Blackberry Beach

by Irene Hannon

  Warmth filled him, as potent and heady as a perfect summer day in Hope Harbor. “You may want to reserve judgment on that.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary—but we can revisit this in a few months . . . if you want me to stay. And you don’t have to give me an answer today. I’ll be around another week or two. Zach hasn’t threatened to send me packing yet.” Her lips curved up.

  His gaze homed in on them—and his pulse shifted into high gear. She had beautiful lips. Soft . . . supple . . . welcoming.

  Tempting.

  Don’t be a fool, Frank. Tell her to stay. God sent a woman into your life who’s put a lilt in your voice and a spring in your step. If you let her get away, you should have your head examined.

  Smart advice.

  It was time to tuck his treasured memories of Jo Ann into the corner of his heart that would always be hers, banish fear, and take another chance on love.

  Because, to use Charley’s earlier analogy, he was running on fumes—and a high-octane dose of Stephanie Garrett was exactly what he needed to rev his engine.

  He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand and looked straight into her eyes. “I can give you my answer now. Stay.”

  A soft flush crept over her cheeks. “Done.”

  “I have to warn you, though—my dating skills are beyond rusty . . . and I’m not certain they were all that hot to begin with.”

  She offered him a wry smile. “Trust me, they’re more polished than mine. I was always more interested in spreadsheets than smooches.”

  A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “What do you say we work on polishing our skills together?”

  “I like that plan.”

  “Are you certain you don’t mind paying two rents for a few months? That’ll be a big expense.”

  “I view it as an investment. One I have a feeling will pay off handsomely.” Her mouth bowed. “There’s a compliment in there, in case you missed it.”

  “Thank you for that. And I agree about the investment. I can’t see much downside to giving this a go—and the upside potential is impressive.”

  “Upside potential.” She gave a soft chuckle. “That sounds like something one of my clients—or my boss—would have said.”

  “I don’t feel like either.” He scooted closer. “What do you say we forget spreadsheets and focus on smooches?”

  “I’m in.”

  “Then let’s try this on for size.”

  He leaned close . . . closer . . . until his lips touched hers. Tentative. Careful. Exploratory.

  But she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, responding without reservation.

  Maybe he didn’t have to take this slow and easy.

  He pulled her tight against his chest—and in the seconds before he deepened the kiss and the world faded away, he gave thanks.

  For while he enjoyed his new life in Hope Harbor and had found a measure of peace and contentment he’d never expected to experience again without Jo Ann by his side, it had been difficult to shake the loneliness.

  That seemed poised to change.

  It was possible, of course, that the journey he and Stephanie had embarked on today wouldn’t end as he hoped.

  But if he was a betting man, he’d wager such worry was unfounded—and that his tomorrows with this woman would be filled with deep contentment . . . and grand adventures he could never have imagined in his wildest dreams.

  23

  Where was his father?

  Heart stumbling, Zach tightened his grip on the venti Americano and scanned the empty bed in the hospital room early on Wednesday morning.

  He strode over to the bathroom door, open a mere crack. “Dad?”

  No response.

  Now what?

  He tried to shake the fuzziness from his brain, still sluggish despite a solid eight hours of sleep.

  The nurses’ station. Someone there would know what was going on.

  He swiveled toward the door.

  His father stood on the threshold, an aide by his side.

  “You look more human today.” His dad inspected him. “That bad-boy scruff didn’t suit you.”

  It took him several seconds to find his voice.

  “You’re okay.” The words scratched past his windpipe.

  “Of course I’m okay.” His father gave a dismissive wave. “I told everyone I’d sail through this, and I did. Is that your breakfast?” He motioned toward the cup.

  “No. I had an egg and sausage biscuit too.”

  “My breakfast should be here soon—solid food, right?” He aimed the question at the aide.

  “Yes. The doctor authorized a regular diet.”

  “Thank the Lord. After all those liquids yesterday, I was ready to float away. Let’s sit.” He indicated two chairs by the window.

  The aide stayed close as he walked over. After helping him settle into the chair, she left.

  “Have a seat.” His father tapped the adjacent chair.

  Zach dropped into it. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better than I expected. I assumed I’d recover fast, but I’ve surprised even myself. At this rate, I may be able to go back to work much sooner than I anticipated.”

  “Don’t rush it, Dad. The firm has sufficient people to pick up the slack while you recuperate.”

  “Unlike your shop.”

  “I’m covered through tomorrow—and I can stay longer if necessary. Frank and Bren are always willing to work extra shifts if necessary.”

  “It won’t be. After you left yesterday, I talked with the woman who coordinates home health care. I’ll be fine at the house once they spring me, and they’re watching me like a hawk here. You have a business to run. You should get back to it.”

  His father had referred to his shop as a business.

  That was progress.

  “I have tentative reservations for tomorrow.”

  “Go today.”

  Uh-oh.

  That didn’t sound like progress.

  “Trying to get rid of me?” He forced up the corners of his mouth.

