Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Jonah
I wasn’t used to having someone under my roof—not as a guest and definitely not overnight.
I wasn’t accustomed to noticing my cabin and wondering what Summer would think of it.
Would she think I should decorate better?
I had few pictures up. No knickknacks. I let the wood and the view through the windows showcase the beauty.
Would she notice all the canes I had propped against walls? I didn’t rely on them in the house as much as walking outside and in town, but they were handy if I was stiff or especially sore after working in the yard or in my shop.
The shop was calling my name. I’d taken yesterday off, taking way too fucking long to find a pair of slacks and a shirt that would work for today, and I had plenty of projects to catch up on.
My productivity always took a shit this time of year.
I didn’t mind being plugged in by snow or storms, but then delivery trucks couldn’t get up or down the mountain.
I roamed the kitchen, my limp echoing louder than ever. I had on my boots. I’d been determined to keep my day normal, but last night, Summer had disappeared upstairs in her elaborate wedding gown after we had arrived and I hadn’t seen her since. Now, it was midmorning. Should I check on her?
My left knee fucking hated stairs. My left foot wasn’t far behind.
I went back out to the living room and gazed up the stairs, as if I could ascertain how she was doing through her closed bedroom door.
Everything was quiet. She’d left the light off in the library nook I had made when I first moved in.
Nothing of hers littered the landing from what I could spy between the slats of the carved wooden railing.
She must still be sleeping.
My phone rang. I didn’t have to look to know it was my mom. She was the only one who called, but she’d been trying to get ahold of me since I’d left the wedding yesterday. I’d sent her a message, but she wouldn’t quit until she heard my voice.
I answered on the way back to the kitchen so I wouldn’t wake my guest. “You don’t have to worry.”
“Of course I do,” she said without hesitation. “How is she?”
I had no fucking clue. “Sleeping.” Maybe.
“Poor thing. You know, I saw them together once and you just get that sense. I didn’t like him.
” The corner of my mouth tipped up. Mom said it like her feelings were a secret and a warning.
She didn’t like him, so he must be a miserable person.
Most of the time, she was correct. “Her brothers were so upset after you left. And the rest of us were . . . well, confused. I know I was.”
Mom was baiting me and I knew it, but there wasn’t much I wouldn’t give her. Except a daughter-in-law and grandkids. I’d failed miserably on that account. Sometimes I was angry with Eli that he wasn’t here to give her the dream grandchildren she desired.
“How did you get involved?” Mom didn’t beat around the bush. I wasn’t answering and she’d continue to rain questions down on me.
“Right place, right time.” Wrong place, right time?
I wasn’t sure. I hated being dragged into drama, but I wouldn’t change stopping that asshole from hitting her again.
He’d slapped her knowing it likely wouldn’t bruise before the ceremony was done and he’d been about to hit her again where no one would have seen the mark he’d leave behind. My blood boiled.
Something Mom said sank in. And the rest of us were . . . well, confused.
How many in attendance other than family knew Summer had left with me? Goddammit, how had it looked? “Is there speculation?”
“Oh, you know, there’ll always be speculation, but don’t worry. Tate told me that she’d left with you and asked me to keep it to ourselves. There weren’t many others from Bourbon Canyon there. Anyway, I didn’t realize you two had kept in touch.”
Mom and Dad wouldn’t talk. They were more aware than most. After Eli’s death, talk about how nineteen-year-old Eli was a closet drunk and that we might’ve known had run rampant through town.
People had speculated that his crash had been inevitable.
He had partied and made stupid decisions like a lot of small-town teens, but his accident had been in the middle of the damn day, with no one else around but me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. My brother had been on my mind heavily lately, but with Summer under my roof, he was a constant presence.
He and Summer could’ve given Mom those grandkids.
Summer was the daughter Mom always wanted.
I could’ve been the cranky uncle who taught them how to hunt and fish and camp.
“She just needs space,” I answered, “and when shit happens, family is sometimes the last to give you room.” Didn’t I know it. “I just happened to be around with my pickup keys. Nothing more.”
“Right. Yes. She knows you, and I’m glad that you were willing to help.”
