The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

Tom felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. Things that hadn’t made sense suddenly clicked into place. Her insecurities and her independence. The way she stood on the fringes, holding herself away from getting too close to anyone. Her need for control.

He closed his eyes. The way she’d melted in his arms, and the way she’d stopped him before he could make love to her. The way he’d yelled at her at the cemetery. Just as he’d started holding bits of himself back after that night at the Rusty Fern, Abby had built walls around herself. Walls that, if he were right, were in danger of being broken down—if he were willing to push.

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” he murmured, opening his eyes and looking into her pale face. “I would have been…”

“What? More sympathetic? The last thing I want is anyone’s pity.”

She was so much stronger than she gave herself credit for. “That day in your room. When you asked me to stop…”

Why was it he couldn’t seem to finish a thought? Even now, he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. Of revealing too much.

She smiled at him. It wobbled a bit and her cheeks flushed. “You’re going to think me terribly innocent now. But the morning with you on my bed … I meant it when I said it had been a long time. I’ve never even—” She broke off and looked away. “Well, it wouldn’t have been my first time, but let’s just say I’ve yet to have my mind blown.”

What was she saying? That she’d never experienced good sex? A climax? The idea made him instantly hard. He would have made damn sure it was as good for her as for him.

Tom looked at her, dressed in his baggy clothes, her hair loose around her collar, her rain-washed skin glowing in the lamplight. She was a beautiful, confident, scarred woman. He thought briefly about Erin, who had sat on this very sofa and begged him to run away with her. Who had said she couldn’t make it without him. Tom had felt guilty that he couldn’t love her anymore, couldn’t take care of her. Erin had needed him and made no secret of it.

Abby was different. Abby didn’t expect anyone to take care of her. She relied on herself. From the first day, she’d gone toe-to-toe with him as he’d put his foot through her porch floor.

She was far more fearless than she realized.

He reached over and touched a finger to her cheek. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known.”

She smiled so sweetly his heart ached with it.

“I don’t know about that. But it’s nice of you to say so.”

She deserved so much better than the hand she’d been dealt. A home and security. A man who loved her. Maybe a couple of kids running around. She was kind but firm—she’d be a great mother. And he was torn between wanting to be the one to give those things to her and afraid he couldn’t. Time and circumstances had conditioned Tom not to fight. And while she’d opened up to him this afternoon, the whole tone of the conversation felt like a prologue to a new chapter called Moving On.

But that didn’t stop the chemistry from fizzing between them. Their gazes clung, and without saying anything more to ruin the moment, they began drifting closer, closer. His gaze dropped to her lips and they parted slightly, anticipating the touch of his mouth on hers—

When the phone rang they both jumped. “It can wait,” he said, his voice soft and husky. “Let it ring.”

She sat back. “No, answer it. With the storm it might be something important.”

He squeezed her hand and got up, going to the kitchen for the handset, disappointed at the interruption. When he returned to the living room moments later, he sat heavily on the sofa. There was a stinging behind his eyes that he couldn’t quite blink away.

“What is it?” she asked immediately. “What’s happened? It’s bad, isn’t it?”

He shook his head and gazed into her worried eyes. “That was Jess. It’s Sarah. She lost the baby.”

Abby’s eyes instantly filled. “Oh, God.”

“She’s in the hospital in Portland. They want to keep her overnight just in case.”

“They were so excited,” Abby said quietly. “After trying so long, for this to happen…”

Sadness settled around them. “The whole family is there,” he said. “One thing you have to say for the Collinses. They stick together when the going is rough.”

He used to be a part of that circle. Still was, but only to a point. It hurt sometimes, because he was as close to his cousins as if they were his sisters … and brother.

“You need to be there. Go.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going with you.”

She surprised him by standing up. The Abby he’d come to know shied away from anything bordering on personal involvement.