by Jill Sanders
“No, please, act like I’m not here, I can—”
He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “You asked for a few days away from things. Besides, I would have cooked dinner with or without you here.” He walked towards the front door and picked up her bags. “Right after I take your stuff up to the guest room.” She followed him back down the hallway. “If you want to freshen up… dinner will be ready in about an hour.”
She followed him up the stairs, and he had to kick aside a nail gun at the top of the stairs. “Sorry, I did warn you.” He shuffled past his sawhorses and kicked open the guest room door. He winced when he saw the state of the room. The bed was shoved into a corner with plastic covering most of the furniture in the room. The walls were bare, and the carpet was half torn up, exposing solid wood planks underneath. There was probably a good half-inch of dust on everything. “Okay, I didn’t give you enough warning,” he said in the doorway. “You’ll take my room, I’ll stay in here.” He turned back down the hallway.
“I can’t—” His look over his shoulder stopped her from finishing the sentence.
His door was wide open, and Bo was laying in the middle of the bed, despite the fact that there was a two-hundred-dollar dog bed in the corner of the room. When they walked in, the massive dog glanced up, then quickly fell back to sleep.
“Bo.” He shook his head. “He knows better.” He set Emma’s bags down. “The bathroom is in there, help yourself to whatever.”
He snapped his fingers, but the dog didn’t move.
“He’s okay, I could use the company.” She smiled.
“You sure?”
She nodded in reply.
“Okay, if you need anything…”
“Thank you.” She walked over to him as he stood in the doorway and leaned up on her toes. The kiss was what a friend would have given him, but the slight touch rocked him to the core.
For the first time in almost a week, Emma felt like she could breathe. JT had shut the door to his room, leaving her alone with Bo, who was currently snoring in the middle of the large bed.
She stepped into the bathroom and smiled. JT had obviously finished his rooms first before starting on the rest of the upstairs. His bathroom and bedroom were beautiful.
The entire house, except for the three other bedrooms on the second floor they had passed, was freshly remodeled and gorgeous.
There was a gas fireplace in the bathroom in front of a large porcelain tub that sat underneath a large window. There weren’t any blinds blocking the view, which was so beautiful she could stare at it all day long. There was open water for as far as the eye could see. She could see a storm brewing in the distance. Walking over to the glass, she took a deep breath and felt her shoulders relax. She wrapped her arms around herself and allowed herself to cry for the first time in months.
After a full minute of tears, she wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders. Fifteen minutes later, she walked downstairs totally fresh without a sign of the tears.
“Feel better?” JT asked as he stood at the stove, a dark brown apron wrapped around his front and a knife in his hand. Freshly cut carrots were on a large wooden chop block. Something smelled wonderful as she stepped into the large kitchen near the back of the house.
“Yes, thank you. I can’t thank you enough…”
He turned and looked at her. “Emma, if you’re going to stay here, let’s get one thing out of the way.” He set the knife down and moved closer to her. She held her breath as his hands moved to her shoulders. The memory of his lips on hers almost a year ago surfaced and her heart skipped. “There isn’t any need to thank me. If I hadn’t wanted you here, I wouldn’t have invited you last year.” His hands tightened slightly on her shoulders. “Please, make yourself at home and no more thank-yous.” He smiled.
She nodded quickly and smiled up at him. “Fair enough.” He dropped his hands and took a step back. She glanced over his shoulder. “Can I help?”
It was nice standing next to a man in a kitchen, working side by side. She could still remember having moments like this with her father before cancer caused the strongest man she’d ever known to shrivel and fade away.
“You’re deep in thought,” JT said, setting the empty pan into the sink.
“I was just thinking of my father.” She sighed and set the plate of chicken on the table.
“Good thoughts?” he asked.
“Yes.” She smiled. “We used to cook like this together.”
“You must miss him,” he said, pulling out a chair for her to take. The first time he’d done that, she’d tried to remember the last time a man had done anything chivalrous for her. It had been too long to remember. She waited until he sat across from her to answer.
“Everyday. I thought it would get easier, but...”
“I’m sorry.” He reached over and placed a hand over hers. “You said your mother wasn’t in the picture?”
“She left a long time ago. I haven’t heard from her since.” She shook her head and changed the subject. “Losing Dad was the reason I decided to give it a shot in Hollywood.” She shrugged. “What else did I have to lose?” He dished up a plate for her, and she smiled when he piled a ton of food on it for her, then did the same with his own plate. “You?” she asked when he was finished.
“My mother lives on the mainland.” He waited for her to take a bite of her food before he picked up his own fork. “My father…” He shrugged. “He took off almost ten years ago after my sister Lori died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My other sister, Kayla, just moved back home.” He smiled. “She just got engaged to the town doctor.” He chuckled. “Rowan is one of my best friends. The funny thing is, they’re good together. I had lunch with them today, and my nephew CJ.”
His smile was contagious. “How old is he?”
“Three. He looks like me,” he said between bites. “You’ll get a chance to meet them if you stick around long.”
