Where Your Heart Is (Lilac Bay Book 1) (15 page)

“What about me?”

“You’re really going to do this? Help your cousins renovate the restaurant?” There was nothing accusatory in his voice but his words stung just the same. I got the same feeling I’d had earlier at the table, that David had no faith in my ability to stick around long enough to make Rose’s a success. And just like before, I didn’t know why that bothered me so much.

“I think it’s the least I can do.”

He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t look up at him, but I could feel his eyes on me all the same.

“You did a good thing here, Iris,” he said. “Planning this night for them.”

“It
felt
good.”

Another pause. “Do you think it might feel that way to stick around? To help Edward and Zane? Is that why you agreed to do this?”

“Of course,” I said quickly. “I want to help my family. My cousins and my grandparents. I think it will make them happy.”

“And what about you?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper in the dark. “What would make you happy?”

We were almost to Lilac Ridge now. I could see it through the trees, the porch light on, waiting for me. I didn’t answer David’s question. I didn’t know what to say.

We reached the front gate, and I looked up at the house, standing there on the top of the hill, looking just as it always did. Same white siding, same gables and light blue shutters. Same flowers in the gardens, the tulips coming up now. The consistency of this place used to bother me, make me feel anxious, but tonight, I decided I liked it. Liked that this house, out of everything in my life, was constant. The same. Waiting for me.

“What you said before,” I said softly, still watching the house, not looking at him. “About the island being home… and it being worth it to give up something you loved to come home…” I swallowed, suddenly feeling very sad. “I don’t feel that way about anything.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

I finally looked up at him and saw that his gaze was on my face, a slight smile on his lips. He was standing close again, close enough to touch, and God, I wanted to.

“I think you just haven’t figured it out yet,” he continued, his smile growing as he reached out and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear, his fingers lightly brushing my neck. I shivered involuntarily and his smile grew.

“Figured what out yet?” I asked dumbly, my brain fuzzy with the nearness of him.

“What it is you think of as home.”

His words barely registered. All I wanted was for him to kiss me. But then he was pulling away, the delicious heat of him fading as the night air filled in the space between us. “I’m having a bit of déjà vu,” he said, glancing up at the house. “Dropping you off at home, wondering if your grandfather is watching me from the window.” He gave a mock shudder. “It’s like being sixteen all over again.”

The tension of the moment broken, I laughed softly, David joining me. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said automatically.

He nodded once, squeezed my shoulder, and then turned to go. “Goodnight,” I called after him, watching as the darkness swallowed him up.

“Goodnight, Iris.”

I watched the empty spot where he had been for a long time before going inside, feeling excited about tomorrow for the first time in a long time, any objections to staying on the island for a few more weeks a distant memory.

T
he next three
weeks seemed to fly by. I supposed that was what happened when you spent twelve hours a day working on a restaurant renovation. It was grueling work—lots of physical labor, long hours, endless calls to make, constant bickering between my cousins. I loved every minute of it.

And it wasn’t just the Powell family that was putting in the effort. Once word got around that Edward and Zane planned to reopen the restaurant, plenty of friends from around the island showed up to help. And most of them were, in fact, very helpful. But then there were the Libbies. While a few of them—Cora from the bar, Margaret Munson, Posey’s friend from the school, and Libby herself—were clearly dedicated to our cause, quite a few seemed to show up only to watch my cousin Andrew, who I was shocked to learn had nearly as many fans on the island as David, swing a hammer and get sweaty.

Which is why I found myself one Saturday afternoon trying—and failing—to keep half a dozen slightly tipsy women on task. Zane had given us the assignment to scrape the dated wallpaper from the back wall of the second floor dining room. Unfortunately, David and Andrew happened to be working on cutting new chair molding behind the restaurant. Directly below the floor-to-ceiling windows. With power tools.

“I do love a man with a circular saw,” Sherry, she of the bad perm, sighed happily before taking another long sip of her mojito.

“This is lovely,” Jill agreed. “I really don’t understand why you’ve been complaining about helping, Libbs.”

Libby wiped the sweat from her forehead and glared at Jill, who was perched on the edge of a table, staring unashamedly down at the boys in the yard. “Maybe that’s because you’re not doing any of the damn work.”

I glanced up from my square of wallpaper to see that only Libby and Cora were still holding their scrapers. The rest of the group, including Posey, had all migrated toward the window to watch the guys. “Come on, ladies,” I called, trying to make my voice encouraging, rather than frustrated. Which I totally was. This was probably the twentieth time I’d had to call them back to work.

“Posey, that’s your cousin,” I added, making a face at her.

“I’m not watching Andrew,” she replied dreamily. “You should see what a bit of sweat does to David’s shirt.”

David. My frustration had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was down there. In low-slung jeans and a white T-shirt. Sweating. Building things. Nope. Nothing to do with that at all.

