Hideaway Cove (A Windfall Island Novel) (17 page)

George stopped in front of the door and turned to look back at them. “I’ll be talking to Lance first. The good news is, if it was Lance, I don’t believe he intended anyone harm.”

“I’m not sure I agree,” Hold said. The lazy drawl of his words couldn’t quite detract from the heat in his eyes.

“As long as you don’t do anything to make me arrest you,” George said. He didn’t wait for an answer, disappearing through the front door.

“See? George isn’t worried,” Jessi said. “Neither am I.”

“You both should be taking this more seriously,” Maggie said.

“Maybe George knows I can protect myself.”

“And Benji,” Hold said.

Jessi went ice cold, then white hot, all in the space of one heartbeat.

“Hold,” Maggie began.

Jessi held up her hand. Her gaze never wavered from Hold’s.

“I think I’ll go get a pizza.” Maggie stopped, turned back. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Jessi bit off.

“Your hands are shaking.”

Not just her hands, Jessi realized. She was shaking inside, too—hurt and angry, so angry it was all she could do to keep it from spewing out of her. “I can take care of my son.”

“We both know that,” Maggie said. “Don’t we, Hold?”

He shoved his hands back through his hair, said “Yeah” on an explosion of breath.

“Good. Hey, Benj, how about you and I go to Carelli’s?”

Letting out a whoop, Benji raced from the kitchen to join Maggie. “Can I play Space Invaders while we’re waiting?”

“I’m a Pac-Man girl, myself,” Maggie said, referring to the vintage video games crowding one end of the pizza parlor. She draped an arm around Benji’s shoulders, gave Jessi’s arm a quick rub on the way by. “It’s not the worst thing in the world, having people care about you.”

“I don’t like being maneuvered.”

“Part of the package,” Maggie said brusquely, shooing Benji out in front of her.

Jessi pointed, stiff-armed, to the door. “You can go, too.”

“So you can ignore me again?” Hold accused.

“How did I ignore you?”

“You called George.”

“Do I have to state the obvious?”

“Do I?”

Jessi shoved both hands through her hair, fisted them in hopes the pain would help her control the welter of emotions crashing through her. It didn’t help much. Even knowing she’d backed herself into this corner by keeping secrets, that she was only lashing out, didn’t stop her from doing it. “Someone broke in. I called the sheriff. I’m sorry I didn’t stop and say, gosh, what would Hold expect me to do? There may be an intruder lurking in my house, I guess I should call all my friends and acquaintances so they don’t get their feelings hurt.”

“You think this is about my feelings?”

“You’re not going to stand there and tell me it’s not.”

“Fine. I’m pissed.”

“Well, I won’t apologize.”

“You won’t trust, you mean.”

She made a sound of pure frustration. “What is it going to take to convince you I can take care of myself, and my son? I’ve been doing it for a long time now.”

“This isn’t about you being strong and capable, Jessi, it’s about you being too strong. Your mother chose not to get involved with another man after your father died, and that told you something about men. Then Lance came along and taught you something else. Even your father—”

“It’s not like he left me on purpose.”

“No, but he left all the same, just another example of how you can’t trust men to be there when you need them.”

“You’re right, Hold.” And in that moment she hated him for it, for making her realize she resented even the father she’d loved in a shadowy male figurehead sort of way. “I’ve never been able to count on any man,” she continued. “I’m afraid to trust. What makes you different? You’re here now, but will you be here in a month? A year? Will you be here when someone has to talk to Benji about sex, or hold his head when he has his first hangover, or his hand when his heart is broken for the first time?”

Silence from Hold.

“And where does it leave me when I get used to counting on you and then you leave? I do trust you, Hold, but trusting doesn’t mean abdicating my responsibilities just because there’s a big, strong man in the picture.”

“I’m not expecting you to let me run your life, Jessi, but you could stop worrying about where I’ll be tomorrow and just enjoy what we have today.”

She met his gaze, knew her guard was down and didn’t care. “I’m not the one asking for more.”

