by Amy Lyon
“Yes, I know about him,” Jackson said. “Andi told me.”
Sara sighed. “Of course she did.”
“Anyway…”
“Well, he had this habit of calling me his ‘burden to bear’.” Another deep breath. “I’m sure he was kidding, but—”
Jackson grunted. “He called you that?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Sara didn’t meet his eyes. He knew Mack had died in a motorcycle crash nearly two years ago and that he “didn’t always treat Sara the best,” according to Andi. And now that he knew Sara, a woman he was pretty sure didn’t have one mean bone in her petite little body, he wanted to give this Mack guy a few tips on how to treat a lady.
But he had to keep his anger under control.
“No one should say that about their wife, or any other human being, for that matter. Kidding or not.” Jackson felt that familiar vein pulsing at the side of his throat and he massaged it to calm his frustration.
Sara looked up. “I know that now.”
The hurt in her eyes was too much to handle from this far away, so he moved across the small room to sit next to her. He rested his hand on her knee and the fabric of her worn jeans felt soft under his palm.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no patience for men who treat women that way.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry anyone would treat you that way.”
Sara looked away and when she turned back to him, her eyes were glassy.
“I didn’t work for two years,” she said. “Mack earned all of the money and I think he got tired of being the sole breadwinner. My mom wasn’t a good caretaker, so I felt I needed to take care of my dad, make his doctor’s appointments and go with him to chemotherapy treatments.”
Jackson squeezed her leg. “You did nothing to deserve the way your husband treated you. He had a responsibility to take care of you as his wife.”
“The house was always spotless and the laundry was always done. I made sure of that. I know Mack wanted more money coming in—”
“Your dad needed you.” He touched her chin and turned her to face him. “Listen to me. You did nothing to deserve the way he treated you.”
Sara sighed. “I’d like to believe that.”
Jackson could tell by the deep set of her eyes and the weariness in her voice that she was exhausted, so he would let the subject lie. For now. He leaned an arm on the back of the couch behind her head.
“Actually,” he said and squeezed her leg, “an idea came to me while you were using those massive muscles of yours to lift your end of the couch.”
Sara smiled and playfully flexed her biceps.
Dang, she was cute.
“What kind of idea?”
Jackson’s heart gave an extra beat at the way she cocked her head and his palm grew hot on her leg. He pushed up from the couch and grabbed his drill.
“Well, I was thinking of a few ways you might be able to help me with my business,” he said as he began reattaching the door.
“Really? I’ll do it. Anything.”
Jackson laughed. “Let me brainstorm a little more tonight and we can talk in the morning.”
“Let’s brainstorm together now,” Sara said eagerly. “I’ll get a notebook and pen.”
Jackson stepped onto the porch, quickly secured the screen door’s hinge and closed the door behind him. “Patience, my friend. Get a good night’s sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
Even with his back to her, he felt Sara’s gaze. In a second she was at the other side of the door. “Please tell me your ideas,” she whispered through the screen.
He took two steps toward the stairs and turned for one more glance into those beautiful green eyes.
“Consider this a lesson in patience. My secrets will be revealed to you in time.”
She giggled, and, man, if he didn’t love the sweet sound of her laughter.
“Come by the shop in the morning and we’ll chat,” he said and gave her a wink.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was a wonder Sara got any sleep at all between mulling over how she could help Jackson’s business and thinking about the man himself—the warmth of his hand on her leg and the kindness in his voice when she shared a piece of her story.
She walked the beach the next morning in hopes of clearing her mind. She needed to keep her stories to herself. Especially the past two years. No good would come of confessing the mistake she made in marrying Mack or admitting how poorly she let him treat her.
Ultimately, what she did to him was a thousand times worse.
A wave washed over her bare feet and a quote from author Rick Warren came to mind: “We are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it.”
She’d used her get-out-of-jail-free card and now had this golden opportunity on Mimosa Key for a fresh start. Surely traveling across the country would put a safe distance between her and those memories.
Jax met her on the top step at Beachside Rentals, his tail wagging a friendly hello.
“Hey, buddy,” she said and ruffled the fur around his neck. He licked her hand, then bounded up to lick her face, knocking her a little off balance.
“Watch that top step,” Jackson said from the entryway.
“Funny,” she said and accepted the iced tea he offered.
The cool glass felt like heaven in her hands. Jackson winked and motioned for her to follow him inside. As soon as his back was turned, she took a quick swig of liquid in hopes of extinguishing the fire that jumped to life in her belly. He wore a white T-shirt that pulled tight across his back and a pair of jeans that perfectly hugged his—
His head swiveled around. “How’d you sleep last night?”
Sara’s face flushed and her eyes quickly bounced up to his face.
“Fine. Good.” She took another drink. “And I have to apologize for my mini-breakdown. I’m feeling much better today.”
“You’re looking much better,” he said, and when she gave him a raised eyebrow he back-pedaled. “Not that you didn’t look good last night. Just tired. You look—” he sighed “—very refreshed this morning.”
She broke into a wide, open smile. “I feel refreshed. Took a little soul stroll on the beach and I’m ready to tackle the day.”
Jax rubbed against her leg in a cat-like gesture.
“If you ever need a companion for your morning walks—”
Sara’s breath hitched, but then Jackson reached down and petted the dog.
“Jax loves the beach. He’s not as fast as he used to be, but he’ll keep up.”
She sipped her tea in hopes of washing away the image of Jackson walking next to her, the sun inching its way over the horizon, waves lapping the shore.
