Chapter 11
From Esther’s diary
I swear if Mother brings up The Creep once more, I’ll scream. Honestly, I don’t see why they can’t see past his smarmy smiling and all the sucking up. He’s unbearable. I told her I’d rather chew my own eyeballs than date him and she said I’ve been spending too much time with Hazel.
Leah
Jackson didn’t stop until every square foot of ancient carpet had been torn up and removed from the house. Then, doors and windows open to clear the air despite the early-spring chill, he levered up tack strips, swept, and vacuumed.
“That looks amazing.” Leah loved the look of the battered, original floorboards.
Jackson paused in the middle of chugging a pint of cold juice. “Still needs sanding and sealing, but it’s an improvement.”
There was barely an inch of him that wasn’t either filthy or sweaty—his hair coated in a thick layer of dust, gray t-shirt more dark patches than light.
Even the hairs on his forearms were clogged with grime.
He smelled of hard work and stale debris and, damn, if that wasn’t a whole lot more appealing than it sounded.
Leah studied him like a textbook, grasping the opportunity to run her eyes over him while he examined the floor.
The frown he was rarely without was not in evidence on his forehead, his mouth relaxed, showing less strain than usual.
He looked physically tired but mentally refreshed, if that was even possible.
“I think you’re enjoying yourself.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Jackson’s glance was unreadable. “What’s not to love,” he said eventually. “Rolling around in some stranger’s DNA really does it for me.” He put his glass down on the side in the kitchen. “I need a shower.”
“Don’t disturb the skeeter-eater in the top corner. He flew in last night and we have an agreement that he can stay if he doesn’t flap in my face.” Leah shuddered. “I hate it when they do that.”
Jackson paused in the doorway. “I could go one better than ignoring him, Leah. I could put him outside for you.”
She stared at his back as he disappeared. It’d been so long since she’d asked anyone for help that she’d forgotten it was an option.
“Bare minimum. Don’t get emotional over someone offering to do the bare minimum,” Leah reminded herself as she examined the contents of the fridge while the water pipes began to clank overhead.
She stared particularly hard at a tomato until she managed to drive the image of Jackson’s sweaty torso out of her mind.
“And think about food, not about muscles. Food, food, food. Ah, tuna pasta bake!” The perfect option for dinner.
Even she couldn’t mess that up. There would be plenty if Jackson wanted to share but, if he didn’t, she could portion it up and have it throughout the week.
Stacking the ingredients on the countertop, she was frying the vegetables when there was a tap on the kitchen door. Hazel’s face peered through the glass; Leah beckoned her inside. “It’s open!”
“Hello, lovely. I fancied some fresh air, a stroll, and a little company. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you!” Leah gave her a one-armed hug, the other hand still clutching a wooden spoon.
She’d been desperate for a chance to talk to Hazel about Esther’s diary but she hadn’t gotten around to telling Jackson about it yet and didn’t want him to walk in to find her gossiping about his grandmother’s private life. “Feeling better?”
“Much, thank you.”
They chatted as she cooked, and Hazel wandered to the door of the living room to admire Jackson’s work. “What an improvement! Imagine how glorious it will be with a coat of stain and some rugs. For a white-collar dude, the boy doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.”
“Did you seriously just use the word ‘dude’?”
“I did.” Hazel looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure I’ll do it again. It felt weird on my tongue.”
Leah checked the pasta to see if it was ready and turned on the oven. “Well, I need to make sure the dude doesn’t regret saying I can stay here while the house is on the market.” She opened a jar of white sauce to add to the vegetables. “I’m hoping to buy his tolerance with carbs.”
“You have friends, sweetie. None of us will see you turned out with nowhere to go.” Hazel patted her arm.
“I know.” Leah shot her a grateful smile. “And I really appreciate you all. It’s just that staying somewhere temporarily isn’t the same as having a proper base.”
“Your next step will become clear in plenty of time. You need to place your trust in the cosmos.”
“Hmm.” Leah wasn’t so sure. “The cosmos and I have a rocky relationship.” She stirred the vegetables and sauce through the cooked pasta and tipped everything into a large oven dish.
“What are you making, dear? It smells delicious.”
“Tuna pasta bake.”
“Light on the tuna?” Jackson’s voice, deep and low, had them both turning around. He stood unsmiling in the doorway, in casual clothes and with damp hair, leaning against the wooden frame. He was awkward, austere, and appealing in equal measures.
“Huh?” Leah frowned through the alliteration avalanche free-falling in her brain.
He nodded toward the counter. “Most tuna pasta bakes usually contain a little tuna.” She turned to see the can sitting, unopened, on the side.
“But I’m no chef, so what do I know?” There was the smallest lift to his lips.
So infinitesimal that Leah couldn’t swear she’d seen it, though she knew she had.
“Well, I don’t always subscribe to the norm.
