by Teri Wilson
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Maureen lifted a brow. “What about Mr. Splenda?”
Jenna had totally forgotten about him. They’d gone out on exactly one date, during which Mr. Splenda emptied five yellow packets onto his salad. His salad! “Okay, he had a seriously unhealthy addiction to sweetener.”
Maureen stifled a grin. “And Airplane Guy?”
“He took his shoes and socks off before we were airborne.” Yuck. “Besides, that was a dating thing….”
“Which you can’t keep avoiding.”
“I’m not avoiding it. I’m just approaching it with a much more critical eye this time around.” She had to. Hers wasn’t the only heart at stake anymore. She had Nick and Ally to think about now.
“That sounds so romantic.” Maureen fluttered her eyelashes mockingly.
Why on earth was she going down that road?
“Either way, this is a neighbor thing.” Not a romance thing, even though Jenna wondered if she was being slightly unfair to Lucas. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who judged people, and after all, it had only been one night. Maybe the loud music was the exception rather than the rule.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t. She’d been right on the other side of the wall. He had to have known she’d hear it. “And trust me, he’s totally Mr. Slack.”
Maureen gave Jenna one of her teacher stares—the kind that never failed to make her middle school students admit the dog hadn’t actually eaten their homework.
And just like an eighth grader, Jenna folded beneath the weight of the teacher stare. “Okay, fine. I’ll give it two weeks.”
Isn’t that what she’d tell her kids to do? Yes, it was.
She glanced at Ally, splashing around the shallow end of the pool with a group of girls who looked to be about her age. Making friends already…probably because she always gave new people a chance.
Maureen nodded. “Good.”
Good.
Jenna just hoped that the next fourteen days weren’t anything like the past twenty-four hours. Otherwise she’d never get her book finished.
The next morning, Jenna got Nick and Ally off to summer camp and returned to the beach house ready to work. She set her laptop in the center of the picnic table on the deck, along with a cup of coffee, her hardback thesaurus, and yes, her trusty antique typewriter. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She didn’t actually use it much for typing, but she’d inherited it from her grandfather, who’d written four books on the clunky old thing—cowboy stories in the vein of Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour. Since he’d definitely managed to avoid the one-hit-wonder problem back in his day, she considered his typewriter her good luck charm.
Jenna took a deep inhale of salty sea air. She could do this. The few pages she’d managed to write before the summer move to the beach house were printed out and held in place with a giant conch shell. Her deck sat just behind the dune, affording her a perfect view of the gently tumbling ocean. Early morning sun glittered on the water, and there wasn’t a soul on the beach this early in the day. She couldn’t have asked for a more tranquil writing environment.
Time to get to work.
She took a generous sip of coffee and began flipping through the manuscript. The story was in better shape than she’d thought, thank goodness. She just needed to incorporate the changes she’d marked in the margins with red pencil, and then she could start writing the second half.
But as soon as she opened her laptop, a familiar streak of white leapt onto the table. “What the…?”
Tank!
The dog’s wagging tail sent the conch shell flying and Jenna barely had time to slam her hand down on top of her pages to protect them from the wind. “No, no, no, Tank.”
He pawed at her hand, clearly thinking they were playing some kind of game. Then he went for the coffee cup as if it were a dog bowl.
Please, no. The last thing he needed was caffeine. “Aw, come on, man.”
He looked up to give her a puppy kiss, knocking the coffee over in the process. Dark liquid poured over her pages. “Not the book!”
Her notes were fading before her eyes. Now she was going to have to re-read everything and start the editing process all over again. So much for spending the afternoon plotting out new material.
Jenna looped a finger beneath Tank’s collar and helped him hop off the table. “Let’s go. Time to go home.”
She guided the dog down the white wooden staircase toward Lucas’s front door and as luck would have it, he stepped outside just as she and Tank reached the bottom step.
His porch was every bit as messy as the last time Jenna had seen it. Half-empty bottles of water were scattered about, and the swing was littered with surf magazines. While he’d somehow managed to hang his wet suit on a hook, a damp towel lay piled into one of the chairs.
Jenna bit back the mildew lecture she gave her kids every time she found a towel on the bathroom floor.
“Hey.” He gave her a lopsided grin, which made Jenna feel like he might actually be happy to see her.
Odd…
And completely irrelevant.
“Hey.” She glanced down at Tank, wagging his tail in glee. “I think this guy belongs to you.”
Honestly, hadn’t Mr. Slack ever heard of leash laws?
The dog was awfully cute, though. Maybe he was just trying to run away from the loud music and general chaos of Lucas’s side of the house. Jenna couldn’t really blame him.
Lucas’s expression went all ooey-gooey at the sight of his canine bestie, and he picked up his usual laid-back pace. “Whatcha doing over there? Get in here, you.” He pushed the screen door open. “Get in.”
Jenna released her hold on Tank’s collar and he trotted past Lucas to pounce on one of the dog toys strewn on the worn wooden floor of the porch.
“Either trying to play with, or rearrange, my book. I don’t know. It’s really hard to say.” Jenna forced a smile. As adorable as Tank was, she still had coffee-stained pages to contend with on the upstairs deck.
