I grab my bike, climb on, and push off down the road. My cheeks burn, and I pedal faster.
Chapter 20
Jake
The cold morningair is harsh against my face as we unload some of the newly constructed benches from the truck. Kelly signed off on the installations a couple of days ago, and we’re finally ready to start constructing on site.
Ocean wind whips through the grassy field below the lighthouse, while waves crash against the rocks in the distance. I glance toward the bar under the lighthouse, now closed, its windows dark and shuttered for more than a year now. Harbor’s Edge hasn’t been the same since the hurricane and the oil spill.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again, and I check it quickly—it’s just my office manager, nothing from Adele, thank God. It was a battle to get her to school again, and these days every time my phone rings I’m expecting it to be her telling me she needs to be picked up and is sick or whatever excuse she’s giving not to be there.
Whatever is going on at school isn’t getting better, and I hate that I can’t fix it for her. But her birthday is coming up, and sheseems happy about that at least—it’s just her closest girlfriends, and I guess that seems safe for her.
I shove my phone in my pocket and shift my focus back to the crew. We all work together, getting the benches lined up and ready for installation later in the week.
“Jake, you good?” Mark asks, coming up beside me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just got a lot on my plate. Let’s keep going.”
We heft a bench together, muscles straining. My mind, though, is still elsewhere—on Adele, on everything we need to do for the festival, on Kelly, who’s been running herself ragged. I’ve been telling her not to worry so much about things being perfect, but this festival is more than just a project for her. And, truthfully, it needs to be a win for all of us.
Kelly arrives mid-morning, and the moment she steps out of her car, the whole site shifts. I should be focused on the crew, the work that needs doing, but all I can see is her. The way the morning sun catches in the hair falling over her shoulders, each strand glinting with hints of chestnut and ebony.
She inspects the benches and talks to the crew, her smile so easy and genuine. My gaze follows her, helpless to do anything else.
A few minutes later, she stops by the benches closest to me, bending down just slightly, and I can’t look away as her fingers trace the grain of the wood. Then she’s making her way toward me, and I quickly clear my throat, trying to pretend I wasn’t just standing there, drinking her in.
But as she gets closer, her scent drifts my way, soft and fruity, and any chance of playing it cool just goes out the window. “Hey. Everything’s on track.” I shove my hands in my pockets, and before I can stop myself, words just start tumbling out. “We, uh, should have all the installations on site by the end of the week. And, yeah, construction will take about another week, maybe alittle more, depending on the weather, or you know, if we hit any snags with the materials…”
Her eyes hold this spark, and I catch myself staring at her, losing track of what I’m saying.
“Good.” Her gaze sweeps the site before locking onto mine. “You’ve done great so far. Your team is really efficient. But we can’t get complacent. We can’t afford any delays.”
There’s that determined look again, but there’s something else, too. She looks a little pale, her cheekbones more pronounced. I shift my weight, lowering my voice. “Are you doing okay? Are you taking care of yourself?”
“I’m fine,” she says lightly, glancing away. “Just a lot on my mind.”
We stand there for a moment, the air between us practically humming, thick with something charged and alive. Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, there’s just the two of us in this bubble where every tiny detail—her steady breathing, the way her lashes cast faint shadows on her cheeks—feels electric.
I’m about to say something, anything to close the space between us, when my phone vibrates in my pocket, snapping the moment in two. I glance down, catching Patrick’s name flashing on the screen. All I want is to keep her here, in this charged space between us, but I better answer.
“Hang on a sec,” I say to Kelly, stepping aside and raising the phone. “What’s up, man?”
Patrick’s voice is tense on the other end. “I just got out of an emergency meeting with the mayor.” Patrick is the fire chief and often among the first to find out about issues impacting the town. “They’re predicting some serious winter storms coming our way, starting with some lightning storms in the coming days.”
He gives me a brief rundown of the meeting, the weather phenomenon that’s going to lead to a much colder, more severe winter, and none of it sounds good.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re kidding. We just got this place back on its feet.”
“Yeah, well,” Patrick continues, his voice tense, “can you get word out to the other Valiant Hearts boys so they know what to expect? These first storms are going to be relatively mild, but it could get much worse.”
I glance out over the festival site, the ocean crashing against the shore behind us. The wind’s already picking up, colder than it should be for this time of year. Memories of the last hurricane and the oil spill flood back. Now this?
“I’ll let the boys know,” I say. “Do we need to call for volunteers?”
“Let’s see how bad the storms are over the next few days, but probably not. We’ll definitely need them when the snow hits, though.”
“Got it. Thanks for the heads-up, man.”
