“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.”