Honeysuckle Bride
Honeysuckle Bride
Tara Randel
One part happiness. Two parts love.Relocating to the coast of Florida after becoming guardian of her best friend’s twin daughters could be the best move LA celebrity chef Jenna Monroe ever made. This is her chance to create a stable, loving home—something she never had. But can she be the mother the girls need?Wyatt Hamilton thinks she can. The rugged charter boat captain, who came home to Cypress Pointe still grieving the death of his son, has faith in her. But the feelings he awakens in Jenna both exhilarate and frighten her. Because Wyatt no longer believes in forever… Unless she can convince him otherwise.
One part happiness. Two parts love.
Relocating to the coast of Florida after becoming guardian of her best friend’s twin daughters could be the best move LA celebrity chef Jenna Monroe ever made. This is her chance to create a stable, loving home—something she never had. But can she be the mother the girls need?
Wyatt Hamilton thinks she can. The rugged charter boat captain, who came home to Cypress Pointe still grieving the death of his son, has faith in her. But the feelings he awakens in Jenna both exhilarate and frighten her. Because Wyatt no longer believes in forever... Unless she can convince him otherwise.
“Jenna, some advice?”
She faced him. “Yes, please.”
“Keep loving the girls, just the way you are. They’ll always remember your love.”
Her throat went dry as tears misted in her eyes. “I can do that.”
Wyatt reached out to run a finger over her cheek, catching a teardrop. His gaze held hers, dark in the dim light.
“Then you’re miles ahead.”
The foyer suddenly seemed cramped. The air heated. They stood toe to toe, so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin. His firm fingers circled her arms, drew her closer. He lowered his head, but neither of them made the next move.
Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she stood on tiptoe to brush her lips over his.
Dear Reader (#ulink_6999d776-ed00-5f6b-a8f4-f801b2b8f44e),
Losing a loved one is always heart wrenching. Losing a child, a much deeper pain.
Wyatt Hamilton thought he lost it all after his son died and his wife left him. Getting through each hopeless day became a major task...until Jenna Monroe comes into his life.
Jenna understands the pain of losing someone close, but also knows hope gives us the strength to carry on with life. Wyatt is drawn to that inner strength, to the promise of hope, and so begins a new chapter for both Jenna and Wyatt.
Of course, the road to love is never easy, but watching two people take a chance on love is exactly why we read romance novels. Overcoming obstacles and shake-ups in our lives is so much better with someone by our side, sharing the load and making the path easier to bear. Hope and love go hand in hand, and I believe that’s why we enjoy romance stories.
Once again, I invite you back to Cypress Pointe. There’s never a dull moment in this town. Spend a few hours meeting new characters, catching up with old friends and finding new surprises. Thankfully the journey to love is never dull. Enjoy the ride!
Tara Randel
Honeysuckle
Bride
Tara Randel
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TARA RANDEL
has enjoyed a lifelong love of books, especially romance, so it came as no surprise when she began writing with the dream of becoming published. Family values, a bit of mystery and, of course, love and romance are her favorite themes, because she believes love is the greatest gift of all. Tara lives on the west coast of Florida, where gorgeous sunsets and beautiful weather inspire the creation of heartwarming stories. This is her third book for Mills & Boon Heartwarming.
To my dear friend Sheri H. Thanks for the many chats over the years and your support for my books. During the time I needed to lean on you most, you were there. Thanks will never be enough.
Contents
Cover (#uc1fc8b83-912e-5d1d-aab6-c14b04d30c9d)
Back Cover Text (#u24802822-b414-5109-afe4-30a53a6c0994)
Introduction (#u708d480f-a414-5aae-86b1-bfce63e0eed4)
Dear Reader (#u1e16ef2a-ef9e-51e8-9e96-3289b22de493)
Title Page (#u2397875b-15b4-5144-8287-814d5662dca6)
About the Author (#uc98a18d4-3d87-59b9-b4ff-b543151d3124)
Dedication (#ued2852b5-e2ef-59fa-93b8-5bcf35ddac4e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u066d12fb-8ca6-5f81-b541-59e2cbf170f7)
CHAPTER TWO (#uca018baa-85e9-5152-bad1-8f979290583e)
CHAPTER THREE (#ua1f6ab5e-9996-58a9-9112-56b45577620b)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u437363fd-a1b9-57f0-a2cc-ac9aaa32533d)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_6da93123-5394-59c5-9ff4-3976f71c066b)
“STAY CLOSE BY,” Jenna Monroe called out to her wards frolicking in the ankle-deep surf. Seated on an old beach blanket on the section of dry sand butting up to the water, she had a clear view of the twin girls. Tropical Storm Harry had passed through a few days earlier, leaving the weather unsettled. The forecast today called for patchy sunshine to break through the cloud cover and overall conditions slowly returning to normal.
The two scamps insisted they knew how to swim, but Jenna hadn’t lived with the ten-year-olds long enough to trust their credibility. Despite the fact that Jenna had known them since birth, she wasn’t up to speed on every detail of their lives. Still, swimming seemed to be big on their favorites list. After three days of unpacking and staying indoors due to rain and gusty wind, the girls had begged to come to the beach. Jenna agreed because they all could use a dose of fresh air. In reality, they needed so much more than that, but for now, the beach would have to do.
Her good friend Nealy Grainger, whom she’d met and worked with in LA, had recently moved back to Florida. Jenna and the girls had needed a change of scenery and at Nealy’s suggestion, packed up and made the move from LA to Cypress Pointe. It had been exhausting, mainly because it happened so quickly. Digging her toes in the damp sand, Jenna leaned back on her elbows and took a breath. The first in months, it seemed. One minute she’d been busy filming Jenna’s Cozy Cooking and making guest appearances as a television chef on various daytime talk shows, the next she’d been listening to the horrible phone call informing her of the death of her best friend, Carrie.
Right on the heels of that devastating news came the reading of the will, when Jenna learned she had custody of the twins since their father had signed away his rights after their birth. Had it only been six months ago? What a whirlwind. She still couldn’t get a handle on all the life-changing events. Settling in to this new chapter of her life would take time, but she’d make it work, for Carrie’s legacy and the girls’ future.
Keeping an eagle eye on Bridget and Abigail, Abby for short, proved a challenge as they darted in and out of the rolling, thigh-high waves. Jenna had always been a stickler for safety, but with custody of two young girls, her untapped maternal instincts materialized daily.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Abby yelled as Bridget waved her arm in invitation.
“In a minute,” Jenna answered, wiggling her toes in the cool sand.
Giggles resounded over the surf. There hadn’t been a free moment since they arrived in town a few days earlier. The cross-country move had been taxing and she took advantage of this rare opportunity to clear her mind. The closest they’d come to the beach was when they’d cruised by the public access before arriving at the rental house. First chore, unpacking, then registering for school. Clothes shopping had been slated next, but was interrupted by the tropical storm, which kept them inside and going stir-crazy. When the girls double-teamed her this afternoon, coming up with every reason imaginable to hit the beach, Jenna hadn’t argued. She’d been so busy with her career, then settling in with the girls, she couldn’t remember the last time she took time to play. Besides, they all needed to work off their excess energy.
The beach here in Cypress Pointe was beautiful. Puffy clouds, rolling along in the swift air currents, swirled a murky gray in the sky, tossing Jenna’s short, pixie-cut hair. Meager bursts of sunlight occasionally brightened up what started as a gloomy day. This morning, the temperature hovered in the mideighties before steadily rising to the sticky ninety-degree dog days of August. Humidity topped the charts. All part of living in Florida, Nealy assured her when Jenna complained. Just another aspect of her new life.
Going from a single, independent career woman to a new mother at twenty-nine had created a huge learning curve. Oh, she loved the girls, no doubt about it. After these months together, she couldn’t imagine life without them. Still, she was plagued with doubts. Could she do this, especially while they were still grieving Carrie’s sudden death? Could she love the girls as much as their mother had? Fill the void of their mother’s absence? Carrie had been awesome with the girls. Could Jenna do the same?
A few other children joined the twins, probably also needing a break after being indoors for days. This would be the first chance for the girls to make friends. Jenna crossed her fingers.
As the two started moving out deeper, Jenna straightened and yelled, “Hey, come closer to the water’s edge.” Bridget, the more adventurous of the two, jumped about in the choppy surf. She grabbed her sister’s hand and shuffled back.
Jenna let out a breath. Would her life always be like this, worrying about every little detail of her charges’ lives? She thought she’d left her worries and insecurities behind once she’d aged out of the foster system. Apparently not.
Thankfully, the girls followed Jenna’s command. The wave swell was nowhere near as strong as on the California coast where she grew up. For right now, insisting the girls stay in the shallow surf eased her concerns.
Rolling her shoulders, she rested on her elbows again, turning her attention to the panorama. To her left was the marina where boats bobbed in the restless waves. Maybe a nice family outing would take the girls’ minds off leaving the only home they’d ever known.
To her right, far off in the distance, she could barely make out the Grand Cypress Hotel. She’d taken the girls there for dinner the first night they’d arrived in town at the urging of Nealy, whose boyfriend owned the hotel and restaurant. Jenna wanted the twins to meet the woman who suggested they move to this coastal Florida town to get away from sad memories and a certain tabloid reporter determined to make her life miserable.
Bridget ran out of the water, a bright smile on her usually serious face. “Jenna, can we build a castle?”
“Of course.” She dug into the bag of beach toys she’d stopped to purchase on the way there. “Make it a princess castle,” she added, handing Bridget the shovels and sand molds. The girls were in a princess phase, which meant begging for new dolls and sparkly accessories to go with them.
“Okay. Just watch how special it’ll be.” Bridget ran back to her sister, handing over a shovel to Abby. Soon they were both digging in the soupy sand.
A strong tug of affection squeezed Jenna’s heart as she watched them play.
For weeks they’d been despondent, to the point where Jenna decided to get counseling. It had helped, even though the girls still had times when they didn’t want to talk or be around other people.
High-pitched shrieks sounded as the two playfully threw sand at each other, abandoning the toys to rush back into the water. So much for the castle.
Encouraged by their carefree play, Jenna watched the girls act like children instead of the mere shadows they’d been for weeks on end. Yes, this move was good. Necessary even.
Back in LA, when she first started appearing on television, a tabloid reporter named Rod Hartley turned his attention to her when he searched for stories about rising celebrities in the entertainment industry. As tenacious as a bulldog when hunting a story, he’d discovered Jenna when the network she worked for dubbed her America’s Sweetheart Chef to increase ratings.
New to the world of celebrities, and flabbergasted by the attention since she only had a cable cooking show, Jenna couldn’t fathom Rod’s interest. At first, she was flattered. Rod could often be charming, flirty even, but as time went by, she got a weird vibe whenever he was around.
Jenna shivered at the memory, reaching into the beach tote for the baggie filled with carrots. Nibbling on good, crunchy food tended to calm her. She dumped a few into her hand and tossed the baggie on the towel beside her. Munching away, she continued to watch the twins while she thought about LA
For a while, Rod pretended to be a neighbor, although he was vague about where he lived, exactly. He always happened to be in the neighborhood at the same time she was, popping up every place she went. Soon, his excuses of coincidence became thin. Years spent in foster homes had sharpened her senses and her senses screamed something was seriously off with this guy.
When the girls came into her life, he became fixated on them as well. She didn’t understand why until her agent uncovered the truth about him. Rod had lost his wife and children to his obsession over his career. Now that obsession included Jenna.
The final straw came when he camped in his SUV outside the office building where Jenna and the girls met a counselor for grief therapy. His exploits were already invasive enough, but this time he chased after them in the SUV as they hurried to their parked car. In their haste to get away, Abby had darted out into the road and was nearly run down by Rod as he tried to snap pictures.
His actions were a clear sign to Jenna. She couldn’t let anything like this happen again so she filed for, and won, a temporary restraining order. The girls were so badly shaken up, it was days before they would venture outside again. If Jenna hadn’t needed to get to work, she would have stayed inside with them but instead called a sitter to watch them while she went to the studio.
The situation got worse when Rod drove by her apartment after receiving the legal order. Jenna was getting into her car when she noticed the SUV. She squared her shoulders, not about to let Rod see how much he’d upset her life, and glared at him.
To her dismay, he merely smiled, even as she read the anger in his eyes. “This isn’t over,” he’d threatened, then peeled out of the complex. Jenna sank against the car, her knees like jelly.
Her mind was so caught up in reliving that terrifying final encounter with Rod that she almost didn’t notice two seagulls steadily making their way toward the bag of carrots. “Shoo.” She waved her hands at the birds, startling them into flight while she tucked the food away.
After that incident with Rod, Jenna called Nealy to vent. Her friend had moved away from LA, and Jenna missed not being able to drop in on her. At some point in the conversation, Nealy suggested Jenna pack up the girls and come to Florida during the hiatus from filming her cooking show. Nealy had spoken fondly about her hometown, and gone so far as producing a list of pros in favor of moving.
Why not, Jenna thought. A change would benefit the girls greatly, and once away from LA, Jenna could decide where their future lay. If they liked Cypress Pointe enough, maybe they’d stay here for good. Within two weeks, she’d packed up and moved to the other side of the country, hoping she’d made the right choice. Jenna smiled, watching the girls dance carefree in the surf, their dark braids, so like Carrie’s long, brunette hair, swinging over their shoulders. Even their smiles reminded Jenna of her best friend, adding a touch of mischief to their play. They were so like their mother when she was having a good time. This was just what they needed, to play like the children they were, not two daughters who grieved their mother who’d been killed in a freeway crash. Yes, there would still be many sorrowful days ahead, but Jenna would gladly do all the worrying and heavy emotional lifting for her best friend’s children.
The girls waved at her before continuing to splash each other. Jenna laughed and waved back, getting comfortable again as she watched the girls play.
Out of the corner of her eye, a solitary figure, followed closely by a golden retriever, strolled into view. A man with his hands shoved in his shorts pockets. The breeze blew against his T-shirt, a baseball cap obscured his face. She wondered if he too had grown stir-crazy and longed to be outside. He stopped to pick something up from the sand and tossed it into the churning water. The object, a shell or rock maybe, arced high into the air and splashed with a plink. When the dog started into the water to retrieve the item, the man called out a sharp command. The dog barked and ran circles in the surf.
Seeing this man all alone struck a chord in Jenna. Probably because she’d spent most of her childhood by herself. She’d survived the foster system, but memories of missing her mother and wishing for a permanent home had never left her.
She shook off the negative thoughts. Today was all about getting away from sadness and enjoying themselves for a little while. Seeing the girls happy, she shoved her cares aside and gave her imagination free rein to conjure up a life for the man standing in the surf, staring into the horizon. Usually pragmatic and focused, she gave in to her fanciful musings.
Since he came from the direction of the marina, he might be a boat captain, his first day back from a round-the-world cruise. He had no family since he traveled extensively. And he had a thing for petite blonde women.
She shook her head at the flight of fancy. Right. It had been way too long since she’d been on a date. Even before she gained custody of the girls, she’d been too busy with her career for a social life. Made the mistake of falling for a man who claimed he’d loved her, only to dump her as easily as he said those three words. A mystery man held more appeal than men she met in real life.
Taking another cleansing breath, she savored the briny air and the feel of the cool sand between her toes. Calm settled over her and she closed her eyes for a moment.
Until she heard a scream. Eyes wide, she jumped up, spotting Abby at the shoreline, pointing to the water. Bridget was nowhere in sight. Freezing momentarily, Jenna came to her senses when Abby cried out again. She scrambled forward, the sand shooting out from under her feet as she sped toward the area Abby indicated. She’d just reached the little girl when a man streaked past her, running through the surf before diving into deeper water.
Jenna headed toward the waves, ready to wade, or swim, or whatever, to get to Bridget, when the mystery man emerged from the water, a coughing child in his arms. He floated to a shallower area, then stood and trudged toward land. Abby remained rigid by Jenna’s side, her small hand gripping Jenna’s like a vise.
The dog jumped and barked like crazy, following his master.
“Is she okay?” Jenna croaked through the fear lodged in her throat.
When the man nodded, her limbs went shaky as relief swept over her. He spoke to Bridget in a quiet voice, but Jenna couldn’t make out his words. Wrapping an arm around Abby, she hugged her close before following the man to dry sand. Once there, he set Bridget down on Jenna’s abandoned blanket in a gentle motion, told the dog to hush, and crouched beside her, his hands resting on small shoulders as he murmured in a low, but firm, voice. The coughing stopped, and within seconds, Bridget’s whimpers turned into racking sobs.
Jenna tried to push him aside to get to the little girl, but Bridget wouldn’t release her hold of the man’s hand. He sent Jenna a sharp warning glance before turning his attention back to Bridget. Infuriated, she moved closer. Who was he, a stranger, to keep her from Bridget?
Only the man who saved her life, an accusing voice taunted. Angry with herself for losing sight of Bridget in the first place, she bent down to pick up the man’s ball cap. Shaking off the sand, she took a step closer, intending to return it to him and take over the job of comforting Bridget. But before she could intervene, the little girl rose and launched herself into the stranger’s arms.
The man fell backward to the ground, taking the brunt of the fall while he protected Bridget. As the dog began to bark again, he glanced up at her and Jenna’s gaze tangled with the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. A slight frown marred his forehead, but it didn’t detract from his handsome face.
Abby, in tears, ran over to hug her sister. Bridget let go of the man to return her sister’s hug. He rose, swiping sand from the seat of his drenched shorts before reassuring his anxious pet with a vigorous rub.
“I don’t know what to say.” Unnerved by the events, Jenna’s voice choked with emotion. “Thank you, Mr....?”
“Wyatt Hamilton.”
She handed him his cap, which he settled on his head. An accusatory glare hardened his eyes.
Jenna felt an unwelcome flush warm her cheeks. “I would have gotten to her in time, but you moved much faster,” she said, pushing past the tightness in her chest.
Wyatt looked down at the girls, then back to Jenna.
“Make sure swimming conditions are safe next time you bring the girls here,” he said, his voice husky, as if seldom used. Anger punctuated his tone. “Next time you might not be so lucky.” He turned on his heel, whistled for the dog and headed back in the direction of the marina.
Jenna’s mouth fell open. Shock, frustration and fear weighed heavily on her shoulders.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT, Jenna softly closed the door to the girls’ bedroom, having checked on them for the fifth time. Running her hands through her mussed hair, she walked back to the living room to rejoin Nealy, who sat on the couch waiting for her.
“Still asleep?”
“Yes.” Jenna picked up her cup. Despite her still queasy stomach after the day’s events, she took a sip of lukewarm tea and grimaced.
“Problem?”
“Too cool.” Jenna nodded toward Nealy’s cup. “Want a refill?”
“Sounds good.”
They both moved to the kitchen, Jenna’s motions brisk as she refilled the kettle before setting it on the burner. She reached into a canister for fresh tea bags to replace the used ones she’d just dumped, then leaned back against the counter, fighting against tears.
“What was I thinking?”
“Jenna, quit beating yourself up. Bridget is fine.”
She’d managed to calm both girls down at the beach, then they’d packed up and headed home. After a quick bath and grilled cheese sandwiches, they settled onto the couch with a big bowl of popcorn to watch a favorite Disney movie. The girls stayed glued to Jenna’s side until Nealy arrived later on and Jenna tucked them in for the night.
“No thanks to me. It’s my job to keep the girls safe. A stranger beat me to it.”
“You had no idea what would happen.”
“And that’s the problem. I should have been sure the girls could swim before they went near the water instead of taking their word for it.”
Nealy paused before saying, “You can’t second-guess yourself.”
“And why not?”
“Because you’ll drive yourself crazy.”
Jenna’s shoulders slumped. “What was Carrie thinking, leaving the girls with me?”
“She knew you would love them.”
