Seven
What is the matter with me?
Yes, she was impetuous, but this was ridiculous.
Jenny fell onto her bed, covered her face and a groan with a pillow. Why why why had she kissed him like that? No warning, no build up—she’d gone right for the jugular. Sometimes, she amazed even herself with the things she did. Her face felt hot, and she wondered if he’d seen how embarrassed she was for having accosted him.
And yet, she wasn’t exactly sorry, because that had been one super hot kiss. And lest there be any doubt, that aloof and distant man had participated fully.
Jenny fell asleep thinking of that kiss and woke up with the sensation of it still buzzing through her. She was debating whether or not she should apologize again when her phone rang. Jenny dug it out from beneath the bedspread and answered it.
“Hey!” Brooke shouted into the phone.
Jenny winced at her loud voice, then yawned. “Hi, Brooke.”
“So I heard your boyfriend flaked on you,” Brooke announced.
“Wait, what? How do you know that?” Jenny asked, then remembered. “Oh. Right. Bethany.”
“She’s worried about you. She said you won’t answer your phone now.”
“I won’t?” Jenny yawned. “I was out last night and didn’t have it on me.”
“Keep it on you at all times. Is it true you’re staying at some inn that’s closed? Is that even safe?”
“Okay, I did not say that to Bethany,” Jenny said, sitting up.
“She looked up quaint inns at Lake Haven online. How long are they going to let you stay there?”
“I have no idea,” Jenny said. She thought of Edan. “Brooke—you won’t believe what I did.”
“Yes I will. Tell me.”
“I kissed a man.”
Brooke said nothing.
“I mean I kissed him. When he was holding a dirty sponge and couldn’t fight me off.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Brooke howled with laughter. “What do you mean, he couldn’t fight you off because he was holding a sponge!”
“He was being polite. And then he told me to go home.”
“Really!” Brooke said, sounding surprised.
Jenny told Brooke the whole story. Of arriving to find the inn closed, of seeing Edan in a kilt. She told Brooke of the drive into East Beach and then the fish dinner, and how when she was leaving, she really meant to leave— “And then boom, I just kissed him.”
“He didn’t like it?”
“Yes. Not really. Maybe,” Jenny said uncertainly. “Let’s just say he didn’t see it coming. But I like him, Brooke. I like him a lot.”
There was a long pause, and then, “Jenny?” said in the careful tone one might use when addressing someone about to jump off a bridge. “You just broke up with Devin. Don’t you think you ought to take a minute? Maybe do some introspection?”
“Yes, Brooke, of course I think I should take a minute. But sometimes you just get a sense about someone, and I have a sense about him. There’s something that tells me he is kind of hurting and kind of alone, and he’s so fucking handsome, and I don’t know, I just like him. If you think about it, it’s entirely possible that fate brought me here.” She didn’t add that she liked his quiet patience with her, which she knew was not easy. Or that he actually seemed to listen to her. Sometimes, anyway.
“And it’s entirely possible you’re reading far too much into it because you’ve been starved for good sex.”
“Truth,” Jenny admitted. Devin was awful. “And I’m not just saying that, Brooke. You and Vanessa and Bethany are always right about me. I’m impulsive, I need a job. I know I have to go home eventually. But I feel...” She paused. It was difficult for her to put into words, but she felt so at peace here. Like she was supposed to be at this inn. Her soul was sheltering here.
She also sensed that there was so much more lurking beneath the surface of Edan’s amazing green eyes.
“Uh-oh,” Brooke said. “You’re not thinking—”
“No, no,” Jenny said quickly. “I’m definitely not staying here. Even I know how insane that would be. Maybe a week, that’s all. Which says I should leave well enough alone with him, right? Why start something I can’t finish?”
“Who is talking right now?” Brooke asked. “This doesn’t sound like Jenny, the queen of embrace your feelings and happiness. The guru of get in touch with your inner self. The yogi of love and peace—”
“Okay, all right, I get it,” Jenny said.
“Look, no one is going to argue that you really need to get your shit together,” Brooke said in a way that made Jenny suspect that she and Vanessa and Bethany had discussed it. “But you’re there. So do whatever it takes. Explore it if you need to. But do something, Jen. What did your dad say, anyway?”
“I haven’t actually talked to him,” Jenny admitted. “I emailed him to tell him where I was and explain that Devin and I had broken up. He wrote back and told me not to spend all his money, then added a bunch of emojis that made no sense.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Brooke clucked her tongue. “So maybe do what dear old Dad says—don’t spend all his money and take care. But promise me that you’ll get your head on straight?”
Jenny didn’t think her head was on crooked to begin with. “Sure,” she said.
“I’ll call you in a few days. Oh, by the way, be forewarned. Vanessa thinks she’s lined up a possible job for you.”
“What?”
“It’s not much, but she knows someone in Santa Monica, and they’re opening a coffee shop on the Promenade and looking for staff.”