Y
ou’re right.” Hold ran a hand back through his hair. They’d spent less than a weekend together and there he stood, angrier than he could ever remember because she’d had a crisis and hadn’t called him first.

Wasn’t he the one holding back? he asked himself. The one preaching to her about trust while he let the past build a wall between them? He’d been burned, and burned badly. He hadn’t just let Miriam into his life, he’d been building a life
around
her, and when he’d discovered just how little he really meant to her, when he’d walked away…

It had taken him a long time to find his center again. And look how carefully he guarded it, he thought. He accused Jessi of being closed off, but wasn’t he the one afraid she’d change if she knew he came from wealth? And wasn’t he the one cautioning her to take their relationship one day at a time, to not make plans for the future?

Yet he’d come down on her like a swamp-rotted tree for not treating him like the solution to all her troubles.

He wouldn’t risk his heart because it had been broken before, crushed by a woman who’d only wanted status and wealth. It followed that any number of women would fit into that same category.

But not Jessi.

Still, it wasn’t wrong, he reminded himself, to take it slow with her. He just had to remember it worked both ways.

“Jessi—”

“Don’t. Please don’t say anything.”

And now, where he’d seen vulnerability in her eyes, he saw fear. For Benji, he guessed. And a little, he hoped, for herself. It might be a selfish wish on his part, wanting to think she dreaded the day he might leave, selfish and more than a little telling. But there it was.

“You’re right, too,” she said. “I keep thinking about the future, where this is going. I can’t seem to help myself.”

“You have a son to worry about. It’s not wrong for you to want to protect him.”

“No, it’s not wrong.”

“Look, I don’t know where this is going, either.” Hold blew out a breath. “But you’re right. I want more.”

She sighed. “So do I.”

He crossed to her and gathered her into his arms, resting his cheek on top of her head. And felt his world fall back into place. He should be worried about that, but he let it go, buried it under a kiss that was soft, gentle, and heart-wrenching in the way Jessi gave back so generously when she had every reason to put up walls.

As the kiss rolled from sweet to hot, she did put on the brakes. And he let her. To a point.

“I’m staying the night.”

She rested her forehead on his chest, and as her hands clutched in his shirt, as he understood that she was afraid and she was turning to him, something rose inside him and filled places that had ached with emptiness. And when she looked up at him, when he saw the longing in her eyes, the band around his heart—a band he hadn’t even noticed before—loosened.

“I want to say yes, Hold.”

“That’s fine, because I’m not letting you say no.”

“I guess you really don’t believe I can take care of myself,” she said, but he could tell she was holding back a smile.

“Let’s just say I want to be here in case that son of a—”

“Mom!” Benji said as he burst through the front door, pizza box in hand.

Maggie appeared behind him, one eyebrow raised. “Did we interrupt anything?”

Chewie spared them from having to answer by gamboling out of the kitchen, so happy to see his boy that his whole body wagged.

“He piddled,” Benji crowed, laughing.

Jessi took the pizza, gave him a look.

“I’m going,” he said, but Hold could tell he only dragged his feet for show. Cleaning up a little dog pee was nothing compared to the joy of having the dog in the first place; Hold knew that from personal experience.

“We got a large with everything except anchovies and green pepper because Maggie doesn’t like green pepper,” he said as he came back with pet cleaner and an old threadbare towel Jessi had earmarked for Chewie accidents. “And we got extra bread, ’cause she said I eat like a horse, and there’s a note on the box.”

Jessi glanced down at the box in her hands, then tipped it in Hold’s direction so he could see, “Enjoy!” written on it in Maggie’s bold scrawl.

He cut his eyes to the door, found it closed, with Maggie on the other side. And just in case his eyes were playing tricks on him out of hope, he heard the growl of Maggie’s Mustang as it pulled away from the house. “She’s sneaky.”

When Jessi met his eyes, Hold shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. And kept his expression and voice carefully bland. “I guess she thinks I should spend the night, too.”