“I’m finding out that’s not enough.” She threw up her hands. “The only thing I know how to do is cook. Sure, they get three meals a day, but what about the rest? I’ve never been responsible for anyone but myself. When Carrie was alive, I visited or took the girls on a special play date every now and then. I never stopped to consider their day-to-day needs.”
“I think you’re getting a crash course.”
She was indeed.
“It’s only been six months since Carrie died and my heart still aches. She was more of a sister than a friend.” Her voice hitched. “I miss her terribly.”
Nealy hugged her. “I can’t even imagine,” she whispered.
Jenna took comfort in Nealy’s presence, drinking in her support.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” she asked as she drew back, swiping at her moist eyes.
“No.” Nealy moved away, giving her some space. “I got the feeling you didn’t like talking about your childhood.”
“Being in the foster system—it can be tough unless you find a friend.”
The kettle whistled. Jenna turned off the burner and poured steaming water in both mugs. A slight smile tugged her lips as she remembered her first meeting with Carrie.
“I’d been at this home for about six weeks when Carrie showed up. Thirteen years old with an attitude.” She chuckled. “Heavy black eyeliner, a couple of piercings and a wardrobe you’d cringe at. One look from her and I figured she’d make my life miserable.”
“Obviously something changed.”
Jenna blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip of tea. “She’d been there about two weeks when she got caught sneaking back in the house after curfew. We shared a room and I watched her climb out the window almost every night, but didn’t say a word. Our foster mother, Mrs. Thomas, wanted an explanation, and much to my surprise, Carrie froze. Couldn’t think of a thing to say. What happened to the smart aleck I lived with?
“Feeling bad for her, I told Mrs. Thomas, who really wasn’t so bad, just overwhelmed, that I’d forgotten my homework at a friend’s house and Carrie offered to get it for me. I’m not sure she believed my story but she let it slide. After she left us alone, Carrie demanded to know why I’d stood up for her. I couldn’t tell her that my heart went out to this brash girl who’d finally showed a vulnerable side, so I said I did it so she’d owe me a favor. Surprised, because I usually stayed away from conflict, and impressed that I’d stood up for her, especially for a price, she walked over to me and held her fist in the air. I finally figured out she wanted a fist bump. It was a bonding moment for us.”
After that, they’d slowly moved from reluctant allies to true friends. Made wonderful plans for what their lives would become once they aged out of the foster system. For the most part, they’d achieved their dreams, until an accident tore Carrie away from Jenna and the girls.
“Maybe I’m not cut out to be a mom.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if bad mothering was hereditary. Her own mother had an alcohol problem, which made her less than reliable. It took one visit from a caseworker to find Jenna in a barely habitable apartment, alone, with very little food, for her to move Jenna to a new home. When her mother didn’t argue or try to win her back, Jenna began her journey of moving from home to home.
Nealy snorted. “I disagree. I can’t imagine those girls with anyone else.”
“Is this what life is going to be like? Me making mistakes and the girls paying for them?”
“Jenna, give yourself a break. You’ve only lived with them for six months.”
She ran a shaky hand over her brow. “Carrie and I talked about me becoming the girls’ guardian, but I thought that’s all it was. Talk.” She shook her head. “I didn’t think too much about the conversation, but Carrie took it to the next step to assure her children’s future.”
“And in the time you’ve had the girls you expect to be a perfect parent? You think you should know everything there is to know about children and never make a mistake? C’mon, the girls are ten years old. I can guarantee Carrie made mistakes, no matter how much she loved and cared for them.”
Jenna straightened her shoulders. She could do this. She had to do this. “Okay, I’ll admit I’m walking on shaky ground here, but you’re right. It’s getting better, but still, I need time to get used to being a parent.”
“The first step is admitting you have a problem.” Humor sparkled in Nealy’s eyes as she attempted to lighten the moment.
Jenna grinned. “Oh, I could come up with quite a list.”
“Hey, don’t put yourself down. I think you’re doing great. For a single woman busy with her career, you accepted responsibility for the girls no questions asked and embraced the idea of being a mom. Take this break you have from filming right now to grieve along with the girls. Once it’s time for the television season to start up again, things will get better.”
“As long as the tabloid press stays away.” She shivered. “If not for the exposure from my job and attracting a crazy person, we wouldn’t have left the only place the girls have ever lived.”
“No, it was that one idiot reporter. If he hadn’t been so intent on documenting your life—”
“Which is incredibly boring, by the way.”
“—nothing would have happened. You’d still be in LA, filming your cooking show and making guest appearances on talk shows.”
“Honestly, on the juicy gossip chart, I rank about minus eleven.”
Nealy laughed. “Now that is totally true.”
After years of trying to stay invisible in foster homes, never making waves or causing trouble, Jenna had spent her youth feeling like an outsider. Once she grew up, finished school and embarked on her career, she still found herself on the sidelines of personal relationships, with the exception of a handful of people she trusted. As her career took off, she traded obscurity for the limelight, never imagining that her life might be of interest to anyone but herself.
When Jenna gained custody of the girls, it had been a blip in the media radar since she was hardly in the same league as A-list celebrities. Until Rod. It had gotten to the point she couldn’t leave the house without him in her face, asking for an exclusive interview or pictures at home with her and the girls. Only the restraining order could slow him down.
“If he hadn’t gotten so obsessed with us, we would have been fine back in LA”
“Look,” Nealy said. “You’re here. You’re safe. We have your back. Get that awful reporter out of your mind. He’ll latch on to another story and forget all about you.”
He had to. Jenna had based her move to Florida on that hope.
“Just be thankful Wyatt came upon you when he did.”
At the mention of his name, Jenna remembered the terse man who’d come to her rescue, his act of bravery at odds with his sharp parting words. Her skin prickled with indignation. “I’m grateful for what he did, but didn’t appreciate the mini lecture before he took off.”
“That’s Wyatt Hamilton. I’ve known him for a long time, but after the rough few years he’s had, he’s not the most...easy guy to be around.”
“Understatement.”
“You only talked to him for a few minutes.”
“It was a long few minutes.” Jenna recalled the memory. His eyes had been so intense, so judging. “Besides, I wasn’t thrilled he was doing the rescuing while I stood on the beach feeling helpless. I should have been the one to save Bridget.”
“C’mon, Jenna. It’s not like he rushed in the water just to make you look bad.”
True, logic reminded her, but his quick actions had made her feel incompetent.
“Listen, he’s got a lot of baggage, so we all tend to cut him some slack,” Nealy said.
Had her annoyance been so obvious? Jenna sighed. “I guess no one is immune to baggage.”
“Yeah, but his is pretty horrible.”
The crash of ice cubes falling from the freezer ice maker broke the silence following Nealy’s statement.
“Are you going to tell me?” Jenna prodded.
“His son died about two years ago. He was only eight.”
Jenna’s chest tightened. “How awful.” She’d just lost Carrie and the hurt was still so fresh, but to lose a child? She’d only had custody of the girls for less than a year but had known them their entire lives. How would she deal with a loss like his? She couldn’t even imagine the pain he must live with every day.
“It was a boating accident,” Nealy continued. “About six months later, his wife filed for divorce.”
“I’ve heard that happens sometimes when parents lose a child, but a double whammy? No wonder he has issues.”
“He’s still so torn up.”
“You said you’ve known him for a long time?”
She nodded. “Yes. Wyatt grew up here, so we were all devastated by his loss. My sister told me he disappeared right after the funeral. About four months ago, a friend of ours, Max Sanders, met up with Wyatt and talked him into coming back. Now Wyatt captains a fishing charter boat, but I think he’s only going through the motions, not really living.”
“I don’t know what to say. Poor guy.” Jenna sipped her tea, her heart breaking for a man she didn’t know. “Where does he live? I think the girls and I will bake cookies as a way of saying thank-you.”
Nealy’s eyes grew troubled. “I’d rethink the idea. He’s kind of a loner.”
“Even loners who disapprove of my parenting skills need to eat.”
“Jenna’s answer to all and every problem. Food.”
“What can I say? It’s who I am.”
Jenna had discovered her love for cooking early on when she helped out in each foster home she’d lived in. In high school, she’d worked for a catering company specializing in weddings and loved it. Who knew food would turn into a career?
“Which I, for one, am happy about,” Nealy said. “You’re still going to make your gourmet mac and cheese for the welcome party, right?”
“Yes. You might be an event planner extraordinaire, but you can’t boil water.”
“We can’t all be gifted in the kitchen.”
“True.” Jenna smiled. “Thanks for throwing a party to welcome us to Cypress Pointe. It’s nice of Dane to hold the shindig at his hotel.”
“Anything to show off the Grand Cypress. Of course, it does help that he’s wild about me.”
Jenna laughed. “I still can’t believe he came to LA with you to pack up your belongings. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never believe just how crazy Dane is about you.”
She also couldn’t imagine a love that strong and found herself a bit envious.
“After being apart for so many years, we have a lot of catching up to do. And besides, he’s happy to have the party for you.”
“I gotta say, I thought the guest of honor only had to show up and meet her new neighbors, not bring the food.”
“True for most mere mortals, but you make a mean mac and cheese. Since I’ve bragged about your culinary prowess nonstop since you told me you were moving to town, you can’t show up empty-handed.”
“Fine. Besides, you know I would have brought something even if you didn’t ask.”
“Yep, so why not put my order in?”
Jenna admitted that spending time with Nealy went a long way to easing her insecurities.
Nealy glanced at her watch. “I need to get going. Will you be all right?”
“Yes. And, Nealy?”
Her friend raised her eyebrows.
“Thanks. For everything.”
“Anytime.” Nealy swooped in for another hug. “Actually, all the time now that you’re here in Cypress Pointe.”
Jenna’s heart lifted with affection for her friend. “I hope I don’t become a nuisance.”
“Unlikely. Once you figure this motherhood thing out, you’ll feel better.”
Jenna crossed her arms over her chest, rubbed her chilly forearms. “We’ll see.”
“Hey, quit with the gloom and doom. You can do this.”
“You’re right.” Jenna dropped her arms. Tilted her chin. “I can do this.”
“That’s my friend.” Nealy walked to the front door. “Don’t forget. Tomorrow night. Six. Grand Cypress Hotel.”
“Got it.”
Nealy’s smile softened. “I promise, once you meet my family and get to know the wonderful people in Cypress Pointe, you’ll be glad you came.” That said, she swept out the door into the hot, humid August night.
Watching her friend get into her car and drive away, Jenna tried to take Nealy’s confidence in her to heart. She could do this, right? Be a single mom? But the doubts and worries continued nagging at her. Take today, for example. As much as Wyatt’s response made her angry, he was right. She had to do better.
Still, grief weighed on Jenna. As much as she tried to keep a sunny outlook for the girls, at times, the sorrow took her to her knees. Mostly in the quiet, late at night after the girls went to bed and she only had herself for company. Missing Carrie, asking why she’d been taken from them at such a young age, made it difficult for Jenna to find any kind of normalcy in her life. And it was even worse for the twins. As much as Jenna tried to console them, at times her efforts seemed ineffective. Lacking. And with two strikes against her when it came to the girls’ safety, she couldn’t afford any more close calls.
More unnerved than she cared to admit, Jenna marched back into the kitchen to rinse out the mugs. Resting her palms on the sink ledge, she leaned forward, staring out the window. The moon emitted a small sliver of light, barely illuminating the backyard.
Lately, the direction of her life seemed just as dark. As it had numerous times tonight, the scene at the beach flashed in her mind.
Next time you might not be so lucky.
At the memory of Wyatt’s parting words, she straightened her shoulders. No way would she let his prediction come to pass.
Nealy was right. She had to stop second-guessing herself. Enough worrying over the things she couldn’t control. Time to focus on what she could do. With the single-mindedness that had gotten her through years of foster care and then advanced her career, Jenna vowed to be the best mother possible for Abby and Bridget.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_c2a97c4c-06fc-56ac-a605-b78104fec57d)
“GUESS WHAT I have planned for today?” Jenna said at breakfast the next morning,
The girls sent each other a questioning glance. The silent twin communication freaked Jenna out. She’d probably never understand it, but whenever it happened, self-doubt twisted in her. Once again, she found herself on the outside. Unsure. Not very motherly.
“Why don’t you just tell us?” Abby asked.
“Because it’s a good surprise.”
Bridget frowned. “You told us you don’t like guessing games.”
Holding back a sigh, Jenna said, “You’ve got me there. But for today, let’s play.”
“We aren’t going to the beach again, are we?” Bridget asked before taking a spoonful of cereal.
“No. I think we had enough fun in the sun yesterday.”
“Our new school?”Abby asked.
“No. I already registered you so we’re good.”
Abby pushed the cornflakes around her bowl. “Shopping. You promised we can get new stuff for school.”
“I know I promised, and we will go to the mall, but you’re still not close.”
“I give up,” Bridget informed her with a very mature sniff.
Jenna bit back a grin. Was she ten going on sixty? “So soon? We just started.”
The girls stared at her.
Jenna threw up her hands. “Now I give up.”
“So you’ll tell us?” Abby asked with a giggle.
Despite yesterday’s close call, the girls were in a cheery mood today. Most mornings the twins would hide out under the makeshift tent they’d built in the bedroom. Missing their mother, the girls sometimes refused to leave their safe place. Jenna learned from the counselor in LA that this was part of their grieving process. Back home she would have tried to coax them out of the tent with the promise of a special breakfast or plans for the day if she wasn’t scheduled to film or meet with her agent. Some days her tactic worked, others not so much. Today, the girls came to the breakfast table the first time she called. A small victory in Jenna’s opinion, but a victory indeed.
“You knew I’d give up if you did. No point in teasing when you aren’t willing to play the game.”
Bridget shrugged.
“Fine. Then here’s the answer. Bridget, remember the man who pulled you out of the water yesterday?”
Bridget kept her eyes focused on her cereal bowl. “Yes,” she said in a quiet tone. “He was really brave.”
“Like the prince in the story you read to us,” Abby piped in.
“Yes, I guess he was like a prince. Saving my beautiful princess here.”
Abby giggled.
A slight grin tugged Bridget’s lips.
“Anyway, I was talking to Nealy about him last night and the idea of making a thank-you gift popped into my mind.”
“What are we going to make?” Abby asked.
“Cookies. Then I thought we’d deliver them in person. That will give you a chance to thank him yourself.”
Jenna moved to the fridge, taking out the ingredients she needed to make a batch of cookies. “Do you know where he lives?” Abby asked.
Jenna, in mid-reach to retrieve a measuring cup from the cabinet, glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll call Nealy to find out.” She brought the cup to the counter then turned to face the girls, who had grown quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Jenna asked.
Bridget shot her sister a glance then lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.”
Abby, her eyes shimmering, met Jenna’s. “We might not have been exactly honest about being able to swim.”
Jenna rested her hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “You told me you had taken lessons.”
“Well...we were going to. We never got around to it before mom...you know.”
Yes, she did. How could she be angry with the girls when they were still grieving? Every day brought a new tangle of emotions. Yet as hard as it might be, Jenna had to lay down some ground rules. She walked to the table and took a seat.
“Look, girls, I know things have been hard, but you have to tell me the truth. If I had known you couldn’t swim, I never would have let you in the water by yourselves. How can I take care of you unless you’re completely honest?”
The girls exchanged glances again. What Jenna wouldn’t give to know what was going on in their heads.
“How about we make a pact to be honest with each other?” she suggested.
Abby blinked at the tears making her eyes bright. Of the two, she showed her emotions more easily. “We miss Mommy.”
“I do too.” Jenna swallowed. In her own way, she understood the depth of loss the girls experienced. In her case, her mother had chosen to walk away, leaving Jenna bereft and angry. Abby and Bridget felt the same, but at least they had Jenna to turn to for comfort.
Taking a shaky breath, she said, “It’s okay to miss her.”
She took one of Abby’s hands in hers and squeezed. Then she turned to Bridget, whose lower lip trembled. How like her to be the strong twin when her heart was breaking. Jenna drew them all together. “This is it, kiddos. We’ve got each other now.” Turning her tone from sympathy to firm, she said, “So, the pact?”
After a hesitant moment, Abby said, “From now on we promise to tell you stuff.”
Bridget didn’t utter a word, the tougher nut of the two. Not surprised, Jenna knew she’d have to keep an eye on her.
They sat holding hands for a long, drawn-out moment until Bridget shifted in her seat. Jenna released her hold, briskly rubbing her hands together as she rose. “Let’s get working on our project, girls.”
How many times had they made cookies together? More times than Jenna could remember. When Carrie was alive, they’d had frequent sleepovers with Jenna, which always included some kind of baking session.
The girls joined her and they worked side by side, measuring, stirring, then spooning batter on the baking sheet before sliding it into the oven. A dozen cookies later, with the final sheet in the oven, they’d finished the messy part of their task. Standing on tiptoe, Bridget turned on the faucet to fill the sink before squeezing dish detergent into the rising water. Suds materialized as Abby dropped in the batter-covered utensils.
Proud of the girls for cleaning up without her asking, Jenna said, “Hey, you two, I’ll finish up. Go play.”
“Are you sure?” Abby asked. “We don’t mind helping.”
“Yep. You’ve both been great, but I can take over from here.”
The girls scurried from the room. As Jenna removed the last batch of cookies and turned off the oven, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number and frowned. She didn’t want to answer, but knew her agent wouldn’t stop calling until she spoke to Jenna.
“Barbara. How are you?”
“Cringing at the number of appearances I have to refuse on your behalf.”
Tension tightened Jenna’s temples. They’d had this conversation one too many times since Jenna informed her agent she was taking time off. “And you’ll have to keep refusing until the hiatus is over.”
“Absence from the public eye does not make the viewer grow fonder.”
“The girls are my priority. I don’t know how much clearer I can make the point.”
Barbara Samson had been Jenna’s agent for four years. An energetic go-getter, she never heard a “no” she paid attention to. Until Carrie died, Jenna didn’t have any reason to turn down work. Now that she did, Barbara was persistent about changing Jenna’s mind.
Right out of culinary school, Jenna landed a job at a trendy restaurant that became a popular hangout for celebrities. At first, she was one of the minor chefs in the kitchen. She stuck it out there and eventually, her unique culinary ideas became popular with the in-crowd. When one of the local talk show hosts inquired about her, the restaurant owner quickly encouraged Jenna to be a guest on the show. He couldn’t pay for better publicity.
Not exactly thrilled at first, Jenna thought long and hard before agreeing. She didn’t like crowds or being the center of attention. But when she arrived on the set, she found the hosts and crew welcoming. Her nerves settled down. Soon, she went from being a guest every couple of weeks to guest shots on other shows, including a popular LA daytime talk show. Not familiar with the world of television, she asked one of the hosts for advice. The person mentioned Barbara’s name. Jenna called, set up an appointment. Before she knew it, Barbara had booked her schedule tight and, eventually, landed the cooking show.
As much as Jenna appreciated those opportunities, it didn’t mean she’d let the woman railroad her into any future projects until she was ready. She’d made good money and put enough away so she and the girls were financially stable until she decided her next move.
“I totally get your stand on the girls,” Barbara said. “Doesn’t mean you can’t fly to LA or New York periodically. You know, to keep your name in front of the public. The girls don’t have to travel with you.”
“And I won’t be separated from them. It’s too soon.” Barbara went quiet for a moment. As Jenna removed the cookies from the aluminum sheet to cool, she could only imagine the whirl of her agent’s mind as she came up with another way to cajole Jenna.
“How about online? You can work from home.”
“Right now I don’t want to do anything to alert the tabloid news magazines. I won’t risk it.” She took a breath. “I understand you don’t like it, but I’m asking you to honor my decision.”
A long, melodramatic sigh came from the other end of the line. “Fine. But I can’t promise I won’t call if a worthwhile offer comes in.”
