by Donna Alward
“What made you decide to take on the lighthouse, anyway?” Tori asked.
“A discovery that the platform and railing at the top aren’t safe.” He didn’t look at her this time, but his smile had vanished. “Half the boards are rotted. The lamp is fine and won’t be used again anyway, but I’ve got someone coming out to have a look at the foundation and make sure that structurally we’re sound. It’s been neglected. It’s a beautiful piece of history that’s mostly been abandoned. At least maybe I can be a better steward to it.”
She wanted to be angry or at the very least annoyed that he was going to paint over the battle scars the building had sustained over the years. There were stories there. Stories he should appreciate as a writer. But it was hard to argue with wanting to take care of something and cherish it.
“I think I got used to its weathered look,” she said quietly.
Now he looked at her, his gaze inscrutable. “I know. But it’s about safety. The last thing I want is for someone to get hurt.”
She couldn’t look away. He said it while looking directly in her eyes. And the moment on the platform spun out in her mind—the wind, the moment her foot went through the rotten board and the instant freezing fear, and the feel of his strong body against hers as he held her tight.
He might be able to walk away from their kisses that day without any problem, but she couldn’t.
She was smart enough to realize that she was falling for Branson Black, the most unavailable man she’d ever met.
Dammit.
Rose squirmed a bit in her arms, and she finally broke eye contact. “Shh...” She adjusted the weight of the baby in an effort to keep her settled, but Tori got up and came to retrieve Rose. “Her naps in the early evening are getting shorter. Which is a blessing for me. Now she’ll stay up until about eleven, and sleep through until five. It feels like absolute heaven.”
Jess’s arms felt cold and empty without the baby, a thought she didn’t want to delve too far into. Instead, she smiled and got to her feet. “I really should go anyway. I’m up early these days to work. But thank you once again for dinner. I’m going to have to have you down to the boathouse for a meal soon.”
“That would be lovely!” Tori snuggled a fussy Rose against her shoulder.
Of course Jess didn’t quite know where she was going to seat everyone, now that the main floor space was transitioned into a studio. But no matter. They’d figure it out. Maybe it would turn into a picnic on the beach.
Bran stood as well. “I’ll walk you home,” he said.
Jeremy laughed. “Sure, bro. It’s like a hundred yards to the boathouse. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Jess blushed and Bran stared at his friend. “Shut up, Jer,” he said mildly. But Jeremy merely chuckled and didn’t say anything more. Jess was cluing into the fact that Bran was a still-waters-run-deep kind of guy, and that when he spoke, people generally listened. It was a trait that could be frustrating but that she admired, too.
This time when they reached the boathouse she invited him in. “Why don’t you come in for a bit? It’s still early.”
He stepped inside and took off his shoes, leaving them on the tiny mat by the door.
“You know, I’ve never been in here,” he mused, peeking ahead. “It’s tiny but kind of cozy.”
“I think it’s somewhere between six and seven hundred square feet. Single bedroom, bathroom, living room, small kitchen. But as a getaway, it’s sweet.” She led him through to the living room and smiled as his eyes widened. Her easel was set up, and a small covered table held brushes, paint, palette knives and an apron that was smattered with a rainbow of colors. To her it was the most comforting sight in the world. To him, it must look like chaos.
“Wine? I have white and red. I might have a beer in here somewhere.”
“None for me. I’ll take water if you have it.”
She looked at him closely. Realized she’d never actually seen him have a drink other than lemonade or coffee, which he seemed to drink constantly. “I have sparkling.”
“That’d be great.”
She went to the fridge for the bottle and poured some into a glass with ice, then handed it to him. “Do you mind if I do?” she asked, motioning toward the half-empty bottle of red on the counter.
“Of course not.” He smiled at her. “So this is your studio.”
“For now. It’s a lot smaller than my place in Chicago, but it suits my needs better than I ever expected.”
She poured some wine into a glass and turned to him. “I was only going to stay a week or two, you know. Move on like I’ve been doing for months. And then Tori offered me this place...and it’s been wonderful. The peace and quiet. The cute towns and scenery. I understand why you chose it to...” She paused, feeling suddenly awkward. “Well, to regroup, I suppose. Or recharge. I know it’s working for me.”
“Yeah.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “Are you upset about me restoring the lighthouse? I know you’ve used it as inspiration.”
Jess took a sip of her wine. “I was at first. For a few reasons that were nothing but selfish. But what you said about being a steward is right. And so is safety. I’m so sorry I scared you that day.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
She gestured to the front door. “Do you want to sit outside? There’s more room.”
“Sure.”
The little porch gave a glimpse of the water, and as evening settled around them, they sat in the Adirondack chairs and let the soft sound of the waves soak in. He sipped his water; she savored the wine and let out a happy sigh. The sky turned shades of lilac, peach and pink, a natural palette that filled Jess’s soul with comfort.
“It’s beautiful tonight.”
“Yeah. There’s something about the ocean that just calms me and energizes me at the same time.”