“You’re staying over?” More whooping from Benji, which set off more barking from Chewie. And more piddling.

Hold couldn’t fight off the grin any longer. Nothing in the world like a happy kid, he thought, and Benji—well, there was something about him. He could say, with absolute freedom, that he was already in love with the boy.

Benji stopped in front of Hold and grinned up at him. “You can sleep in my room.”

Yeah, something about the kid. “Thanks, Ben, but I’ll sleep on the Davenport.”

“What’s a Davenport?”

“It’s a kind of sofa.”

Jessi handed Benji the pizza and turned him toward the little dining area. “Put this on the table and go wash your hands,” she said, nudging him on his way before she turned back.

Her eyes landed on the sofa, then lifted. “No matter what you call it, it’s about a foot shorter than you are. You take my bed—”

“The Davenport,” Hold repeated in a tone that brooked no argument. Much as he wanted to take the opportunity to move their relationship to a place where Benji was all right with them being together, night and day, their safety was more important to him. “It puts me down here, close to the doors.”

“Really, Hold, I think George is right. There’s not going to be any more trouble. Then again,” she added with a slight, teasing smile, “You’re in the house.”

“One day at a time, remember?”

One day at a time
. Yeah, she remembered.

Jessi breathed out, then in, slow, deliberate breaths. Hold’s argument sounded so logical, so simple and effortless. Just take it a day at a time, enjoy what they had for the time they had it. What could be easier?

But how did she shut off her own doubts and fears? After nearly a decade of putting Benji first, how did she ignore his feelings?

She trusted Hold, but— No, no more buts, no more what ifs or tomorrows. She trusted Hold. Period. He’d never do anything to hurt either her or Benji on purpose.

“You’re right, Hold. Let’s just enjoy today and let tomorrow take care of itself.

He studied her for a minute. She kept her eyes on his, let him make what he would of her acceptance. He put his arms around her, pulled her in for a hug. “We’ll take our time Jessica, get to know one another, and see where it takes us.”

She leaned back, looked into his face. “Hold…”

He put a finger over her lips, then his mouth, one of his sweet, simple kisses. He couldn’t know how that kiss, the kind one lover gave another where there was more than sex between them, got to her.

“You think you know me—”

She put her fingers over his mouth. “I do know you.”

“You can never really know another person, Jessica. Not everyone is as honest—” He broke off, dropped another light kiss on her lips. “It’s not important. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

He stepped away, flashing her a grin before he went into the kitchen, a grin that didn’t hide the shadows in his eyes.

So, he’d been hurt before, Jessi realized, and by a woman if she didn’t miss her guess. It was so clear in that moment. A man as irresistible as Hold Abbot would have been involved before, and deeply, she thought. He might be naturally flirtatious, but she’d discovered that he wasn’t casual about acting on those flirtations.

No, someone, some woman, had broken his heart. And his trust.

He held back, Jessi understood now, because he was waiting for her to hurt him, and in holding back, he guaranteed they’d hurt one another.

But she was already too far gone to be careful now.

With Hold bedded down on the sofa—make that “Davenport”—and Benji tucked into his own room, Jessi felt safe and secure again. Still, she couldn’t sleep. Not just because of her conversation with Hold, and not because the break-in still troubled her. It was that damn pink blanket.

She flipped the covers back, hissing when her bare feet hit the cold floor as she crossed to the dresser that had once been her mother’s. There, in the top drawer, lay one of the few treasures she’d made sure the intruder hadn’t taken: the Duncan family Bible.

Nearly every family on Windfall had one of their own. It might seem hypocritical, the founders of Windfall being who they were and living the way they’d lived. It didn’t mean they didn’t value family. It didn’t mean they didn’t have faith. Whatever they’d done, at the foundation of it, they’d done to see to the needs of their own.

And what she did, Jessi reminded herself, she did for the safety of her son.

She propped herself up in bed, and before she could talk herself out of it, paged carefully to the birth and death records. She ran a finger over the spidery scrawls, the bold strokes of her ancestors, and her mother’s careful lettering.