  “No.” His father linked his fingers together and looked down at his hands. “I’ve been thinking about what you said Sunday night. Actually, I’ve been thinking about it for months. You and Stephanie are all the family I have left—and much as I love my sister, there’s been a hole in my life since you and I had our falling-out. I may not agree with all of the choices you’ve made, but it’s your life—not mine. I’d like to put aside our differences, see if we can’t get back to where we used to be. Or as close as possible, given our history.”

  “I’d like that too. That’s why I’m not in a hurry to go back.”

  “But I want you to go. This”—he swept a hand over the sterile hospital room—“isn’t where I want us to spend our time together. They treat me like an invalid. Here’s what I propose. You go home. We’ll stay in touch by phone. After I’m fully recovered, I’ll come out to Oregon. Stephanie’s been singing the praises of your adopted town, and I’d like to see for myself why it’s bewitched both of you.”

  His father was willing to travel across the country to visit him?

  That was the answer to a prayer.

  To countless prayers.

  Once again, pressure built in his throat—but he tried to swallow past it. His dad’s attitude may have softened, but it wasn’t likely he’d ever be the demonstrative type—or be comfortable around displays of emotion.

  “You’re welcome anytime.”

  “Let’s plan on November, possibly for Thanksgiving. If Stephanie can swing it, maybe she can join us—along with anyone else you’d like to invite. I expect you’ve made close friends out there by now.”

  “Yes, but they all have families. Except Frank, the retired guy who works for me.”

  “You don’t have a girlfriend?”

  An image of Katherine flitted through his mind—but that was wishful thinking. For all he knew, she’d be back in Hollywood or off making her movie
come Thanksgiving.

  “No.”

  A young man toting a tray of food pushed through the door. “Mr. Garrett?”

  “Yes.” His father motioned him over. “I’ll eat here.”

  The man set the tray on the portable bed table and positioned it by his father’s chair.

  As soon as he left, his dad lifted the cover from the plate.

  Zach surveyed the scrambled eggs, sausage, and hash browns. “That’s a real breakfast—though not the most heart-healthy food.”

  “The doc told me to eat whatever I want for the first few days.” His father put the napkin on his lap. “I don’t expect this will be gourmet quality, but it’s an improvement over yesterday’s menu. Why don’t you check on flights while I eat?”

  “You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

  “I want you to get back to your normal life and take care of your business. I appreciate that you dropped everything to come all the way here on the spur of the moment, but I know it was a huge inconvenience.” His father positioned his knife to cut into a sausage.

  “No, it wasn’t. Doing things for the people you love is never an inconvenience.”

  His dad shifted his attention to him—and unless the light was playing tricks, there was a sheen in his eyes. “Thank you for that. I don’t deserve it after what’s gone on these past few years.”

  “Why don’t we forget that and just start over?”

  His father nodded and dived into his food.

  Once Zach booked his return flight, the conversation moved to more general topics while his dad ate. Nothing significant—but the lack of tension between them was significant.

  And by the time he left, with a quick hug and a promise to call after his flight landed, it was almost as if there had never been any enmity between them.

  Which was nothing short of a miracle.

  Perhaps it was too much to wish for, but when he boarded the plane three hours later, he couldn’t help but hope another life-changing blessing might await him back in Oregon with a certain chocolate-loving actress who was fast making inroads on his heart.

  “Zach? Is that you?”

  As Stephanie called out to him from down the hall, he dropped his duffle bag onto the floor, set his laptop on the kitchen counter, and took a deep breath. It was good to be home. “Yes.”

  She appeared in the kitchen doorway a few seconds later, dressed in the same getup she’d worn to Hope House the day she and Frank had sequestered themselves in the master bedroom to patch holes. “You’re a more accomplished cook than I am—but I could whip up an omelet for you, if you like. You must be exhausted after traveling all day.”

  “I’m fine.” And he had dinner packed in dry ice in his duffle. Enough for two—if he could interest his neighbor in an impromptu beach picnic.

  “I hear the trip was successful.” She leaned back against the island and folded her arms.

  “You talked to Dad?”

  “Yes.”

  “He told you we reconciled?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not without prodding, I’ll bet.”

  “I’ve learned how to ask leading questions as well as my attorney brother has.” She smirked at him. “However . . . he was pretty closemouthed. I couldn’t get many specifics, but he did say he’s planning a trip out here. That told me everything I needed to know—from his end. You want to fill in the gaps?”

  “We reconciled.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as he is.”

  Zach grinned. “Dad claims he’s been thinking along those lines for a while. Given how fast he extended an olive branch, I have to believe that’s true.”

  “It didn’t hurt that you traveled thousands of miles to see him because of the surgery. That sent a powerful message.”

  “Whatever brought about our truce, I’m grateful.” He waved a hand over her attire. “What’s with the work clothes?”

  “Frank and I are going to put in a couple of hours at Hope House, then stop for tacos afterward if Charley is cooking.”

  “How goes it with you and my right-hand man?”

