Look With Your Heart: a small town romance (Heart Collection Book 3) Read online

  I typically tell Jacob when I go out on the lake because he worries about me. He’s been so good to me, and I don’t want to cause him more concern. His upcoming book tour has him worried enough. He doesn’t want to leave me alone despite my assurances I’ll be fine. He doesn’t believe me and for good reason. I haven’t always proven I can be left to my own devices. Then again, there were things cruelly taken from me. Jacob’s been the one constant in my life. The one person good to me. He’s the only one who didn’t walk away from me after … I shake the negative thought and shift them to the man on the motorcycle.

  He wasn’t here to hurt you, I remind myself over and over as I paddle faster, pushing forward.

  My fingers itch to trace the lines on my face, but I grip the paddle handle harder to keep from reaching for my cheek. Continuing over my jaw and down my neck, the claw mark stops just above the swell of my breast. Had it been on the other side, I’m convinced the intention would have been to carve out my heart.

  You were lucky, the doctor told me.

  How was this luck? I wanted to ask.

  With legs already aching, I force my arm muscles to match the burn. Pressing onward through the water, I row from side to side, forcing the kayak farther away from shore. The yellow slip cuts a straight line for the center of the bay although I’d never travel that far because the water there is too deep for my craft. The day is oppressively overcast and looks like rain. I shouldn’t be out here alone or without someone knowing my whereabouts. It frustrates Jacob that I take these risks. He worries I have a death wish, but I don’t. I wanted to die when everything first happened, but now…now I want to live.

  In many ways, I’ve never been so free.

  As I glance over my shoulder, Jacob’s house blends into the brownness of the shoreline. The massive house is no more than a box from this distance. I spin the kayak, repositioning my aim for the dock marked by a bright yellow flag on the end. Suddenly, I’m exhausted. The nightmare. The run. The paddling. Slowing my pace, I drift for minutes between leisurely paddling on my return trip to shore. My heart rate lowers, and a calm settles over me. As calm as I can muster.

  I’m angry. The reality of the past few years feels as though it’s coming to a boiling point. I haven’t been in any sort of therapy for what happened, but my self-diagnosis would be anger management issues. One moment I’m fine, and then the next, I’m on the defense. Anything can set me off—a glitch in my software, a mis-sewn stitch, or a glance at the mural on my wall. With only Jacob as a companion and occasionally his assistant, Pam, present, it isn’t always words that set me off, but both of them are used to my moodiness. My emotions feel uncontrollable on some days, yet I don’t cry anymore. I passed the point of self-pity a while back. Now, I’m just . . . mad.

  I near the wooden structure jutting out into the lake with the hope of renewing my day. I remind myself I need to refocus my attention when I start to feel a little unhinged. Remind me of my future dreams. Remember Jacob’s kindness. Exercise helps, and I’m in a better place as I float alongside the dock. After looping the line over the metal stake, I slowly climb from the kayak. My knees give out for a second, my legs wobbling from the earlier exertion of dodging through the woods. I should have stopped to stretch after expelling so much energy. The cramped seating wasn’t good for strained muscles, but I decide a warm bath will solve everything.

  After walking the length of the dock, I climb the wooden stairs up the steep ledge of land to the official yard. Jacob’s home includes a pool, which is a novelty, considering the lake at my back. It seems like a double entendre, but Jacob loved this house. He said it reminded him of California without all the bad parts.

  The backside of the mansion is almost ground to roof windows. With the living room-dining room combination marking the center of the home, the kitchen rests on one side while Jacob’s office is on the other. The windows stretch to the roofline in the center as the great room has a cathedral ceiling. Nearing the back of the house, I can see the loft landing that separates two spaces on the second floor. My room is the entirety of the right side, front to the back of the house above the kitchen, and Jacob’s is on the left. We each have a private wing in this hidden retreat in the woods.

  Stepping through the entrance to the kitchen, I kick off my shoes as soon as I enter the room. I look up when I hear Jacob speaking to someone.

  “Here she is. My stepsister, Ella.”

