Chapter Six

What the hell just happened?

Emmie didn’t know but whatever it was, she had a feeling it was life-altering. She hadn’t been on a date in over a year, since before Jacoby had died. She’d been wallowing in grief for so long she couldn’t even remember the man she’d dated.

Coleson thrown her for a loop when he’d greeted her in the shop. The woman working behind the counter hadn’t known her brother, but she said the owner would be there the next day. Emmie had every intention of stopping by with her fingers crossed that she could talk to the person who had captured Jacoby’s attention. If not, she’d visit every place he’d written about in the hope of understanding why he’d come to Anchorridge Cove.

When she arrived back at her cottage, she saw that she had about six hours to prepare dinner. First, she had to figure out what she was going to cook. Had to be something easy because this would be the first thing she ever attempted. No pressure, indeed.

She sat down on the sofa and brought up YouTube and started playing through cooking videos, finally settling on spaghetti and garlic bread. This was it. The start of a new life. She might not have to work nine to five, but she wasn’t going to be a pampered little princess anymore. If Jacoby’s death taught her anything, it was that she needed to be self-reliant and a good person. A good, self-reliant person, because nobody made it out alive.

Once she had everything prepped, she glanced at the clock and discovered she had another five hours to wait and decided to take a long walk on the beach. Slipping flip-flops on, she headed down to the shoreline and watched the ocean in all its glory. It was there long before her and would be there long after, which made it an excellent place to scatter her brother’s ashes. As long as the ocean lasted, so too would Jacoby.

She wasn’t quite ready, though, to let him go.

Slipping off her shoes, she carried them as she walked along the damp sand. Occasionally, the waves would be a little more forceful, and soaked the bottom of her linen pants. She found seashells, seaweed, tiny crabs burrowing into the sand. A lot more garbage than she expected. Guess the people posting about all the plastic floating in the ocean were correct. She saw small boats bobbing on the horizon, seagulls flying around, some even dive-bombing for the little crabs.

As she headed back, peace settled over her. Back home in New York City, she constantly had to stay on her guard. Against her parents, the paparazzi, strangers she didn’t even know, even her friends. Whenever she did something stupid it was splashed not only over social media, but on the gossip magazines. Try growing up with a bazillion cameras trained on every move you made. Jacoby hated that. Maybe that’s why he had come here.

Entering her cottage, she hurried to take a shower, dressing in another set of drawstring linen pants and a Boho lace top. Then she turned on YouTube and prepared to cook. Water boiling, check. Bread covered in butter and garlic powder, check.

“What does al dente mean?” she muttered to herself and had to look up the meaning. “To the tooth? What do teeth have to do with pasta? Oh. Al dente pasta is firm when bitten without being hard or chalky. That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.”

Twenty minutes later, she was eating those words. Apparently, it was that hard.

“What the hell is wrong with the pasta? Damn it,” she muttered to herself. “This is supposed to be easy. Why is it clumped together?”

While she was Googling the mishap, a knock sounded on her door and she gave a little groan. Great. He was going to realize she was stupid. Throwing the towel on the island, she looked out the peephole and saw Coleson. Maybe if she didn’t answer he’d think she wasn’t home.

“That probably would’ve worked if you hadn’t said it out loud,” he said through the door.

Rolling her eyes she opened the door. “It’s not what you think.”

“If you don’t want to have dinner with me, no worries—”

“It’s not that, I just … well, um, I don’t know how to cook.”

He blinked and amusement filled his blue eyes. “What were you attempting?”

“Spaghetti.”

He bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling, but failed miserably. She sighed and shook her head, standing aside to let him in.

“It’s okay to laugh. I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”

“I get it,” Coleson said as he stepped inside. He handed her a bottle of red wine. Emmie took it and closed the door behind him. “Fast food is far easier.”

She grew up with a chef cooking amazing dishes, and since she was supposed to be a normal girl, couldn’t admit she never had fast food. “Yeah. You too?”

“Sometimes,” he replied as he rolled up his sleeves. “Okay, let’s see what we have.”

He picked up pans and thew away the clump of spaghetti in the trash. He rinsed out the saucepan that had burnt pasta sauce. He tossed the blackened garlic bread. Washing his hands, he started the meal over. Just took over her kitchen as he moved fluently from sink to stove to oven.

