The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

“How’s the pergola working out, Jess?”

“Great. Sure you won’t join us, Tom?”

Tom looked at Josh’s clenched jaw. There was making an overture and then there was pressing your luck. Josh still hadn’t said a word. Things were not going to be forgiven so easily, then. At least he wasn’t sniping out insults and no fists were flying. Tom supposed it was progress of a sort. Peaceful coexistence he could live with, he supposed.

“No, thanks, Jess. I’ve already finished and I’ve got some work to do at the house. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Jess nodded. “Well, when you see Abby tomorrow, tell her I said to drop by the shop any time. We had fun last night. I kind of hope she stays in town, you know?”

Wasn’t Jess the cool and brave one, pushing Tom’s buttons with one hand while holding the pressure cooker of Josh’s resentment with the other. Tom remembered the look on Rick’s face a few weeks back and nearly smiled. Maybe someone like Jess was exactly what Rick needed to get him back in line.

“I will,” he said, making his legs move. He went to the garbage can and tossed in his paper plate and napkin. But he still had to pass by them and something had to give. Someone had to make the first move.

He looked at his cousin as he came in line with them. “Josh,” Tom acknowledged simply.

Josh’s lips were a thin, harsh line, but he gave a brief nod. “Tom.”

Tom raised a hand in farewell and made his way back to his truck. Oddly enough, the brief exchange with Josh just now bothered him far more than the passionate outburst at the party. Maybe it was remembering those fishing trips they’d taken as boys, but the truth was he missed how things used to be.

Never had it been more clear that nothing would be the same between them again.

CHAPTER 15

Abby felt the sensitive tingle and tightness before she ever got out of bed. Yesterday’s gardening had been a big mistake. Now her lower back ached, the backs of her legs were tight and painful from bending over all day, and a glorious sunburn bloomed on her forehead and cheeks. Her chest, shoulders, and arms were pink too, though not nearly as tender. She pressed her palms to her face and it was hot to the touch.

How could she have been so stupid? It was June, for Pete’s sake. She should have slathered on the sunscreen before she’d ever gone outside, and put on a hat.

But she’d been so very aware of Tom that she’d forgotten how to be sensible. And then she’d gotten so wrapped up in the garden work she hadn’t thought about it again.

Slowly she crawled out of bed and started a cool shower. The combination of stiff muscles and the tight sunburn made it hurt to move. Using the puff with her soap stung her sensitive skin and she caught her breath as she bent to pick up her towel. She took the stairs slowly, one step at a time, holding on to the rail. Who knew that bending over to pull a few weeds would be so hard on her hamstrings and hips?

She was halfway through her first cup of coffee and putting cream cheese on a bagel when Tom arrived for the day’s work. He knocked and then called out when he opened the door, a sequence that had become a habit, she realized. At least today she wasn’t still in bed.

“In the kitchen,” she called out.

She put the knife in the sink and turned back around as he came through the kitchen doorway.

“Holy hell!” Tom’s jaw dropped as he stared at her.

She wanted to crawl into a ball of embarrassment. “Is it that bad?”

He nodded. “I could make jokes about lobster season…”

“I forgot sunscreen yesterday.”

“You don’t say.” He stepped forward. “It looks painful, Abby. Are you okay?”

She nodded but there was a lump in her throat, both from his concern and feeling stupid. “I hurt everywhere,” she confessed. “My legs and back are killing me from bending over so much and my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.”

“Do you have any aloe gel? You should put something on it. It’s not going to be pretty if it blisters.”

She shook her head, mortified at the idea of her face peeling. Even more attractive.

“I might have some spray-on stuff in the truck in the first-aid kit. Hang on.”

He disappeared only to return a few moments later with a can of antiseptic spray in his hand. “Here. Hold out your arms. They’re not nearly as bad as your face, but you should have so

mething on them.”