  It’s rare for Jacob to have someone at the house, and he’d warn me beforehand if he did. The only visitors include the cleaning service, Pam Carter, and an occasional repairman. So imagine my surprise when I glance up, and my gaze lands on a man dressed in a leather jacket with wild waves and caramel-colored eyes.

  The hiss in my throat is almost venomous as I address our intruder.

  “You?”

  Card 3: Sourdough

  Knead excessively

  [Ethan]

  What the fuck?

  “Ella, what the fuck?” Jacob states, blinking in dismay at the visceral hiss coming from the female I instantly recognize as the woman I almost ran over on the road.

  “You,” she repeats, pointing a finger at me. Her voice is breathless but vaguely similar to the bellowing cries of no she produced earlier when I tried to help her. My thoughts leap to that breathy sound coming from her as if I had touched her between those thin thighs, licking her or entering her.

  Whoa!

  I don’t know why she’s hissing every time she sees me because when I see her, my heart stops. Her hair is this amazing wildfire color. My fingers itch to delve into its thickness, wrapping those locks around my wrist and tugging. Her mouth is a pouty peach color, and those fiery eyes match the brightness of summer grass. I don’t miss the nasty scar on her face despite the fact she’s trying for the second time to cover it with her hand. Her slender fingers are too thin to disguise the raised red marks like a bear clawed down her cheek, over her jaw, and along her neck.

  Speaking of her neck, my mouth waters, and I lick my lips. Her throat is porcelain, but she isn’t fragile. The way she holds her slender body tells me she’s fierce, and it’s not an act. She’d lunge at me and gouge my eyes out if her brother wasn’t standing here. He’s just as perplexed as I am over her reaction. To ease the tension, I do what I do best—flirt.

  “Me,” I offer in a salacious tone as I grin. “Great to see you again.”

  “You’ve met?” Jacob turns his head from me to his sister. I don’t see an ounce of resemblance, and then I remember they’re stepsiblings. Jacob’s forty, and this woman looks like she’s a teen, but my best guess is she’s closer to her late twenties.

  “Not officially,” I say with a wink in her direction. “We…crossed paths out on the road.”

  “You almost ran me over,” she corrects.

  “Not exactly,” I mutter, lowering my voice. She’s going to cost me this job if I can’t smooth over the expression of irritation on her face as she glares at me.

  “What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?” she snarls, clearly frustrated by my presence. I peer from her to Jacob, but his eyes remain on hers.

  “And this is the other part of the position,” he mumbles.

  Jacob’s already explained to me how he’d like me to prepare three meals a day for him and his sister. I’ll need to plan a menu of healthy selections and do the food shopping. The job includes a room. In addition, he mentioned light security detail but hadn’t clarified what that meant yet.

  “Ella, this is Ethan Scott. He’s going to be staying with us,” Jacob begins, and then stops as though there’s much more to be said, but he doesn’t offer the remaining clarification.

  “The hell he is,” she huffs similar to the way she spoke to me on the road. The siblings glare at one another a long minute before Ella loudly states, “No.”

  I’m beginning to wonder if she knows any other word.

  “Yes,” Jacob counters. “We discussed this. I need to go on tour for six weeks. This re
lease is important.”

  My head swings from Jacob to Ella, looking for any type of hint as to what he means. Release? I only know one kind of release, but I don’t think the sexual reference is what Jacob intended. In fact, I don’t know anything about this guy other than he owns this huge house hidden in the woods, wrote some book, and Pam works for him somehow.

  I’m curious if Pam does sexual favors for hire from him, and I’ll bury him if that’s their arrangement.

  “What release?” I ask.

  Ella narrows her eyes at me. “Great, he’s illiterate.” Her arms flail at her side and snap back to her thighs, making a sharp slapping sound when her hands connect with spandex. I flinch. Jesus, I suddenly want to spank her and make that sound myself against her skin. The thigh-hugging material outlines every detail of her legs, which are a little too thin for my taste. I’d manage, though, if she’d let me between them, but I’m quickly ascertaining that will never happen.

