going. Not even for research. The ticket could be exchanged for a voucher, but even the thought of a getaway to clear her head felt tainted, knowing what the trip could have been.
Should have been.
She sighed heavily and forced herself to open her bedroom door. She’d been tucked away since breakfast, and she hadn’t even stopped for lunch. Now her stomach rumbled and she walked down the stairs to the kitchen, happy to find the fridge still stocked, and the pantry, too. The bowl of fresh fruit was now front and center on the farmhouse table—again, Hope’s touch.
Guilt reared strong, but she pushed it back. If Hope hadn’t interrupted her at such a crucial point in the chapter she’d been writing, she wouldn’t have been so short-tempered. She’d offer to watch the girls one day when she had her book more under control. If she could finally break through this panicked feeling she experienced every time she reached the part of her book where the main characters met and eventually fell in love, then she could afford to be generous. And she wanted to be generous. It didn’t feel good to take advantage of Hope’s hospitality or Ellie’s willingness to share the cottage, even if it was just as much hers.
She ate a banana and one of the muffins left over from breakfast, purchased at Island Bakery yesterday by Hope, one of the best spots in town for homemade scones and sandwiches. Growing up, the girls used to pack thick turkey sandwiches from there and spend the day at the beach, before cycling over to Main Street Sweets for penny candy before they came home, full, tired, and smiling.
Home. That’s what they had always called this house when they visited, and Gran hadn’t minded. Now, it technically was her home, a third of it at least, and Gemma considered that for a moment. Then, feeling that it was time to contribute something to the household, she walked out onto the front porch and admired Leo as he pushed the mower back and forth, in straight lines.
Really, that’s all she was doing. Watching from afar. Because getting any closer…well, that was definitely not an option. And really, she was only seeking him out for professional reasons. He was handy, and this house needed work. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was easy on the eye. Very easy, she thought, as she watched his muscles strain as he turned the mower around.
He stopped when saw her, flashed a grin and wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief that he pulled from his back pocket. He certainly wasn’t making this easy, she thought ruefully. Or maybe, it was the other way around. Maybe he was making this too easy. Too easy to think about someone other than Sean. Too easy to believe that she could actually be attracted to another man again.
But attraction was one thing. A relationship was another. And love…she couldn’t even think about that.
“I noticed that vegetable garden in the back,” he said, sparking a snort from her.
“It used to be a vegetable garden,” she corrected. Gran had taken such pride in her plants, and when the girls visited in the summer, they’d found endless satisfaction in selecting the tomatoes, beans, and peppers for dinner. One of her favorite memories was of sitting on the porch with her sisters and Gran, shelling peas and looking out over the water, her feet bare, her shorts sticky over her wet bathing suit, her smile tired but sincere.
Those days, she thought heavily, were over. The vegetable garden was proof of that.
“My sister killed it.”
He barked out a laugh. It was a nice laugh, rich and heavy, but warm, like his eyes. “I’ve met Ellie a few times over the last couple of months. She’s an artist, right?”
Gemma nodded. “This house is a lot of work for one person.”
He lifted an eyebrow. The intensity of his gaze not wavering. “Good thing you’re here then.”
She looked away, down at her feet. She was vulnerable, out of sorts, and she’d probably latch onto anyone who showed her a little kindness about now. But just as much as she wanted to stay out here, in the warmth of the late afternoon sun, talking with a nice, friendly, good-looking guy, another part of her wanted to go inside, close the door, and stop her heart from beating like this. Inside she was safe. Inside she was protected. Comfortable.
“I could try to