Lucas shot her another of his boyish grins. “Well, I always said he’d make a great editor.”
She might have even considered Lucas and his scruffy little mutt charming if they weren’t so wholly annoying.
“No?” He leaned against the doorjamb and shrugged one shoulder.
“No. Cute, but no.” Now wasn’t the time to give in, no matter how sweet the surfer and his doggy bestie were together. “Hey, one other quick thing, if you have a second.”
“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” He held the screen door open for her and motioned for Tank to follow when they reached the entry to the duplex. “Come on, buddy. Inside.”
Lucas’s half of the house was a mirror image of Jenna’s, decorated in the same calming beach glass hues. A strand of colorful lights lined the walls of the living room and a bright blue electric guitar sat propped in a corner. The guitar, no doubt.
Other than a table piled with books and a basket of clean, unfolded laundry, the space was remarkably tidy. Wonders never ceased.
Remember the two-week rule.
She pasted on her best neighborly smile. “So, I just wanted to ask or maybe suggest we set some ground rules.”
Lucas grabbed a plastic bin of dog food from the kitchen counter and began to scoop kibble into a metal bowl. “Yeah? About what?”
Tank trotted past her, tags jangling. “Well, the dog, for starters.”
“Oh.” Lucas flipped the plastic bin closed and set Tank’s bowl on the floor. “You’re not a dog person.”
“No, I love dogs.” She just didn’t love it when they jumped all over her manuscript and interrupted a rare moment when she was getting some actual work done. That hadn’t been Tank’s fault, of course. She blamed Lucas. No wonder he didn’t have kids. If he did, he’d prob
ably lose track of them in a heartbeat. “I mean, I like them, my daughter loves them, and my ex-husband keeps promising to get them one, but I’m just too busy to commit to a dog right now. I mean it wouldn’t be fair to the little guy. Especially considering I have this book deadline and I’m not quite sure how I’m going to hit it.”
Stop. Talking.
She couldn’t seem to stop the flow of nonsense coming out of her mouth. Why was she rambling? Moreover, what was it about Lucas that made her so nervous?
He didn’t need to know what she did for a living. They weren’t friends. They were neighbors—temporary neighbors.
“Oh, you’re a writer?” Lucas looked up from the dishtowels he’d begun folding sometime during her monologue. “What do you write? Like, novels or plays?”
“Teen fiction,” Jenna said.
He gave her a blank look.
Oh, no. She’d seen that look before—on her ex-husband’s face. As amicable as their split had been, he wasn’t exactly supportive of her career as an author. Never had been. When they’d been married, he never really understood why she stayed up late to write after the kids had gone to bed. The way he’d seen it, she’d been wasting her time on a book for teenagers when she already had a job writing about community events for the local paper. Even after she’d signed with an agent and accepted a publishing deal, he’d been happy for her but unconvinced. After all, one book didn’t make a career.
Sometimes she wondered if he was right. Could she really do this?
“It’s a lot harder than it sounds,” she added. “Which is why I can’t risk any distractions right now. So, I was hoping you could keep Tank on your side of the fence, so to speak.”
He laughed as if she’d just asked the impossible. “Sorry. I can’t do that.”
Not exactly the reaction she was expecting. In fact, it was the exact opposite. “What?”
“There is no fence. It’s a shared patio.”
“But you know what I mean.” Observing the two-week rule was getting tougher by the second. “Also, I don’t know if you realize, but the walls are like, paper-thin. So if you could keep the music down past, let’s say—”
“Look, Jenna,” he said, cutting her off as he moved from folding towels to refilling the coffee pot. Was he even listening to her at all? “I really appreciate you bringing Tank back, but I live here year-round.”
“Right.” He had to be joking. The living room was nice, but completely lacking family photos or any of the ordinary personal touches that made a house a home. “You don’t even have any plants.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Spoken like a true bachelor. No kids, no plants. Nothing at all that required nurturing.
“Never mind.” She took a deep breath. “You were saying?”
He put the coffee pot back in its cradle and gave her his full attention. Finally. “I get that you’re going to be here for a month…”
“It’s five weeks, actually.” Not that she expected him to adhere to any sort of calendar. The tide charts were probably as close as he got to a proper schedule.
“Right.” That oh-so-charming smile of his was beginning to get on her nerves. “Either way, I’ll do my best. But you might just want to learn how to relax.”
Jenna’s mouth dropped open. He did not just say that. “I’m sorry? You want me to…to relax?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged as if he hadn’t just insulted her right to her face. “I mean, it might be good for you.”
She crossed her arms and stared at him.
“Just as a suggestion,” he said. After an awkward pause, he added, “Anything else?”
So. Much. Else.
She could have waxed poetic about how obnoxious he’d been during the past five minutes alone, but she didn’t want to stand there and argue with him anymore. Because, hello, she had a book to write! “Nope. I think we’re all set.”
He nodded, and she spun on her heel to go. The last thing she heard before she shut the door behind her was Lucas showering Tank with praise for finishing his dinner.
“Good boy,” he gushed.
Her heart gave a little tug, but she refused to fall for the lovable pet-parent act. Cute could only go so far.
