthouse owners was a young couple who met right on this spot?” Max began, glancing down at her as they stepped into the base of the lighthouse. “Rummaging through all the stuff that was left behind, I found a lot of documents. After they married, they were put in charge of the lighthouse. Not the original lighthouse. That one sat closer to Ocean View mansion.”
Juliette’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Really? I knew there was an old lighthouse on their property that was much smaller. I always thought that it was just for show. Like a garden feature.”
He chuckled. “No, that was the original lighthouse. Almost immediately, however, they found out that the lighthouse was far too small to fit the needs of this part of the coast. There was a massive storm in the eighteen-fifties that hit this area, and the light wasn’t strong enough to help a ship named The Lincoln , which sank off the coast.” His voice dipped slightly, carrying the weight of history.
“I didn’t know about the shipwreck,” she admitted, running her fingers along the cool brick wall as if she could feel the past in its rough texture.
Max continued, leading her towards the doorway that would take them to the lighthouse and all those stairs that would guide them upward. “After the storm, the town rallied and had this one built up here, higher on the cliff, hoping to keep it safe. It’s almost a hundred feet high and stands at ninety-three feet tall.”
When he pushed open the door, she stepped in and whispered, “Wow,” as she looked up into the darkness of the spire.
He flipped a switch and the flood lights on the stairs turned on. He thought she said wow again, but in here the sound of the waves below was even louder than in the house section.
Juliette tilted her head as they started their climb. “What happened to the couple?”
Max glanced over, catching the flicker of curiosity in her gaze. “They moved in to the property shortly after they married. They weren’t the first to live on the grounds, but they were the first to live in the home portion after it was built. Then, shortly after they moved in, the husband was shipped off to war… and never came back.” His grip on the railing tightened slightly as they reached the first landing.
She paused, turning to face him. “Wait… is this the woman with the diamonds?”
He chuckled. “Diamond. Singular. The rumors claim there was a treasure chest of diamonds. The facts that I have found state that there was only one. Apparently, one of the rarest in the world.” He continued upward, the metal stairs creaking faintly beneath their steps. “After her husband was lost at sea on his way home from the war, she waited for a miracle. She kept the lighthouse running for nearly a full year after his ship went down off the coast of Africa somewhere, still hoping.”
Juliette swallowed. “That’s heartbreaking.”
Max nodded. “The story goes that exactly one year to the day after his ship sank, she fell ill and passed away. The lighthouse was automated not long after, and no one else has lived on the property full time since.”
As they climbed higher, the wind outside whistled softly through the cracks in the structure, adding an eerie weight to his words. “How do you know all this?” she asked.
“I’ve found some interesting papers while cleaning the property up. Her name was Karnia Bergman,” he continued, casting a glance at Juliette. “She was Swedish royalty—third in line for the throne. Apparently, she came here on vacation with her family and met Harry Rothschild, a local seaman, and fell instantly in love. They married soon after, and, because she broke with her family’s wishes, she was left penniless.”
Juliette’s grip on the railing tightened. “That’s awful.”
He nodded. “The only possession she was allowed to take with her was a gift given to her on her sixteenth birthday—an engagement present from an arranged marriage to an English earl.” Max paused as they stepped onto the final landing. “The diamond was called the Ocean’s Heart.”
Juliette gasped softly. He didn’t know if it was from the details about the diamond or the view that they had just stepped into. The great glass light rotated behind them, casting slow-moving beams across the dark horizon. Every now and then it illuminated their silhouettes with its rhythmic flashes.
“This is…” She trailed off and stepped forward, placing her fingertips against the cool windowpane. Below them, the town of Pride glittered in the darkness, the lights reflecting off the ocean like scattered stars. “…amazing,” she finished.
Max didn’t answer. He was too busy watching her—the way the light kissed her skin, the wonder in her eyes, the way her breath fogged up the glass ever so slightly.
And for a moment, just a moment, he thought maybe he understood why Karnia had stayed and hoped for what had never returned.