Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Jessie’s heart hammered against her ribs as she stood facing Luke across the expanse of polished mahogany that couldn’t possibly provide enough distance between them. The apron he’d tossed lay at her feet like a gauntlet, and she had no intention of picking it up. Not yet.
She’d rehearsed this moment countless times during the long ferry ride to Seeker’s Island, but imagination hadn’t prepared her for the reality of Luke Mallory. The years had been generous to him. He’d grown from a handsome boy into a striking man, all lean muscle and quiet strength. The new scar across one eyebrow only enhanced the effect, giving him a dangerous edge that hadn’t existed in the boy she’d loved.
Those piercing blue eyes hadn’t changed, though. They still saw too much.
Jessie straightened her spine, grateful for the lessons in composure Aunt June had drilled into her. Never let them see you flinch. The mantra had served her well in courtrooms and boardrooms across the Southeast. She could handle one stubborn island bar owner, even if he was the only man who’d ever made her question her choices.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the bar’s interior in stark relief. Seeker’s Paradise was exactly as her father had described in the single letter he’d sent her three years ago—the one she’d almost thrown away unopened. Open to the elements on most sides, the structure resembled an enormous tiki hut, albeit one constructed with skilled craftsmanship. Substantial bamboo beams supported a thatched roof that somehow looked both rustic and elegant. The square bar dominated the center of the space, with tables arranged strategically to maximize both privacy and views of the ocean.
It was, she had to admit, impressive. Far more sophisticated than the ramshackle refreshment stand that had occupied this spot during her youth.
The silence between them stretched taut as piano wire. She watched Luke secure another screen against the increasingly violent storm, his movements efficient and practiced. The muscles in his bare back flexed with each motion, revealing how he’d filled out since she’d last seen him—broader across the shoulders, leaner at the waist. The boy had become a man while she wasn’t looking, his skin tanned from hours under the island sun.
She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat.
“It’s a beautiful place,” she finally said, neutrality her safest option. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
Luke’s laugh held no humor. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not.” She moved toward the nearest window, watching sheets of rain sweep across the beach. “You always knew what you wanted. And you were never afraid to go after it.”
Unlike her. She’d been terrified for as long as she could remember.
“What I wanted?” His voice roughened. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Jessie turned back toward him, grateful for the flare of temper that pushed aside her unwelcome attraction. Anger was safer than whatever else simmered beneath the surface.
“I had my reasons for leaving,” she said carefully.
“I’m sure they seemed terribly important to an eighteen-year-old girl.” His dismissive tone sent heat rushing to her cheeks. “But we’re not teenagers anymore. So let’s be clear about why you’re here now.”
“I told you?—”
“You’re claiming what’s yours.” Luke leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. “After fifteen years without a word, suddenly my livelihood is your property. Convenient timing.”
A crash of thunder punctuated his accusation, rattling the glassware along the back wall. Jessie inhaled slowly, counting to five as she’d learned in therapy. She wouldn’t let him provoke her into saying more than she intended. Not yet. Not until she better understood what she was dealing with.
“Do you really think I’d return for money? That I couldn’t make my own way?”
“I don’t know what to think, Jess.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it appealingly disheveled. “I don’t know you anymore. Maybe I never did.”
The simple truth of his statement struck deeper than his anger had. She didn’t know him either—this hardened version of the boy whose gentle hands and tender words had once been her only escape. They were strangers now, connected only by memories neither could fully trust.
“We were kids,” she said softly.
“Yeah.” Something in his expression shifted, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability before shuttering closed again. “Kids who thought they knew everything.”
The radio on the counter crackled to life, static giving way to an emergency broadcast. The storm had intensified to tropical force winds, and island residents were advised to secure property and remain indoors. Jessie glanced toward the golf cart she’d parked under the eaves, calculating her odds of reaching the island’s only hotel before the weather worsened further.
Luke followed her gaze and sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. “You’re not thinking of heading out in this, are you?”
“I need to check into my room before they give it away.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of tourist season. Every room on this island has been booked for months.”
“I made a reservation,” she countered, though doubt crept in. The call she’d placed had gone straight to voicemail, and she’d never received a confirmation.
Luke shook his head. “Since when does Meg Fraser check messages? The woman still keeps reservations in a spiral notebook.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the beach if I have to.” Jessie lifted her chin, daring him to challenge her.
To her surprise, he laughed—a genuine sound that transformed his face and sent an unwelcome ripple of warmth through her.
“Still stubborn as a barnacle, I see.” He moved toward the kitchen, beckoning for her to follow. “Come on. I’ll fix some coffee while we figure this out. You look half drowned already.”
The kitchen was smaller than she’d expected but immaculately organized. Stainless-steel appliances gleamed under efficient lighting, and the preparation surfaces were spotless. A door at the far end presumably led to storage areas, while another stood partially open, revealing what appeared to be a small office.
Luke moved with easy familiarity, measuring coffee grounds and filling the industrial machine with water. The domestic normalcy of the scene struck Jessie as oddly intimate, more disconcerting than their earlier confrontation. This wasn’t how she’d imagined their reunion—not that she’d allowed herself to imagine it often.