He let out a long sigh. “It soothes. The sea just is. It crashes and rolls, it waves and breaks and chases the sand. Twice a day it moves in, then retreats, leaving treasures behind. When our world is small and filled with worries, the ocean is endless and constant.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised at his being poetic; he was a writer after all. But the description touched her just the same. “Is your world small and filled with worries, Bran?” She’d held her breath as he spoke, but now let it out slowly.
“Not as much as it used to be. The sea has worked its magic on me, too.”
“I’m glad.”
“And so have you.”
Her breath stopped. “Me?”
He looked over at her, his eyes black in the growing twilight. “Yes, you. I’m sorry for the way I acted that day.” She didn’t need to ask which day he meant. “I was feeling guilty, and mad at myself, and I took it out on you. You did nothing wrong, Jess.”
She held his gaze. “Neither did you, Bran. You just weren’t ready for it. But it wasn’t wrong.” She reached for his hand. “I might be overstepping here, so please don’t be angry when I say very bluntly that you are not married to her anymore.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then he squeezed her fingers. “I know. But I’m in that spot where I feel as if moving on means I’m forgetting her.”
“You’ll never forget her. Allowing yourself to have a life and move on doesn’t mean forgetting.”
“In my head I know that. But that day, I reacted. I reacted when I kissed you and I reacted when I put you in your car to leave. It was wrong and I owe you an apology.”
“Accepted. And I’m thrilled you’re writing again.”
She thought he would pull his hand away, but he kept his fingers twined with hers and she tried not to think too much about it.
“Me, too. It’s slow going, but it’s a start. I haven’t said anything to anyone else, though. I don’t want to set up expectations.”
“Not even your agent
?”
“Not yet. I want to have a solid start before I talk to him about it. It’s early days. But one of the reasons I went to Halifax was to visit the archives and do a little digging.”
“And did you find out anything interesting?”
“Lots. Like rumors of U-boats off the coast in the forties. The presence of spies during the war. It’s feeding my muse, and she’s been hungry a long time.”
“Looks like this place is kind of key for both of us. Two lost souls, huh?”
“I’m not feeling so lost right now.”
His dark gaze had her insides fluttering again, so she got up and held out her hand. “Can I get you a refill?”
Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed himself up from the chair. He was so tall, and in the dark, with his beard and hair, he looked intimidating and dangerous. But not truly dangerous...more enigmatic and sexy.
“I can get it.”
He took the glass and went inside while Jessica let out a long, slow breath. She was not immune to him in any way. She’d been prepared to be angry with him about the restoration. To let it be the thing that kept him at arm’s length. Instead, he’d stated his reasons and the distance evaporated. Every time she set up some sort of block, he knocked it down with ease.
She was here only for the summer. He was not for her. And she seemed to lack the willpower to push him away.
He returned with a full glass and instead of sitting, went to the railing and looked out over the sloping lawn and shrubs to the beach below. “You wanna walk?” he asked.
A moonlight walk on the beach? Could she possibly say no?
“That would be lovely,” she whispered.
He drank his water and put the glass down on the arm of the wooden chair, and then held out his hand. She took it, hoping he couldn’t tell that hers was shaking. What a ninny she was, trembling over holding hands at her age. It wasn’t like she hadn’t ever been in love and he was some sort of first. He was just...different.
Like now, with his hair blowing back from his face in the ocean breeze. He’d left his sandals inside her door and his feet were bare as they approached the silky white sand. She tugged on his hand to stop him for a moment while she slipped off her Vans and let her toes sink in, the sand still warm from the day’s sun.
He still had her hand. She swallowed tightly and kept her fingers tangled with his. Admitting that she’d been lonely was hard. She considered herself strong and self-reliant. She always had been, with a good dose of obstinacy thrown in for good measure. But she’d needed this, she realized. Even more so since she lost her best friend. She needed contact and intimacy. Clearly Branson Black was not Mr. Right. But he was doing a pretty good job being Mr. Right Now.
“I never imagined soft white sand like this up here,” she said, her steps lazy and squishy in the thick sand. “I always imagined it farther south. In the clear waters of the Caribbean. But this is amazing.”
He was quiet for a few moments, then lifted his chin and drew in a deep breath of sea air. “I met Jennie in Nova Scotia. Not here. On the other side of the province. I decided to take a road trip and drove north through Maine, took the ferry from New Brunswick to Digby, and ended up on the Fundy coast. She was working the summer doing marine research. My plans to travel to Prince Edward Island and Cape Breton just disappeared. Once I met her, that was it.”
“She was from here?”
“No, she was on some university grant summer research program with Boston University. I was still living in Connecticut. For nine months we drove back and forth and saw each other on weekends. And once she graduated I asked her to marry me.”
“You were young.”
He nodded. Breakers swept over the sand, brushing their feet, and Jess mulled over the fact that he was telling her about his wife while they were holding hands. Still, she wasn’t going to interrupt. She was curious, and she got the feeling this was not something he talked about often.