“Why don’t you pour us a glass of wine while I get this sorted out?” he suggested.

“That I can do,” she said and grabbed a corkscrew to open the bottle. She poured out a healthy amount and handed him a glass.

“Thank you,” he said.

She took her wineglass and sat on one of the island stools. “I feel bad that I invited you over a meal, and now you’re making that meal.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to cooking. My mother…” Coleson hesitated, the muscles of his jaw moving as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

Emmie got the impression it was a touchy subject, and she didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious.

“My mother can’t even microwave a cup of water,” she said, filling the silence. “Probably doesn’t even know what a microwave is. She’s spoiled and entitled, and utterly exhausting.”

His gaze flickered up to meet hers. “Is that why you’re here?”

Emmie shook her head, wondering how much she should reveal. Coleson didn’t seem like a man who’d go blabbing to the press, but she had to be careful.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he said softly.

“It’s okay. A little over a year ago, I found my brother floating in his hot tub.” Damn it! She blinked rapidly to hold back the emotional tears. She didn’t want to start crying, but her chin wobbled a little. “My parents went around telling everyone he’d OD’d. They got all manner of sympathy, but it was a lie. He’d taken some Xanax for anxiety and drank whiskey, and that, combined with the heat of the water, caused him to pass out. He ended up drowning.”

“I’m so sorry,” Coleson said. Sadness and understanding were etched on his face. He reached out his hand to cover hers, and she liked the bit of warmth he offered. “Growing up, I was a little punk since I had no adult supervision, and my coach on the youth football league kind of whipped my ass into shape. If it hadn’t been for him, I have no idea where I’d be today. Probably in jail or in the ground. When he retired, he moved into the beach house I’m staying in. He passed away three months ago so I’m here to pack everything up.”

“I’m glad you had him,” Emmie murmured.

He gave her a little smile, squeezed her hand, and went back to cooking. “Yeah. Me too. Did you have anyone?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not like you. It was my brother and I growing up. He, ah, wanted to divorce our parents, but I was too scared. It haunts me, that he died thinking I was a coward.” When a tear rolled down her cheek, she quickly wiped it away and gave a self-conscious laugh. “Sorry.”

He reached over and patted her hand. “You don’t have to apologize.”

She sniffed. “He was my twin. I thought we’d be together always. I thought he’d make fun of me if I ever got married. I thought I’d definitely make fun of him if he did. He wasn’t supposed to die, especially not like that.”

Coleson came around the island and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a tight hug. She stiffened at first, but then relaxed when she realized all he wanted to do was comfort her. When he pulled back, he swept some of her hair behind an ear. That spark she’d felt earlier ignited again, causing her heart to skip a beat. She glanced at his lips, wanting to kiss him, but knowing it was inappropriate to kiss a man she’d only known a handful of hours.

He cleared his throat and took a step back, and she immediately felt bereft. Which was stupid. She’d just met this guy. Still, she never had tingles dance over her skin before. Or have a man stare at her like he wanted to eat her up. At least, none that didn’t see dollar signs first.

An easy smile plastered on his face.

“Dinner is about done,” he said.

She nodded, letting him know she understood.

He drained the pasta, mixed it with the sauce, and took it to the small dining table before getting the perfectly cooked garlic bread out of the oven and sliding the pieces into a bread basket.

“Ready?” he asked.

Emmie brought her glass of wine over, and he held out her chair as she sat down. Then he grabbed his own glass and the bottle of wine and sat across from her.

“To new friendships,” he said, holding up his glass.

“Yes.” She lightly tapped his with hers, then they both took a drink. “It looks and smells wonderful. Thank you for saving dinner. YouTube never prepared me for how hard it would be to cook.”

“YouTube?”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug as she filled up her bowl with food and added a little parmesan cheese. “I thought it would be the perfect app to teach me, but I underestimated how difficult it’d be to watch everything so it wouldn’t burn.”

He grinned. “It does take a little time to learn how to manage it all. No one ever was great the first time.”

“Not even Gordon Ramsey?”