The level of willing I’d been—to drop everything and bring Summer to the safety of my house—burrowed into my conscience. “Couldn’t exactly feed her to the wolves.”
Mom snorted. “Well-dressed wolves. That mom of the groom. She was intimidating. You should’ve seen the way she looked at my dress. And I think . . .” She dropped her voice to whisper, “I think the groom’s father was already drunk.”
“He was.” Loud and boisterous and flashing a flask. He came off as charming and suave but a little too tipsy for moments before his son’s wedding. His boasting about the cost of the whole event had been part of the sensory overwhelm that had prompted me to find a bathroom.
“She dodged a bullet. Poor thing,” she said again. “Take care of her.”
“Will do.” I hung up.
Summer Kerrigan took care of herself. It was why I’d needed a couple of seconds after seeing her get slapped. No one crossed Summer without knowing what they were in for. Touch one Kerrigan, you riled the whole sister nest. A guy in town had multiple slashed tires to show for it.
But then she’d just stood there, staring at her ex, her eyes wide, while he’d crowded her. I’d never regret stepping in.
I might regret bringing her to my place.
I’d slept fitfully in case she started roaming around, looking for food or for the bathroom. Silly, since there was a bathroom in her fucking room. Who was I fooling? I’d stayed awake in case she wanted company in an unfamiliar house.
I had a beautiful woman in my house and I was on high alert. But of all women, Summer was the last one I should be thinking about in that way. She had been my brother’s true love.
She wouldn’t consider me in that regard either. I’d been deluded enough to think so once, hopped up on pain meds I hadn’t wanted but had needed, and I’d chewed into her for even talking to me. I’d been an idiot then, and I wouldn’t make the same mistake now. I was no Boyd Harrington.
Before the accident and the scar and the limp and my downgrade in attitude, I’d dated enough women, but they’d been the opposite of Summer.
Women who hung out in bars instead of running them.
Women who wanted a good time, not a long time.
I hadn’t had time outside of my hobbies to make room for a relationship.
Now? The type hadn’t changed, but it was them who didn’t want a relationship with me.
I was the guy women bragged about sleeping with—once.
The oldest Dunn brother who looked like he’d murder you in your sleep after he fucked you senseless.
That was a direct quote. And people wondered why I only went to town out of necessity.
I went to the sink and gazed out the kitchen window.
Only about three inches of snow had fallen so far.
Every so often, the wind would pick up, send the flakes swirling, then back off, making the weather unpredictable enough to stay off the roads.
Not bad enough to be stranded for long. The front would pass, the roads would get cleared, and I could get Summer to her mom’s place.
This weekend would’ve been perfect to work. My parents wouldn’t have worried that I wasn’t getting out much because I’d have been snowed in, and I could have worked around Mom’s daily check-ins.
The floor creaked above my head. Then came the sound of water running through the pipes. She was using the bathroom upstairs.
While she was busy, I made a fresh pot of coffee.
I knew she drank the stuff. I’d seen her leaving Mountain Perks a few times over the years.
Would my black tar be too plain for her?
Too strong? Not strong enough? Fuck it. I had creamer in the fridge.
It wasn’t like I’d had a chance to prepare for company.
The water shut off and I waited, the smell of fresh coffee filling the house.
Another squeak came, from the stairs this time.
The staircase was on the other side of the kitchen wall.
The rest of the house opened up into the living room and eating area.
My bedroom was under the guest room upstairs.
I had planned an addition if needed, but my youthful foresight had been unnecessary.
The whisper of stockinged feet.
Summer crossed the living room while staring out the windows. Her damp blond hair tumbled down her back, and she wore a short-sleeved sundress that hung past her knees, but she had on gray fluffy socks that were familiar.
My socks. I must’ve missed a drawer of belongings when I’d moved out of the room upstairs.
I wouldn’t have noticed jack or shit missing when I had switched bedrooms. Resentment and fury had filled me in those days, along with bitterness that the move had been needed in the first place and pain exacerbated by the multiple trips up and down the stairs.
I leaned against the counter, taking the weight off my left foot and knee. She went to the glass and gazed outside.