for myself.
“Are you okay?” Before Jenna could answer, her sister’s attention was diverted. “I know the baby’s crying, Henry. Can you get her? I’m on the phone here.”
“You’d better go. I’ll talk to you later,” Jenna said, and pushed End.
“I hate my life,” she told Jolly Roger.
Roger had nothing to say. He cocked his birdy head and looked at her.
“Yeah, that’s not a phrase you want to learn.”
The beach was calling. Jenna grabbed a half-full bottle of wine, a blanket and a plastic glass along with some matches and old newspaper for starting a fire, then made her way across the sand dunes. By sunset she’d gathered plenty of driftwood and had a nice fire going. She saw a lone figure in shorts and a T-shirt jogging along the beach. The setting sun cast him in shadow, but she’d know that muscled body anywhere.
He slowed down and walked up to her. “What are you doing here by yourself?”
She held up her plastic cup. “Drinking.”
“Alone?”
Not a good habit to start. She was going to have to switch to chocolate.
“Yep. I’d offer to share but I only brought half a bottle and I intend to drink all of it.”
He dropped onto the log next to her. “Where’s the house peddler?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” she said, and took a big gulp.
“First fight, huh?”
“And last. I gave back the ring.”
Seth sat perfectly still, saying nothing. It was as if his lips had suddenly been glued shut.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she prompted.
“What do you want me to say, that I knew all along he was a shit?”
“Something like that would be nice.”
“Sorry. I don’t think he is.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I know he is,” Jenna said, and proceeded to fill him in on Brody’s betrayal.
When she was finished, he shook his head and said, “Weird. I thought Edie was going to leave you the Driftwood.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Jenna demanded.
“What are you gonna do now?”
That wasn’t what she’d wanted him to say either. Although she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted.
“I’ll stay on and run the Driftwood until it passes to Brody. Then after that, I don’t know. Once Sabrina graduates from college I’ll probably sell the house and move.”
“Where?”
He smelled musky from his run. Why did that make her think of sex?
“What do you care?” she muttered.
“You shouldn’t leave,” he said. “You belong here.”
She finished off her drink, ignored the bottle at her feet. Wine was for celebrations and pity parties didn’t count.
“I don’t know where I belong. Nothing has worked out and I’m hollow inside.”
“What about all the friends you’ve made, the fact that you’ve got family within spitting distance?”
She bit her lip. She was going to cry. Again. Lately it was what she did best.
“I don’t need a pep talk right now.” What she needed was for him to lay her down right there in the sand and kiss her stupid. Nothing wrong with a rebound relationship. The other kind hadn’t worked.
“Guess not,” he said, and put an arm around her shoulder. She leaned against him and he kissed the top of her head. “Things have a way of working out.”
They sure did, and there was nothing good about the way they were working out for her.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she whimpered.
“You’re not.”
“I’m not talking about my family. I’m talking about...love. Why can’t I make it work with anyone? What’s wrong with me?”
“Other than poor taste in men, nothing.”
She looked up at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said softly.
Kissing close, just a breath away. Those gorgeous lips made a great target. She moved toward them.
He took his arm back and moved the target. “Let’s not go there.”
“No, let’s.”
“You’re lonely and you’re not thinking clearly,” he informed her.
“You want to be with me. I know you do.”
“A week ago you were engaged,” he said as if she’d slipped a cog.
“That was a mistake.”
“So is this. I’m not saddling you with my past.”
“Go ahead, saddle up, cowboy.”
He stood. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“No I won’t, and I’m not thanking you now.”
“Good night, Jenna.”
He said it as if she were a little child who didn’t want to go to bed. Well, she wasn’t a child and she did want to go to bed.
“There is nothing good about this night,” she grumbled as he walked off toward the motel.
Then, since there was no one to watch her make a fool of herself, she indulged in a good, long, howling crying jag. Yep, life was good at the beach.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I