Jenna didn’t expect differently. “Just don’t be upset if I turn you down.”
“The one you can’t resist will come and when it does, you’ll be out here on the next available flight.”
While Barbara had other clients, she couldn’t afford to let her main moneymaker go on hiatus, no matter how noble the reason.
“Thanks, Barbara. I do appreciate all you’ve done for me. Just think of my time away as a small vacation. It’s not the end of our relationship.”
“So, how are things going? You’re settling in?”
“Yes. The girls are happy. So far I like this little town.”
“Little, as in, are there any museums? Fine dining? Theaters?”
Jenna chuckled. Barbara could be a fine-arts snob. “We manage.”
“I couldn’t leave LA, no matter how much anyone tried to convince me otherwise.”
Jenna fought the temptation to remind Barbara about the tabloid reporter making her life miserable. Jenna viewed his intrusion as a personal attack on her family. Barbara saw him as a necessity for the expansion of Jenna’s career. If he tailed Barbara for any length of time, Jenna was sure the woman would change her tune.
“You’re a great agent. Hopefully you’ll get some new clients while I’m away.”
“I’ve fielded a few calls.”
“See. With me gone, you’ll have the chance to develop your next big star.”
“Yes, there is a strong possibility I can make that happen.”
Which could mean Jenna would lose some interesting job opportunities, she thought with a small pang of loss, but the girls were keeping her too busy to regret her decision.
Abby dashed into the kitchen, her ponytail swinging as she grabbed two warm cookies then hightailed it back to the bedroom.
“Hey, no food in your room,” Jenna called to her retreating back. The brief feeling of loss vanished as Abby disappeared. Yeah, she’d much rather be with the girls. “Listen, Barbara, I have to run. Thanks for calling.”
She ended the call and then checked on the girls, who were happily playing in their room. Satisfied they were occupied by their dolls, she hurried to her room for a quick shower. Afterward, she stood before her closet wrapped in a towel, trying to decide which outfit to choose. She finally selected a denim sundress for their goodwill mission, and placed a quick call to Nealy.
Her stomach turned, nervous at the prospect of seeing Wyatt again. His parting remarks at the beach, although true, had stung. She couldn’t help but wonder how receptive he’d be when she showed up on his doorstep, cookies or no.
* * *
WYATT WALKED INTO his cottage, located within walking distance from the marina, tossing his keys on the coffee table. His golden retriever, Cruiser, followed him into the kitchen, jumping up for attention. “Down, boy.”
Absently rubbing the dog’s head, he poured some kibble from a twenty-pound bag into Cruiser’s bowl, then pulled a glass from the shelf mounted on the wall that served as storage. He opened the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice for himself, draining it as he wandered into the small living room.
He stared out the window, at the view of the Gulf water. Before long, the familiar ache he lived with every day enveloped him.
Two years. Two long years since Jamie had died. Eighteen months since Marcie divorced him.
Since the accident, his family had been after him to talk to a professional. His older brother, Josh, moved back to Cypress Pointe with the purpose of keeping an eye on him. A useless move, but Wyatt appreciated the sentiment.
“You need to let go of the grief,” Josh and the family told him. “You need to move on.”
They didn’t understand. If not for the unrelenting pain, he wouldn’t feel anything at all. He was so far beyond numb, grief remained the only emotion alive inside him.
A boat motored by. Wyatt stepped out onto the small screened-in porch to watch its passage, running a hand over his grizzled chin. He should shave. Probably get a haircut. But didn’t really give a flip.
Why had he let Max talk him into moving back to Cypress Pointe?
After aimlessly traveling the world, taking one job as yacht captain after another, he’d run into Max four months ago. A mutual Navy buddy had invited both of them to his wedding. Since Wyatt happened to be in the States at the time, he attended, hoping a reunion with old friends would help ease him out of his funk.
“You look terrible,” Max greeted him at the reception.
He knew Max spoke the truth. After all, he viewed his face in the mirror every morning. Realized the shadows under his eyes and the blank expression were growing more pronounced daily. “Thanks, buddy.”
Max scowled. “You can’t go on like this.”
“Like what? A guy grieving the loss of his family?”
“You’re entitled to your grief, Wyatt, but enough is enough. There comes a point when you have to deal with the loss and try to move on.”
It was all Wyatt could do to keep his temper in check. Didn’t Max see it wasn’t that easy? Every day was a struggle to get out of bed and survive. He knew his buddy meant well, knew Max wanted to help somehow, even if it entailed spewing tough love.
“Do you miss Cypress Pointe?” Max had asked him.
“Not particularly.”
“Folks in town miss you. Your parents worry.”
Like he needed more guilt. “And bringing this empty shell back to Cypress Pointe is going to make things better?”
“You need to be around people who love you. Running sure hasn’t helped you heal.”
Max had a point. Running had only made him more lonely. More bitter. Less than the man he wanted to be.
After thinking it over for a few days, Wyatt decided Max was right, so he moved home.
Sure, Cypress Pointe was pretty. For the most part, people stayed out of his business. He found a job he liked. His family, thrilled to have him home again, tried to cajole him into a normal existence, as if his life hadn’t been shattered beyond recognition. Friends welcomed him with open arms, inviting him to get-togethers he had no interest in attending. The thing none of them understood was that he wasn’t the man he used to be. Never would be. His life had irrevocably changed the day Jamie died and he was still trying to navigate the waters of what constituted this new existence.
And so his self-imposed isolation continued.
But lately, Max had grown more vigilant in encouraging Wyatt to move out of his comfortable seclusion. Meet me for coffee. Let’s go fishing. Wyatt recognized the invitations for what they were, attempts to drag Wyatt back into the land of the living. He doubted that was possible.
Yet some part of him knew he had to get out of this rut. Problem was, he didn’t have the energy to pull it off. At that thought, a bitter laugh escaped him. Rut was putting it mildly. No change of location or routine would alter the truth. His son was dead and it was his fault.
So for now, running the charter fishing boat was all he could handle. He’d go along with Max’s little outings, just to keep him from nagging. Let Josh and the family think they were reaching him. Give them something positive to hold on to, even though Wyatt knew better.
Not bothering to stifle a yawn, he dropped into an Adirondack chair, kicking up his feet on an old trunk. Cruiser, who’d finished eating, flopped down beside Wyatt for a nap.
This morning he’d risen early for a scheduled charter. A group of businessmen who didn’t know a fishing rod from a BB gun had been a challenge, but the guys knew how to have fun. Long hours in the sun, bright red cheeks and hungry stomachs later, he’d motored back to port. He declined their invitation to join them for lunch. He’d rather sit on the porch by himself, staring out over the calm water, than mingle and make small talk.
For fifteen minutes he savored the relative silence until the sound of chattering voices snagged his attention. A knock rattled the screen door.
Cruiser jumped up, on full alert, barking until Wyatt commanded him to calm down.
“Hello. Anyone home?” a female voice called out.
He glanced through the screen. The woman from the beach yesterday, flanked by her two little girls, peered inside.
Beautiful green eyes stared at him. He bit back a groan and sank deeper in the chair. Mimicking the computerized tone known to all answering machine owners, he said, “No one is here right now. Just leave a message.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” one of the girls said. “He’s sitting right there.”
So much for his lame attempt at humor. Man, he was rusty. “Means I’m not up for company.”
“Then you should go inside and close the door,” the other girl said, matter-of-factly.
How he wished he had.
“We’ll only keep you a minute.” The woman held up a plastic-wrapped plate. “We brought you a present.”
Which meant he had to get up to let them in. Swallowing a sigh, he rose and crossed the porch, holding Cruiser by the collar as he opened the door.
“Thank you,” the pretty blonde said, her light and airy tone at odds with her worried expression.
All three entered the porch, hovering near the doorway. Okay, his social skills were pretty awful right now, but the way the girls hugged the woman’s side, like they were nervous, surprised him. He ran a hand over his chin, glanced down at his old T-shirt, cargo shorts and scuffed boat shoes, and grimaced.
“Sorry, I just got in from work. Haven’t had a chance to clean up.”
“It’s okay. We won’t stay long.” She thrust the covered plate in his direction. “We wanted to thank you. For yesterday.”
“When you pulled me out of the water,” the girl on the left piped up.
As if he could have forgotten.
The woman smiled down at the child, ran her hand over her hair in an affectionate gesture before meeting his eyes again.
“My name is Jenna Monroe. These are my girls.” She nodded to the one on the left. “Bridget.” Then right to the girl with the ponytail. “Abby.”
For the first time his mind registered the children were twins, dressed in matching white tops with a big, bold flower print on front, pink shorts and sneakers. In all the excitement yesterday, he hadn’t noticed.
He glanced at their mother, wearing a flattering blue summer dress. Self-conscious, he wished he’d showered as soon as he got home.
Realizing the woman still held out the plate, he took it from her hand.
Smooth, Hamilton.
“We baked you cookies,” Bridget announced.
Of course they had.
“Can we play with your dog?” asked Abby.
Cruiser, dancing in place the entire time, strained against Wyatt’s hold. He looked at Jenna. “Okay with you?”
“If he’s good with kids.”
“The best.”
“Fine.”
He let go of Cruiser, who covered them with doggy kisses. The twins giggled and cooed at their new friend.
“Why don’t you girls go in while your mother and I talk. There’s a basket of Cruiser’s toys beside the couch in the den.”
The girls ran ahead, talking to Cruiser as they went.
Suddenly remembering his manners, Wyatt nodded to the porch chair. “Have a seat.”
Jenna looked around. “There’s only one chair.”
Right. Because having only one chair discouraged visitors from staying. “I’ll be right back.” He hurried inside, placed the plate of cookies on the counter, grabbed a kitchen chair and returned to the porch. Jenna was settled in the Adirondack chair, looking as if she belonged there.
Her genuine smile greeted him, sending a warm rush of expectation through him. Surprised by the intensity of the long-dormant sensation, Wyatt set the chair down with a thud.
“I’m sorry for just barging in. I’d have called first, but...”
He dropped into the chair. “You don’t have my number.”
“I felt it was important for the girls to thank you.”
Giggles and a bark sounded from the other room.
“I appreciate you rescuing Bridget, but your parting words...”
What had he said? To be honest, he was so ticked, he couldn’t recall his words. All he knew was, he’d been walking along the beach, thinking about Jamie, when the urgent cries had him in the water before he could stop himself.
“The conditions probably weren’t the best. I should have been right there in the water with them, but in my defense, I didn’t know they couldn’t swim.”
He frowned. “You’re their mother. Shouldn’t you know?”
She waved her hand. “It’s a long story. I became their guardian after their mother passed away.”
“Sorry.” His brow wrinkled. “You were probably upset enough without me piling on, but you should be more careful.”
Her spine went stiff. “I’ll decide what I should and should not do when it comes to my girls.”
He noticed her cheeks had flushed pink. “Sometimes I get a little carried away, especially when it has to do with kids around water.”
Her anger faded as something more troublesome crossed her face. “I understand.”
He read the pity in her eyes and his stomach tightened. Here came The Conversation. Mostly he stayed away from the topic, but in light of yesterday’s events, he couldn’t let it go.
“You know?”
“Yes. Nealy told me. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
No matter how many times he heard the platitude, it made him angry, even when he knew it came from the heart. He met Jenna’s gaze. She didn’t know the entire story. If she did, her empathy would most likely change to derision.
Although his social skills were rusty from lack of use, he managed to mutter, “Thanks.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. She stood, smoothing her dress. “We won’t keep you any longer.”
Following her lead, he called Cruiser. The dog loped out of the house, the girls not far behind.
“He’s super friendly,” said the girl with a ponytail. Abby, was it?
“And he likes us,” Bridget added. “Can we come back and play with him?”
“Now girls, Mr. Hamilton is busy. We can’t just invite ourselves over for a visit.”
Wyatt nearly laughed out loud. Busy? Not so much. “Cruiser and I like to walk the beach. If we run into you, you can play with him.”
The girls hugged the dog. Cruiser basked in the attention.
“Well, we should be leaving.” Jenna turned to the girls. “What did you want to tell Mr. Hamilton?”
In unison they said, “Thank you.”
He nodded. “And thanks for the cookies.”
She gathered the girls. They stepped through the screen door and down the steps. Before rounding the house, she stopped. “Will you be at the party tonight?”
Max had mentioned something about a party but he hadn’t listened. “Party?”
“To welcome the girls and me to town.”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
She tilted her head, the sunlight catching the highlights in her hair, her skin glowing. An indulgent smile curved her lips, throwing him off balance and making him feel warm. “Do you like to eat?”
His mind suddenly went blank. He blinked. What was the question? Oh, yeah. Eating. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“I’m cooking. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my secret mac and cheese recipe.”
In the past two years, he hadn’t lived much, period. Yet this petite woman showed up on his doorstep with cookies, and for a split second he was considering going to her party.
“See you at six?”
What was wrong with him? She may be pretty, her smile the best thing he’d seen in a long time, but his empty porch beckoned. “I didn’t say I was coming.”
A sassy grin lit her face. “You won’t be able to resist.” After her final volley, she disappeared from view.
Wyatt ran his hand over his chin again, shaking his head at the small smile forming on his lips.
In less than thirty minutes, Jenna had made him self-conscious about his appearance, her girls had vied for his dog’s affection, and, he had to admit, he’d found her company more entertaining than anything in ages.
She was right. He couldn’t resist seeing her at the party. For once, he wouldn’t be hiding out at home. Alone.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ee65a764-93e4-5598-99b8-a4e084b2a572)
“C’MON, GIRLS,” JENNA called down the hallway from her bedroom as she fastened an earring in place. “We’re running late.”
She hadn’t gotten used to waiting on two young girls to get ready. Always priding herself on punctuality, she’d yet to master getting the three of them dressed and out the door on time.
“Coming,” Abby answered.
At the sound of the oven buzzer, Jenna hurried to the kitchen. The aroma of baking cheese met her before she entered the room. Using three different gourmet cheeses, with a bit of bacon thrown in and a topping of artisan breadcrumbs, she’d made the promised mac and cheese dish for the party. Donning a pair of oven mitts, she pulled the pan out and covered it with aluminum foil. Turning the oven off, she walked back down the hallway, stopping at the door of the girls’ room. Abby was on the floor, slipping on the new sparkly sandals Jenna had bought for the occasion. Bridget sat nearby, brushing the hair on her favorite doll.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
Returning to her bedroom, she picked up her purse before performing a quick scan of the space. She worried about forgetting to unplug her hair straightener or another electrical appliance, especially after a fire destroyed one of the foster homes she’d lived in. Satisfied everything was in order, she left the room.
“Front and center,” she sang out.
The girls ran to the living room. Jenna smiled as she viewed their matching sundresses, Abby in pink, Bridget in purple. Jenna had pulled their shoulder-length hair into ponytails with matching bows to finish off the look.
Her heart squeezed tight. “Beautiful,” she said, crouching to give them a hug.
“We’re late,” Bridget reminded her.
“Right.” Rising, Jenna smoothed the skirt of her red, sleeveless A-line dress. She’d blown dry her hair in a breezy style, not much else to do with the short length, and added her favorite spiky sandals, which gave her petite frame some height. “Let’s−”
Her cell rang again. “One minute.” She hurried to the kitchen, glancing at the caller ID. Barbara. The woman’s timing was impeccable. It was like she knew exactly when Jenna was in the middle of something with the girls and couldn’t answer the phone. Funny how her agent’s calls had never bothered her before the girls became a permanent part of her life.
“Jenna!” Bridget called.
“Coming.” No time to talk now. She would speak with Barbara later.
Tossing the phone in her purse, she grabbed the handles of the mac and cheese pan and hustled the girls out to the car. Soon, they were on the road. She breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully Nealy wouldn’t be too upset with them for being tardy.
As she pulled into the parking lot of the Grand Cypress Hotel, her cell rang again. Irritated now, she parked the car before digging the phone from her purse. The caller ID showed Barbara’s name. Jenna quickly pressed the talk button.
“Good grief,” Barbara said by way of a greeting. “I didn’t think you’d ever pick up.”
“Sorry. I was driving.”
“Listen, Jenna, I got a call from Kitchen Care. They want you to sign on for the commercial we discussed.”
A major sponsor of Jenna’s show, Kitchen Care Cookware, a large commercial-grade cookware company, was ready to release a new line of products, and they wanted Jenna as their spokesperson.
“Barbara, I can’t do it right now.”
“I know you’re on a break, but Jenna, this is Kitchen Care.”
“I understand.”
A voice sounded from the backseat. “Are we getting out of the car?”
Jenna glanced over her shoulder. “Yes.”
“Yes to Kitchen Care?” Barbara asked.
“No, Barbara. I have the girls in the car. Let me call you tomorrow.”
“Seriously consider this, Jenna. Your decision will affect the show. And your career.”
Barbara wasn’t being overly dramatic. In the world of cable television, pleasing sponsors was vital to a show’s longevity. “I know.”
“Fine. I’ll wait for your call.”
“Thanks.” Jenna almost hung up before a last-minute thought came to her. “Barbara, any photos or stories about me in the tabloids?”
“No. Why?”
“Just making sure.” She was glad her plan to escape the annoying reporter was working.
“After the incident with Rod, I’m very careful, just as you requested.”
Jenna blew out a breath. “Okay.”
“Jenna,” Abby called.
“I have to go, Barbara. Talk to you later.”
After tapping the off button, she got the girls out of the car, picked up the warm pan and headed inside. The name of the room reserved for the party was posted in the ornate lobby.
Nealy swooped down on her as soon as she set foot in the brightly decorated banquet room. A huge Welcome banner took up one entire wall, surrounded by balloons of every shape and color. Tables were scattered about, topped with bright cloths and flower arrangements. A long table, featuring an assortment of appetizers, lined another wall, along with a station set up for drinks.
“Way to be on time,” Nealy mock scolded.
“Sorry. I’m still navigating the ins and outs of getting the three of us dressed and ready to go.”
Nealy took the pan from Jenna. “You’re here now. I have lots of people for you to meet.”
Jenna glanced around the room again. “Wow. You really went all out.”
“I wanted this party to be special. To usher you into your new life.” Nealy crouched in front of the girls. “And I suppose you’d like something more fun to do than talk to old people.”
Both girls nodded their heads.
“My nephew Davey and his girlfriend will take you to the game room.” She called to a teenage boy as she rose then turned her attention back to Jenna. “If it’s okay with you?”
“Can I go with them?”
“Not a chance. Davey’s very reliable and we have work to do.” Nealy carried the pan to the food table, moving a few dishes around before placing it in the empty space.
Jenna spoke briefly with Davey before he took the girls to the game room, then joined Nealy.
“I have to say, my mac and cheese smells delicious,” Jenna teased her cooking-challenged friend.
“You know I hate it when you brag.”
“Hey, I like jealousy on you,” Nealy’s boyfriend, Dane, said as he joined them. “Gives me hope you’ll one day learn to master the kitchen so you can feed me.”
The women looked at each other and laughed.
Nealy leaned in to kiss Dane, then grabbed Jenna’s arm. “C’mon, let’s mingle.”
And mingle they did. Before she knew it, Jenna met half the population of Cypress Pointe. Everyone from the mayor and the police chief to shop owners and other town notables. The list went on, leaving Jenna to try to remember the barrage of names.
She smiled until her cheeks ached. Chatted about her job, her family and whatever else the fine folks of Cypress Pointe found interesting. The old urge to melt into the sidelines threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed away the inclination. Nealy had gone above and beyond to plan this party for Jenna. The least she could do was enjoy it.
Parched from all the talking, Jenna poured herself a glass of lemon-flavored water. In a quiet corner she regrouped, appreciating a moment alone.