“I’m pretty sure he made some type of deal with the Devil.”

She laughed. “They don’t call it Hell’s Kitchen for nothing.”

They ate for a few minutes, and it was nice having a companion. She didn’t feel quite so alone.

“What do you do for a living?” he asked.

For a moment, panic set in. What did she tell him? Sticking as close to the truth as possible sounded like a wise decision. “I, um, I work in the local animal shelter. Taking care of them. Helping them get adopted. Cleaning cages and taking them on walks.”

“That’s amazing,” he said.

“Animals will never betray you,” she explained. “If they don’t like you, they’ll let you know. You treat them with kindness and they’ll love you forever.”

“They are far better creatures than mankind.”

Emmie smiled, glad he understood. “What do you do?”

“Nothing right now,” he replied.

“In between jobs?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Every time she looked at him, he stared back in a type of visual foreplay. He held out his hand, and she slowly put her own in it, and his fingers traced over the skin. “Why do I feel like I know you?”

She stiffened and pulled back. “What?”

“Last night, I saw you on the beach,” he said. “And it felt like we were the only people in the world.”

She relaxed at his explanation. “Like we were no longer alone. I felt that, too.”

He nodded. “Is what we’re feeling because of our shared grief?”

“You mean, did we somehow subconsciously know the other was hurting and it drew us together?”

“Yeah.”

Emmie bit her bottom lip as she thought that over. “I think our attraction to one another brought us together. Grief is just something we have in common.”

“I wonder what else we have in common,” he mused. “Let’s see. I like jogging on the beach.”

“Jogging? What is this jogging you speak of?”

“Strike one. How about this?” His gaze sharpened to laser focus. “I like watching football.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Football. Go Knicks.”

He blinked and visibly relaxed. “Yeah. Go Knicks.”

“I like wine.” She saluted him with her glass filled with said beverage and then took a long drink. “I like funny movies. Coffee. I don’t care for chocolate or rude people. I wish I had the guts to tell my parents to fuck off. I’d give anything to be able to go back in time, to when my brother asked me to run with him out of our parents’ lives. If I had, maybe he’d still be alive.”

“Time is always slowest in our memories. If I could’ve done this, or if I would’ve done that. I kept delaying on calling Thomas, and now, it’s too late. He’s gone.” He sighed. “It’s hard to break things off with parents. I know that from experience.”

“Is your mother still alive?”

He shook his head. “Alcohol was her killer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve had a lot of therapy to come to terms with her decisions.”

“Another thing we have in common.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

She nodded.

“May I kiss you?”

Her mouth went dry even as her heart hammered in her chest. “Yes.”

He rose and came over to her. Emmie looked up, and he held out his hand. Wondering if this was smart of her, she decided to hell with playing it safe and placed her hand in his. Being safe had gotten her nowhere. It caused her to leave her brother behind when he needed her, a decision with devastating consequences.

Maybe it was the intimacy of the setting. Maybe it was because he was the first man she’d had a date with who didn’t know who she was. That her bank account was probably bigger than he could possibly imagine. It was why she’d dyed her hair brown, covering up the honey locks she was known for.

When he tugged her closer, she eagerly stepped into his arms, not having too far to reach to fuse their mouths together. His heart thundered beneath her hand, his muscles ripping with every breath he took. Everywhere they touched, electrical charges danced over her skin. Heat, desire, need. How did a man she just met invoke such white-hot lust? His kiss was voracious, taking everything she had to give and demanding even more. When they finally broke for air, she stared up at him in complete surprise. He must have felt the same because he looked like a Mack truck just blindsided him.

“You make it hard to be a good boy,” he murmured as he trailed his fingers across her cheekbone and pushed some hair behind her ear.

“Why do you have to be good?”

He smiled. “Because I’m not going to take advantage when we’re bothhurting.”

“Fair enough,” she replied.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into his warm body. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for cooking.”

“I’d be happy to give you lessons.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Or whatever. I’d just like to see you again.”

“How about I bring you lunch tomorrow? From a deli that knows what they’re doing.”

“I’d love that,” he replied.

“Oh, um, one little question,” she said, spacing up her index finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Would you happen to know how to operate a washing machine?”