Page 83 of The Treasure House

The rain was sheeting down again, pouring in waterfalls from my broken gutters. Jake followed my gaze up to the roof.

“Want me to fix those gutters next week?” he asked.

“I really should just employ you on a retainer.” I wondered how much it would cost.

“Maybe I’m just finding reasons to see you,” he said lightly.

I felt his words thrum through me. “We live on the same street. You hardly need a reason.” I felt absurdly shy.

There was a buffeting gust from the northeast, and it howled in the eaves above us. Out over the ocean, thunder rumbled from the dark clouds stacking up on the horizon.

“Got those windows up just in time,” he teased.

“Looks like it.”

“Is there anything you don’t eat?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject. He turned to look at me, his face only inches from mine on the two-seater swing.

I shook my head. I couldn’t think of anything. But to be fair, I could barely think of my own name when he was looking at me.

“Is six-thirty too early for dinner?”

I laughed. “I have a kid, remember? I’m used to early dinner and early bed.” I blushed, not registering what I’d said until I’d said it.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Oh, that twinkle. He had the most incredible eyes. They were like summer shoals in a tropical ocean.

“Make it six then,” he said, as he rose from the swing. “I’m not going to complain if I have more time with you. You can keep me company while I cook.”

Now, that sounded appetizing. I watched him flip up his rain hood as he stepped off the porch. The squall was blowing in from the ocean, sending flurries of rain whipping across the cliffs.

I’d forgotten to ask him about Marly’s postcards and the mysterious F, I realized as I watched him disappear into his hardware store.

I must have tried on ten different outfits and changed my underwear four times. In the end I settled on my new jeans and a soft, wine-colored sweater. It was only his house, not a fancy restaurant, and everything else felt too formal. I did wear lace underwear, though. Just in case.

I fed the cats and bedded them down in the hallway, grabbed an umbrella and a bottle of wine leftover from the pizza night, and dashed through the rain before I could lose my nerve. The lights above the hardware store were blazing through the darkness, and I could hear the ocean making a terrific roar against the cliffs as I reached the porch. The door to the store was locked. I realized I didn’t know how to get up to his private rooms.

“Hey.”

I couldn’t tell where his voice was coming from. The suck and sigh of the wind was too loud. I huddled, wincing as the rain lashed at me.

“Hey! Zoe!”

I looked up. Jake was on the balcony above. He had to lean over to see me, and he took the wind full in the face.

“Come around back,” he called down. “The side gate is open. You can come up the back stairs.”

I found the gate—there was a “MIND THE DOG” sign—and let myself in, dashed across the muddy yard and up the back stairs to the balcony.

“Ah, you’re drenched,” he said, sounding concerned. “Let me get you a towel.” He opened a French door into the apartment and a blast of warm air eddied out at me.

The legs of my jeans were sodden, and my boots were covered in muck from the yard. I slipped my shoes off and left them on the balcony.

“Maybe bring them in,” Jake suggested, catching me at it. “They’re liable to blow away if the wind picks up.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He fetched me a towel while I carefully put my muddy boots just inside the door. I took inventory of the room while he was gone. It was open-plan, a space that had clearly once been two rooms. The kitchen was to my left—simple, with pale wood cabinetry and a modest island. On the far-left wall was a brick fireplace with a roaring fire; Hazel was snoozing on a dog bed in front of it. French doors on both sides opened to the wrap-around balcony. In summer he’d be able to throw the doors and all those sash windows open and let the sea air flow in. He’d also have views all the way down to the spit. Although, tonight, all I could see was darkness. The windows on the ocean side were slick with rain and the balcony looked drenched.