  “He’s not illiterate,” Jacob defends, discussing me as though I’m not present.

  “He is also not deaf,” I iterate.

  Jacob sighs. In the few minutes I’ve known him, he seems like a decent guy. He’s built like a fighter with a dry sense of humor.

  “I write books—horror, suspense, mystery. I’m going on a book tour in a few weeks for my new novel. Didn’t Lilac tell you?”

  “Who’s Lilac?”

  Jacob’s eyebrows lift, and then he smiles to himself. “Pam.”

  Lilac? What the…?

  “Uhm, no, she didn’t mention it. She’s been very secretive about you,” I tease.

  “That’s because she signed an NDA. Do you know what that stands for?” snappy girl addresses me. She really thinks I’m stupid.

  “No dimple appreciation,” I mockingly reply, adding a deep smile to emphasize mine.

  Her hands come to her hips, and Jacob snorts beside me. I notice Ella hasn’t moved. Her back presses to the wall just inside the door despite the raised finger as if it could defend her. She’s already established she doesn’t want me to touch her, help her, or be near her, but it’s strange that she hasn’t stepped away from the entrance. It’s as though she might bolt again.

  Man, her hair. I distract myself as my eyes catch on it again.

  She quickly turns her head, nearly snapping her neck as she presents her left cheek to me.

  “Get him out of here,” she snarls, all bristly and clenched teeth.

  What the hell?

  “He stays,” Jacob replies.

  “He goes,” she counters.

  “Look,” I state, holding up a hand. “Clearly, my presence is a shock, and there’s been a miscommunication somewhere.” I raise a brow at Jacob, but I’m sensing this sneak attack introduction to his sister is on purpose. “Maybe you two should talk amongst yourselves. Discuss things. I don’t want to be anywhere I’m not wanted.”

  “You’re wanted,” Jacob states.

  His eyes remain focused on his sister as she says at the same time, “No one wants you here.”

  Ouch. I might be hurt if I hadn’t already heard that a few times throughout my life. My father’s dismissal after I quit college. The numerous girls I’ve walked away from. A job or two I’ve lost when I wanted to be creative, and a chef thought I was showing him up.

  Dammit. I really need this job. The money is enough to set me up, but I don’t need the headache of his sister. She might think I’m stupid, but I’m smart enough to know where I’m not wanted.

  “Yeah, well. I’m out.” I turn to Jacob and hold out a hand to shake his. “You have my number if things change.”

  On that note, I see myself out.

  + + +

  I’m back on my bike, my mind racing as I speed away from Jacob’s McMansion in the woods and his bristle-tongued sister. What a mouth? Too bad it’s a pretty peach color that looks kissable as fuck while sweetly venomous. I’ve been insulted worse by women. My track record isn’t the best with them. I’ve been told I’m a player, though I disagree. I’m just…attentive to a multitude of women, never committing to one at a time but always meeting their needs.

  Whatever.

  I don’t need Ella’s peachy lips, pleasant and puffy against mine. I need the job. So what if I’d have to babysit her sassy, fine ass? I’ve been in worse positions. Getting caught inside a ripe babe bent over the kitchen sink of The Elk’s famous restaurant—the Thirteenth Floor—comes close to being the worst. I’m not looking to dip my wick anywhere, so I shake away thoughts of what I could do with the princess inside Jacob’s palace.

  I slow my pace as my nerves settle a bit. I shouldn’t have tried to flirt with her.

  This isn’t about her. This is about the job. I’m so close to the next chapter of my life. I’ve heard my brother-in-law joke that men have a midlife crisis around thirty-five years old. I can’t be having a midlife crisis. I haven’t really started living my life yet.

  However, my thoughts return to Ella, and I consider her face. She’s always turning away from me, hiding one side, and I don’t understand. There’s no denying the nasty scar traveling down her cheek, but it’s not what I see when I look at her. Her vibrant hair distracts. Her bright green eyes pierce. Her china-delicate skin looks edible.