“Shit, you guys, seriously?” Edward exclaimed, coming into the room with a fresh bucket of water. The more stubborn patches of wallpaper—which accounted for approximately 95 percent of the room—required soaking with wet sponges before we could even try to scrape it off. The process was tedious and difficult. My shoulders were aching from the effort of scraping the stubborn faded flowers over the last few days. “You’ve barely gotten anything done.”

“Don’t look at me,” Cora barked. “I’m not the one giggling by the window like a little girl.”

“You just had to invite the Libbies, didn’t you?” He shot a look in my direction.

“Um, pretty sure you can blame Posey for that,” I shot back.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Libby called from her patch of wallpaper, “the actual Libby is working her ass off over here.”

“And that’s only one of the many reasons why we love you,” Zane said, sweeping into the room and planting a kiss on her cheek as he passed. “Ladies! Ladies, come on. Let’s get a bit of work done, and I promise I’ll make you another pitcher of mojitos.”

“Sure thing, Zane!” Jill called, jumping right up and grabbing her scraper. The rest of the women followed.

“Figures,” I said. “They’ll listen to you.”

“It’s all in the attitude, dear,” he told me, picking up a scraper and joining me.

“That and the fact that every woman on this island is half in love with you,” Cora said. “It’s such a damn shame you’re gay.”

“Sweetie, you’d be the first I’d call if I weren’t.” He blew her a kiss, and I rolled my eyes.

“Have you always been this big of a flirt?”

He grinned at me. “Hey, it got them back to work, didn’t it?”

“That probably has more to do with the fact that the boys are coming inside now,” Posey pointed out. Sure enough, only a few minutes later, both David and Andrew appeared in the doorway. Andrew was taking a swig from an ice-cold beer, and David was using the neck of his T-shirt to wipe some sweat from his eyes. A murmur of appreciation flowed through the room as his action revealed a strip of skin just above his low-slung jeans. I would have rolled my eyes—if he didn’t look so damn good doing it.

“Hey there, David,” Jill called in her sultriest voice. Which was to say, her normal voice. The woman could have been a sex-phone operator with that purr of hers. “Get a lot of work done?”

“We did,” he said politely, his eyes sliding right past her to find mine. I knew it was immature to feel a little thrill at that, but maturity is totally overrated.

“You about ready?” he asked, and I could practically feel the heat of half a dozen glares on the back of my head.

“Just about.” I tried to hide my grin, tried to remind myself that this wasn’t a date, not at all, just two friends hanging out. But I still had to duck my head, not wanting the girls—or David—to see my face.

“Iris, Iris,” Zane tsked next to me. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, Zane.”

“Not that I can blame you,” he continued. “He is pretty yummy. Especially in those jeans.”

“I’m going to tell Eddie,” I warned.

“Like he doesn’t know how hot David Jenkins is,” Zane shot back. “The boy has eyes, doesn’t he?”

There was no point in arguing. David always looked good, but physical-labor David was a whole different level. Which was only one of the reasons I was excited to be getting out of the restaurant for the rest of the afternoon—less temptation that way. On the other hand, being alone with him provided an entirely different set of challenges in the temptation department.

“Here, Eddie,” I called to my cousin, holding up my scraper. “You can take my spot by your man.”

“And just where are you going?” Cora asked.

“David and I have some errands to run,” I told her, knowing that all of the other Libbies were listening. “For the café.”

“That’s right,” he agreed, shooting me the barest of winks. Again with the immature little thrill. I was going to have to do something about that. I was, after all, not sixteen anymore.

“I’ll see you later,” I told Posey as I passed.

“Mmm hmm.” She was grinning, and I had a feeling she in no way bought my excuse about errands for the café.

“I’ll follow up with the
Tribune
when I get home,” I told Edward, feeling a teensy bit guilty about leaving when there was still so much work to be done. Then again, I was here all the time, not to mention all the work I was doing from home, working on the press release, lining up coverage from the mainland, trying to build up as much promo for the opening as possible on such short notice. I deserved a little break, didn’t I?

“Sure, leave me with the Libbies,” he muttered, but he winked as I passed, and I knew he wasn’t really mad. Besides, with David off the premises, I had a feeling their productivity was about to shoot up.

I followed David down the stairs to the sounds of Sherry and Jill wolf whistling at the view afforded by his retreat.

“Those women are a menace,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on, you can hardly blame them,” I said. “You can’t swan around in those jeans, looking all buff, using power tools and everything, and expect them not to react.”

He held open the front door, looking down at me as I passed. “You think I look buff?”

I rolled my eyes, but I could feel my cheeks getting pinker. “I didn’t say that.”

“You did. You just said—”

“
They
think you look buff.”

“Sure, Iris.”

It’s so nice
, I thought to myself as we headed down Main Street toward the water.
To be pleasant with each other, instead of all of that scowling and grumpiness from my first week here.
It was almost like… well, it was almost like flirting. But that was a dangerous thought, wasn’t it? That David might be flirting with me. There was no way that thinking like that was going to lead to anything good.

