The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

“But I want to explain.”

She turned her head and stared at him as he pulled away from the curb. “Explain? You don’t need to explain. The broken heart you nurse so well? It was because of your cousin’s wife. And rather than let me in on what was going on and perhaps ask for a friend to go with you tonight for moral support, you played me. You acted like it was a date, being all nice and holding my hand and showing me the rosebushes—” Her voice broke off as she realized how foolish she sounded. She inhaled sharply. “When it was really just you rubbing me in your cousin’s face.”

He rested his hands on the wheel as he faced her. She’d never seen his face so dark and angry, not even the time he’d shoved his foot through her veranda floor. “So what’s really bugging you, huh? That I used you or that it wasn’t really a date?”

If they hadn’t been sitting in a moving vehicle she might have slugged him herself. Had she wanted it to be a real date? Perhaps on some level she had. Otherwise she wouldn’t have fussed so much with her clothes and she wouldn’t have felt this queer curling through her stomach every time he touched her at the barbecue, even casually.

But that paled in comparison to this. “Don’t take that tack with me, Tom Arseneault. I was set up and you damn well know it! You used me.”

“Look,” he tried to explain as they left the town behind them. “I didn’t know Josh was still that angry. I know Jess is a meddler but I can’t be mad at her. I had the same thought, which is why I went along with it. If you went with me, it would show Josh that I…” His fingers gripped the wheel tightly. “You know. That I’ve moved on.”

“You can’t even say it without hesitating because you know it would be a lie. You haven’t moved on at all, have you? I’m not your girlfriend. You just wanted it to look that way.” She made a sound of disgust in her throat. “‘Meet new people,’ my ass. You’re just as bad as Jess. I thought you were my friends.”

Oh, how pathetic and high schoolish that sounded but it was true. Since coming to Jewell Cove she’d made a few connections but it was Jess and Tom with whom she’d clicked.

“We are.”

“No you’re not.” She stared out the window. “You’re my contractor. A friend would have explained what I would be walking into, would have asked for a wingman. A friend would have been honest and given me the choice.”

And that, she realized, was the thing with Tom. If he’d just come out and said what he wanted, what he meant, it would have been fine. It was like when he wanted the job. Once he’d explained that working on the house would be a dream come true, she’d been convinced.

But that wasn’t his way. He didn’t like showing his hand and she didn’t like being manipulated.

“You can let me out here,” she stated, as he slowed and turned the corner onto Foster Lane.

“I’ll drive you in,” he answered.

“No, really. I want to walk. Stop the truck, Tom.”

For once he did exactly what she asked, stopping and putting it in park.

“Abby, I am sorry. Whether you believe me or not, I am.”

She swallowed thickly. “Okay. Fine.”

“Are we okay?”

There was no “we.” The kiss the other night—had he been thinking about Erin then, too? Was he still grieving for her? He must be. His words hadn’t been devoid of emotion tonight. She’d heard the voice crack. Wrong or right, the woman he’d loved had died. She felt herself start to soften just a little bit. But only a little. She was still really angry. And disappointed, she realized. In him. She truly hadn’t realized how much she’d started to trust him until he’d given her a reason not to. And that was her mistake, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she relented, her hand on the door handle.

There was a minute of uncomfortable silence. Abby opened the door and grabbed her purse, moving to get out.

“Look,” he said, “I’m going to start stripping all the downstairs floors on Monday. It’s going to get really dusty for a few days. I just wanted to give you the heads-up.”

So that was it, then. No more explanation about Erin. No more anything. Back to the house again. Their one safe topic of conversation. For some reason it made her want to cry, but she wouldn’t. She’d learned her lesson.

She made a quick decision. “I think I’ll head back to Halifax, then. It’ll be hard to move through the house when the entire downstairs is unusable, and I don’t want to stay at the motel again.”

“How long will you be gone?”

The truck idled and she felt Tom’s gaze on her face. He actually sounded a little panicked at the thought of her leaving. How long? There was no question of her not coming back; there were too many questions she wanted answered.

But getting away for a few days sounded like a good idea, too. She wasn’t running away, she told herself. It was just breathing room to let the dust settle. To put a little distance between her and Tom and let her get her head on right again.

“A week. Maybe two. You have my cell number if you need anything with regard to the house.”

Which made it perfectly clear that their relationship—for lack of a better word—was back on strictly business terms.