whole town is quiet, but I guess I understand you wanting your privacy. I’m the same way.”
He wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but since she seemed to accept his explanation, he decided to go along. And since she’d offered something personal about herself, he felt it was only fair to do the same. “Actually, Granddad left me this place in his will. There’s three acres here that connect to the back of the sawmill property. There’s the house and chapel, with a small trust fund to restore them, and I get to live here as long as I want. It’s not a fortune, but I don’t need much.”
“That sounds like Will,” she commented with a fond smile. “Taking care of someone but making sure they have to work for it. He gave you a lifeline but arranged things so you’re able to keep your dignity.”
What was left of it, anyway, Scott added silently. He wasn’t comfortable voicing that thought, so he settled for something a little safer. “Yeah.”
She gave him a long, curious look, and he braced himself for what might come out of her mouth next.
“You said something about sweet tea?” she asked as she began walking again.
“Yes, ma’am. Not that way, though,” he cautioned before she reached the front porch steps. “All those boards are rotten, and you’ll go straight through. I already rebuilt the ones out back, so they’re much safer.”
“How come you did them first?”
He didn’t answer, and when she rounded the corner of the house, she paused with a sigh. “Oh, I see why.”
Behind the cottage, Sterling Creek wound its way through centuries-old trees on its way to wherever it was going. Sunlight dappled the water, giving the stream a sparkle to go with its cheerful sound. He wasn’t normally big on landscaping and such, but sitting on the rough-hewn stairs and listening to the water brought him the kind of peace that had eluded him for more years than he cared to count. It hadn’t escaped him that he’d finally found that calm here in the woods surrounding the hometown he couldn’t wait to escape from when he was younger.
“This section of the creek was pretty much clogged up when I got here,” Scott explained as he went ahead to open the door he’d cobbled together from scrap wood. It didn’t have much style, but it was a big improvement over the old one that had been rotting on the hinges. At least it kept out the bold raccoons that had been trotting in and out as if they owned the place. “I spent a few days clearing it out so the creek would run like it used to when I was a kid.”
He cringed at the nostalgic twinge in his voice, but Jenna eased his concern with a smile. “That’s really sweet. It sounds like you have great memories of this place.”
“Some of my best,” he confided, following her inside. Grateful that he’d bothered to wash the dishes this morning, he reached into the small fridge sitting on the counter and brought out a jug of sweet tea. “My brothers and I spent a lot of summer days hanging out at the swimming hole upstream with our friends.”
Sitting in one of the two seats he had to offer, Jenna gave him a cute smirk as she took the glass he handed her. “I’m guessing some of those friends were girls in bikinis and cutoff shorts.”
“A few,” he acknowledged with a grin of his own. “We were the Barrett boys, after all.”
“I’m well aware of your killer reputation.” Taking a sip of her tea, she glanced around the kitchen. “So what are your plans for this room?”
Torn back to the studs, it wasn’t much to look at right now, and he appreciated her not mentioning it. “Once I get the framing done, there’s some scrap oak at the mill I can use to make bead board like the kind that used to be in here before the termites shredded it. It’ll take a while, but I want to keep things as original as I can.”
“Because that’s how it was when your grandfather grew up here.”
That she’d picked up on that detail absolutely floored him, and he stared over at her in disbelief. Apparently, she understood his response because she explained, “When Paul and Jason were rehabbing the mill so they could reopen your family’s furniture business, they said that kind of thing a lot. Your brothers put in a ton of work, but they never complained because it was all for Will.”
Again, the stab of guilt hit Scott hard, and he did his best to roll with the unwelcome sensation. In an effort to stall long enough to regain his composure, he spun the other chair around to straddle it and faced her across the table. He swallowed some of his tea and rested his arms over the back of the chair, rolling his glass back and forth between his hands.
“I wish I could’ve been here. Y’know, to say goodbye.” When it occurred to him he’d just confessed his deepest pain to a stranger, he growled, “You’re way too easy to talk to.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot. It must be the overalls.”
The sound of his own laughter surprised him. Far from the cynical snort he’d adopted, it had a lighthearted quality that appealed to him. Beyond the pleasant sound of it, he marveled at how quickly she’d found a way to make him want to laugh again. It had been a long time since he’d had a reason to do it, and he had to admit it felt good. “Must be. Well, that and you ask a lotta questions.”
“Creative people are curious by nature,” she informed him with another smirk. “It comes with the territory when you hang out with me.”
Translation: this is who I am, take it or leave it. He admired her sassy attitude more than he could say, and he couldn’t imagine any grown man with a pulse choosing anything other than to accept this bright, engaging woman just the way she was. “Thanks for the warning. Ready for a refill?”
“Actually, what I’d really like is to see the chapel.” She tilted her head in the questioning pose that seemed to be part of her personality. “Do you have time to show it to me?”
He had nothing but time these days, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d like half as much as spending some more of it with the perky artist he’d stumbled across in the cemetery. Since it didn’t seem wise to tell her that, he set his glass on the table and stood. “It’s in pretty rough shape, so I’m afraid there’s not much to see.”
“Sometimes things aren’t as bad as they seem on first glance.” Meeting his eyes with her direct, unflinching gaze, she smiled. “I prefer to see for myself and make up my own mind.”
He sensed she was referring to more than decrepit old buildings, and an odd sensation fanned through his chest. Since he’d never experienced it before, he wasn’t sure what it was or what it meant. As Jenna walked past him, something coaxed him to fall in behind her, eager as an old hound dying for some attention from her.
Pathetic, he admitted with a sigh, but true. The problem was, the last time he’d let a woman lead him around, she’d landed him in the worst mess of his life. That betrayal had taught him that trusting his heart was foolish, at best. So while he might enjoy Jenna’s bubbly company, for the sake of his sanity that was as far as he could allow a friendship with her to go.
Logical by nature, he knew his stern resolution to keep things light should have eased his concerns. Instead, he had the sinking feeling that choosing to follow the safe route with Jenna would cost him the chance at something amazing.
* * *
Quite