“I’d like that.” Her eyes moved to her plate, and she realized she’d eaten almost all of the food he’d piled on the plate. For the past few days, since the night of the fight, she’d barely eaten a thing.
Deciding she could finish the entire plate, she continued eating and JT poured her more wine.
“So, what else do you do on your island?” she asked when her plate was cleared and her second glass of wine was half-empty.
He stood up, dumped their dishes in the sink, and held out a hand for her to take. “My office is behind the house. Why don’t we take a walk and I’ll show you?”
She hadn’t realized it, but Bo had been under the table the entire time and whined when he said the word walk.
She smiled. “Something tells me it’s a nightly ritual for you two.”
She placed her hand in his and let him pull her out of the chair.
“I usually write at night.” He held open the back door, and Bo raced through the door and disappeared. “Like I said, no manners.” He shook his head and held the door open wider. “Watch the boards. I’m in the process of replacing the deck.” He helped her cross a massive covered deck.
“You work outside?” she asked as they started to take a pathway away from the house.
“Sometimes, if the weather holds, but I have a small building I converted when I bought the place.” The path narrowed slightly so she followed him.
The sky was just turning dark, and a row of bright lights flickered on, lighting up the pathway.
“I installed those after I tripped making my way back to the main house.” He glanced over his shoulder. “The stone pathway was next.”
She glanced down and noticed that the cement gave way to large flat stones. She enjoyed the view as they walked up the pathway. The trees and bushes were cleared and maintained. When the stones turned to wide stairs, JT glanced back at her. “Almost there.” He smiled.
“Why work away from the house?” she asked as she followed him.
“I suppose it’s my way of separating life from
work.” He shrugged and she watched his backside, which looked great in the snug worn jeans he wore. He hadn’t changed much from a year ago. If anything, he’d just grown sexier. His hair had been cut since the last time she’d seen him, but it was still long, almost to his shoulders. His shoulders were wide and the black T-shirt he was wearing was tight over his chest and arms. She wondered if he also hid away his weights, since he had to spend a great deal of time lifting.
When JT stopped, she almost bumped into him, since she was so busy admiring his body. Catching herself, she blinked as he stepped aside.
“Welcome to Whistler Manor.” He chuckled.
There, perched on the very edge of a massive group of boulders, sat a two-story building about one-fourth the size of his house. Large trees sat on either side of the structure, but behind was open water. The bright colors of the sunset bounced off the stillness.
“It’s beautiful.”
“You should see the view from the deck.” He moved towards the doorway that held a wood carving with the words Whistler Manor carved in gold, above it.
“Why Whistler?” she asked before he opened the door.
He glanced back, a slight smile on his lips. “No one has ever asked me that before.” His hand dropped away from the door handle. “When I was five, I learned how to whistle. For the next year, I didn’t stop. Or so my mother has told me. She used to call me JT Whistler.” He chuckled. “So, when I picked a pen name…” He shrugged. “It just fit.”
“Why not use your real name?” she asked as he opened the door and motioned for her to step in.
“I like my privacy.”
She stepped into a room made of glass. From the front of the building, she would have guessed that the interior would look much like his house had. Rustic, homey, warm. But here, the entire back wall opened up to the view of wide-open waters. The simple desk, which held three large computer monitors, faced the view with an office chair that looked right out of the latest sci-fi movie. The table was simple enough that no part of it blocked the view of the water.
“Wow.” She moved further into the room. Turning around, she realized that the entire back wall of the building was covered in bookcases full of books. Even the staircase leading upstairs had shelves covered with books on them. A door sat open under the stairs and she could make out a small bathroom with a glass shower tucked into the corner. “You did all this?” she asked when she turned back to him.
“I had a little help,” he joked.
“This is where you write?” She moved over to the desk.
“Yup.” He shoved his hands in his jeans.
“What’s upstairs?” She glanced up the stairs.
“Go on.” He nodded. “Take a look.”
She ran her fingers over the books as she took each step. “I like this.” She glanced back at him.
“Rowan’s idea.”
“Your soon-to-be brother-in-law?” she asked.
“Yup, he helped out.”
“Good idea,” she said as she reached the top of the stairs. She thought she’d been impressed with downstairs, but upstairs was just plain amazing. To the left was a queen-sized bed and to the right was a wall full of weights with a workbench in the corner. Once again, the entire back wall was all windows. The view was breathtaking.
Chapter 5
JT didn’t know why he was nervous about what she thought of this space when he’d already shown her the house. Maybe because he spent more time here than in the house.
“Doesn’t it get cold out here during the winter?” she asked after moving to the wall of glass.
“No, I had them install the best HVAC system and the glass is double paned.” He slid the glass door open and stepped out on the back deck. He’d installed a deck on each level of the small building, but the upper deck was his favorite.
She stepped past him and walked outside. When the wind off the water hit her, she wrapped her arms around herself. He grabbed the throw blanket from the edge of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “It really is beautiful here.” She sighed.
