Chapter Six #2
Burke shifted in his chair and stared at the open document on his laptop.
He’d slogged through reading the first four chapters during their flight to Alaska, but his efforts didn’t seem like anything worthy of publication.
If only he’d known when he was writing his debut how hard he’d have to work the second go-around.
The pressure of a looming deadline hovered over him. Squeezed the air from his lungs.
The next word, the next sentence, hung irritatingly out of reach.
Nothing he put down felt right. He typed, deleted, typed and deleted again.
Then he pushed back his chair and circled around the counter to the coffee maker.
His imagination churned, examining a new plot twist. Somewhere the sound of an incoming FaceTime call snagged his attention.
He hesitated, not wanting to surrender any of his precious writing time to anyone.
But he couldn’t keep avoiding calls, texts and emails.
He found his phone and checked the caller ID.
Stephanie Miller’s name filled the screen. His stomach clenched. Ignoring his literary agent wasn’t a wise choice. Drawing a deep breath, he swiped his finger across the smudged glass and accepted the call, then offered a pleasant smile.
“Hey, Stephanie. How are you?”
“I’m well, Burke. Hope you are.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How are things progressing with your manuscript?”
Oh, dear. He palmed the back of his neck with his good hand, then held up his casted arm. “Experienced a bit of a setback. Minor mishap at the ice rink.”
Her brown eyes grew wide. “Burke. No. You’re not serious.”
“I wouldn’t fake a broken arm, Stephanie. You know me better than that.”
“I’m not accusing you of faking anything. I just can’t believe this. The timing is awful. Why were you ice-skating?”
“Because I’m a single dad, and my daughter wanted to go.”
“I see.” Stephanie massaged her forehead with mahogany-red manicured fingertips. “So give me a timeline. When can I expect the first three chapters and a polished synopsis? Your editorial team would like to see evidence of your progress.”
He cleared his throat. “I understand. I’ll have that to you just as soon as possible.”
“And how are you defining as soon as possible these days, Burke?”
Her frosty tone grated. Wow. She had certainly departed from her Southern sensibilities today. “Steph, I’m doing the best I can.”
“Despite your unfortunate circumstances, it’s time to perform at a high level. You don’t need me to remind you that this deadline is coming up quickly. I so want to believe that you’re going to meet it. Because paying back an advance is a challenging endeavor.”
His belly knotted again. That fear had seemed so irrational. But with each passing day, he realized that he couldn’t afford to return the money. Not if he was going to provide for himself and Darby Jane here in this rugged Alaskan community.
Before he could formulate an answer, footsteps on his porch and a gentle knock distracted him. “Message received, Stephanie. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone at the door.”
“Burke, there’s no—”
He ended the call before she could say anything more.
Ever since a handful of Southern newspapers and a few social media accounts had featured a photo of Stephanie leaving his house early in the morning a few months ago, their interactions had been strained.
She’d only come by to deliver a strongly worded pep talk, but that was not how the images had been perceived.
Gossip had circulated, accusing them both of inappropriate behavior.
Yet another reason why his mother-in-law refused to speak with him.
A fresh wave of shame curdled his gut. Man, he hated that she’d had to call and admonish him for his lack of productivity.
Not that he needed a reminder, thank you very much.
He was well aware of his personal and professional failures.
Somehow he’d prove to his agent and his publisher that he was worthy of a second chance.
He had to. Because he’d run out of options.
* * *
Did Burke not hear the knock? Or was he ignoring her? Jovi rapped harder a second time. What would Grammie say if she knew Jovi had befriended Lois and Mac’s nephew?
Jovi shivered against the chilly air swirling around her.
She’d brought a frozen chicken potpie and some peanut butter cookies.
It wasn’t like she’d agreed to cook for the guy for weeks or anything, but he did have a broken arm after all.
Besides, how could she not drop off a meal after she’d witnessed him struggling to get out of his driveway?
The guy had to eat, and he had a child to feed.
Plus, the few details that she’d pieced together about their families’ long-standing feud hounded her. Why had they fought? And how would she ever uncover the truth now that Grammie had dementia, and the other people involved had passed away?
The wind picked up, blowing snowflakes across the modest porch.
Jovi sucked in a breath as a few found their way into the exposed skin around her coat’s collar.