“You can’t stay at the Cove,” he said as the coffee began to drip. “Not just because of availability. The north road flooded last night, and they haven’t finished repairs. You’d never make it through in a golf cart.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Always do, don’t you?” His tone was neutral, but the implication hung between them. She’d managed without him. Without any of them.
Jessie leaned against the counter, arms crossed defensively. “What exactly do you want me to say, Luke?”
“I don’t know.” He pulled two mugs from a cabinet, setting them beside the coffee machine with more force than necessary. “Maybe start with why you never called. Never wrote. Never let anyone know if you were even alive.”
Because I was protecting you. The words rose to her lips but remained unspoken. He wouldn’t understand—not without knowing everything, and she wasn’t ready to revisit those memories. Not when they’d already begun seeping through the carefully constructed barriers fifteen years away had built.
“It was complicated,” she offered instead.
“It always is with you.”
The coffee machine sputtered to completion, and Luke filled both mugs. He added cream to his, then hesitated, looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher.
“You still take it black?”
The simple question—the fact that he remembered such a minor detail after all this time—threatened her composure more than his anger had.
“Yes,” she managed. “Thank you.”
He slid the mug toward her. “I have a spare room. You can stay until you sort out something more permanent.”
Jessie nearly choked on her first sip. “That’s not necessary.”
“It’s practical,” he corrected. “You’re half owner of this place now, which means early mornings and late nights. Makes sense to be close.”
She studied him over the rim of her mug, trying to gauge his motivation. “Just like that? You’re inviting me to stay after making it abundantly clear how you feel about my return?”
“How I feel is irrelevant.” His mask of indifference slipped into place again. “We’re business partners now, through no choice of mine. Putting you up is simply good business sense.”
Business partners. The term felt simultaneously too formal and far too intimate. Jessie had never intended to actually run the bar. She’d planned to sell her share back to Luke and return to her carefully constructed life in Savannah, where no one knew her history or questioned her scars.
But she hadn’t expected the jolt of recognition she’d felt stepping onto the island again. The sense of homecoming that ambushed her despite everything that had happened here. And most of all, she hadn’t expected the unresolved emotions that surfaced at the sight of Luke Mallory.
“If you’re concerned about appearances,” he continued when she remained silent, “don’t be. The island gossips have long since found other subjects to occupy them.”
“I couldn’t care less about gossip.”
“Good. Because they’ll talk regardless.” A grim smile touched his lips. “Jessie James returns from the dead to claim her inheritance. It’s the most excitement Seeker’s Island has seen since old Davidson’s fishing boat washed up with him sleeping off a bender in the hull.”
Despite herself, Jessie smiled. Some things about island life remained unchanged.
“I won’t be staying long,” she said, though the assertion felt less certain than it had hours earlier. “Just until I sort out the legal aspects and find a buyer for my share.”
Luke’s expression hardened. “I’m the buyer.”
“We’ll see.” She wasn’t about to surrender her only leverage, not when she’d only begun to understand what she’d inherited—what her father had inexplicably bestowed upon her after years of silence.
The storm howled outside, rain lashing against the windows with renewed fury. Whatever came next, she wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight.
“Show me this room, then,” she said, draining the last of her coffee. “I need to dry off and change before I catch pneumonia.”
Luke nodded shortly, setting his half-finished coffee aside. “Follow me. I should probably grab a shirt first, then we’ll need to brave the weather briefly to reach the house.”
“House?” She’d assumed there were living quarters attached to the restaurant.
“I live about fifty yards up the beach. Nothing fancy, but it’s home.”
Home. The word produced a hollow ache beneath Jessie’s ribs. She’d spent fifteen years searching for that elusive feeling, never quite finding it in the series of apartments and condos she’d inhabited. She’d convinced herself it didn’t matter—that home was a luxury she could live without.
She followed Luke through the kitchen to a side door, where he retrieved a large umbrella from a stand. The practical part of her noted that he came prepared for all contingencies. The less rational part focused on the inevitable proximity sharing an umbrella would require.
“Ready?” he asked, hand on the doorknob.
Jessie nodded, steeling herself for both the storm and the dangerous territory they were about to enter. Not just his house, but the uncharted space of their shared past—a history neither had fully reckoned with.
“Stay close,” he instructed as he opened the door, the wind immediately threatening to tear the umbrella from his grasp. “The path can be treacherous when flooded.”
She stepped beside him, close enough to catch the scent of salt and coffee on his skin. His arm came around her shoulders to secure her beneath the umbrella’s protection, and Jessie forced herself not to tense at the contact.
This arrangement was temporary. A business matter, nothing more. She would sell her share, make peace with the past, and return to the life she’d built far from Seeker’s Island. Far from the only man who’d ever seen past her carefully constructed defenses.
As they stepped into the raging storm, Jessie couldn’t help but wonder if returning had been a mistake after all. Or if, perhaps, it was fifteen years overdue.