  I make a right off the highway and head to my favorite spot—a gem belonging to my family that we hardly use for anything other than the land around it. I’ve just parked in the gravel drive, and I’m staring at the smaller outbuilding made of fieldstones when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  “Hello?” I yell over the drum of the engine as I cut it.

  “Can you move in tonight?” Jacob’s tone is curt and without greeting.

  I do not want to pass on the opportunity of living in that house. The view through those solid glass walls overlooking the lake is breathtaking. The modern detailing inside the place is everything I’d want in a home. Not to mention, the kitchen is a dream with top-of-the-line industrial appliances and a giant island for food prep. Jacob told me he bought the house about two years ago, but that kitchen looks hardly used.

  “What about your sister?”

  “I’ll deal with her.”

  Yeah, and how is she going to deal with me? I don’t ask. The amount of cash Jacob offered me for a few weeks of service is more than I’d make in a year at The Elk. Without paying room and board, I can save the entire stack for my future.

  Hello, farm-to-table restaurant. Here’s to dreams coming true. I stare at the fieldstone building before me.

  “I’ll be there. What time?”

  Jacob tells me a late hour, and I realize he’s concealing my entrance. Another sneak attack on Ella worries me a bit. What is her deal? I can’t have her hissing and glaring at me every time we’re in the same room. She can’t be doing that weird head-turning thing to hide her cheek, either. But this isn’t about her. It’s about the money.

  “As Ella mentioned, Pam needed to sign an NDA. Nondisclosure agreement,” he clarifies in case I really don’t know what the acronym stands for. “You’ll need to sign one as well. Both Ella’s and my identity, and any other information pertaining to our living arrangement needs to remain confidential.”

  Sounds…ominous.

  “Meaning, I can’t tell anyone who you are or where you live?” I clarify.

  “Or where you live as the offer includes you staying here.”

  “Are you sure your sister’s going to want another person living in that house?” Are you sure she can handle me being there? She’s so hard-nosed and standoffish in reaction to me. It’s a blow to my ego. However, I do wonder what happened to cause such a nasty mark on her face? I silently pray it was an animal or an accident that caused such a scar and not a human being.

  “It’s my house,” Jacob states, interrupting my thoughts. “She follows my rules. She doesn’t always know what’s good for her, but she needs you. You’re going to be good for her.” He speaks like a true older sibling and a man off his rocker because we’ll just s
ee about that last statement.

  Either way, I’m starting to think Ella might be bad for me.

  Card 4: Pizza

  Toppings make all the difference

  [Ella]

  “I do not need a babysitter,” I announce once Ethan is gone. Ethan. It’s a nice enough sounding name, but I’ve been fooled before.

  “You’re almost thirty. Quit being so melodramatic,” Jacob admonishes me. I don’t like to upset him, and he’s a man not easily upset. For my entire life, I’ve watched him hide his feelings. I’m pushing him to the edge with my attitude, but I don’t care. I don’t need this.

  “Yes, I’m almost thirty, so I don’t need a babysitter,” I repeat.

  We’ve already tried a permanent live-in housekeeper. Mrs. White was her name, and all she wanted was Jacob’s attention. At fifty-five, she had a cougar vibe written all over her, but Jacob was too blind to see it. Just as he’s too blind to see how his girlfriend uses him. And too blind to see Pam standing right in front of him, accepting him as he is, flawed and all.

  I moved here a year ago right before my birthday, but Jacob had already been here for nearly a year before me. He had a terrible accident and claimed an angel had saved him. He quickly learned Pam Carter was also a fan who blogged about his books—for better or worse. He hired her to help him organize his business affairs even though he has an official publisher and an assistant with them.

  “And I’m not being melodramatic,” I state in a very melodramatic tone as I step closer to the island where Jacob remained after Ethan’s exit.

  “It’s a good thing I love you, Belly,” he says to me, referencing a childhood nickname reserved only for extremes. Today must be an extreme. He looks tired. He worked hard on his last book, and I know he’s hoping for a big launch. The fall months are perfect for another mystery-suspense that’s bordering on horror from him. He fits the writer-man in the woods mystique with our current location.