She peered over the crowd, surprised to discover that in a short time, she already liked living here. Her busy life in LA left her little opportunity to develop close relationships, but she found she was fond of the friendly residents and peaceful atmosphere of Cypress Pointe. Here, the pace was much slower. More conducive to enjoying life, rather than barreling through every second of the day to attain the next goal, as she’d been doing for years.
But can this place hold your interest, a voice inside her whispered. Can it keep you and the girls safe?
Until she was here longer, she couldn’t answer that question. Only time would tell.
Nealy weaved through the room toward her, talking to a couple walking with her. Jenna smiled, ready for another round of introductions
“Jenna, meet Max and Lilli, old friends of mine.”
They all shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.
“Max is the man responsible for bringing Wyatt to town,” Nealy informed her.
The handsome man smiled at Jenna. “Heard you had a little run-in with my old buddy?”
She shrugged. “More like he saved the day.”
Lilli touched her arm. “You must have been terrified.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Nealy told us about the girls’ mother.” Lilli shook her head. “What a terrible loss.”
“Yes. Carrie should be the one raising her daughters, not me.”
“In a perfect world,” Lilli said. “But they have you.”
“And she’s an awesome mom,” Nealy interjected.
“As long as we stay away from the beach,” Jenna teased, deflecting the direction of conversation. She didn’t want credit for something she hadn’t yet earned.
“Well, welcome to town.” Lilli smiled. “You’re going to love it here.”
Nealy hooked her arm through Lilli’s. “And we have a new friend to add to our girls’ night out.”
“Watch out,” Max deadpanned.
As the women started discussing the merits of a chic-flick evening at home versus a night on the town, minus their men, Jenna felt Max’s gaze focus on her.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, uneasy with his intensity.
“No. Just thinking about you bringing cookies to Wyatt.”
“He told you?”
“Yeah. He was surprised at the gesture. People around here tend to give him a wide berth.”
“I would imagine it’s because he’s so prickly.”
Max chuckled, then quickly sobered. “That, and he hasn’t gotten over the death of his son.”
“I understand something of how he feels. I haven’t lost a child, but my best friend’s death touched me deeply.”
He cocked his head. “Maybe you could talk to him once in a while. No one can convince him to see a counselor, but since you’re both dealing with loss, he could use a friend.”
Sit down with a man still so deep in grief over the death of his son and talk about...what? Life? Moving on? She barely had a handle on it herself.
“I don’t know.”
“Look, it’s just a thought.”
A thought now firmly planted in her mind.
After the brief visit with Wyatt today, she had to admit, she found herself more than a bit curious about him. His dark good looks were made more interesting by the light beard dusting his face. Most guys in LA paid big bucks for the natural look Wyatt achieved without trying. His broad shoulders and muscular arms told her he wasn’t afraid of hard work. And his eyes. So blue. So troubled. Not that she’d noticed or anything.
Right. Okay, she’d noticed. She was only human, after all. And it had been a long time since a man drew her interest.
But this man? The guy who accused her of not watching the girls closely enough. Granted, he was right, but did she want him holding that over her head? No. Plus, he carried the same baggage, probably more, that she did. Could she deal with his loss as well as her own?
But he had rescued Bridget. The least she could do was consider Max’s suggestion.
Soon, Max and Lilli moved on. Nealy went off to take care of some sort of problem in the kitchen, leaving Jenna alone again. She let out a sigh.
“Overwhelming, huh?”
Jenna smiled at the police chief, Bob Gardener, who everyone simply called the Chief. A tall bear of a man with gray hair and a genuine smile, he inspired confidence and respect in those around him.
“Nealy means well.”
“Think you’ll remember everyone’s name?”
She laughed. “I doubt it, but I’m sure the longer I’m here, the better I’ll get.”
“Stayin’ very long?”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Tryin’ to get rid of me already?”
He chuckled. “No, ma’am. Just like to keep a finger on what’s goin’ on in my town.”
“Hopefully the girls and I won’t give you any trouble. So far we’ve been law-abiding citizens. I don’t see us changing anytime soon.”
“Didn’t think you would.” He hesitated, as if getting his timing right. “Might be worried about others, though.”
Her stomach clenched. “Meaning?”
“Heard you had some trouble with a reporter back in LA.”
By the way he looked at her, Jenna knew he’d done more than just hear the news. “Then you know I have a restraining order. We came here to get away from him.”
He nodded. “If he does happen to show up in Cypress Pointe, I promise, he won’t be hassling you.”
Relieved to have someone in law enforcement on her side, she said, “I’m hoping that won’t happen, but with him...there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“I’ll be ready.” He smiled, reassuring her again.
Before Jenna knew it, another hour flew by. Much as she appreciated the people who had come out to meet her, she wanted a few minutes to catch her breath. Maybe a walk by the outdoor pool would help.
She’d just started to head in that direction when she noticed Wyatt. When had he arrived? So busy chatting up her new neighbors, she’d missed him come in. Clean shaven, with his hair neatly combed, he was more handsome than she remembered. Her pulse leaped, despite her intention to remain unaffected by the man.
Tonight he dressed in a gray button-down shirt and black slacks, a far cry from his work clothes. He stood in a far corner of the room, clearly uncomfortable. She bit her lip. Should she go to him? Attempt small talk again? The decision was taken out of her hands when Max approached Wyatt, handing him a bottle of beer. They spoke briefly before Max rejoined his girlfriend. Curious, she watched as Wyatt looked down at the bottle then set it on a nearby table before walking outside.
Okay, she really should leave the man to his solitude, but when had she ever left a hurting person alone? Never. And she wasn’t about to start now. She strode across the room, grabbed the bottle and followed him outside.
* * *
WYATT TOOK A deep breath of the humid August air. He hadn’t shown up for any public gatherings since arriving in Cypress Pointe, and here he was with real shoes on, even though they pinched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn anything but boat shoes.
He’d convinced himself that Jenna’s promise of her secret mac and cheese recipe drew him here, but he knew better. He simply wanted to see her again.
So far he hadn’t spoken to her. From the moment he arrived, she’d been monopolized by one person after another. Since he’d already had the pleasure of meeting her, he’d wait his turn.
Pleasure? As much as the word had become foreign to him, it fit meeting Jenna. Like no one had done in a long time, she piqued his interest. Was it because she understood what he was going through, having recently lost her friend? Most people didn’t get where he was coming from, couldn’t understand why he didn’t just buck up and face life without his son. She seemed to have a better insight into his state of mind.
Or was he intrigued by this single woman raising two girls on her own? He understood the sacrifice, worry and all-consuming joy of rearing a child. Knew that being a parent was a tough road. Admired her for attempting it on her own.
After engaging in conversation with people he hadn’t seen in a while, his shoulders had started to ache with tension. His chest had grown tighter still when his parents had joined him before he stepped outside.
“Wyatt, I’m so happy to see you,” his mother had said, hugging him. When he returned the gesture, she squeezed him again before drawing back, her gaze filled with concern. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“You’re eating? Sleeping?’
His father chuckled. “Liz, the boy looks healthy to me.”
“Don’t pretend you aren’t worried, Bryce. You’ve spent just as many hours wondering how Wyatt is doing as I have.”
“Both of you can stop worrying,” Wyatt said, trying to infuse humor into his tone. “I’m eating. Working.”
“But not sleeping?” his mother asked.
He sighed. “Mom, let it go.”
“I’m your mother. I never let go.”
Questioning his welfare was part of the dynamic he’d intentionally walked away from. What was wrong with him? They only wanted to help. Be a part of his life. They missed Jamie too. Still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t respond to them. His father laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t push,” he said quietly.
His mother’s eyes filled with tears. What a rotten son he’d become. She stepped closer to his father as Wyatt began to withdraw.
“Can we at least meet for dinner sometime? If I promise not to interfere?”
“Sure. I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
He forced a grin for his mother’s sake. “I promise.” Guilt and sorrow tugged at him. He hoped someday he would be capable of spending more than a few minutes with his folks, but right now he needed fresh air.
Leaving behind the party chatter, he strode to the far end of the pool area, opened the gate to step onto the lush expanse of grass spreading from the side of the hotel down to the beach. The sweet scent of blooming honeysuckle filled the air. The soft glow from tiered garden lights bordered the neatly manicured foliage surrounding the building. The dim lighting allowed a better view of the moon shining over the calm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. He hadn’t realized how on edge he was until the soothing sound of waves lapping against the sand relaxed him in slow degrees.
Heels tapping against the stone path drew his attention from the water. He turned, surprised and pleased to see Jenna walking his way. Pleased indeed.
She held out a bottle. “You left this behind.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want it.”
She lifted a quizzical brow.
Did he really need to explain himself? Probably. A stubborn part of him wanted to tell her to leave him alone, but the tired part of him wanted to talk to someone. Talk to her. So he started, haltingly at first.
“When my son died, I thought it would be easy to get lost in a bottle. You know, just forget.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and shrugged in an attempt to make light of the situation. “Funny thing is, I don’t really like to drink. So it never helped me not remember Jamie.”
“That was your son’s name? Jamie?”
“Yes.” Emotion clogged his throat. “You’d think after two years I could say my son’s name without getting choked up, but apparently not.”
“You miss him.”
“Every day with every breath.”
In the garden’s soft light, he saw Jenna’s rapid blinking. Was she fighting back tears? See, she got it.
“He was a great kid,” Wyatt went on. “Full of life. Loved adventure.”
“So Jamie wouldn’t want you to drown your sorrows in a bottle.”
“Probably not any more than your friend would want you to.”
“Carrie,” she said just above a whisper. “My friend’s name.”
As if by silent agreement, they strolled farther away from the building. Away from the music and numerous voices, heading toward a large magnolia tree with a bench positioned beneath. Pink luminous blooms dotted the limbs in the dark night. Wyatt bent over to pick up a fallen flower and handed it to her.
Their fingers brushed in the exchange. He lingered, enjoying the touch of her smooth skin. It had been a long time since he’d touched anyone. At Jenna’s shiver, he let his hand drop.
They took a seat on the cool wrought-iron bench, leaving a wide space between them.
“Most people don’t want to talk about Jamie,” he said. “They find it awkward or think I’m not ready.”
Jenna tilted her head and regarded him. “Do you think you’re ready?”
“Sometimes it feels good to say his name. But other times...” he took a deep breath.
“I know what you mean. I find I have to walk a fine line with the twins. Sometimes we all have a good laugh over a shared memory, but other times the memories make us cry.”
“I guess it’s all part of the grieving process.”
An uneasy silence lapsed again. Jenna broke it first. “So instead of becoming a drinker, you decided to become a brooding, sullen loner?”
He opened his mouth to argue but Jenna held up her hand. “It’s not my opinion. I’m only repeating what I’ve heard.”
Was that what people thought of him? Sullen? Brooding? Okay, the brooding loner part was probably true. “Fair enough.”
Was this what he’d let his life become? A ghost walker during the day. Going through the motions of his job without any effort. Cutting ties with family and friends. Shoot, Jenna and the girls were the only people to visit him in weeks.
Not a very flattering picture, if he did say so himself.
He was so mired in his thoughts that Jenna startled him when she spoke again. “I have to say, I’m surprised you showed up tonight.”
“So am I. After the promise of food, I had to come.” He grinned. “I tasted your masterpiece and I gotta say, you did the mac and cheese crowd proud. And this is coming from a mac and cheese connoisseur.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” She frowned. “But to be honest, meeting all these people is a bit overwhelming. I’m not usually comfortable in big crowds.”
“Something we have in common.” He noticed she still held the bottle. “Want me to take that?”
“No. I guess I should head back inside.” She stood. “I’ll take it with me.”
He stood as well, sorry the brief interlude had ended so soon. Who would have thought diving into the waves after a little girl would lead to meeting a woman he actually wanted to talk to?
“Hey, once again, I’m sorry if I came down too hard on you the other day.”
“Save the lecture,” she warned. “Can’t say I’ve earned the status of mother just yet, but from now on I’ll be more vigilant about watching the girls.”
“Swimming lessons probably wouldn’t hurt,” he suggested.
“I was thinking the same thing. Do you know any instructors?”
He searched his memory. “There’s a YMCA nearby. Better yet, a town directory with a list of services.”
“It can’t be just someone I find on a list. I have to trust whoever works with the girls.”
“You’ll find the right person.”
“I think I have.” She stepped toward him. “How about you?”
He froze. Teach her girls how to swim? Did she realize what she was asking? No way. Not after how he failed Jamie.
“I’m not a teacher.”
“But you clearly swim.”
“Well, yeah, but a teacher? I’m sorry, Jenna. I won’t do it.”
Despite his refusal, she tried to convince him. “The girls think you’re a prince.”
He nearly choked. “Prince?” Not if they knew the truth.
“They’re in a fairy tale princess phase right now, and after your derring-do at the beach, you fall into the knight in shining armor category.”
Please, anything but this.
“Living in this coastal town could be dangerous if they don’t know how to swim.” She worried her lip. “They tend to be a tad headstrong, but after the grand rescue the other day, I think they’ll listen to you.”
No. They couldn’t be trusted with him. “Jenna, I—”
“Wyatt, I don’t let just anyone into the girls’ lives. They like you. They’d never learn from anyone they didn’t feel safe with. You’ve proven you can keep them safe.”
He closed, then opened his eyes. Forced himself to say the words. “Jenna, you realize Jamie drowned, right?”
“I didn’t want to...Nealy said it was a boating accident...” She glanced at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m making a mess of this.”
“Then you see why I can’t do this.”
“I disagree.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
She disagreed? “Why?”
“From what I understand, your son’s death was an accident.”
He bit back the bitterness threatening to claim him. Kept his tone even when he said, “You don’t know the details.” Not an accident. As far as he was concerned, Jamie’s death fell squarely on his shoulders.
“Maybe not, but if you were such a bad guy, you never would have dived into the water after Bridget. Maybe you need to help my girls in honor of Jamie.”
He ran a hand over his chin. “This is crazy.”
She shook her head. “This is healing.”
Had this petite woman standing before him just used her kids’ need for swimming lessons to help him feel better?
He shook his head, more adamant now. “I can’t do it.”
A shadow of hurt crossed her face, quickly replaced by a flash of determination. “Okay. I’ll take care of the girls’ lessons on my own.”
“Jenna, I—”
She jerked back, putting distance between them. “No need to explain. You don’t want to get involved. I get it.”
“I’m not saying...” He took a breath. “Jenna, you can’t keep bad things from happening.”
“But I can make sure I’m prepared.” She turned and strode away, leaving him to wonder if he’d just made another life-changing mistake.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ffaa1f5c-e9a8-530d-aee9-5ea12b538100)
WITH A WEEK left before school started, Jenna decided to follow through and sign the girls up for swimming lessons. Wyatt may not want to be involved, but his unwillingness wouldn’t stop her. After some research, she discovered the local country club held weekly lessons. She called, set up a time with the instructor and checked one more activity off her growing list.
At first, the girls were excited about the idea, until it came time to put on their swimsuits. Suddenly, Bridget had an upset stomach and Abby couldn’t find her suit.
Jenna stood in the doorway to their bedroom, a serious frown focused on the girls, who sat cross-legged on the floor, dolls and accessories scattered around them. “Abby, we unpacked your bathing suit. It’s in the bottom drawer of your dresser.”
Abby dipped her head and glanced at her sister, as if not sure what to say or do. Bridget, however, kept her eyes leveled on Jenna with a stare she’d come to recognize as a “don’t push me” look.
“Bridget, do you want some seltzer water?”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “That won’t help.”
“Hmm. I seem to remember it helped after too many hot dogs and French fries on Friday night.”
Bridget shrugged. “I ate too many eggs this morning.”
“Then how about the pink stuff?”
The ten-year-old sent Jenna an, “as if,” look.
Yes, Jenna knew Bridget’s aversion to seltzer. Or any kind of chalky stomach remedy. The thick concoction made her gag every time she attempted to swallow it. She also knew that Bridget’s stomachaches usually stemmed from nerves. If they worked out the problem, Bridget was fine.
Still, she had to get the two moving. Let the battle begin.
“I see. If that’s the case, you won’t make miniature golf tonight with Nealy and Lilli. They’ll be disappointed, but will understand you’re too sick to join them.” She shifted her gaze to Abby. “Guess it’ll just be you playing golf later while your sister stays home with the sitter.”
A frown furrowed Bridget’s brow.
Jenna held back a grin, ready to pour it on. She snapped her fingers. “I nearly forgot. We were also going to the mall later. I wanted to look for new school shoes.”
She knew her volley would hit the mark. Only ten and already Bridget loved shoes.
Abby rose and walked to her dresser, opening the drawer to remove her swimsuit.
Jenna pulled a surprised face. “Oh, will you look at that. Right where we put it.”
Abby grinned, knowing her little trick hadn’t worked. So much for the truth pact. As she began to change, Bridget gathered up her own suit, which was lying on the bed. “I’m not super sick. My stomach will feel better soon.”
“That a girl.”
“I don’t see why Mr. Hamilton can’t teach us,” Bridget groused. Since the day at the beach, Wyatt had become her hero.
“I told you, he’s not up to it right now.”
“I wonder if he’d let us play with Cruiser?” Abby asked. “Do you think he’ll let us come over again?”
“Mr. Hamilton is a busy man.” Or not, but Jenna wasn’t about to figure out the man’s schedule. Time to change the subject. She glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes and we’re out the door.”
As the girls got ready, Jenna went to her bedroom, reluctantly thinking about Wyatt. Once Bridget mentioned his name, her mind focused on his anguished expression under the moonlight when he’d refused to give the girls swimming lessons. Sympathy tugged at her. As much as she’d hoped he’d instruct the girls, she had to admit, she understood why he couldn’t. Too much too soon after his son’s accident.
The counselor she and the girls had been seeing in California urged her not to get stressed over the grieving process, since it varied for every person. There was no time limit, no set-in-stone method to deal with loss. Even the stages of grief were sometimes different for people.
Her mind flashbacked to the beach. Bridget flailing around in the water.
On the other hand, she resented Wyatt’s accusation that she was reckless with the girls’ safety. Clearly, he had lingering issues after his son’s death, and she had her own learning curve to deal with. She’d only recently gone from taking care of herself to being in charge of a family of three. Given her own insecurities as a caregiver, she didn’t appreciate his negative outlook.
Shaking off the thought, Jenna retrieved the beach bag from the closet and tossed a tube of sunblock inside.
While Jenna still grieved Carrie, she’d gotten to the point where she had to put the cares and concerns of the twins first and foremost in her life. Yes, she would have liked Wyatt to work with the girls because they’d established a rapport. He could have looked at the lessons as a way to kick-start him into living again, but honestly, she didn’t know the man well enough to intrude on his privacy. If he kept those emotional walls intact, she never would.
She should probably keep some distance from Wyatt. By his own admission, he wasn’t very social, so that solved the problem of running into him. Yet, he stirred...something...in her. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something she’d thought buried after François humiliated her. The world-renowned chef had ended their relationship after her cooking show became successful. She’d foolishly believed he loved her, had thought his group of friends were also her friends. But his large ego and notorious jealousy had them siding with him.
But Wyatt... She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she sensed he was different than most men she knew. You didn’t grieve so deeply if you were self-absorbed. He was both hurting and guarded. A dangerous combination for a woman who’d always taken care of the other foster kids she happened to be living with. Yes, she’d grown up and achieved a bit of success, but the need to be a part of something more, of her own family, hadn’t dimmed with time.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/tara-randel/honeysuckle-bride/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Tara Randel
One part happiness. Two parts love.Relocating to the coast of Florida after becoming guardian of her best friend’s twin daughters could be the best move LA celebrity chef Jenna Monroe ever made. This is her chance to create a stable, loving home—something she never had. But can she be the mother the girls need?Wyatt Hamilton thinks she can. The rugged charter boat captain, who came home to Cypress Pointe still grieving the death of his son, has faith in her. But the feelings he awakens in Jenna both exhilarate and frighten her. Because Wyatt no longer believes in forever… Unless she can convince him otherwise.
