CHAPTER 9 #2
I was just about to get out of the lake, dry off, and retreat back to my cottage when he lumbered down the porch steps, heading toward the shade of a nearby tree.
I watched as he leaned down to snatch a jug of water, tilting it back to drink.
I tried not to stare, but the way his throat bobbed was oddly… mesmerizing.
Even beneath the warm water, I felt goose bumps spring up over my skin.
He lowered the jug, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can see you watching again. You’re not very good at hiding, you know.”
The timbre of his voice rippled over the lake toward me. The way the water carried his words made it seem like he’d spoken them right into my ear.
Caught.
My face immediately flamed, though I could maybe blame it on the heat of the sun if I had to.
Brazen it out, Blanche, I told myself. You’re a guest here. You’re using the…amenities. If he’s walking around in a sweaty tank doing manual labor, you can’t suddenly pretend you’re blind.
“I wasn’t hiding,” I called out. Clearing my throat, I added, “I just didn’t want to be in your way again.”
He made a sound. Was that a laugh? Had I actually made him laugh?
I held my breath as I waited for him to reply.
Only he didn’t. Instead, he set down his water jug and…
approached the lake’s shore. I straightened in the water, not expecting him to come closer or engage.
My ears seemed to twitch as the sound of his boots crunched over the gravel path before they thudded on hard sand.
I met his eyes as he squatted down at the water’s edge.
He skimmed his hands across the water before cupping it and splashing his face and neck.
The ripples that radiated out from his touch reached me, and I shivered again.
To dry off most of the droplets, he shook his head in a decidedly wolfish way.
Then he stood, dropping to sit back on the edge of the lounge chair where I’d put my stuff down.
His hands were draped between his legs as he regarded me.
Then those blue eyes went to the edge of the forest, seeming to scan its perimeter.
“Are you trying to…fix up all the cabins still?” I asked when the silence lingered too long.
He inclined his head, that gaze returning to me. I watched his eyes flick beneath the water before they came to meet mine. “Yeah.”
Not a talker, is he? I thought wryly.
“How long has the B&B been open?” I tried.
“Not long,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to get a knot out.
For a brief moment, I wondered what it would be like to touch him, to try to rub his overworked muscles to offer him some relief.
Then my face burned even more, which made him narrow his eyes on me.
“Since spring officially. We have more cabins that need fixin’ than we have up and runnin’ though. ”
I heard a slight twinge of May’s accent in his voice, but it came and went. A mountain accent. I’d heard there was a whole community of people living in Juniper Woods, people who preferred their privacy, the peace of their land. Mostly shifters or Lycans, from what I’d gathered.
I wondered if Jonathan had grown up in these woods, but surely if he had, I would’ve seen him in town.
But I also didn’t want to ask him in case he thought I was prying and being nosy.
“Well, I like my cottage. Uh, cabin. Whatever you call it. You did a nice job,” I offered, hoping it was an olive branch between us since we hadn’t started out on the right foot.
He didn’t reply, just looked at me.
I licked my lips, tasting lake water. “Is there anything farther up?” I asked, my gaze drifting toward the stretch of forest beyond the lake.
Jonathan glanced up the slope. “There’s an old mine over the ridge.
Abandoned. Faces the sea, but it’s been sealed for over a century.
” He paused, as if deciding how much more to say.
“There’s a system of caves inside the mountain that connects to it.
The entrance is on this side, but I’m sure it’s long overgrown by now. ”
I nodded slowly. “Is there anything else up there worth seeing?”
“There’s a lookout point,” he added. “The view’s good, but the trail’s a little wild these days. It’s about a mile up.”
“Does it look out to the sea?” I asked, intrigued.
He gave a small nod. “Yeah, and Everwick. You can see the whole town from there. The lighthouse. Even Vellamara Island, if the mist’s clear enough.”
That sounded wonderful. I smiled faintly. “I’d love to see that sometime. I mean, if that’s something you’d be willing to… I mean, if you’d want to…um, facilitate that.”
Smooth, I thought. I sounded like a damn corporate memo.
Jonathan’s mouth tugged into a smirk. “Facilitate, huh?” he echoed, clearly amused. “Let me see what I can do. I was considering going up there tonight. You’re welcome to join if you want.”