“Relax? You want me to relax?” she muttered to herself as she stomped back upstairs. “Please. I’m totally relaxed.”
She looked down at the charming little picnic table, now in a state of total disarray. Her coffee cup lay on its side and the damp pages of her manuscript were scattered out of order. The conch shell could barely keep the mess pinned under control.
Jenna fumed, grabbing her cell phone from atop the thesaurus. She couldn’t let Lucas get to her. He had no clue what kind of pressure she was under and trying to explain it to him was getting her nowhere. It was time to do something drastic so she didn’t end up as a literary one-hit wonder. She scrolled through the contacts on her phone, thumb moving furiously over the little screen until she landed on Maureen’s number.
Her friend answered on the first ring. “Hey!”
“Hey.” The ocean roared behind her. Even the waves seemed stirred up after her encounter with Lucas. “So forget this two-week rule. I need your help.”
Mr. Slack thought she needed to relax, did he?
Relaxing wouldn’t help matters when it came to dealing with someone like Lucas McKinnon, but Jenna knew precisely what would.
Chapter Three
Technically, Jenna needed help from Maureen’s husband rather than Maureen herself. Ian was one of Savannah’s most sought-after contractors, so handling a project like the one she had in mind would probably be a piece of cake. But convincing him to pick up a hammer on his vacation would probably be easier with Maureen on board.
Whatever Maureen said to Ian must have worked because he showed up the following afternoon with his tools and a truck full of wood from the island’s hardware store. If Jenna wasn’t mistaken, he even seemed a little excited about giving his toolbox a workout. She and Maureen tried to help, but Ian insisted on doing the bulk of the work himself.
In two short hours, he was nearly finished. He tucked a pencil behind his ear and stepped back to inspect his handiwork, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Ian had the solid build of a man who spent most of his time working with his hands. In his deck shoes and beach khakis, he looked ready to construct a boat dock or a fishing pier.
“I think this should do it.” Ian nodded toward the newly constructed fence she’d hired him to build. It was a darling white picket barrier that stretched from one end of the duplex’s deck to the other, neatly dividing the space in two. Better yet, Ian had managed to design it so that it stood completely on its own, so Jenna wouldn’t need to bother the beach house’s rental company for permission. At the end of the summer, she could just take it apart and move on.
Yes, it was a rather drastic solution to the Tank problem. But Lucas hadn’t given her a choice, had he? He’d refused to even entertain the notion of keeping Tank out of her space. He’d told her to relax, as if he knew anything about her at all.
Well, he didn’t. And he wouldn’t because now she could stay on her side of the fence, and he could keep his mess and his dog and his superior attitude on the other side.
Maureen planted her hands on her hips. “If I had my way, I’d lock you two in detention until you worked it out.”
Jenna shot her a knowing look. “But there’s nothing to work out because I called it.”
Maureen’s gaze narrowed. “So he really is Mr. Slack?”
“And completely arrogant, which is a deadly combo,” Jenna said.
Ian pointed at the fence with his hammer. “I thought you said this fence was for the dog.”
“It is.” Of course it was. The fact that the fence would keep Lucas away too was just a bonus. Plus, it was only four feet high—a perf
ectly normal, dog-sized fence. “It totally is.”
Ian stifled a laugh and Maureen just shook her head.
Whose side were they on, anyway? “Come on, don’t act like I’m the unreasonable one.”
Maureen’s gaze swiveled from Jenna to the fence and back again. “I just think it’s a little extreme.”
“Or an easy solution.” Why did Jenna sound so unsure all of a sudden? And why did a little ball of guilt seem to be curling up in the pit of her stomach? The fence had seemed like a great idea twenty-four hours ago when she’d called Maureen and Ian.
Besides, it was a little late to be having second thoughts.
“All right.” Ian nodded. “Now listen, unless you want me to start building a moat, this is as far as I can go.”
“A moat, see, that would be extreme.” Lucas would probably just surf right across it, anyway.
Speak of the devil.
The door to Lucas’s half of the house swung open and out he came, all lean muscle and easy charm. With his damp hair, flip-flops, and ocean-blue shirt, he looked as chill and perfect as a model in a J. Crew catalog. Jenna’s heart fluttered ever so slightly, which she chalked up to nerves over the fence situation.
“Oh, hey.” She swallowed.
Lucas carried a frosty glass of iced tea in his hand, which paused halfway to his mouth when he spotted the fence.
His stared hard at the crisp white wood. “Wow, that was fast.”
“So, you got my note?” Jenna gestured toward the fence, which was beginning to feel more like a line drawn in the sand. “About all this?”
“I got it. I just didn’t think anyone moved that quickly. On anything.” He rested a hand on top of one of the pointed fenceposts and peered at her from the other side. Why did it seem like every time he met her gaze her pulse kicked up a notch? “Especially a fence.”
“It helps to know a contractor.” Jenna smiled and tipped her head toward Ian.
Maureen aimed a playful grimace at her husband. “I thought it would help to marry one, but I’m still waiting on my new porch.”
“That’s because I’ve been so fixated on you,” Ian said.