One part happiness. Two parts love.
Relocating to the coast of Florida after becoming guardian of her best friend’s twin daughters could be the best move LA celebrity chef Jenna Monroe ever made. This is her chance to create a stable, loving home—something she never had. But can she be the mother the girls need?
Wyatt Hamilton thinks she can. The rugged charter boat captain, who came home to Cypress Pointe still grieving the death of his son, has faith in her. But the feelings he awakens in Jenna both exhilarate and frighten her. Because Wyatt no longer believes in forever... Unless she can convince him otherwise.
“Jenna, some advice?”
She faced him. “Yes, please.”
“Keep loving the girls, just the way you are. They’ll always remember your love.”
Her throat went dry as tears misted in her eyes. “I can do that.”
Wyatt reached out to run a finger over her cheek, catching a teardrop. His gaze held hers, dark in the dim light.
“Then you’re miles ahead.”
The foyer suddenly seemed cramped. The air heated. They stood toe to toe, so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin. His firm fingers circled her arms, drew her closer. He lowered his head, but neither of them made the next move.
Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she stood on tiptoe to brush her lips over his.
Dear Reader (#ulink_6999d776-ed00-5f6b-a8f4-f801b2b8f44e),
Losing a loved one is always heart wrenching. Losing a child, a much deeper pain.
Wyatt Hamilton thought he lost it all after his son died and his wife left him. Getting through each hopeless day became a major task...until Jenna Monroe comes into his life.
Jenna understands the pain of losing someone close, but also knows hope gives us the strength to carry on with life. Wyatt is drawn to that inner strength, to the promise of hope, and so begins a new chapter for both Jenna and Wyatt.
Of course, the road to love is never easy, but watching two people take a chance on love is exactly why we read romance novels. Overcoming obstacles and shake-ups in our lives is so much better with someone by our side, sharing the load and making the path easier to bear. Hope and love go hand in hand, and I believe that’s why we enjoy romance stories.
Once again, I invite you back to Cypress Pointe. There’s never a dull moment in this town. Spend a few hours meeting new characters, catching up with old friends and finding new surprises. Thankfully the journey to love is never dull. Enjoy the ride!
Tara Randel
Honeysuckle
Bride
Tara Randel
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TARA RANDEL
has enjoyed a lifelong love of books, especially romance, so it came as no surprise when she began writing with the dream of becoming published. Family values, a bit of mystery and, of course, love and romance are her favorite themes, because she believes love is the greatest gift of all. Tara lives on the west coast of Florida, where gorgeous sunsets and beautiful weather inspire the creation of heartwarming stories. This is her third book for Mills & Boon Heartwarming.
To my dear friend Sheri H. Thanks for the many chats over the years and your support for my books. During the time I needed to lean on you most, you were there. Thanks will never be enough.
Contents
Cover (#uc1fc8b83-912e-5d1d-aab6-c14b04d30c9d)
Back Cover Text (#u24802822-b414-5109-afe4-30a53a6c0994)
Introduction (#u708d480f-a414-5aae-86b1-bfce63e0eed4)
Dear Reader (#u1e16ef2a-ef9e-51e8-9e96-3289b22de493)
Title Page (#u2397875b-15b4-5144-8287-814d5662dca6)
About the Author (#uc98a18d4-3d87-59b9-b4ff-b543151d3124)
Dedication (#ued2852b5-e2ef-59fa-93b8-5bcf35ddac4e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u066d12fb-8ca6-5f81-b541-59e2cbf170f7)
CHAPTER TWO (#uca018baa-85e9-5152-bad1-8f979290583e)
CHAPTER THREE (#ua1f6ab5e-9996-58a9-9112-56b45577620b)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u437363fd-a1b9-57f0-a2cc-ac9aaa32533d)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_6da93123-5394-59c5-9ff4-3976f71c066b)
“STAY CLOSE BY,” Jenna Monroe called out to her wards frolicking in the ankle-deep surf. Seated on an old beach blanket on the section of dry sand butting up to the water, she had a clear view of the twin girls. Tropical Storm Harry had passed through a few days earlier, leaving the weather unsettled. The forecast today called for patchy sunshine to break through the cloud cover and overall conditions slowly returning to normal.
The two scamps insisted they knew how to swim, but Jenna hadn’t lived with the ten-year-olds long enough to trust their credibility. Despite the fact that Jenna had known them since birth, she wasn’t up to speed on every detail of their lives. Still, swimming seemed to be big on their favorites list. After three days of unpacking and staying indoors due to rain and gusty wind, the girls had begged to come to the beach. Jenna agreed because they all could use a dose of fresh air. In reality, they needed so much more than that, but for now, the beach would have to do.
Her good friend Nealy Grainger, whom she’d met and worked with in LA, had recently moved back to Florida. Jenna and the girls had needed a change of scenery and at Nealy’s suggestion, packed up and made the move from LA to Cypress Pointe. It had been exhausting, mainly because it happened so quickly. Digging her toes in the damp sand, Jenna leaned back on her elbows and took a breath. The first in months, it seemed. One minute she’d been busy filming Jenna’s Cozy Cooking and making guest appearances as a television chef on various daytime talk shows, the next she’d been listening to the horrible phone call informing her of the death of her best friend, Carrie.
Right on the heels of that devastating news came the reading of the will, when Jenna learned she had custody of the twins since their father had signed away his rights after their birth. Had it only been six months ago? What a whirlwind. She still couldn’t get a handle on all the life-changing events. Settling in to this new chapter of her life would take time, but she’d make it work, for Carrie’s legacy and the girls’ future.
Keeping an eagle eye on Bridget and Abigail, Abby for short, proved a challenge as they darted in and out of the rolling, thigh-high waves. Jenna had always been a stickler for safety, but with custody of two young girls, her untapped maternal instincts materialized daily.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Abby yelled as Bridget waved her arm in invitation.
“In a minute,” Jenna answered, wiggling her toes in the cool sand.
Giggles resounded over the surf. There hadn’t been a free moment since they arrived in town a few days earlier. The cross-country move had been taxing and she took advantage of this rare opportunity to clear her mind. The closest they’d come to the beach was when they’d cruised by the public access before arriving at the rental house. First chore, unpacking, then registering for school. Clothes shopping had been slated next, but was interrupted by the tropical storm, which kept them inside and going stir-crazy. When the girls double-teamed her this afternoon, coming up with every reason imaginable to hit the beach, Jenna hadn’t argued. She’d been so busy with her career, then settling in with the girls, she couldn’t remember the last time she took time to play. Besides, they all needed to work off their excess energy.
The beach here in Cypress Pointe was beautiful. Puffy clouds, rolling along in the swift air currents, swirled a murky gray in the sky, tossing Jenna’s short, pixie-cut hair. Meager bursts of sunlight occasionally brightened up what started as a gloomy day. This morning, the temperature hovered in the mideighties before steadily rising to the sticky ninety-degree dog days of August. Humidity topped the charts. All part of living in Florida, Nealy assured her when Jenna complained. Just another aspect of her new life.
Going from a single, independent career woman to a new mother at twenty-nine had created a huge learning curve. Oh, she loved the girls, no doubt about it. After these months together, she couldn’t imagine life without them. Still, she was plagued with doubts. Could she do this, especially while they were still grieving Carrie’s sudden death? Could she love the girls as much as their mother had? Fill the void of their mother’s absence? Carrie had been awesome with the girls. Could Jenna do the same?
A few other children joined the twins, probably also needing a break after being indoors for days. This would be the first chance for the girls to make friends. Jenna crossed her fingers.
As the two started moving out deeper, Jenna straightened and yelled, “Hey, come closer to the water’s edge.” Bridget, the more adventurous of the two, jumped about in the choppy surf. She grabbed her sister’s hand and shuffled back.
Jenna let out a breath. Would her life always be like this, worrying about every little detail of her charges’ lives? She thought she’d left her worries and insecurities behind once she’d aged out of the foster system. Apparently not.
Thankfully, the girls followed Jenna’s command. The wave swell was nowhere near as strong as on the California coast where she grew up. For right now, insisting the girls stay in the shallow surf eased her concerns.
Rolling her shoulders, she rested on her elbows again, turning her attention to the panorama. To her left was the marina where boats bobbed in the restless waves. Maybe a nice family outing would take the girls’ minds off leaving the only home they’d ever known.
To her right, far off in the distance, she could barely make out the Grand Cypress Hotel. She’d taken the girls there for dinner the first night they’d arrived in town at the urging of Nealy, whose boyfriend owned the hotel and restaurant. Jenna wanted the twins to meet the woman who suggested they move to this coastal Florida town to get away from sad memories and a certain tabloid reporter determined to make her life miserable.
Bridget ran out of the water, a bright smile on her usually serious face. “Jenna, can we build a castle?”
“Of course.” She dug into the bag of beach toys she’d stopped to purchase on the way there. “Make it a princess castle,” she added, handing Bridget the shovels and sand molds. The girls were in a princess phase, which meant begging for new dolls and sparkly accessories to go with them.
“Okay. Just watch how special it’ll be.” Bridget ran back to her sister, handing over a shovel to Abby. Soon they were both digging in the soupy sand.
A strong tug of affection squeezed Jenna’s heart as she watched them play.
For weeks they’d been despondent, to the point where Jenna decided to get counseling. It had helped, even though the girls still had times when they didn’t want to talk or be around other people.
High-pitched shrieks sounded as the two playfully threw sand at each other, abandoning the toys to rush back into the water. So much for the castle.
Encouraged by their carefree play, Jenna watched the girls act like children instead of the mere shadows they’d been for weeks on end. Yes, this move was good. Necessary even.
Back in LA, when she first started appearing on television, a tabloid reporter named Rod Hartley turned his attention to her when he searched for stories about rising celebrities in the entertainment industry. As tenacious as a bulldog when hunting a story, he’d discovered Jenna when the network she worked for dubbed her America’s Sweetheart Chef to increase ratings.
New to the world of celebrities, and flabbergasted by the attention since she only had a cable cooking show, Jenna couldn’t fathom Rod’s interest. At first, she was flattered. Rod could often be charming, flirty even, but as time went by, she got a weird vibe whenever he was around.
Jenna shivered at the memory, reaching into the beach tote for the baggie filled with carrots. Nibbling on good, crunchy food tended to calm her. She dumped a few into her hand and tossed the baggie on the towel beside her. Munching away, she continued to watch the twins while she thought about LA
For a while, Rod pretended to be a neighbor, although he was vague about where he lived, exactly. He always happened to be in the neighborhood at the same time she was, popping up every place she went. Soon, his excuses of coincidence became thin. Years spent in foster homes had sharpened her senses and her senses screamed something was seriously off with this guy.
When the girls came into her life, he became fixated on them as well. She didn’t understand why until her agent uncovered the truth about him. Rod had lost his wife and children to his obsession over his career. Now that obsession included Jenna.
The final straw came when he camped in his SUV outside the office building where Jenna and the girls met a counselor for grief therapy. His exploits were already invasive enough, but this time he chased after them in the SUV as they hurried to their parked car. In their haste to get away, Abby had darted out into the road and was nearly run down by Rod as he tried to snap pictures.
His actions were a clear sign to Jenna. She couldn’t let anything like this happen again so she filed for, and won, a temporary restraining order. The girls were so badly shaken up, it was days before they would venture outside again. If Jenna hadn’t needed to get to work, she would have stayed inside with them but instead called a sitter to watch them while she went to the studio.
The situation got worse when Rod drove by her apartment after receiving the legal order. Jenna was getting into her car when she noticed the SUV. She squared her shoulders, not about to let Rod see how much he’d upset her life, and glared at him.
To her dismay, he merely smiled, even as she read the anger in his eyes. “This isn’t over,” he’d threatened, then peeled out of the complex. Jenna sank against the car, her knees like jelly.
Her mind was so caught up in reliving that terrifying final encounter with Rod that she almost didn’t notice two seagulls steadily making their way toward the bag of carrots. “Shoo.” She waved her hands at the birds, startling them into flight while she tucked the food away.
After that incident with Rod, Jenna called Nealy to vent. Her friend had moved away from LA, and Jenna missed not being able to drop in on her. At some point in the conversation, Nealy suggested Jenna pack up the girls and come to Florida during the hiatus from filming her cooking show. Nealy had spoken fondly about her hometown, and gone so far as producing a list of pros in favor of moving.
Why not, Jenna thought. A change would benefit the girls greatly, and once away from LA, Jenna could decide where their future lay. If they liked Cypress Pointe enough, maybe they’d stay here for good. Within two weeks, she’d packed up and moved to the other side of the country, hoping she’d made the right choice. Jenna smiled, watching the girls dance carefree in the surf, their dark braids, so like Carrie’s long, brunette hair, swinging over their shoulders. Even their smiles reminded Jenna of her best friend, adding a touch of mischief to their play. They were so like their mother when she was having a good time. This was just what they needed, to play like the children they were, not two daughters who grieved their mother who’d been killed in a freeway crash. Yes, there would still be many sorrowful days ahead, but Jenna would gladly do all the worrying and heavy emotional lifting for her best friend’s children.
The girls waved at her before continuing to splash each other. Jenna laughed and waved back, getting comfortable again as she watched the girls play.
Out of the corner of her eye, a solitary figure, followed closely by a golden retriever, strolled into view. A man with his hands shoved in his shorts pockets. The breeze blew against his T-shirt, a baseball cap obscured his face. She wondered if he too had grown stir-crazy and longed to be outside. He stopped to pick something up from the sand and tossed it into the churning water. The object, a shell or rock maybe, arced high into the air and splashed with a plink. When the dog started into the water to retrieve the item, the man called out a sharp command. The dog barked and ran circles in the surf.
Seeing this man all alone struck a chord in Jenna. Probably because she’d spent most of her childhood by herself. She’d survived the foster system, but memories of missing her mother and wishing for a permanent home had never left her.
She shook off the negative thoughts. Today was all about getting away from sadness and enjoying themselves for a little while. Seeing the girls happy, she shoved her cares aside and gave her imagination free rein to conjure up a life for the man standing in the surf, staring into the horizon. Usually pragmatic and focused, she gave in to her fanciful musings.
Since he came from the direction of the marina, he might be a boat captain, his first day back from a round-the-world cruise. He had no family since he traveled extensively. And he had a thing for petite blonde women.
She shook her head at the flight of fancy. Right. It had been way too long since she’d been on a date. Even before she gained custody of the girls, she’d been too busy with her career for a social life. Made the mistake of falling for a man who claimed he’d loved her, only to dump her as easily as he said those three words. A mystery man held more appeal than men she met in real life.
Taking another cleansing breath, she savored the briny air and the feel of the cool sand between her toes. Calm settled over her and she closed her eyes for a moment.
Until she heard a scream. Eyes wide, she jumped up, spotting Abby at the shoreline, pointing to the water. Bridget was nowhere in sight. Freezing momentarily, Jenna came to her senses when Abby cried out again. She scrambled forward, the sand shooting out from under her feet as she sped toward the area Abby indicated. She’d just reached the little girl when a man streaked past her, running through the surf before diving into deeper water.
Jenna headed toward the waves, ready to wade, or swim, or whatever, to get to Bridget, when the mystery man emerged from the water, a coughing child in his arms. He floated to a shallower area, then stood and trudged toward land. Abby remained rigid by Jenna’s side, her small hand gripping Jenna’s like a vise.
The dog jumped and barked like crazy, following his master.
“Is she okay?” Jenna croaked through the fear lodged in her throat.
When the man nodded, her limbs went shaky as relief swept over her. He spoke to Bridget in a quiet voice, but Jenna couldn’t make out his words. Wrapping an arm around Abby, she hugged her close before following the man to dry sand. Once there, he set Bridget down on Jenna’s abandoned blanket in a gentle motion, told the dog to hush, and crouched beside her, his hands resting on small shoulders as he murmured in a low, but firm, voice. The coughing stopped, and within seconds, Bridget’s whimpers turned into racking sobs.
Jenna tried to push him aside to get to the little girl, but Bridget wouldn’t release her hold of the man’s hand. He sent Jenna a sharp warning glance before turning his attention back to Bridget. Infuriated, she moved closer. Who was he, a stranger, to keep her from Bridget?
Only the man who saved her life, an accusing voice taunted. Angry with herself for losing sight of Bridget in the first place, she bent down to pick up the man’s ball cap. Shaking off the sand, she took a step closer, intending to return it to him and take over the job of comforting Bridget. But before she could intervene, the little girl rose and launched herself into the stranger’s arms.
The man fell backward to the ground, taking the brunt of the fall while he protected Bridget. As the dog began to bark again, he glanced up at her and Jenna’s gaze tangled with the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. A slight frown marred his forehead, but it didn’t detract from his handsome face.
Abby, in tears, ran over to hug her sister. Bridget let go of the man to return her sister’s hug. He rose, swiping sand from the seat of his drenched shorts before reassuring his anxious pet with a vigorous rub.
“I don’t know what to say.” Unnerved by the events, Jenna’s voice choked with emotion. “Thank you, Mr....?”
“Wyatt Hamilton.”
She handed him his cap, which he settled on his head. An accusatory glare hardened his eyes.
Jenna felt an unwelcome flush warm her cheeks. “I would have gotten to her in time, but you moved much faster,” she said, pushing past the tightness in her chest.
Wyatt looked down at the girls, then back to Jenna.
“Make sure swimming conditions are safe next time you bring the girls here,” he said, his voice husky, as if seldom used. Anger punctuated his tone. “Next time you might not be so lucky.” He turned on his heel, whistled for the dog and headed back in the direction of the marina.
Jenna’s mouth fell open. Shock, frustration and fear weighed heavily on her shoulders.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT, Jenna softly closed the door to the girls’ bedroom, having checked on them for the fifth time. Running her hands through her mussed hair, she walked back to the living room to rejoin Nealy, who sat on the couch waiting for her.
“Still asleep?”
“Yes.” Jenna picked up her cup. Despite her still queasy stomach after the day’s events, she took a sip of lukewarm tea and grimaced.
“Problem?”
“Too cool.” Jenna nodded toward Nealy’s cup. “Want a refill?”
“Sounds good.”
They both moved to the kitchen, Jenna’s motions brisk as she refilled the kettle before setting it on the burner. She reached into a canister for fresh tea bags to replace the used ones she’d just dumped, then leaned back against the counter, fighting against tears.
“What was I thinking?”
“Jenna, quit beating yourself up. Bridget is fine.”
She’d managed to calm both girls down at the beach, then they’d packed up and headed home. After a quick bath and grilled cheese sandwiches, they settled onto the couch with a big bowl of popcorn to watch a favorite Disney movie. The girls stayed glued to Jenna’s side until Nealy arrived later on and Jenna tucked them in for the night.
“No thanks to me. It’s my job to keep the girls safe. A stranger beat me to it.”
“You had no idea what would happen.”
“And that’s the problem. I should have been sure the girls could swim before they went near the water instead of taking their word for it.”
Nealy paused before saying, “You can’t second-guess yourself.”
“And why not?”
“Because you’ll drive yourself crazy.”
Jenna’s shoulders slumped. “What was Carrie thinking, leaving the girls with me?”
“She knew you would love them.”
“I’m finding out that’s not enough.” She threw up her hands. “The only thing I know how to do is cook. Sure, they get three meals a day, but what about the rest? I’ve never been responsible for anyone but myself. When Carrie was alive, I visited or took the girls on a special play date every now and then. I never stopped to consider their day-to-day needs.”
“I think you’re getting a crash course.”
