The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 1)

I shook my head, trying to keep the pain out of my eyes.

Whatever Bailey saw there made her expression soften. “It is never too late to change the road that you’re on. I have never believed that you need a fancy-ass career and a fancy-ass house to be happy. In fact, if Vaughn Tremaine is an example of that, then I’m right. Good people, Jess, good people are what makes somewhere a home. I don’t know your story and frankly I really don’t need to because I know you. I also know you don’t have a home and there is absolutely no shame in wanting that more than anything else. No matter what age you are.”

I fought the tears burning in the back of my eyes at her kind words.

They confused the hell out of me. More than that, they put me at war with myself.

“Your fuck buddy is currently sitting in my reception area,” Bailey said abruptly.

Confused, it took me a moment to make sense of what she’d said. Then a jolt of surprise, and not pleasant surprise, had me on my feet. “Andrew is here?”

“Yup.” She stood up to follow me out. “By the way, what do you see in that guy?”

“Emery, I’ve got to go,” I said, ignoring Bailey as we passed the bookstore counter.

Emery frowned and asked, “Will I see you before you leave?”

Warmth supplanted some of the unpleasant surprise from its hold on my chest. “Definitely. I promise.”

We shared a smile and said good-bye. Two seconds later I was hurrying up the boardwalk.

“Wow, she really does talk to you. And likes you. See! That there is a sign, Jessica Huntington. Emery Saunders has owned that place for seven years and has never befriended any of the locals. But you . . . you she befriends. That’s a sign!”

I found myself chuckling because as confused as I was about my life, I couldn’t complain about the fact that Bailey and Emery liked me enough to want me to stick around.

“Back to my earlier question: what on earth do you see in that Andrew guy?”

“It’s as simple as his hot body.”

“I’m not sure even that’s worth having to deal with him.”

“We understand each other.” That was partly true. The bigger truth, I realized, was that Andrew kept me tied to something safe and cold.

I felt comfortable in my unemotional relationship with him. Whereas true contentment was never something I had allowed myself to strive for. It all came down to protecting myself—and not allowing anything else to throw my world into chaos.

A few hours later I found myself walking down Main Street with Andrew at my side. When I’d gotten to the inn I wanted to stomp my foot like a small child and demand to know why he was infiltrating my vacation. I didn’t do that, but I wasn’t exactly offering a warm welcome.

Instead I was shocked by the way he hugged me and said, “I was worried when you didn’t answer my text. I have no surgeries today or tomorrow so I thought I’d come check on you.”

In other words he wanted to get laid.

But the simple idea of having sex with him left me uncomfortable.

And I couldn’t shake that feeling.

Plus the more time we spent together in Hartwell that day, the more annoying he became.

“I can’t believe you came here for a vacation.” He made a face as we walked down Main Street. “Seriously, Jessica . . . if you wanted a real vacation I would have taken you to Bora-Bora.”

In order not to have a public fight, I kept silent as he suggested we walk back to the inn. Obviously he was done seeing the sights of Hartwell.

And that was when things went from bad to worse.

As we were walking by the park my eyes swung past the shirtless guy who appeared to be replacing the steps up to the bandstand. And then they swung back because I recognized his profile.

Shit.

Cooper.

He stood up, grabbing a bottle of water, and my throat went thirsty just watching him drink it. Holy crap.

Shirtless Cooper with his impressive abs was a sight to behold. And then there was the way the tool belt around his hips dragged a little on his jeans, but not quite enough to give me a glimpse of his ass. That was a shame. A crying shame.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank the water and I became mesmerized by a bead of sweat that rolled down his neck and over his chest. I had the sudden urge to run my hands all over him.

I hadn’t thought it was possible to get that turned on just looking at a man.

“Do you know him?” Andrew’s curt voice yanked me out of my lust fog.

“Oh . . . Well—”

“Doc?”

I froze at Cooper’s voice and nodded at Andrew. “Yup,” I said before looking back over at Cooper. He stood with a hand above his eyes, shading them from the sun so he could see me.

Caught, I had no recourse but to walk over to him with Andrew at my side.

Cooper’s gaze flicked to Andrew and as we came to a stop in front of him he dropped his hand. His eyes remained narrowed on my companion.

“What are you doing?” I gestured to the bandstand steps.

He continued to stare at Andrew, who was eyeing him with suspicion. “Last time the bandstand was used they dropped a piano they were trying to remove. Piano was busted and so were a few of the stairs. I said I’d fix it. So I’m fixing it.”

Bartender, mechanic, carpenter . . . was there anything this man couldn’t do with his hands?

Stop thinking about his hands.

I cleared the lust out of my throat before I said, “You’re very handy, aren’t you?” ok my head, trying to keep the pain out of my eyes.

