The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

“For what?”

“For not laughing at me.”

His hand rested warmly on the soft denim, her fingers on top of his. The old tension that seemed to tug between them was back.

“I wouldn’t laugh at you,” he echoed quietly.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Of course not.”

The moment spun out and it suddenly seemed as if she realized they were touching. She pulled her hand away and avoided looking in his eyes. “Listen, Tom … about the other night … I know we already talked about it, but let’s just forget it happened. I don’t want us to be uncomfortable together,” she hurried to say. “And you’re right. It probably wouldn’t be the wisest course to become personally involved.”

“Sure,” he said, sliding his hand off her knee and standing again.

“I mean, I’m going to be selling this place eventually anyway, right? It would only complicate things.”

Of course, who could forget that she was still determined to sell the house and move on? Wasn’t it exactly what he’d told himself tons of times? “And I’m just the contractor,” he added irritably. It was one thing to think it to himself, but it was another to hear her confirm it. And hell if he didn’t hate that she was trying to pull away from him.

“Just the contractor?” She frowned. “When have I ever given you that impression? I would hope that you’re my friend, too. Especially since I just unloaded on you.”

Friends. They’d never been just friends, not since he’d kissed her in the foyer and realized he was farther along in his grieving process than he’d thought. It was all about Abby. The way she looked, sounded, felt beneath his fingertips. Even as he was telling himself to stay away, he couldn’t help but want to touch her, be near her.

But just like Erin, Jewell Cove wasn’t good enough for her. At least Abby wasn’t tearing him in two by insisting that she loved him and then explaining why she couldn’t be with him. She was one hundred percent up front that she was leaving the moment the house was on the market. He should be grateful she was keeping it simple.

Instead he felt like throwing something.

“Friends, sure,” he answered.

She smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Tom. For understanding and not making it awkward. For … being here this afternoon.”

Man, he had to finish this job and get away from this house. It would be the best thing for everyone to put some distance between them. Maybe she could forget about that kiss, but he couldn’t.

He turned to leave but when he reached the doorway he turned back. “Abby?”

She looked up, so angelically sweet he had to force a smile. “Remember that the only person who can define you is you. You get to decide who you are, not some secret from the past that happened before you were ever born.”

Her eyes brightened. “Thank you, Tom.”

“You’re welcome.”

After he left he could still smell her perfume. The truth was he cared about Abby. She’d trusted him with an innocence that was both endearing and made him want to protect her from anyone who would hurt her—past or present.

It would be easy to fall in love with her, wouldn’t it?

And from there get his heart broken all over again. And there was no way in hell he was going to do that.

Maybe the person he had to protect most was himself.

CHAPTER 12

Josh Collins wouldn’t hurt his sister for the world, but the fact that she’d singlehandedly planned the equivalent of a three-ring circus less than a week after his return to town made him want to throttle her.

He’d been in town a few days now but he’d yet to see his family. He’d made excuses like he was tired and he was settling in to his new place but truthfully he just hadn’t been up to the hoopla. He knew he couldn’t hide away forever, but tonight the last thing he wanted to do was go to a party. This wasn’t some grand sort of homecoming or a hero’s welcome. He was home because his life had gone down the toilet and he couldn’t stand looking at Erin’s father every damn day at work and then going home to their empty house at night.

Woo-hoo. Break out the firecrackers.

He’d much rather be boating on the bay right now. He let his mind drift. He’d venture down the coast, stop in one of those quiet inlets and cut the engine. Let the sound of the waves slapping on the hull calm his mind.