A spear of anticipation went through me. “I might just take you up on that. If you really mean it. I don’t want to be a bother, tagging along.”
His gaze lingered on me for a moment—long enough to make the air between us feel heavier.
“I wouldn’t offer if it were a bother,” he said simply.
I didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t flirtatious, exactly. But by the way he was looking at me, it wasn’t neutral either.
“Okay,” I said, softer now. “Then maybe I will.”
He nodded, then stood. “Should be just before sunset. The view’s better when the light hits low.”
Jonathan headed back toward the cabin he’d been working on, and I lingered a moment longer in the lake, watching him gather his tools.
“Are you done?” I called out.
He nodded. “With this.”
I tilted my head. “So…are you taking a break?”
With an amused chuff, he replied, “I wish. Unfortunately, breaks aren’t anywhere in my foreseeable future.” He paused before adding, “Now I have to go check on the garden.”
I blinked. “There’s a garden?”
He gave me a look, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You tasted some of it last night.”
Realization dawned, and I lit up. “That was yours?”
He nodded again, more modest this time.
I smiled, genuinely delighted. “Well, it was incredible. I thought May had some secret source or supplier.”
“She does,” he said dryly. “Me.”
I stepped fully out of the lake, the water sliding off me in shimmering rivulets. I quickly grabbed the towel from the lounge chair and dried off my legs and feet, then slipped my red summer dress over my damp suit, knowing it would be fully dry soon under the baking sun.
Jonathan was already packing up the last of his tools, working in a quiet, efficient way.
When he straightened and glanced over, I felt the weight of his gaze land on me—warm and calm.
His eyes met mine…then slowly dropped, drifting down the length of my body.
It was deliberate but, strangely, not intrusive. Appreciative. Almost complimentary.
I wasn’t used to being looked at like that.
Funnily enough, I’d spent nearly a decade at Skoll working myself raw for recognition…only to be overlooked. But here, with this man…I wasn’t even trying, and he noticed. I wasn’t used to it. But I liked it.
My cheeks flushed, and I had to glance away just to steady myself.
After a moment, he spoke. “Ready?” My brow must’ve furrowed, hesitant hope slotting into my chest. “Come on, I’ll show you the garden.”
Beaming, I nodded, tucking the towel beneath one arm and falling into step beside him as we turned away from the cabin and started along the gravel path that circled the lake.
We didn’t talk at first. The hush of the woods filled the silence between us. Birds chirped in the canopy above as our footsteps crunched in rhythm.
I stole a few glances at him as we walked. There was something about the way he moved. Unhurried but deliberate. Like he knew every tree, every bend in the path.
Part of me still couldn’t quite reconcile this version of him—the one who offered home-grown food and peaceful silences—with the brooding, untouchable grump I’d first met. But maybe both were real.
We reached the north end of the lake, where the land rose into a soft slope flanked by thicker trees.
A tall iron fence emerged from the green, blending with the underbrush.
I’d seen it before during one of my walks around the grounds.
The gate stood about eight feet high and stretched wide to either side, enclosing something large beyond.
Jonathan reached over to a weathered padlock and spun the dial with nimble fingers.
I looked past the bars. Farther in, I could barely make out the rounded shape of arched, half-sunken structures, some partially shrouded in vines and draped in heavy tarp-like material. I hadn’t been able to make out much from a distance before. I’d assumed it was some kind of old storage area.
The gate creaked as Jonathan pushed it open, the metal groaning from age.
He held it for me to pass through, and I stepped into a clearing: a flat stretch of open ground.
We walked a short distance across the field, our footsteps muffled by soft earth, until one of the structures came into view more clearly.
There were several…greenhouses, I realized.
Each arched frame was like a ghostly outline, wrapped in what looked like a pale, semi-opaque skin stretched over black iron skeletal frames that hinted at a grander past. Somewhat Victorian gothic in appearance, they were shaped with long, ribbed spines and pointed frames.
The structures reminded me more of a mausoleum than a garden.
From the outside, the structures seemed agricultural, but something about the condensation on the tarp and the warm breath of scented herbs and fresh soil in the air told me there was life inside.
Jonathan held open a creaking door for me, and I stepped into the greenhouse, my heart quickening with curiosity.
Passing the threshold, I found myself inside a hidden paradise.