She was indeed.
“It’s only been six months since Carrie died and my heart still aches. She was more of a sister than a friend.” Her voice hitched. “I miss her terribly.”
Nealy hugged her. “I can’t even imagine,” she whispered.
Jenna took comfort in Nealy’s presence, drinking in her support.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” she asked as she drew back, swiping at her moist eyes.
“No.” Nealy moved away, giving her some space. “I got the feeling you didn’t like talking about your childhood.”
“Being in the foster system—it can be tough unless you find a friend.”
The kettle whistled. Jenna turned off the burner and poured steaming water in both mugs. A slight smile tugged her lips as she remembered her first meeting with Carrie.
“I’d been at this home for about six weeks when Carrie showed up. Thirteen years old with an attitude.” She chuckled. “Heavy black eyeliner, a couple of piercings and a wardrobe you’d cringe at. One look from her and I figured she’d make my life miserable.”
“Obviously something changed.”
Jenna blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip of tea. “She’d been there about two weeks when she got caught sneaking back in the house after curfew. We shared a room and I watched her climb out the window almost every night, but didn’t say a word. Our foster mother, Mrs. Thomas, wanted an explanation, and much to my surprise, Carrie froze. Couldn’t think of a thing to say. What happened to the smart aleck I lived with?
“Feeling bad for her, I told Mrs. Thomas, who really wasn’t so bad, just overwhelmed, that I’d forgotten my homework at a friend’s house and Carrie offered to get it for me. I’m not sure she believed my story but she let it slide. After she left us alone, Carrie demanded to know why I’d stood up for her. I couldn’t tell her that my heart went out to this brash girl who’d finally showed a vulnerable side, so I said I did it so she’d owe me a favor. Surprised, because I usually stayed away from conflict, and impressed that I’d stood up for her, especially for a price, she walked over to me and held her fist in the air. I finally figured out she wanted a fist bump. It was a bonding moment for us.”
After that, they’d slowly moved from reluctant allies to true friends. Made wonderful plans for what their lives would become once they aged out of the foster system. For the most part, they’d achieved their dreams, until an accident tore Carrie away from Jenna and the girls.
“Maybe I’m not cut out to be a mom.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if bad mothering was hereditary. Her own mother had an alcohol problem, which made her less than reliable. It took one visit from a caseworker to find Jenna in a barely habitable apartment, alone, with very little food, for her to move Jenna to a new home. When her mother didn’t argue or try to win her back, Jenna began her journey of moving from home to home.
Nealy snorted. “I disagree. I can’t imagine those girls with anyone else.”
“Is this what life is going to be like? Me making mistakes and the girls paying for them?”
“Jenna, give yourself a break. You’ve only lived with them for six months.”
She ran a shaky hand over her brow. “Carrie and I talked about me becoming the girls’ guardian, but I thought that’s all it was. Talk.” She shook her head. “I didn’t think too much about the conversation, but Carrie took it to the next step to assure her children’s future.”
“And in the time you’ve had the girls you expect to be a perfect parent? You think you should know everything there is to know about children and never make a mistake? C’mon, the girls are ten years old. I can guarantee Carrie made mistakes, no matter how much she loved and cared for them.”
Jenna straightened her shoulders. She could do this. She had to do this. “Okay, I’ll admit I’m walking on shaky ground here, but you’re right. It’s getting better, but still, I need time to get used to being a parent.”
“The first step is admitting you have a problem.” Humor sparkled in Nealy’s eyes as she attempted to lighten the moment.
Jenna grinned. “Oh, I could come up with quite a list.”
“Hey, don’t put yourself down. I think you’re doing great. For a single woman busy with her career, you accepted responsibility for the girls no questions asked and embraced the idea of being a mom. Take this break you have from filming right now to grieve along with the girls. Once it’s time for the television season to start up again, things will get better.”
“As long as the tabloid press stays away.” She shivered. “If not for the exposure from my job and attracting a crazy person, we wouldn’t have left the only place the girls have ever lived.”
“No, it was that one idiot reporter. If he hadn’t been so intent on documenting your life—”
“Which is incredibly boring, by the way.”
“—nothing would have happened. You’d still be in LA, filming your cooking show and making guest appearances on talk shows.”
“Honestly, on the juicy gossip chart, I rank about minus eleven.”
Nealy laughed. “Now that is totally true.”
After years of trying to stay invisible in foster homes, never making waves or causing trouble, Jenna had spent her youth feeling like an outsider. Once she grew up, finished school and embarked on her career, she still found herself on the sidelines of personal relationships, with the exception of a handful of people she trusted. As her career took off, she traded obscurity for the limelight, never imagining that her life might be of interest to anyone but herself.
When Jenna gained custody of the girls, it had been a blip in the media radar since she was hardly in the same league as A-list celebrities. Until Rod. It had gotten to the point she couldn’t leave the house without him in her face, asking for an exclusive interview or pictures at home with her and the girls. Only the restraining order could slow him down.
“If he hadn’t gotten so obsessed with us, we would have been fine back in LA”
“Look,” Nealy said. “You’re here. You’re safe. We have your back. Get that awful reporter out of your mind. He’ll latch on to another story and forget all about you.”
He had to. Jenna had based her move to Florida on that hope.
“Just be thankful Wyatt came upon you when he did.”
At the mention of his name, Jenna remembered the terse man who’d come to her rescue, his act of bravery at odds with his sharp parting words. Her skin prickled with indignation. “I’m grateful for what he did, but didn’t appreciate the mini lecture before he took off.”
“That’s Wyatt Hamilton. I’ve known him for a long time, but after the rough few years he’s had, he’s not the most...easy guy to be around.”
“Understatement.”
“You only talked to him for a few minutes.”
“It was a long few minutes.” Jenna recalled the memory. His eyes had been so intense, so judging. “Besides, I wasn’t thrilled he was doing the rescuing while I stood on the beach feeling helpless. I should have been the one to save Bridget.”
“C’mon, Jenna. It’s not like he rushed in the water just to make you look bad.”
True, logic reminded her, but his quick actions had made her feel incompetent.
“Listen, he’s got a lot of baggage, so we all tend to cut him some slack,” Nealy said.
Had her annoyance been so obvious? Jenna sighed. “I guess no one is immune to baggage.”
“Yeah, but his is pretty horrible.”
The crash of ice cubes falling from the freezer ice maker broke the silence following Nealy’s statement.
“Are you going to tell me?” Jenna prodded.
“His son died about two years ago. He was only eight.”
Jenna’s chest tightened. “How awful.” She’d just lost Carrie and the hurt was still so fresh, but to lose a child? She’d only had custody of the girls for less than a year but had known them their entire lives. How would she deal with a loss like his? She couldn’t even imagine the pain he must live with every day.
“It was a boating accident,” Nealy continued. “About six months later, his wife filed for divorce.”
“I’ve heard that happens sometimes when parents lose a child, but a double whammy? No wonder he has issues.”
“He’s still so torn up.”
“You said you’ve known him for a long time?”
She nodded. “Yes. Wyatt grew up here, so we were all devastated by his loss. My sister told me he disappeared right after the funeral. About four months ago, a friend of ours, Max Sanders, met up with Wyatt and talked him into coming back. Now Wyatt captains a fishing charter boat, but I think he’s only going through the motions, not really living.”
“I don’t know what to say. Poor guy.” Jenna sipped her tea, her heart breaking for a man she didn’t know. “Where does he live? I think the girls and I will bake cookies as a way of saying thank-you.”
Nealy’s eyes grew troubled. “I’d rethink the idea. He’s kind of a loner.”
“Even loners who disapprove of my parenting skills need to eat.”
“Jenna’s answer to all and every problem. Food.”
“What can I say? It’s who I am.”
Jenna had discovered her love for cooking early on when she helped out in each foster home she’d lived in. In high school, she’d worked for a catering company specializing in weddings and loved it. Who knew food would turn into a career?
“Which I, for one, am happy about,” Nealy said. “You’re still going to make your gourmet mac and cheese for the welcome party, right?”
“Yes. You might be an event planner extraordinaire, but you can’t boil water.”
“We can’t all be gifted in the kitchen.”
“True.” Jenna smiled. “Thanks for throwing a party to welcome us to Cypress Pointe. It’s nice of Dane to hold the shindig at his hotel.”
“Anything to show off the Grand Cypress. Of course, it does help that he’s wild about me.”
Jenna laughed. “I still can’t believe he came to LA with you to pack up your belongings. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never believe just how crazy Dane is about you.”
She also couldn’t imagine a love that strong and found herself a bit envious.
“After being apart for so many years, we have a lot of catching up to do. And besides, he’s happy to have the party for you.”
“I gotta say, I thought the guest of honor only had to show up and meet her new neighbors, not bring the food.”
“True for most mere mortals, but you make a mean mac and cheese. Since I’ve bragged about your culinary prowess nonstop since you told me you were moving to town, you can’t show up empty-handed.”
“Fine. Besides, you know I would have brought something even if you didn’t ask.”
“Yep, so why not put my order in?”
Jenna admitted that spending time with Nealy went a long way to easing her insecurities.
Nealy glanced at her watch. “I need to get going. Will you be all right?”
“Yes. And, Nealy?”
Her friend raised her eyebrows.
“Thanks. For everything.”
“Anytime.” Nealy swooped in for another hug. “Actually, all the time now that you’re here in Cypress Pointe.”
Jenna’s heart lifted with affection for her friend. “I hope I don’t become a nuisance.”
“Unlikely. Once you figure this motherhood thing out, you’ll feel better.”
Jenna crossed her arms over her chest, rubbed her chilly forearms. “We’ll see.”
“Hey, quit with the gloom and doom. You can do this.”
“You’re right.” Jenna dropped her arms. Tilted her chin. “I can do this.”
“That’s my friend.” Nealy walked to the front door. “Don’t forget. Tomorrow night. Six. Grand Cypress Hotel.”
“Got it.”
Nealy’s smile softened. “I promise, once you meet my family and get to know the wonderful people in Cypress Pointe, you’ll be glad you came.” That said, she swept out the door into the hot, humid August night.
Watching her friend get into her car and drive away, Jenna tried to take Nealy’s confidence in her to heart. She could do this, right? Be a single mom? But the doubts and worries continued nagging at her. Take today, for example. As much as Wyatt’s response made her angry, he was right. She had to do better.
Still, grief weighed on Jenna. As much as she tried to keep a sunny outlook for the girls, at times, the sorrow took her to her knees. Mostly in the quiet, late at night after the girls went to bed and she only had herself for company. Missing Carrie, asking why she’d been taken from them at such a young age, made it difficult for Jenna to find any kind of normalcy in her life. And it was even worse for the twins. As much as Jenna tried to console them, at times her efforts seemed ineffective. Lacking. And with two strikes against her when it came to the girls’ safety, she couldn’t afford any more close calls.
More unnerved than she cared to admit, Jenna marched back into the kitchen to rinse out the mugs. Resting her palms on the sink ledge, she leaned forward, staring out the window. The moon emitted a small sliver of light, barely illuminating the backyard.
Lately, the direction of her life seemed just as dark. As it had numerous times tonight, the scene at the beach flashed in her mind.
Next time you might not be so lucky.
At the memory of Wyatt’s parting words, she straightened her shoulders. No way would she let his prediction come to pass.
Nealy was right. She had to stop second-guessing herself. Enough worrying over the things she couldn’t control. Time to focus on what she could do. With the single-mindedness that had gotten her through years of foster care and then advanced her career, Jenna vowed to be the best mother possible for Abby and Bridget.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_c2a97c4c-06fc-56ac-a605-b78104fec57d)
“GUESS WHAT I have planned for today?” Jenna said at breakfast the next morning,
The girls sent each other a questioning glance. The silent twin communication freaked Jenna out. She’d probably never understand it, but whenever it happened, self-doubt twisted in her. Once again, she found herself on the outside. Unsure. Not very motherly.
“Why don’t you just tell us?” Abby asked.
“Because it’s a good surprise.”
Bridget frowned. “You told us you don’t like guessing games.”
Holding back a sigh, Jenna said, “You’ve got me there. But for today, let’s play.”
“We aren’t going to the beach again, are we?” Bridget asked before taking a spoonful of cereal.
“No. I think we had enough fun in the sun yesterday.”
“Our new school?”Abby asked.
“No. I already registered you so we’re good.”
Abby pushed the cornflakes around her bowl. “Shopping. You promised we can get new stuff for school.”
“I know I promised, and we will go to the mall, but you’re still not close.”
“I give up,” Bridget informed her with a very mature sniff.
Jenna bit back a grin. Was she ten going on sixty? “So soon? We just started.”
The girls stared at her.
Jenna threw up her hands. “Now I give up.”
“So you’ll tell us?” Abby asked with a giggle.
Despite yesterday’s close call, the girls were in a cheery mood today. Most mornings the twins would hide out under the makeshift tent they’d built in the bedroom. Missing their mother, the girls sometimes refused to leave their safe place. Jenna learned from the counselor in LA that this was part of their grieving process. Back home she would have tried to coax them out of the tent with the promise of a special breakfast or plans for the day if she wasn’t scheduled to film or meet with her agent. Some days her tactic worked, others not so much. Today, the girls came to the breakfast table the first time she called. A small victory in Jenna’s opinion, but a victory indeed.
“You knew I’d give up if you did. No point in teasing when you aren’t willing to play the game.”
Bridget shrugged.
“Fine. Then here’s the answer. Bridget, remember the man who pulled you out of the water yesterday?”
Bridget kept her eyes focused on her cereal bowl. “Yes,” she said in a quiet tone. “He was really brave.”
“Like the prince in the story you read to us,” Abby piped in.
“Yes, I guess he was like a prince. Saving my beautiful princess here.”
Abby giggled.
A slight grin tugged Bridget’s lips.
“Anyway, I was talking to Nealy about him last night and the idea of making a thank-you gift popped into my mind.”
“What are we going to make?” Abby asked.
“Cookies. Then I thought we’d deliver them in person. That will give you a chance to thank him yourself.”
Jenna moved to the fridge, taking out the ingredients she needed to make a batch of cookies. “Do you know where he lives?” Abby asked.
Jenna, in mid-reach to retrieve a measuring cup from the cabinet, glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll call Nealy to find out.” She brought the cup to the counter then turned to face the girls, who had grown quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Jenna asked.
Bridget shot her sister a glance then lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.”
Abby, her eyes shimmering, met Jenna’s. “We might not have been exactly honest about being able to swim.”
Jenna rested her hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “You told me you had taken lessons.”
“Well...we were going to. We never got around to it before mom...you know.”
Yes, she did. How could she be angry with the girls when they were still grieving? Every day brought a new tangle of emotions. Yet as hard as it might be, Jenna had to lay down some ground rules. She walked to the table and took a seat.
“Look, girls, I know things have been hard, but you have to tell me the truth. If I had known you couldn’t swim, I never would have let you in the water by yourselves. How can I take care of you unless you’re completely honest?”
The girls exchanged glances again. What Jenna wouldn’t give to know what was going on in their heads.
“How about we make a pact to be honest with each other?” she suggested.
Abby blinked at the tears making her eyes bright. Of the two, she showed her emotions more easily. “We miss Mommy.”
“I do too.” Jenna swallowed. In her own way, she understood the depth of loss the girls experienced. In her case, her mother had chosen to walk away, leaving Jenna bereft and angry. Abby and Bridget felt the same, but at least they had Jenna to turn to for comfort.
Taking a shaky breath, she said, “It’s okay to miss her.”
She took one of Abby’s hands in hers and squeezed. Then she turned to Bridget, whose lower lip trembled. How like her to be the strong twin when her heart was breaking. Jenna drew them all together. “This is it, kiddos. We’ve got each other now.” Turning her tone from sympathy to firm, she said, “So, the pact?”
After a hesitant moment, Abby said, “From now on we promise to tell you stuff.”
Bridget didn’t utter a word, the tougher nut of the two. Not surprised, Jenna knew she’d have to keep an eye on her.
They sat holding hands for a long, drawn-out moment until Bridget shifted in her seat. Jenna released her hold, briskly rubbing her hands together as she rose. “Let’s get working on our project, girls.”
How many times had they made cookies together? More times than Jenna could remember. When Carrie was alive, they’d had frequent sleepovers with Jenna, which always included some kind of baking session.
The girls joined her and they worked side by side, measuring, stirring, then spooning batter on the baking sheet before sliding it into the oven. A dozen cookies later, with the final sheet in the oven, they’d finished the messy part of their task. Standing on tiptoe, Bridget turned on the faucet to fill the sink before squeezing dish detergent into the rising water. Suds materialized as Abby dropped in the batter-covered utensils.
Proud of the girls for cleaning up without her asking, Jenna said, “Hey, you two, I’ll finish up. Go play.”
“Are you sure?” Abby asked. “We don’t mind helping.”
“Yep. You’ve both been great, but I can take over from here.”
The girls scurried from the room. As Jenna removed the last batch of cookies and turned off the oven, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number and frowned. She didn’t want to answer, but knew her agent wouldn’t stop calling until she spoke to Jenna.
“Barbara. How are you?”
“Cringing at the number of appearances I have to refuse on your behalf.”
Tension tightened Jenna’s temples. They’d had this conversation one too many times since Jenna informed her agent she was taking time off. “And you’ll have to keep refusing until the hiatus is over.”
“Absence from the public eye does not make the viewer grow fonder.”
“The girls are my priority. I don’t know how much clearer I can make the point.”
Barbara Samson had been Jenna’s agent for four years. An energetic go-getter, she never heard a “no” she paid attention to. Until Carrie died, Jenna didn’t have any reason to turn down work. Now that she did, Barbara was persistent about changing Jenna’s mind.
Right out of culinary school, Jenna landed a job at a trendy restaurant that became a popular hangout for celebrities. At first, she was one of the minor chefs in the kitchen. She stuck it out there and eventually, her unique culinary ideas became popular with the in-crowd. When one of the local talk show hosts inquired about her, the restaurant owner quickly encouraged Jenna to be a guest on the show. He couldn’t pay for better publicity.
Not exactly thrilled at first, Jenna thought long and hard before agreeing. She didn’t like crowds or being the center of attention. But when she arrived on the set, she found the hosts and crew welcoming. Her nerves settled down. Soon, she went from being a guest every couple of weeks to guest shots on other shows, including a popular LA daytime talk show. Not familiar with the world of television, she asked one of the hosts for advice. The person mentioned Barbara’s name. Jenna called, set up an appointment. Before she knew it, Barbara had booked her schedule tight and, eventually, landed the cooking show.
As much as Jenna appreciated those opportunities, it didn’t mean she’d let the woman railroad her into any future projects until she was ready. She’d made good money and put enough away so she and the girls were financially stable until she decided her next move.
“I totally get your stand on the girls,” Barbara said. “Doesn’t mean you can’t fly to LA or New York periodically. You know, to keep your name in front of the public. The girls don’t have to travel with you.”
“And I won’t be separated from them. It’s too soon.” Barbara went quiet for a moment. As Jenna removed the cookies from the aluminum sheet to cool, she could only imagine the whirl of her agent’s mind as she came up with another way to cajole Jenna.
“How about online? You can work from home.”
“Right now I don’t want to do anything to alert the tabloid news magazines. I won’t risk it.” She took a breath. “I understand you don’t like it, but I’m asking you to honor my decision.”
A long, melodramatic sigh came from the other end of the line. “Fine. But I can’t promise I won’t call if a worthwhile offer comes in.”
Jenna didn’t expect differently. “Just don’t be upset if I turn you down.”
“The one you can’t resist will come and when it does, you’ll be out here on the next available flight.”
While Barbara had other clients, she couldn’t afford to let her main moneymaker go on hiatus, no matter how noble the reason.