  She shoved her fingers into the pockets of her jeans and gave him a slow smile. “It goes well. In fact, I have big news.”

  “Lay it on me.” He opened the fridge and reached for two cans of soda.

  “I’m moving to Hope Harbor.”

  “Whoa.” He pivoted and shut the door without retrieving the sodas. “That is big news.”

  She lifted a hand. “Don’t get too carried away. It’s temporary. I’m not giving up my apartment in New York . . . yet . . . but it’s a possibility down the road. And before you panic about inheriting a permanent houseguest—I’ve arranged to rent accommodations from a woman in town named Anna Williams. She has a small studio unit on her property called The Annex. Charley recommended it.”

  “I know Anna. Pleasant woman. But you’re welcome to stay here.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t want to wear out my welcome—and I think we may both prefer a bit of privacy.” She tipped her head in the direction of Katherine’s house. “Your neighbor and I volunteered at Hope House on Sunday. She’s a lovely young woman.”

  “I agree—but she’s only visiting. Her job is waiting for her elsewhere.”

  “I know. In LA. She told me she’s an actress.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “That surprises me. She’s trying to stay under the radar.”

  “So she said. I think it was a slip on her part—and she didn’t offer many details. I got the impression she was rethinking her future, though.”

  “You have excellent insights.”

  “If intuition counts for anything, I didn’t get the feeling she was locked into the Hollywood life.”

  “I’d like to believe that.”

  The doorbell rang, and Stephanie glanced at her watch. “That’s Frank. Do you want to talk to him?”

  “No. I texted him and Bren I’d be back on duty tomorrow and we could return to our usual schedule. Go. Have fun. Tell him I said hi.”

  “Do you have any plans for the evening, other than unwinding after a full travel day?”

  “I may drop in on Katherine.”

  “Not a bad idea. And in that case, you have fun too.” She crossed to him, rose on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek. “Welcome home.”

  “Thanks.”

  He waited until she picked up her purse and disappeared through the front door, then headed for the bathroom to freshen up.

  Five minutes later, after adding two sodas to the bag of sandwiches, he exited through the back slider and strode toward Katherine’s.

  In twelve days, these treks would come to an end—unless she’d decided to turn down the part while he was gone.

  Somehow, he didn’t think she had. After their in-depth discussion on the subject, wouldn’t she have texted him if she’d scratched that decision off her list?

  He crimped the bag tighter in his fingers as he approached the grove of towering coniferous evergreen trees that separated their properties.

  If she was still on the fence, perhaps a romantic beach picnic would remind her of all she’d be giving up should she choose to return to Hollywood . . . and the lifestyle she’d admitted no longer held much appeal.

  He couldn’t offer her glamor or excitement or fame or enormous wealth—but if she could be content with a simple life and a man who would always put her first, the two of them ought to see where the spark between them led.

  But she had to want that as much as he did—and be willing to live with the possibility it could fizzle.

  From her perspective, with all she had at stake, that would be very scary.

  Frowning, he emerged from the woods and slowed his pace as he approached her house.

  If she gave up her Hollywood career and the spark between them petered out, her life would be far more disrupted than his. He’d still have his home, his job, his routine, his friends. She’d have to start from scratch.

  As he knew all too well,
that was an intimidating prospect.

  So trying to persuade her to take that leap, to give them a chance, if she wasn’t prepared for all the possible consequences would be selfish—and unfair. He’d have to get a read on her state of mind tonight before launching a campaign to convince her to stay.

  And pray he had the strength to follow the honorable course if this visit didn’t go as he hoped it would.

  24

  Zach was back?

  A day early?

  Why?

  Pulse leaping, Katherine vaulted to her feet as he emerged from the woods. Shading her eyes against the dipping sun, she squinted at him.

  He didn’t look upset.

  That was reassuring.

  When he drew close, she crossed the deck to meet him at the top of the stairs. “I didn’t expect you back this soon. Is your dad okay?”

  “Yes. He’s doing well. So well there was no excuse for me to hang around.”

  “Did he . . . send you away?” If there was more diplomatic phrasing for that question, it eluded her.

  “No—not in the sense you mean.” He lifted the bag. “Pastrami sandwiches from my favorite deli in Atlanta, packed in dry ice for my trip home. If you’ll join me for an impromptu dinner on the beach, I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  “Is that a bribe?”

  “Only if it worked.”

  “It worked. Let me grab a sweater.” She retreated to the house, plucked her sweater off the great room couch, detoured to the kitchen for a few truffles from her latest batch, and rejoined him. “All set—with dessert in hand.” She waved the plastic bag at him. “Shall I bring water too?”

  “I’ve got the drinks covered.”

  “A man who thinks of everything.” She draped the sweater around her shoulders and started toward the steps—but he caught her hand as she passed.

  She turned—and her lungs stalled.

  There was no missing the heat in his eyes . . . nor the silent message they were sending, even before he spoke.

  “I wouldn’t say that. But I did think of you while I was gone. Constantly.” His voice hoarsened. “I missed you, Katherine.”