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she surveyed the cabin’s exterior.
The molding around the door frame was chipped and aged, and the paint was faded and cracked from years of wear.
A small ceramic planter shaped like a rabbit sat beside a faded welcome mat.
Muted footsteps approached, then the lock turned, and the door opened. Burke filled the narrow gap. Something warm and pleasant unfurled around her fragile heart as his inquisitive gaze met hers.
“Jovi. Hey.”
“Good morning. Again.” She held out the cardboard box she’d used to transport the food. “I brought cookies. Hope you’re not allergic to peanut butter. There’s also my mother’s chicken potpie. With your broken arm and all, I thought you might appreciate dinner.”
“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.” He opened the door wider, and his eyes flitted to the bundle in her hands.
“Oh, dear. You can’t carry a box. What am I thinking?”
She hesitated, hovering on the threshold. Oh, wow, okay. Now she’d just invited herself in. Down, girl.
An amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Would you mind carrying it into the kitchen?”
“Not at all.”
He stepped back, and she entered the cabin.
She quickly scanned her surroundings. The rustic interior wasn’t much to brag about. Bookshelves on the opposite wall sat mostly empty, except for a few paperbacks. Yet the worn sofa looked sturdy and comfortable, and a fire crackled in the woodstove.
She tipped her head toward the wide windows filling the opposite wall. “The view of the lake must really be something on a sunny day.”
“It’s not bad.” Burke closed the door behind her. “The kitchen’s this way.”
Right. She wasn’t here for a tour of the cabin. She took the hint to move on and followed him through the living area into a small, functional kitchen. The scent of bacon and coffee mingled in the air.
He wore a blue-and-white checked button-up layered over a white crew neck T-shirt, with one sleeve rolled back to accommodate his cast. Faded jeans hugged his slim hips, and he had donned wool socks.
Stop gawking. She quickly averted her gaze and slid the box onto the worn Formica countertop.
His open laptop and smartphone on the round table nearby caught her eye. “How’s the writing going? Must be challenging with a broken wrist.”
His features pinched. “It’s not going well.”
Oh-kay. Heat warmed her cheeks. Point taken. He wasn’t interested in chatting today.
“I’ll be on my way, then. Hope Darby Jane has a great first day at school. Just cook the pie at four hundred degrees for about fifty-five minutes.” She turned and strode quickly toward the door.
“Jovi, hold up.”
Burke’s deep voice halted her steps. She turned, with one hand still braced on the doorknob.
His expression softened into something that sort of resembled gratitude. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been so kind. I don’t know why our families couldn’t get along, but Darby Jane and I are extremely grateful for all you’ve done.”
Well, how about that? She offered a tentative smile. “You’re welcome. To be honest, I really can’t stand to see another human struggle. If you need anything else, just holler. I’ll be down the road scouring my grandparents’ place for a salted caramel chew recipe.”
Instantly, she wanted to snatch the words back. Her family probably wouldn’t want her to tell Burke her plans. But he was an author, and a successful one at that. Wasn’t like he had plans to launch his own candy business or anything.
“Oh, that’s intriguing.” He smiled. “Keep me posted.”
“Will do.” She opened the door, then hesitated and turned back. “If you’re interested, tonight is Evergreen’s annual Frosty Frolic.”
His brows sailed upward. “Frosty what?”
Jovi held up her palm. “I know what you’re going to say. It sounds ridiculous. The motto is Silly Name, Serious Fun. Seasonal depression is a thing, so a stress-free gathering gets people out of their houses to socialize, since the weather and the umpteen hours of darkness are challenging.”
Burke’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “The chamber of commerce should hire you for their ad campaigns.”
“Thank you.” She feigned a curtsy. “My sister trained me well. In case you missed it, she’s the mayor.”
“Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere.”
She hesitated. Was he flirting? “So…is that a yes? I would’ve mentioned it earlier, but I didn’t want to say anything in front of Darby Jane in case you didn’t feel up to going out.”
Okay, too much talking. And did he think she’d invited him on a date? Ugh. No. Warmth heated her cheeks as she stood awkwardly, wishing for the second time in five minutes that she could take back her words.
“I’ll think about it. Maybe we can exchange numbers, then I can let you know after I see how Darby Jane’s first day went?”