” Keeping her voice airy, she ignored, but relished, Jackson’s soft snort.
“You take away the option of creating something truly unique if you always do what’s expected.
” Opening and draining the tin, she stirred the contents into the casserole dish.
“However, on this occasion, I believe a little tuna could work.”
“Hello, Jackson. I love what you’ve done in the living room.” Hazel’s eyes twinkled at him.
“There’s a long way to go yet.” He hovered in the doorway, seemingly uncertain if he wanted to come in or leave them to it. His stomach growled loudly and he flushed.
“This will be ready in twenty minutes or so,” Leah told him. “And there are rolls in the bread box if you want something to tide you over.”
He hesitated but finally pushed away from the doorframe. The kitchen shrank in deference to his huge proportions.
Hazel noticed it, too. “Goodness me, you’re a sky-high swizzle stick, aren’t you? If you were a tree, you’d definitely be a redwood.”
Jackson, mid-bite into a crusty bread roll, paused with wary confusion. “I’m sorry?” he said carefully, when he’d swallowed.
Leah dragged her eyes away from his throat. “That’s one of Hazel’s favorite conversation starters—usually she asks, rather than allocates. ‘If you were a tree, what tree would you be?’ Or flower or animal. Once a car. That really confused the roadside recovery guy.”
“‘One that works.’” Hazel snorted. “He missed the point completely.”
“And the point is?” Jackson sounded like he didn’t want to ask but couldn’t help himself.
“You can tell a lot about a person from how they perceive themselves.” The old lady gave an innocent smile.
“Hmm.”
“You see, Leah here thinks she’s a willow when it’s abundantly clear she’s a copper beech.” Two pairs of eyes swung toward her, both blue—Hazel’s were tender, Jackson’s searing. Leah wriggled under the spotlight.
“One of us needs to be the strong one, Lee. You’re too sensitive for it to be you.”
She flinched at the sound of Matt’s words in her brain. Belittling comments had fallen from her ex-boyfriend’s mouth like raindrops.
“I do see.” Jackson’s voice was contemplative.
“I’m so glad she’s staying here to work on Esther’s book. I was worried Marj might stage a lynching if you came between her and her next Clayborne Knight fix.” Hazel shot him a no-nonsense look and Jackson’s expression shut down quicker than a clapperboard on a perfect take.
“I’ll just, uh—” He gestured vaguely toward the living room, eyebrows knitted.
“Take a seat right here? Yes, do.” Hazel pulled out the stool next to hers at the breakfast bar. “Has Leah told you about the last time your grandmother and I took a trip back to England and got stuck on a train to Brighton with some lovely boys from Billericay? They were on a stag weekend.”
Jackson opened the fridge, grabbed two bottles of Fruit Belt Cider, and held one up for Leah. At her murmured “Yes, please” he flipped both caps, before refocusing on Hazel’s lurid description of Pin the Tail on the Best Man.
“Two whole hours we spent going nowhere fast, thanks to an issue with a powerline, but we pooled our supplies of Mini Cheddars and Carlsberg and taught those lads a thing or two about gin rummy. One of them was sick but he did it in his own jacket pocket, which was thoughtful at least. In the end, we only had three-quarters of an hour in Homesense before it shut, but we stayed for fish and chips on the beach and got an invitation to the evening wedding reception in the post a week later. The bride looked absolutely gorgeous.”
She carried on in much the same vein until a short, sharp toot on a car horn cut through the air outside. As headlights lit up the drive, Hazel climbed from the stool.
“That’ll be Marj and Gerry—they’ve come to pick me up for a spot of supper—and my cue to leave you lovely ones to your pasta bake.” She kissed Leah on the cheek and gave Jackson’s shoulder a squeeze. “See you soon!”
Leah waved from the door, shivering a little as a biting breeze tugged at her shirt, and closed it swiftly when the car headed away down the drive.
“Right, dinner should be ready, if you’d like some?
” She still wasn’t entirely sure he’d take her up on the offer, but it seemed the Hazel Effect had left him dazed.
Jackson rubbed weary hands over his face, palms grating against the stubble on his jaw and sending electricity running over the surface of Leah’s skin.
“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” He stood to grab the plates and cutlery they needed.
She stared at his back. For all that he was so big and imposing, there was something far less intimidating about this man who’d stroked a half-wild cat so gently when he’d arrived for the weekend looking drained and exhausted.
She’d watched his shoulders drop inch by inch throughout the day, while he covered himself in filth.
Maybe Jackson needed a safe space as much as she did.
Leah spooned a large helping of pasta onto a plate and held it out.
“Thank you.” His eyes met hers in a brief hooded glance, and there was no snark in them.
“You’re welcome.”
They ate in near-silence, and it was comfortable.
When she brushed her teeth in the bathroom before bed and glanced up at the corner above the shower, it was empty.