“Thanks, Barbara. I do appreciate all you’ve done for me. Just think of my time away as a small vacation. It’s not the end of our relationship.”
“So, how are things going? You’re settling in?”
“Yes. The girls are happy. So far I like this little town.”
“Little, as in, are there any museums? Fine dining? Theaters?”
Jenna chuckled. Barbara could be a fine-arts snob. “We manage.”
“I couldn’t leave LA, no matter how much anyone tried to convince me otherwise.”
Jenna fought the temptation to remind Barbara about the tabloid reporter making her life miserable. Jenna viewed his intrusion as a personal attack on her family. Barbara saw him as a necessity for the expansion of Jenna’s career. If he tailed Barbara for any length of time, Jenna was sure the woman would change her tune.
“You’re a great agent. Hopefully you’ll get some new clients while I’m away.”
“I’ve fielded a few calls.”
“See. With me gone, you’ll have the chance to develop your next big star.”
“Yes, there is a strong possibility I can make that happen.”
Which could mean Jenna would lose some interesting job opportunities, she thought with a small pang of loss, but the girls were keeping her too busy to regret her decision.
Abby dashed into the kitchen, her ponytail swinging as she grabbed two warm cookies then hightailed it back to the bedroom.
“Hey, no food in your room,” Jenna called to her retreating back. The brief feeling of loss vanished as Abby disappeared. Yeah, she’d much rather be with the girls. “Listen, Barbara, I have to run. Thanks for calling.”
She ended the call and then checked on the girls, who were happily playing in their room. Satisfied they were occupied by their dolls, she hurried to her room for a quick shower. Afterward, she stood before her closet wrapped in a towel, trying to decide which outfit to choose. She finally selected a denim sundress for their goodwill mission, and placed a quick call to Nealy.
Her stomach turned, nervous at the prospect of seeing Wyatt again. His parting remarks at the beach, although true, had stung. She couldn’t help but wonder how receptive he’d be when she showed up on his doorstep, cookies or no.
* * *
WYATT WALKED INTO his cottage, located within walking distance from the marina, tossing his keys on the coffee table. His golden retriever, Cruiser, followed him into the kitchen, jumping up for attention. “Down, boy.”
Absently rubbing the dog’s head, he poured some kibble from a twenty-pound bag into Cruiser’s bowl, then pulled a glass from the shelf mounted on the wall that served as storage. He opened the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice for himself, draining it as he wandered into the small living room.
He stared out the window, at the view of the Gulf water. Before long, the familiar ache he lived with every day enveloped him.
Two years. Two long years since Jamie had died. Eighteen months since Marcie divorced him.
Since the accident, his family had been after him to talk to a professional. His older brother, Josh, moved back to Cypress Pointe with the purpose of keeping an eye on him. A useless move, but Wyatt appreciated the sentiment.
“You need to let go of the grief,” Josh and the family told him. “You need to move on.”
They didn’t understand. If not for the unrelenting pain, he wouldn’t feel anything at all. He was so far beyond numb, grief remained the only emotion alive inside him.
A boat motored by. Wyatt stepped out onto the small screened-in porch to watch its passage, running a hand over his grizzled chin. He should shave. Probably get a haircut. But didn’t really give a flip.
Why had he let Max talk him into moving back to Cypress Pointe?
After aimlessly traveling the world, taking one job as yacht captain after another, he’d run into Max four months ago. A mutual Navy buddy had invited both of them to his wedding. Since Wyatt happened to be in the States at the time, he attended, hoping a reunion with old friends would help ease him out of his funk.
“You look terrible,” Max greeted him at the reception.
He knew Max spoke the truth. After all, he viewed his face in the mirror every morning. Realized the shadows under his eyes and the blank expression were growing more pronounced daily. “Thanks, buddy.”
Max scowled. “You can’t go on like this.”
“Like what? A guy grieving the loss of his family?”
“You’re entitled to your grief, Wyatt, but enough is enough. There comes a point when you have to deal with the loss and try to move on.”
It was all Wyatt could do to keep his temper in check. Didn’t Max see it wasn’t that easy? Every day was a struggle to get out of bed and survive. He knew his buddy meant well, knew Max wanted to help somehow, even if it entailed spewing tough love.
“Do you miss Cypress Pointe?” Max had asked him.
“Not particularly.”
“Folks in town miss you. Your parents worry.”
Like he needed more guilt. “And bringing this empty shell back to Cypress Pointe is going to make things better?”
“You need to be around people who love you. Running sure hasn’t helped you heal.”
Max had a point. Running had only made him more lonely. More bitter. Less than the man he wanted to be.
After thinking it over for a few days, Wyatt decided Max was right, so he moved home.
Sure, Cypress Pointe was pretty. For the most part, people stayed out of his business. He found a job he liked. His family, thrilled to have him home again, tried to cajole him into a normal existence, as if his life hadn’t been shattered beyond recognition. Friends welcomed him with open arms, inviting him to get-togethers he had no interest in attending. The thing none of them understood was that he wasn’t the man he used to be. Never would be. His life had irrevocably changed the day Jamie died and he was still trying to navigate the waters of what constituted this new existence.
And so his self-imposed isolation continued.
But lately, Max had grown more vigilant in encouraging Wyatt to move out of his comfortable seclusion. Meet me for coffee. Let’s go fishing. Wyatt recognized the invitations for what they were, attempts to drag Wyatt back into the land of the living. He doubted that was possible.
Yet some part of him knew he had to get out of this rut. Problem was, he didn’t have the energy to pull it off. At that thought, a bitter laugh escaped him. Rut was putting it mildly. No change of location or routine would alter the truth. His son was dead and it was his fault.
So for now, running the charter fishing boat was all he could handle. He’d go along with Max’s little outings, just to keep him from nagging. Let Josh and the family think they were reaching him. Give them something positive to hold on to, even though Wyatt knew better.
Not bothering to stifle a yawn, he dropped into an Adirondack chair, kicking up his feet on an old trunk. Cruiser, who’d finished eating, flopped down beside Wyatt for a nap.
This morning he’d risen early for a scheduled charter. A group of businessmen who didn’t know a fishing rod from a BB gun had been a challenge, but the guys knew how to have fun. Long hours in the sun, bright red cheeks and hungry stomachs later, he’d motored back to port. He declined their invitation to join them for lunch. He’d rather sit on the porch by himself, staring out over the calm water, than mingle and make small talk.
For fifteen minutes he savored the relative silence until the sound of chattering voices snagged his attention. A knock rattled the screen door.
Cruiser jumped up, on full alert, barking until Wyatt commanded him to calm down.
“Hello. Anyone home?” a female voice called out.
He glanced through the screen. The woman from the beach yesterday, flanked by her two little girls, peered inside.
Beautiful green eyes stared at him. He bit back a groan and sank deeper in the chair. Mimicking the computerized tone known to all answering machine owners, he said, “No one is here right now. Just leave a message.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” one of the girls said. “He’s sitting right there.”
So much for his lame attempt at humor. Man, he was rusty. “Means I’m not up for company.”
“Then you should go inside and close the door,” the other girl said, matter-of-factly.
How he wished he had.
“We’ll only keep you a minute.” The woman held up a plastic-wrapped plate. “We brought you a present.”
Which meant he had to get up to let them in. Swallowing a sigh, he rose and crossed the porch, holding Cruiser by the collar as he opened the door.
“Thank you,” the pretty blonde said, her light and airy tone at odds with her worried expression.
All three entered the porch, hovering near the doorway. Okay, his social skills were pretty awful right now, but the way the girls hugged the woman’s side, like they were nervous, surprised him. He ran a hand over his chin, glanced down at his old T-shirt, cargo shorts and scuffed boat shoes, and grimaced.
“Sorry, I just got in from work. Haven’t had a chance to clean up.”
“It’s okay. We won’t stay long.” She thrust the covered plate in his direction. “We wanted to thank you. For yesterday.”
“When you pulled me out of the water,” the girl on the left piped up.
As if he could have forgotten.
The woman smiled down at the child, ran her hand over her hair in an affectionate gesture before meeting his eyes again.
“My name is Jenna Monroe. These are my girls.” She nodded to the one on the left. “Bridget.” Then right to the girl with the ponytail. “Abby.”
For the first time his mind registered the children were twins, dressed in matching white tops with a big, bold flower print on front, pink shorts and sneakers. In all the excitement yesterday, he hadn’t noticed.
He glanced at their mother, wearing a flattering blue summer dress. Self-conscious, he wished he’d showered as soon as he got home.
Realizing the woman still held out the plate, he took it from her hand.
Smooth, Hamilton.
“We baked you cookies,” Bridget announced.
Of course they had.
“Can we play with your dog?” asked Abby.
Cruiser, dancing in place the entire time, strained against Wyatt’s hold. He looked at Jenna. “Okay with you?”
“If he’s good with kids.”
“The best.”
“Fine.”
He let go of Cruiser, who covered them with doggy kisses. The twins giggled and cooed at their new friend.
“Why don’t you girls go in while your mother and I talk. There’s a basket of Cruiser’s toys beside the couch in the den.”
The girls ran ahead, talking to Cruiser as they went.
Suddenly remembering his manners, Wyatt nodded to the porch chair. “Have a seat.”
Jenna looked around. “There’s only one chair.”
Right. Because having only one chair discouraged visitors from staying. “I’ll be right back.” He hurried inside, placed the plate of cookies on the counter, grabbed a kitchen chair and returned to the porch. Jenna was settled in the Adirondack chair, looking as if she belonged there.
Her genuine smile greeted him, sending a warm rush of expectation through him. Surprised by the intensity of the long-dormant sensation, Wyatt set the chair down with a thud.
“I’m sorry for just barging in. I’d have called first, but...”
He dropped into the chair. “You don’t have my number.”
“I felt it was important for the girls to thank you.”
Giggles and a bark sounded from the other room.
“I appreciate you rescuing Bridget, but your parting words...”
What had he said? To be honest, he was so ticked, he couldn’t recall his words. All he knew was, he’d been walking along the beach, thinking about Jamie, when the urgent cries had him in the water before he could stop himself.
“The conditions probably weren’t the best. I should have been right there in the water with them, but in my defense, I didn’t know they couldn’t swim.”
He frowned. “You’re their mother. Shouldn’t you know?”
She waved her hand. “It’s a long story. I became their guardian after their mother passed away.”
“Sorry.” His brow wrinkled. “You were probably upset enough without me piling on, but you should be more careful.”
Her spine went stiff. “I’ll decide what I should and should not do when it comes to my girls.”
He noticed her cheeks had flushed pink. “Sometimes I get a little carried away, especially when it has to do with kids around water.”
Her anger faded as something more troublesome crossed her face. “I understand.”
He read the pity in her eyes and his stomach tightened. Here came The Conversation. Mostly he stayed away from the topic, but in light of yesterday’s events, he couldn’t let it go.
“You know?”
“Yes. Nealy told me. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
No matter how many times he heard the platitude, it made him angry, even when he knew it came from the heart. He met Jenna’s gaze. She didn’t know the entire story. If she did, her empathy would most likely change to derision.
Although his social skills were rusty from lack of use, he managed to mutter, “Thanks.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. She stood, smoothing her dress. “We won’t keep you any longer.”
Following her lead, he called Cruiser. The dog loped out of the house, the girls not far behind.
“He’s super friendly,” said the girl with a ponytail. Abby, was it?
“And he likes us,” Bridget added. “Can we come back and play with him?”
“Now girls, Mr. Hamilton is busy. We can’t just invite ourselves over for a visit.”
Wyatt nearly laughed out loud. Busy? Not so much. “Cruiser and I like to walk the beach. If we run into you, you can play with him.”
The girls hugged the dog. Cruiser basked in the attention.
“Well, we should be leaving.” Jenna turned to the girls. “What did you want to tell Mr. Hamilton?”
In unison they said, “Thank you.”
He nodded. “And thanks for the cookies.”
She gathered the girls. They stepped through the screen door and down the steps. Before rounding the house, she stopped. “Will you be at the party tonight?”
Max had mentioned something about a party but he hadn’t listened. “Party?”
“To welcome the girls and me to town.”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
She tilted her head, the sunlight catching the highlights in her hair, her skin glowing. An indulgent smile curved her lips, throwing him off balance and making him feel warm. “Do you like to eat?”
His mind suddenly went blank. He blinked. What was the question? Oh, yeah. Eating. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“I’m cooking. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my secret mac and cheese recipe.”
In the past two years, he hadn’t lived much, period. Yet this petite woman showed up on his doorstep with cookies, and for a split second he was considering going to her party.
“See you at six?”
What was wrong with him? She may be pretty, her smile the best thing he’d seen in a long time, but his empty porch beckoned. “I didn’t say I was coming.”
A sassy grin lit her face. “You won’t be able to resist.” After her final volley, she disappeared from view.
Wyatt ran his hand over his chin again, shaking his head at the small smile forming on his lips.
In less than thirty minutes, Jenna had made him self-conscious about his appearance, her girls had vied for his dog’s affection, and, he had to admit, he’d found her company more entertaining than anything in ages.
She was right. He couldn’t resist seeing her at the party. For once, he wouldn’t be hiding out at home. Alone.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ee65a764-93e4-5598-99b8-a4e084b2a572)
“C’MON, GIRLS,” JENNA called down the hallway from her bedroom as she fastened an earring in place. “We’re running late.”
She hadn’t gotten used to waiting on two young girls to get ready. Always priding herself on punctuality, she’d yet to master getting the three of them dressed and out the door on time.
“Coming,” Abby answered.
At the sound of the oven buzzer, Jenna hurried to the kitchen. The aroma of baking cheese met her before she entered the room. Using three different gourmet cheeses, with a bit of bacon thrown in and a topping of artisan breadcrumbs, she’d made the promised mac and cheese dish for the party. Donning a pair of oven mitts, she pulled the pan out and covered it with aluminum foil. Turning the oven off, she walked back down the hallway, stopping at the door of the girls’ room. Abby was on the floor, slipping on the new sparkly sandals Jenna had bought for the occasion. Bridget sat nearby, brushing the hair on her favorite doll.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
Returning to her bedroom, she picked up her purse before performing a quick scan of the space. She worried about forgetting to unplug her hair straightener or another electrical appliance, especially after a fire destroyed one of the foster homes she’d lived in. Satisfied everything was in order, she left the room.
“Front and center,” she sang out.
The girls ran to the living room. Jenna smiled as she viewed their matching sundresses, Abby in pink, Bridget in purple. Jenna had pulled their shoulder-length hair into ponytails with matching bows to finish off the look.
Her heart squeezed tight. “Beautiful,” she said, crouching to give them a hug.
“We’re late,” Bridget reminded her.
“Right.” Rising, Jenna smoothed the skirt of her red, sleeveless A-line dress. She’d blown dry her hair in a breezy style, not much else to do with the short length, and added her favorite spiky sandals, which gave her petite frame some height. “Let’s−”
Her cell rang again. “One minute.” She hurried to the kitchen, glancing at the caller ID. Barbara. The woman’s timing was impeccable. It was like she knew exactly when Jenna was in the middle of something with the girls and couldn’t answer the phone. Funny how her agent’s calls had never bothered her before the girls became a permanent part of her life.
“Jenna!” Bridget called.
“Coming.” No time to talk now. She would speak with Barbara later.
Tossing the phone in her purse, she grabbed the handles of the mac and cheese pan and hustled the girls out to the car. Soon, they were on the road. She breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully Nealy wouldn’t be too upset with them for being tardy.
As she pulled into the parking lot of the Grand Cypress Hotel, her cell rang again. Irritated now, she parked the car before digging the phone from her purse. The caller ID showed Barbara’s name. Jenna quickly pressed the talk button.
“Good grief,” Barbara said by way of a greeting. “I didn’t think you’d ever pick up.”
“Sorry. I was driving.”
“Listen, Jenna, I got a call from Kitchen Care. They want you to sign on for the commercial we discussed.”
A major sponsor of Jenna’s show, Kitchen Care Cookware, a large commercial-grade cookware company, was ready to release a new line of products, and they wanted Jenna as their spokesperson.
“Barbara, I can’t do it right now.”
“I know you’re on a break, but Jenna, this is Kitchen Care.”
“I understand.”
A voice sounded from the backseat. “Are we getting out of the car?”
Jenna glanced over her shoulder. “Yes.”
“Yes to Kitchen Care?” Barbara asked.
“No, Barbara. I have the girls in the car. Let me call you tomorrow.”
“Seriously consider this, Jenna. Your decision will affect the show. And your career.”
Barbara wasn’t being overly dramatic. In the world of cable television, pleasing sponsors was vital to a show’s longevity. “I know.”
“Fine. I’ll wait for your call.”
“Thanks.” Jenna almost hung up before a last-minute thought came to her. “Barbara, any photos or stories about me in the tabloids?”
“No. Why?”
“Just making sure.” She was glad her plan to escape the annoying reporter was working.
“After the incident with Rod, I’m very careful, just as you requested.”
Jenna blew out a breath. “Okay.”
“Jenna,” Abby called.
“I have to go, Barbara. Talk to you later.”
After tapping the off button, she got the girls out of the car, picked up the warm pan and headed inside. The name of the room reserved for the party was posted in the ornate lobby.
Nealy swooped down on her as soon as she set foot in the brightly decorated banquet room. A huge Welcome banner took up one entire wall, surrounded by balloons of every shape and color. Tables were scattered about, topped with bright cloths and flower arrangements. A long table, featuring an assortment of appetizers, lined another wall, along with a station set up for drinks.
“Way to be on time,” Nealy mock scolded.
“Sorry. I’m still navigating the ins and outs of getting the three of us dressed and ready to go.”
Nealy took the pan from Jenna. “You’re here now. I have lots of people for you to meet.”
Jenna glanced around the room again. “Wow. You really went all out.”
“I wanted this party to be special. To usher you into your new life.” Nealy crouched in front of the girls. “And I suppose you’d like something more fun to do than talk to old people.”
Both girls nodded their heads.
“My nephew Davey and his girlfriend will take you to the game room.” She called to a teenage boy as she rose then turned her attention back to Jenna. “If it’s okay with you?”
“Can I go with them?”
“Not a chance. Davey’s very reliable and we have work to do.” Nealy carried the pan to the food table, moving a few dishes around before placing it in the empty space.
Jenna spoke briefly with Davey before he took the girls to the game room, then joined Nealy.
“I have to say, my mac and cheese smells delicious,” Jenna teased her cooking-challenged friend.
“You know I hate it when you brag.”
“Hey, I like jealousy on you,” Nealy’s boyfriend, Dane, said as he joined them. “Gives me hope you’ll one day learn to master the kitchen so you can feed me.”
The women looked at each other and laughed.
Nealy leaned in to kiss Dane, then grabbed Jenna’s arm. “C’mon, let’s mingle.”
And mingle they did. Before she knew it, Jenna met half the population of Cypress Pointe. Everyone from the mayor and the police chief to shop owners and other town notables. The list went on, leaving Jenna to try to remember the barrage of names.
She smiled until her cheeks ached. Chatted about her job, her family and whatever else the fine folks of Cypress Pointe found interesting. The old urge to melt into the sidelines threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed away the inclination. Nealy had gone above and beyond to plan this party for Jenna. The least she could do was enjoy it.
Parched from all the talking, Jenna poured herself a glass of lemon-flavored water. In a quiet corner she regrouped, appreciating a moment alone.
She peered over the crowd, surprised to discover that in a short time, she already liked living here. Her busy life in LA left her little opportunity to develop close relationships, but she found she was fond of the friendly residents and peaceful atmosphere of Cypress Pointe. Here, the pace was much slower. More conducive to enjoying life, rather than barreling through every second of the day to attain the next goal, as she’d been doing for years.