He leaned against the porch railing and glanced out at the water. “Sunrises are my favorite.” He looked around, then his eyes rested on her face again.
“I’m sorry for whatever has caused you enough pain that you feel like you have to escape, but I’m not sorry you chose here to escape to,” he said after the sun had slipped behind the land and all the light was gone.
She turned towards him, her eyes scanning his in the darkness. He could tell she was withholding something from him, but once again, he didn’t want to probe.
“Come on, I’m sure you’re tired after a long day of travel.” He moved back to the glass.
They walked back towards the house in silence. When they reached the main yard, Bo joined them.
He noticed that his loyal dog ran up to Emma and demanded attention, which she gave to him freely.
Hearing her laughter as she pet Bo made JT smile.
“You’re going to spoil him.” He snapped his fingers before Bo could knock her over. When Emma stood up again, he noticed that the sad look that had haunted her eyes since he’d first seen her on the dock was all but gone. Silently, he praised his decision months ago to get the dog.
“You normally work at night?” she asked after stepping into the house.
“Yes.” He walked over and started washing the dishes by hand, and she came over to dry them.
“Do you write every night?” she asked, setting the dry dishes on the counter next to the sink. He motioned towards a cabinet and she slid them into place.
“No, not every night. Why?”
She shrugged. “What are you writing now?”
He smiled over at her. “I haven’t talked to anyone about plotting books before.”
“Why not?” She leaned against the countertop and noticed that he looked slightly embarrassed.
He shrugged as he shut off the water and dried his hands. “I guess it’s never come up before.”
She shook her head. “Really? I would think that you get asked all sorts of advice from other authors.”
“I steer clear of most people,” he answered honestly.
“Why? Why do you live on an island? Out here, by yourself?” She leaned a little closer. “Trying to hide something?”
He knew she was teasing him, but something stirred down in his gut. “The same reason you’re here, I suppose. Things can get a little too…”
“Crazy,” she finished for him.
He nodded once as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Overwhelming,” he added. “If I want to deal with the real world, it’s just a short boat trip across the water. I’ve kept an apartment there for the past few months since I’ve been helping… my mother out.”
“Is she okay?” Emma asked.
He turned to his coffee maker. Since it seemed they wouldn’t be going to bed anytime soon, he offered her a cup. “Do you have tea?”
He nodded. “Pick your poison.” He opened a drawer and showed her the display of single serve packs. She pulled one out and handed it to him. “Why don’t you go on in and sit. I’ll bring it into you.”
She walked through the kitchen towards the living room area, Bo at her heels. When he brought her tea, she had snuggled with the dog on the sofa and was reading one of his books.
She glanced up when he walked in. “Other than Crescent Creek, I haven’t read any of your books.”
He chuckled. “Mystery, sci-fi, and horror aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.” He handed her the mug of tea and smiled down at her.
Her eyes met his and, once more, he saw humor replace the sorrow and fear.
“That one”—he nodded to the book in her hand—“you might want to read during the day.” He sat next to her, on the other side of Bo.
“Yes, the opening scene is why Bo is up on the sofa with me.” She set the book down and ran her hands over Bo’s fur.
“He’
s a ham. I doubt he’d protect you against alien creatures.”
“Is that what’s in this one?” She glanced back at the book in fear.
He chuckled. “It’s kind of nice, knowing someone out there hasn’t read everything I have written.”
She shrugged and sipped her tea. “I’m into romance.”
“Classic?” he asked, “or modern?”
“Both. Anything with romance in it. I suppose I’m what you call a typical romantic.”
“I have some up there.” He nodded to the shelves across the way.
“You read romance?” she asked, setting her mug down and walking across the room.
“I read anything,” he answered.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Even this one?” She showed him a copy of the latest erotic novel.
He smiled. “That was one of my favorites.”
He watched her face to see if she blushed, but instead, she studied the cover. “How is that even possible?” She tilted her head slightly.
He felt a sudden urge to readjust his sitting position. “Not sure, haven’t tried it myself yet.” He swallowed a drink of coffee and wished suddenly he’d put a shot of whiskey in it.
Emma kept her back to JT and hid her flushed cheeks as she tried not to imagine him doing to her what the male model was doing to the woman on the cover of the book she held. Setting it down, she took a few deep breaths as she glanced over his book collection.
“This is one of my favorites.” She took down a copy of Little Women. “My father read it to me when I was eight.”
He nodded. “Who were you? Meg, Jo, Beth, or Amy?”
She thought about it. “I suppose I was more like Jo than the others.”
“Tomboy?” he asked, his eyes running over her.
She nodded. “I can play princess, but I’m more comfortable in jeans and sweatshirts.” She walked over and sat down, holding the book in her lap. “My father owned a farm outside of Savannah.” She tucked her legs under her and smiled when Bo laid his head on her lap.
“Why didn’t you keep your southern drawl?”
“My first year in California, I kept it. After I was told I was no Reece Witherspoon, I dropped it.” She shrugged.