Whatever Bailey saw there made her expression soften. “It is never too late to change the road that you’re on. I have never believed that you need a fancy-ass career and a fancy-ass house to be happy. In fact, if Vaughn Tremaine is an example of that, then I’m right. Good people, Jess, good people are what makes somewhere a home. I don’t know your story and frankly I really don’t need to because I know you. I also know you don’t have a home and there is absolutely no shame in wanting that more than anything else. No matter what age you are.”

I fought the tears burning in the back of my eyes at her kind words.

They confused the hell out of me. More than that, they put me at war with myself.

“Your fuck buddy is currently sitting in my reception area,” Bailey said abruptly.

Confused, it took me a moment to make sense of what she’d said. Then a jolt of surprise, and not pleasant surprise, had me on my feet. “Andrew is here?”

“Yup.” She stood up to follow me out. “By the way, what do you see in that guy?”

“Emery, I’ve got to go,” I said, ignoring Bailey as we passed the bookstore counter.

Emery frowned and asked, “Will I see you before you leave?”

Warmth supplanted some of the unpleasant surprise from its hold on my chest. “Definitely. I promise.”

We shared a smile and said good-bye. Two seconds later I was hurrying up the boardwalk.

“Wow, she really does talk to you. And likes you. See! That there is a sign, Jessica Huntington. Emery Saunders has owned that place for seven years and has never befriended any of the locals. But you . . . you she befriends. That’s a sign!”

I found myself chuckling because as confused as I was about my life, I couldn’t complain about the fact that Bailey and Emery liked me enough to want me to stick around.

“Back to my earlier question: what on earth do you see in that Andrew guy?”

“It’s as simple as his hot body.”

“I’m not sure even that’s worth having to deal with him.”

“We understand each other.” That was partly true. The bigger truth, I realized, was that Andrew kept me tied to something safe and cold.

I felt comfortable in my unemotional relationship with him. Whereas true contentment was never something I had allowed myself to strive for. It all came down to protecting myself—and not allowing anything else to throw my world into chaos.

A few hours later I found myself walking down Main Street with Andrew at my side. When I’d gotten to the inn I wanted to stomp my foot like a small child and demand to know why he was infiltrating my vacation. I didn’t do that, but I wasn’t exactly offering a warm welcome.

Instead I was shocked by the way he hugged me and said, “I was worried when you didn’t answer my text. I have no surgeries today or tomorrow so I thought I’d come check on you.”

In other words he wanted to get laid.

But the simple idea of having sex with him left me uncomfortable.

And I couldn’t shake that feeling.

Plus the more time we spent together in Hartwell that day, the more annoying he became.

“I can’t believe you came here for a vacation.” He made a face as we walked down Main Street. “Seriously, Jessica . . . if you wanted a real vacation I would have taken you to Bora-Bora.”

In order not to have a public fight, I kept silent as he suggested we walk back to the inn. Obviously he was done seeing the sights of Hartwell.

And that was when things went from bad to worse.

As we were walking by the park my eyes swung past the shirtless guy who appeared to be replacing the steps up to the bandstand. And then they swung back because I recognized his profile.

Shit.

Cooper.

He stood up, grabbing a bottle of water, and my throat went thirsty just watching him drink it. Holy crap.

Shirtless Cooper with his impressive abs was a sight to behold. And then there was the way the tool belt around his hips dragged a little on his jeans, but not quite enough to give me a glimpse of his ass. That was a shame. A crying shame.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank the water and I became mesmerized by a bead of sweat that rolled down his neck and over his chest. I had the sudden urge to run my hands all over him.

I hadn’t thought it was possible to get that turned on just looking at a man.

“Do you know him?” Andrew’s curt voice yanked me out of my lust fog.

“Oh . . . Well—”

“Doc?”

I froze at Cooper’s voice and nodded at Andrew. “Yup,” I said before looking back over at Cooper. He stood with a hand above his eyes, shading them from the sun so he could see me.

Caught, I had no recourse but to walk over to him with Andrew at my side.

Cooper’s gaze flicked to Andrew and as we came to a stop in front of him he dropped his hand. His eyes remained narrowed on my companion.

“What are you doing?” I gestured to the bandstand steps.

He continued to stare at Andrew, who was eyeing him with suspicion. “Last time the bandstand was used they dropped a piano they were trying to remove. Piano was busted and so were a few of the stairs. I said I’d fix it. So I’m fixing it.”

Bartender, mechanic, carpenter . . . was there anything this man couldn’t do with his hands?

Stop thinking about his hands.

I cleared the lust out of my throat before I said, “You’re very handy, aren’t you?”