“We were, though she was younger than me. We ended up with a two-year engagement and pulled out all the stops for the wedding.” He looked over at her. “I would have been happy with the courthouse, but if you knew Jennie...” His smile was sad. “I wanted to give her everything she desired. And I could, so I did.”
“She was lucky to have you, Bran.” Jess squeezed his hand as they kept taking lazy steps up the beach.
“Was she? Because I got caught up in myself and didn’t cherish her enough. I have regrets, Jessica. More than you know.”
She stopped and pulled on his hand, making him stop too as she looked up into his face. “I think whenever someone dies, we all have regrets of some sort. You loved her. Maybe you weren’t perfect, but you loved her. That’s so clear to see in the way you talk about her.”
“I did.” He sighed. “Jennie was my home. The warm, loving space I didn’t have as a child. And I blew it. I was angry about the accident for a long time, and then the sadness threatened to pull me under. Now I’m wanting to start living again, and it feels so strange to be doing it without her. Without our baby, too. God, he was the sweetest thing.” His voice thickened and he cleared his throat. “I hope you never have to go through anything like that in your life. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
He turned and they started walking again, while Jess’s thoughts were in turmoil. She’d had her share of loss; not just Ana but of her adopted mother, too. Her dad was still around but had remarried, and they weren’t that close. And while her life growing up had been okay, she’d always wondered about her birth parents. She knew nothing about them.
“I was adopted when I was two. I don’t have memories of before, but I know that CPS stepped in and removed me from my home when I was a year old. After my parents divorced I stayed with my mom. And then she died several years ago. I was nearly engaged once, but he didn’t want to wait for me. So I guess we all have something. You’re holding on to regrets. I think I’m just used to the people I love not sticking around.”
“Damn. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not particularly close with my family. My dad is a workaholic and a bit... I don’t know, cold. And my mom is okay, but we’ve never been a tight family. Still, I know they’re there.”
“And they sent you off to boarding school.”
“Yeah, but you know what? I met my best friends in the world. It ended up being the best thing that could have happened. Cole and Jeremy became my family.”
She smiled a little. “You certainly seem to have good memories.”
“The best.” He sighed. “You know, my life’s been a bit charmed. Yeah, I lost Jennie and Owen, but we loved each other. I’m blessed to have had that, I guess.”
They’d stopped again, and she turned to face him and put her arms around his middle, wrapping him in a hug. What a bittersweet blessing, to have found perfection and to lose it so young.
“Hey,” he said softly, and his wide, warm hand came to rest on the middle of her back.
She sniffled. “Sorry. I just thought you needed a hug. Or that I needed to give you one.”
“It’s okay. You can hug me.”
And his other arm came around her and hugged her back.
* * *
Bran drank in the scent of her hair, something soft and floral that mixed with the salty tang of the sea. She was so warm, and so very, very generous. What she’d said about her childhood was surprising. He’d imagined her having this warm and picture-perfect family, completely well-adjusted and loving. But she’d had her share of heartbreak, too, and yet she still found a way to be...open.
It took a certain strength to be able to do that. And something special to make him respond to it, after months of numbness.
Jennie would have liked her. It should feel odd to have such a thought, but somehow it wasn’t. Jennie had had that sweetness wrapped in strength, too.
It felt so good to be held.
H
e pulled her closer against him, let his hand glide over her back, touching warm skin. God, so good, the touch of another human being. She responded, slipping her hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, and he could feel the gentle marking of her fingernails on his back. He groaned with pleasure, moving his hand down her ribs, his thumb grazing the tender skin between breast and waist through the soft material.
“Bran,” she whispered, and his body came alive.
He lowered his head and nuzzled at her ear, pleased when goose bumps erupted on her skin. She tilted her head, and he touched his lips to the soft skin of her neck, up to her jawline, over to her lips, which were slack and waiting for him. The kiss was a wild and wonderful thing, full of passion and acknowledgment of their attraction. She stood up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck; he lifted her up off her toes and held her flush against his body as he plundered her mouth. Her hands sank into his hair and his pulse leaped. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to lay her down on the sand right here and now. At Jeremy’s house. He understood now why his lighthouse was the perfect spot for a tryst. A little ocean, some moonlight, add a lot of desire and things had a way of happening.
Her chest heaved with her breathing, and he placed his hand over her heart. He was shocked to discover she wasn’t wearing a bra as her small, firm breast pressed against his hand.
His control was on shaky ground.
So he lifted her up in his arms, cradling her close, and started walking toward the water.
He was nearly to his knees when Jessica figured out what he was doing. She pushed against him and started to laugh and protest at the same time. “Bran! No! You are not going to throw me in the water!”
He grinned. “Throw? No. But we need to cool off, and there’s only one way I can think of to do that.”
She struggling against him some more, but suddenly she was laughing too, and the sound filled his heart with something that felt...joyful. Water splashed up over his knees as the waves rolled in. It was cold; there was definitely going to be some temperature shock. But nature’s equivalent of a cold shower was in both their best interests right now.