A coffee shop? Not exactly the career path Jenny was seeking. She could hear Vanessa in her head. Just to get your feet wet. You have to get your feet wet. “Great,” she said. “Thanks for the warning.”
When she and Brooke ended the call, she stared at the wall for a few moments. Vanessa was a beast of competency. If she found Jenny a job it was probably a decent one. She ought to take it and be grateful for it. Maybe she would. And then again...
She sat up and looked out the window. It was overcast. Maybe she’d take a hike into the hills and think about it. At least think about something other than how well Edan kissed.
When she was dressed, she made her way to the dining room. The door to the kitchen was open, and she could hear the banging of pots and pans. “Hello?”
A woman in thick-soled shoes with unnaturally bright hair piled atop her head emerged, carrying a tray full of salt and pepper sets. Jenny liked the look of her—she had a tattoo curling up her wrist. She stopped when she saw Jenny, clearly surprised. “Good morning,” she said.
“Hi,” Jenny returned.
The woman’s gaze traveled down Jenny’s body, taking in her tank top and jacket, her cargo shorts and her boots, the two long tails of hair that hung down her chest. She put down her tray of salt and pepper sets. “May I help you, then?”
“Is the restaurant open?”
“Well—” She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced over her shoulder. “I guess it could be, aye.”
“I’m a guest,” Jenny said. “And I’d love some breakfast.”
“You’re a guest... here?”
“Room 215. Is it okay if I sit down?”
“Aye, yeah, of course,” the woman said. “I didna think we had any guests until the weekend.” She took a step back, retrieving a menu from a stand and placed that in front of Jenny. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
The woman pivoted about and went back into the kitchen. Jenny could hear her speaking loudly to someone else. That was followed by more banging of dishes and pots and doors. She reappeared a few minutes later with the coffee and an order pad. Jenny ordered eggs and ham, and the woman disappeared once more into the kitchen.
Jenny had drunk half her coffee when the woman returned with a plate of eggs, ham, and a caddy of dry toast. She set it all down on the table, wiped her hands on the towel she’d used to carry it out and said, “Plate is hot, mind.”
“Thank you.” Jenny picked up her fork and took a bite of eggs. She glanced up; the woman hadn’t left.
“Do you mind if I ask—did you just check in?” the woman asked. “The inn’s closing and we’ve only a pair of bookings left. I didna see one for today.”
“I arrived Sunday night,” Jenny said. “Long story, but I didn’t know the inn was closed, and I showed up too late to go anywhere else. So Edan let me stay.”
The woman blinked. “Edan?”
“Mr. Mackenzie.”
“Oh aye, I know who he is. I’m Rosalyn, by the way.”
“Oh!” Jenny said through a mouth full of egg. “You’re the wedding! I’m Jenny.”
“He told you about my wedding?”
“Sort of. I noticed he was wearing a kilt. I’d heard that in Scotland, men only wore kilts to formal occasions. So while he was making me a sandwich, I asked.”
“He made you a sandwich!” It was not a question; it was a statement of utter disbelief.
It seemed like everyone around Lake Haven thought Edan incapable of making a sandwich. “Right in there, in the kitchen,” Jenny said, pointing.
Rosalyn gaped at Jenny, her expressive brown eyes practically spinning with her thoughts. “I’ve never seen Edan make a sandwich for anyone. No’ even himself. But I’m happy to hear he made it home in one piece. I worried—he’d had a wee bit to drink, aye? Freddie Montoya brung him home.”
“Really?” Jenny said, thinking back to that night. “He seemed perfectly fine to me. He didn’t really say much.”
“Ach, well, he never says much,” Rosalyn said. “Good on him, then,” she said with an adamant nod of her head. “I worry about my old chum. No’ that there’s anything wrong with him, mind you, but he seems to be a wee bit too much in his own head, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Jenny agreed. “I noticed it last night at dinner.”
Rosalyn stepped closer. “Beg your pardon—last night?”
“Yeah, we had dinner in the back. He was slightly more talkative than the night he made me a sandwich.” She paused, thinking back to the way he’d looked at her, curious and confused and wary all at once. “A little more, anyway.”
Rosalyn’s eyes rounded like two pennies. “You must be joking. He invited you to dinner in the private quarters?”
“Oh, not like that,” Jenny said with a laugh. “It was more like I invited myself and he took pity on me. The restaurant was closed, so I went around back to see if he had a bowl I could use. And there he was, grilling fish he’d caught.” She smiled. “Fish was delicious.”
Rosalyn stared off a moment. Then she looked at her watch. “Oh, bother, I’ve got to get on with it.” She glanced up at Jenny. “Donna mind me being so nosy. I’ve known Edan for an age and like to keep an eye on him. Do you mean to go for a walk, then? It looks like rain. There are some extra brollies in the reception area.”
Jenny was going to guess that a brolly was an umbrella, but she smiled and thanked her all the same, and Rosalyn went back into the kitchen.
She didn’t need an umbrella. She’d checked her weather app—the rain wouldn’t arrive until late this afternoon.
That would give her plenty of time to think things through.