And jumped, her heart shooting into her throat, when Hold’s voice whispered, “Jessi?” through the closed door.

She hastily placed the Bible on the nightstand and grabbed the paperback she always kept in the top drawer, but rarely had the time or energy to read.

The door eased open and there stood Hold, shirtless. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

She shook her head. “Too wound up, I guess. I thought I’d do a little reading.”

He came over and sat on the side of the bed, feathering his fingertips over her cheek. “You look tired.”

“The words every girl longs to hear from the man she’s trying to impress,” she said lightly.

“Okay, you look beautiful.”

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

“Trust me, sugar, if it weren’t for Benji sleeping across the hall, you wouldn’t have to do any fishing. And I wouldn’t be stopping at compliments.”

He smiled, leaned in to give her a kiss that stayed on the warm side of sexy.

Jessi covered the hand he’d cupped over her cheek, kept her eyes on his when he leaned back. And when he smiled, slow and easy, she let a smile of her own curve her lips and warm her heart.

“So what are we reading?” He took the book she’d forgotten she held, looked at the cover, and smiled again, this one arch enough to put her back up a little. “Romance?”

She plucked the paperback out of his hands, set it on the nightstand. “And?”

“I haven’t given you any romance, Jessica,” he said quietly, and disarmed her.

“I haven’t asked for any.”

“But you deserve it.” He stood, held out a hand.

She got out of bed, uncertain, and a little more than embarrassed by her flannel pants, so ancient they were all but worn through in places. Her top wasn’t much better, an old t-shirt, ratty at the cuffs and hem. “I’m not exactly dressed for romance.”

“Maybe not, sugar, but I can’t take my eyes off you.” He looked at her like she was naked and set her pulse to racing.

Instead of putting more than his eyes on her, Hold sidestepped to the nightstand, but when he reached for the clock-radio he spied the Bible, the pen she’d been writing with sitting on top. He turned to her, a question in his eyes.

While she felt compelled to fill the silence, no plausible excuse occurred to her. Since she wouldn’t lie to him, she just shrugged.

Hold turned on her little clock radio and found a station playing slow, dreamy jazz. He took her hand, twirled her into his arms, and started to sway with her.

Jessi closed her eyes and let the music swirl in her head, let Hold spin through her blood—his scent, his strength, the feel of his arms around her. If this was romance, she wanted to stay here forever. Hold tucked her even closer, toying with the curls cascading over her shoulders. She sighed, rested her cheek on his chest. Right over his heart.

It felt good, swaying with Jessi while Sarah Vaughan crooned low on the radio. More, it felt right. That should have worried Hold, but he’d already made his mind up to take his own advice: enjoy each day they had together. Before one of them disappointed the other.

She sighed lightly, and the arms she’d locked around his waist loosened. Her eyes were closed, he saw when he looked down at her, and her breathing was slow and even. Asleep on her feet, he thought as he bent and lifted her. She nuzzled her face into his throat, and sent enough heat shooting through him to cause spontaneous combustion. And when he lay her on the bed, the arm she’d slung around his neck tightened enough to overbalance him. He managed not to fall on top of her, but as he dropped beside her, she wrapped herself around him and snuggled in.

Her eyes fluttered open, and her peaceful expression clouded for a moment. “Hold?” she murmured fuzzily.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’m right here,” and surrendering to her needs, if not his own, he slipped an arm under her head and nestled her back against him.

He was still on fire, and the feel of her tight, curvy backside snugged against him was torture. But it was a torture he was willing to suffer if his presence allowed Jessi to get some rest.

Still, as soon as her breathing evened, when he knew she slept deeply, he slipped from her bed, brushed his lips over her temple, and went back downstairs to the too-narrow, firm-in-the-middle, broken-in-at-both-ends Davenport in her lonely family room.

A different kind of torture it might be, but it was a small enough price to pay to keep the woman he cared for, and her son, safe.