“It’s a nice day,” David said as we approached the marina. “Water should be a little warmer, I bet.” He shot me a quick glance. “Little windy, though. Might be more waves this time.”

I swallowed, trying to banish the chills that threatened to run down my arms.
Waves are no big deal
, I reminded myself.
You’ve endured the waves before. David’s boat is safe.

“That’s good,” he said softly as we walked down onto the dock. “You’re getting much better at keeping yourself relaxed.”

“Well, that’s the point of all of this, isn’t it?”

“I
am
a pretty good teacher.”

“I see your ego is really healthy today.”

He laughed, reaching out a hand to help me jump over the side of the boat before following me in. We both set to work on the lines immediately. I knew the routine of getting the boat out onto the water now, no longer needing his directions. Once we had the boat untied, David started the engine, and we were off.

I wouldn’t say that I enjoyed being out on the water. But I didn’t hate it with the passion I had when I first arrived. There were probably lots of reasons for that—exposure being a big one. In the past three weeks, I had been on this boat nearly every day. Sometimes, it was for a quick trip to the mainland to get supplies for the restaurant. Sometimes, it was for a leisurely ride around the island. And sometimes, it was for our project.

That’s right. David and I had a project. Just the two of us. And that, right there, was probably the biggest reason for my increasing comfort on the water. Plus, the project gave me an excuse to hang with David all by myself. Maybe that was pathetic, but I didn’t really care. I was coming to look forward to these hours out on the bay, despite the fear that still hung around the periphery of my consciousness.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the sun warm my face, trying to ignore the waves that David had predicted. I could definitely feel them, now that we were out of the harbor. My stomach rolled a little bit as a particularly big one crashed against the side of the boat. Before I could grip my seat, David reached over and took my hand. The way he always did when he sensed the fear might be closing in. Immediately, I felt better.

“Almost there,” he told me in that soft, calm way of his. I opened my eyes to see that we were nearing Blackbeard’s Cove. “Waves should be nonexistent in there.”

He was right. That was the reason we had chosen this place, after all. Because it was protected from the elements of the bay, calm and clear. And shallow. The perfect place for a waterphobe like me to finally learn how to swim.

“You want to steer?” he asked as he began to maneuver the boat into the cove.

“Let’s worry about one thing at a time, okay?”

“You’ll be a pro in no time,” he assured me, and I tried to hide my smile at the confidence in his voice. He wasn’t just bullshitting me. David honestly thought I had it in me.

As David dealt with the anchor, I stood and pulled off my lifejacket before slipping out of my shorts and T-shirt. There was a crash behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to see David rubbing his ankle, his eyes glued to my back. “You okay?” I asked.

“Uh huh,” he muttered, his voice low and a tad raspy. “Just bumped the uh, thing there. The chair.”

On closer inspection, his eyes were focused slightly lower than my back. My stomach dipped dangerously. Had he walked into the seat because he was watching me? I turned back to what I was doing, folding my clothes and placing them carefully on my chair, trying to keep from blushing. I would have to thank Posey for the bikini. I’d had to secretly borrow a few suits from her apartment, not having brought any with me since I had never imagined I would actually be swimming on this trip. The bikini had been a bit of a gamble—my cousin was a little smaller than I was in the chest department—but I’d grabbed it that morning on a whim, telling myself it wouldn’t matter. After all, we always wore wetsuits in the water, it being early June in Northern Michigan and all. But I had to admit that there was a part of me that secretly hoped that the little red scraps of fabric would still make an impression.

I turned around to get my wetsuit from the storage trunk under the front seat and saw that David was still standing at the back of the boat, watching me. “David? You gonna get ready?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Sorry.”

I couldn’t help grinning.

But then David pulled off his shirt and my grin changed to what I was sure was a very attractive slack-jawed gape. David clearly spent a lot of time outside with his shirt off. Probably doing some kind of physical labor, if the muscles I couldn’t keep my eyes off of were any indication. His chest was tanned, sculpted, and covered with a smattering of blond hair. Completely gape-worthy. If the Libbies girls could see him now.

“Iris?” he asked, and he was the one grinning now, looking pretty smug in fact. “You gonna put on your wetsuit?”

“Yup,” I replied, a little too loudly, nearly bashing my own ankle on the base of my seat as I turned to get into my suit.

We didn’t make a lot of eye contact as we got ready, which I was grateful for. It was safer that way, seeing as how I was pretty sure I would have a hard time keeping my hands to myself if I had to see him with his shirt off for another second. Once we were safely enveloped in our wet suits, we made our way to the platform.

“I’ll get in first,” David said, and I knew exactly what he had in mind. I swallowed, trying to banish the fear, all thoughts of his amazing body and his reaction to my bikini disappearing at once.
You can touch the bottom
, I reminded myself. Just as I feared, once David had slipped into the water, he took a few steps out away from the boat and looked up at me expectantly. “Why don’t you give jumping a try?”