But can this place hold your interest, a voice inside her whispered. Can it keep you and the girls safe?
Until she was here longer, she couldn’t answer that question. Only time would tell.
Nealy weaved through the room toward her, talking to a couple walking with her. Jenna smiled, ready for another round of introductions
“Jenna, meet Max and Lilli, old friends of mine.”
They all shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.
“Max is the man responsible for bringing Wyatt to town,” Nealy informed her.
The handsome man smiled at Jenna. “Heard you had a little run-in with my old buddy?”
She shrugged. “More like he saved the day.”
Lilli touched her arm. “You must have been terrified.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Nealy told us about the girls’ mother.” Lilli shook her head. “What a terrible loss.”
“Yes. Carrie should be the one raising her daughters, not me.”
“In a perfect world,” Lilli said. “But they have you.”
“And she’s an awesome mom,” Nealy interjected.
“As long as we stay away from the beach,” Jenna teased, deflecting the direction of conversation. She didn’t want credit for something she hadn’t yet earned.
“Well, welcome to town.” Lilli smiled. “You’re going to love it here.”
Nealy hooked her arm through Lilli’s. “And we have a new friend to add to our girls’ night out.”
“Watch out,” Max deadpanned.
As the women started discussing the merits of a chic-flick evening at home versus a night on the town, minus their men, Jenna felt Max’s gaze focus on her.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, uneasy with his intensity.
“No. Just thinking about you bringing cookies to Wyatt.”
“He told you?”
“Yeah. He was surprised at the gesture. People around here tend to give him a wide berth.”
“I would imagine it’s because he’s so prickly.”
Max chuckled, then quickly sobered. “That, and he hasn’t gotten over the death of his son.”
“I understand something of how he feels. I haven’t lost a child, but my best friend’s death touched me deeply.”
He cocked his head. “Maybe you could talk to him once in a while. No one can convince him to see a counselor, but since you’re both dealing with loss, he could use a friend.”
Sit down with a man still so deep in grief over the death of his son and talk about...what? Life? Moving on? She barely had a handle on it herself.
“I don’t know.”
“Look, it’s just a thought.”
A thought now firmly planted in her mind.
After the brief visit with Wyatt today, she had to admit, she found herself more than a bit curious about him. His dark good looks were made more interesting by the light beard dusting his face. Most guys in LA paid big bucks for the natural look Wyatt achieved without trying. His broad shoulders and muscular arms told her he wasn’t afraid of hard work. And his eyes. So blue. So troubled. Not that she’d noticed or anything.
Right. Okay, she’d noticed. She was only human, after all. And it had been a long time since a man drew her interest.
But this man? The guy who accused her of not watching the girls closely enough. Granted, he was right, but did she want him holding that over her head? No. Plus, he carried the same baggage, probably more, that she did. Could she deal with his loss as well as her own?
But he had rescued Bridget. The least she could do was consider Max’s suggestion.
Soon, Max and Lilli moved on. Nealy went off to take care of some sort of problem in the kitchen, leaving Jenna alone again. She let out a sigh.
“Overwhelming, huh?”
Jenna smiled at the police chief, Bob Gardener, who everyone simply called the Chief. A tall bear of a man with gray hair and a genuine smile, he inspired confidence and respect in those around him.
“Nealy means well.”
“Think you’ll remember everyone’s name?”
She laughed. “I doubt it, but I’m sure the longer I’m here, the better I’ll get.”
“Stayin’ very long?”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Tryin’ to get rid of me already?”
He chuckled. “No, ma’am. Just like to keep a finger on what’s goin’ on in my town.”
“Hopefully the girls and I won’t give you any trouble. So far we’ve been law-abiding citizens. I don’t see us changing anytime soon.”
“Didn’t think you would.” He hesitated, as if getting his timing right. “Might be worried about others, though.”
Her stomach clenched. “Meaning?”
“Heard you had some trouble with a reporter back in LA.”
By the way he looked at her, Jenna knew he’d done more than just hear the news. “Then you know I have a restraining order. We came here to get away from him.”
He nodded. “If he does happen to show up in Cypress Pointe, I promise, he won’t be hassling you.”
Relieved to have someone in law enforcement on her side, she said, “I’m hoping that won’t happen, but with him...there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“I’ll be ready.” He smiled, reassuring her again.
Before Jenna knew it, another hour flew by. Much as she appreciated the people who had come out to meet her, she wanted a few minutes to catch her breath. Maybe a walk by the outdoor pool would help.
She’d just started to head in that direction when she noticed Wyatt. When had he arrived? So busy chatting up her new neighbors, she’d missed him come in. Clean shaven, with his hair neatly combed, he was more handsome than she remembered. Her pulse leaped, despite her intention to remain unaffected by the man.
Tonight he dressed in a gray button-down shirt and black slacks, a far cry from his work clothes. He stood in a far corner of the room, clearly uncomfortable. She bit her lip. Should she go to him? Attempt small talk again? The decision was taken out of her hands when Max approached Wyatt, handing him a bottle of beer. They spoke briefly before Max rejoined his girlfriend. Curious, she watched as Wyatt looked down at the bottle then set it on a nearby table before walking outside.
Okay, she really should leave the man to his solitude, but when had she ever left a hurting person alone? Never. And she wasn’t about to start now. She strode across the room, grabbed the bottle and followed him outside.
* * *
WYATT TOOK A deep breath of the humid August air. He hadn’t shown up for any public gatherings since arriving in Cypress Pointe, and here he was with real shoes on, even though they pinched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn anything but boat shoes.
He’d convinced himself that Jenna’s promise of her secret mac and cheese recipe drew him here, but he knew better. He simply wanted to see her again.
So far he hadn’t spoken to her. From the moment he arrived, she’d been monopolized by one person after another. Since he’d already had the pleasure of meeting her, he’d wait his turn.
Pleasure? As much as the word had become foreign to him, it fit meeting Jenna. Like no one had done in a long time, she piqued his interest. Was it because she understood what he was going through, having recently lost her friend? Most people didn’t get where he was coming from, couldn’t understand why he didn’t just buck up and face life without his son. She seemed to have a better insight into his state of mind.
Or was he intrigued by this single woman raising two girls on her own? He understood the sacrifice, worry and all-consuming joy of rearing a child. Knew that being a parent was a tough road. Admired her for attempting it on her own.
After engaging in conversation with people he hadn’t seen in a while, his shoulders had started to ache with tension. His chest had grown tighter still when his parents had joined him before he stepped outside.
“Wyatt, I’m so happy to see you,” his mother had said, hugging him. When he returned the gesture, she squeezed him again before drawing back, her gaze filled with concern. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“You’re eating? Sleeping?’
His father chuckled. “Liz, the boy looks healthy to me.”
“Don’t pretend you aren’t worried, Bryce. You’ve spent just as many hours wondering how Wyatt is doing as I have.”
“Both of you can stop worrying,” Wyatt said, trying to infuse humor into his tone. “I’m eating. Working.”
“But not sleeping?” his mother asked.
He sighed. “Mom, let it go.”
“I’m your mother. I never let go.”
Questioning his welfare was part of the dynamic he’d intentionally walked away from. What was wrong with him? They only wanted to help. Be a part of his life. They missed Jamie too. Still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t respond to them. His father laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t push,” he said quietly.
His mother’s eyes filled with tears. What a rotten son he’d become. She stepped closer to his father as Wyatt began to withdraw.
“Can we at least meet for dinner sometime? If I promise not to interfere?”
“Sure. I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
He forced a grin for his mother’s sake. “I promise.” Guilt and sorrow tugged at him. He hoped someday he would be capable of spending more than a few minutes with his folks, but right now he needed fresh air.
Leaving behind the party chatter, he strode to the far end of the pool area, opened the gate to step onto the lush expanse of grass spreading from the side of the hotel down to the beach. The sweet scent of blooming honeysuckle filled the air. The soft glow from tiered garden lights bordered the neatly manicured foliage surrounding the building. The dim lighting allowed a better view of the moon shining over the calm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. He hadn’t realized how on edge he was until the soothing sound of waves lapping against the sand relaxed him in slow degrees.
Heels tapping against the stone path drew his attention from the water. He turned, surprised and pleased to see Jenna walking his way. Pleased indeed.
She held out a bottle. “You left this behind.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want it.”
She lifted a quizzical brow.
Did he really need to explain himself? Probably. A stubborn part of him wanted to tell her to leave him alone, but the tired part of him wanted to talk to someone. Talk to her. So he started, haltingly at first.
“When my son died, I thought it would be easy to get lost in a bottle. You know, just forget.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and shrugged in an attempt to make light of the situation. “Funny thing is, I don’t really like to drink. So it never helped me not remember Jamie.”
“That was your son’s name? Jamie?”
“Yes.” Emotion clogged his throat. “You’d think after two years I could say my son’s name without getting choked up, but apparently not.”
“You miss him.”
“Every day with every breath.”
In the garden’s soft light, he saw Jenna’s rapid blinking. Was she fighting back tears? See, she got it.
“He was a great kid,” Wyatt went on. “Full of life. Loved adventure.”
“So Jamie wouldn’t want you to drown your sorrows in a bottle.”
“Probably not any more than your friend would want you to.”
“Carrie,” she said just above a whisper. “My friend’s name.”
As if by silent agreement, they strolled farther away from the building. Away from the music and numerous voices, heading toward a large magnolia tree with a bench positioned beneath. Pink luminous blooms dotted the limbs in the dark night. Wyatt bent over to pick up a fallen flower and handed it to her.
Their fingers brushed in the exchange. He lingered, enjoying the touch of her smooth skin. It had been a long time since he’d touched anyone. At Jenna’s shiver, he let his hand drop.
They took a seat on the cool wrought-iron bench, leaving a wide space between them.
“Most people don’t want to talk about Jamie,” he said. “They find it awkward or think I’m not ready.”
Jenna tilted her head and regarded him. “Do you think you’re ready?”
“Sometimes it feels good to say his name. But other times...” he took a deep breath.
“I know what you mean. I find I have to walk a fine line with the twins. Sometimes we all have a good laugh over a shared memory, but other times the memories make us cry.”
“I guess it’s all part of the grieving process.”
An uneasy silence lapsed again. Jenna broke it first. “So instead of becoming a drinker, you decided to become a brooding, sullen loner?”
He opened his mouth to argue but Jenna held up her hand. “It’s not my opinion. I’m only repeating what I’ve heard.”
Was that what people thought of him? Sullen? Brooding? Okay, the brooding loner part was probably true. “Fair enough.”
Was this what he’d let his life become? A ghost walker during the day. Going through the motions of his job without any effort. Cutting ties with family and friends. Shoot, Jenna and the girls were the only people to visit him in weeks.
Not a very flattering picture, if he did say so himself.
He was so mired in his thoughts that Jenna startled him when she spoke again. “I have to say, I’m surprised you showed up tonight.”
“So am I. After the promise of food, I had to come.” He grinned. “I tasted your masterpiece and I gotta say, you did the mac and cheese crowd proud. And this is coming from a mac and cheese connoisseur.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” She frowned. “But to be honest, meeting all these people is a bit overwhelming. I’m not usually comfortable in big crowds.”
“Something we have in common.” He noticed she still held the bottle. “Want me to take that?”
“No. I guess I should head back inside.” She stood. “I’ll take it with me.”
He stood as well, sorry the brief interlude had ended so soon. Who would have thought diving into the waves after a little girl would lead to meeting a woman he actually wanted to talk to?
“Hey, once again, I’m sorry if I came down too hard on you the other day.”
“Save the lecture,” she warned. “Can’t say I’ve earned the status of mother just yet, but from now on I’ll be more vigilant about watching the girls.”
“Swimming lessons probably wouldn’t hurt,” he suggested.
“I was thinking the same thing. Do you know any instructors?”
He searched his memory. “There’s a YMCA nearby. Better yet, a town directory with a list of services.”
“It can’t be just someone I find on a list. I have to trust whoever works with the girls.”
“You’ll find the right person.”
“I think I have.” She stepped toward him. “How about you?”
He froze. Teach her girls how to swim? Did she realize what she was asking? No way. Not after how he failed Jamie.
“I’m not a teacher.”
“But you clearly swim.”
“Well, yeah, but a teacher? I’m sorry, Jenna. I won’t do it.”
Despite his refusal, she tried to convince him. “The girls think you’re a prince.”
He nearly choked. “Prince?” Not if they knew the truth.
“They’re in a fairy tale princess phase right now, and after your derring-do at the beach, you fall into the knight in shining armor category.”
Please, anything but this.
“Living in this coastal town could be dangerous if they don’t know how to swim.” She worried her lip. “They tend to be a tad headstrong, but after the grand rescue the other day, I think they’ll listen to you.”
No. They couldn’t be trusted with him. “Jenna, I—”
“Wyatt, I don’t let just anyone into the girls’ lives. They like you. They’d never learn from anyone they didn’t feel safe with. You’ve proven you can keep them safe.”
He closed, then opened his eyes. Forced himself to say the words. “Jenna, you realize Jamie drowned, right?”
“I didn’t want to...Nealy said it was a boating accident...” She glanced at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m making a mess of this.”
“Then you see why I can’t do this.”
“I disagree.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
She disagreed? “Why?”
“From what I understand, your son’s death was an accident.”
He bit back the bitterness threatening to claim him. Kept his tone even when he said, “You don’t know the details.” Not an accident. As far as he was concerned, Jamie’s death fell squarely on his shoulders.
“Maybe not, but if you were such a bad guy, you never would have dived into the water after Bridget. Maybe you need to help my girls in honor of Jamie.”
He ran a hand over his chin. “This is crazy.”
She shook her head. “This is healing.”
Had this petite woman standing before him just used her kids’ need for swimming lessons to help him feel better?
He shook his head, more adamant now. “I can’t do it.”
A shadow of hurt crossed her face, quickly replaced by a flash of determination. “Okay. I’ll take care of the girls’ lessons on my own.”
“Jenna, I—”
She jerked back, putting distance between them. “No need to explain. You don’t want to get involved. I get it.”
“I’m not saying...” He took a breath. “Jenna, you can’t keep bad things from happening.”
“But I can make sure I’m prepared.” She turned and strode away, leaving him to wonder if he’d just made another life-changing mistake.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ffaa1f5c-e9a8-530d-aee9-5ea12b538100)
WITH A WEEK left before school started, Jenna decided to follow through and sign the girls up for swimming lessons. Wyatt may not want to be involved, but his unwillingness wouldn’t stop her. After some research, she discovered the local country club held weekly lessons. She called, set up a time with the instructor and checked one more activity off her growing list.
At first, the girls were excited about the idea, until it came time to put on their swimsuits. Suddenly, Bridget had an upset stomach and Abby couldn’t find her suit.
Jenna stood in the doorway to their bedroom, a serious frown focused on the girls, who sat cross-legged on the floor, dolls and accessories scattered around them. “Abby, we unpacked your bathing suit. It’s in the bottom drawer of your dresser.”
Abby dipped her head and glanced at her sister, as if not sure what to say or do. Bridget, however, kept her eyes leveled on Jenna with a stare she’d come to recognize as a “don’t push me” look.
“Bridget, do you want some seltzer water?”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “That won’t help.”
“Hmm. I seem to remember it helped after too many hot dogs and French fries on Friday night.”
Bridget shrugged. “I ate too many eggs this morning.”
“Then how about the pink stuff?”
The ten-year-old sent Jenna an, “as if,” look.
Yes, Jenna knew Bridget’s aversion to seltzer. Or any kind of chalky stomach remedy. The thick concoction made her gag every time she attempted to swallow it. She also knew that Bridget’s stomachaches usually stemmed from nerves. If they worked out the problem, Bridget was fine.
Still, she had to get the two moving. Let the battle begin.
“I see. If that’s the case, you won’t make miniature golf tonight with Nealy and Lilli. They’ll be disappointed, but will understand you’re too sick to join them.” She shifted her gaze to Abby. “Guess it’ll just be you playing golf later while your sister stays home with the sitter.”
A frown furrowed Bridget’s brow.
Jenna held back a grin, ready to pour it on. She snapped her fingers. “I nearly forgot. We were also going to the mall later. I wanted to look for new school shoes.”
She knew her volley would hit the mark. Only ten and already Bridget loved shoes.
Abby rose and walked to her dresser, opening the drawer to remove her swimsuit.
Jenna pulled a surprised face. “Oh, will you look at that. Right where we put it.”
Abby grinned, knowing her little trick hadn’t worked. So much for the truth pact. As she began to change, Bridget gathered up her own suit, which was lying on the bed. “I’m not super sick. My stomach will feel better soon.”
“That a girl.”
“I don’t see why Mr. Hamilton can’t teach us,” Bridget groused. Since the day at the beach, Wyatt had become her hero.
“I told you, he’s not up to it right now.”
“I wonder if he’d let us play with Cruiser?” Abby asked. “Do you think he’ll let us come over again?”
“Mr. Hamilton is a busy man.” Or not, but Jenna wasn’t about to figure out the man’s schedule. Time to change the subject. She glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes and we’re out the door.”
As the girls got ready, Jenna went to her bedroom, reluctantly thinking about Wyatt. Once Bridget mentioned his name, her mind focused on his anguished expression under the moonlight when he’d refused to give the girls swimming lessons. Sympathy tugged at her. As much as she’d hoped he’d instruct the girls, she had to admit, she understood why he couldn’t. Too much too soon after his son’s accident.
The counselor she and the girls had been seeing in California urged her not to get stressed over the grieving process, since it varied for every person. There was no time limit, no set-in-stone method to deal with loss. Even the stages of grief were sometimes different for people.
Her mind flashbacked to the beach. Bridget flailing around in the water.
On the other hand, she resented Wyatt’s accusation that she was reckless with the girls’ safety. Clearly, he had lingering issues after his son’s death, and she had her own learning curve to deal with. She’d only recently gone from taking care of herself to being in charge of a family of three. Given her own insecurities as a caregiver, she didn’t appreciate his negative outlook.
Shaking off the thought, Jenna retrieved the beach bag from the closet and tossed a tube of sunblock inside.
While Jenna still grieved Carrie, she’d gotten to the point where she had to put the cares and concerns of the twins first and foremost in her life. Yes, she would have liked Wyatt to work with the girls because they’d established a rapport. He could have looked at the lessons as a way to kick-start him into living again, but honestly, she didn’t know the man well enough to intrude on his privacy. If he kept those emotional walls intact, she never would.
She should probably keep some distance from Wyatt. By his own admission, he wasn’t very social, so that solved the problem of running into him. Yet, he stirred...something...in her. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something she’d thought buried after François humiliated her. The world-renowned chef had ended their relationship after her cooking show became successful. She’d foolishly believed he loved her, had thought his group of friends were also her friends. But his large ego and notorious jealousy had them siding with him.
But Wyatt... She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she sensed he was different than most men she knew. You didn’t grieve so deeply if you were self-absorbed. He was both hurting and guarded. A dangerous combination for a woman who’d always taken care of the other foster kids she happened to be living with. Yes, she’d grown up and achieved a bit of success, but the need to be a part of something more, of her own family, hadn’t dimmed with time.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/tara-randel/honeysuckle-bride/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Tara Randel
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
Отзывы: Пока нет Добавить отзыв
О книге: One part happiness. Two parts love.Relocating to the coast of Florida after becoming guardian of her best friend’s twin daughters could be the best move LA celebrity chef Jenna Monroe ever made. This is her chance to create a stable, loving home—something she never had. But can she be the mother the girls need?Wyatt Hamilton thinks she can. The rugged charter boat captain, who came home to Cypress Pointe still grieving the death of his son, has faith in her. But the feelings he awakens in Jenna both exhilarate and frighten her. Because Wyatt no longer believes in forever… Unless she can convince him otherwise.