“I might take you up on that,” she finally said. “I could use a canine companion in my life.”
Jackson nodded toward the back of the shop. “Ready to hear my ideas?”
“Absolutely,” she said and followed him to a table made from an old surfboard. Stools sat on either side. The shop was empty, though. While she understood the rental aspect of the business didn’t make Beachside Rentals a browsing kind of store, some foot traffic would be nice.
“The place is really booming,” Sara joked as she sat.
“That’s why you’re here.” He grabbed a notebook and pen from the counter and set it in front of her. “I know you like to take notes.”
She ran her hand over the smooth surface of the surfboard.
“Was this one of your beach finds?” She liked how all the dings and imperfections gave the board personality.
“Naw, that was my board.”
“You surf?”
He shrugged. “Don’t have the balance anymore and, running this place, I don’t have the time to drive to the east coast where there are real waves. I paddleboard mostly.”
She imagined him riding the waves in a pair of Hawaiian board shorts, wet hair slicked b
ack and salt water running down his chest. She shook her head. Focus, Sara.
“Okay, so tell me your ideas.”
Jackson smiled and she wondered if he read her thoughts. He was a pretty perceptive guy. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Why don’t you tell me more about Sweet Serenity first?”
Sara set down the pen. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, do you just sell the perfumes—”
She winced. That’s what her mother called them when she started the online business.
“They’re not perfumes. They’re blends. Essential oil blends.”
He smiled at her fierce correction. “Pardon me. Blends. How’d you get into it?”
Sara looked to the ceiling and mentally went back in time, a place she usually tried not to venture into. But this was safe territory.
“I guess it’s been almost three years now. I met this woman in yoga class, Inya, and she was into oils and creating her own blends. The more we talked, the more interested I became in not just the scents, but also the healing properties.” She eyed him, wondering how much she should share. “Eventually, I decided to start a business that I could run from home, since I was taking my dad to appointments…”
She trailed off and Jackson maintained eye contact. He seemed genuinely interested, unlike her husband. In fact, on more than one occasion when she’d tried to share with Mack about the potential she saw for a small business, he’d looked up from his phone in irritation and asked, “Are you still talking about this?”
Sara blinked away that part of her past. “Anyway, Inya connected me with her family in India and I buy all of my oils and supplies from them. Completely organic and pure.”
Jackson watched her and she relaxed into the softness of his eyes. “What do people use the oils for? Air fresheners or—” he winked “—just perfume?”
Sara made a sweeping gesture with her hands. “There are a million uses from, yes, aromatherapy and body mists, to food preparation, beauty treatments and health care practices. I actually took an online course and received a Certificate in Aromatherapy. My ultimate goal is to help people heal through the use of oils and other natural practices.”
Jackson held out his arm. “So, I have this rash that won’t go away—”
Sara leaned over the table to get a better look, and Jackson busted out laughing.
“I’m kidding, Sara,” he said and amusement flickered in his eyes. “I don’t really have a rash, but I do think your store is going to be a hit on Mimosa Key. I have a million questions.”
Sara relaxed into the friendly banter. “Ah, patience, my friend,” she said and waggled her finger in his direction. “My secrets will be revealed to you in time.”
He chuckled. “Touché.”
They sat in silence for several seconds, looking at each other with smiles, then Jackson cleared his throat. “I thought you’d have more stuff for your shop. I peeked in your window—”
“Like a stalker—”
“Like a nosy neighbor,” he corrected.
“You are the landlord. Feel free to go in anytime.”
“I’ll never invade your privacy.”
Sara folded her hands in front of her. “Thank you for that. I do have some display shelves being delivered later this week, but keep in mind I didn’t have a storefront in Minnesota. My business was probably sixty percent virtual and forty percent word of mouth.”
“Virtual? What, like over the Internet?”
She laughed. “Yes, like over the Internet. And speaking of that, I looked for Beachside Rentals on Facebook last night so I could like your page, but I only found a vacation rental company in California. You’re not on Facebook?”
He shook his head. “Don’t have a computer.”
Her jaw dropped. “How do you order all your stuff?”
He pointed to the red box on the wall. “I make a good, old-fashioned phone call.”
Sara tsked. “You do know that you can get the Facebook app on your cell phone. And I know for a fact you have a cell phone. Remember texting me about the shop, J.T., when I was in Minnesota?”
His face turned red at the nickname and he pulled a phone out of his pocket. “Flip phone. It’s not real smart.”
Just then the shop phone rang. Jackson reached a long arm over the nearby checkout counter and plucked a cordless phone from its cradle. “Oh, but I do have this. See, I am techie.”
Sara doodled on the notebook in front of her as he took a reservation for a family to rent snorkeling equipment for the afternoon.
“You’re really good at customer service,” she said when he hung up.
“Thanks, I like people. For the most part.”
“But you need help with your marketing.”
“Yes. That’s why you’re here. I don’t have a clue where to begin.”
“The Internet,” she repeated. She pulled up her website on her phone and showed him how she used social media to engage with customers. “I don’t know that I’d be the best person to help you, though. I’m not an expert.”
When he leaned forward, Sara caught a whiff of his freshly showered scent.
“Help me out with marketing and you can consider it a fair trade for the reduced rent for the next three months,” he said. “We’ll gauge our progress from there.”
Sara sucked in a breath, enjoying the smell of him. If she agreed to help him they’d have to spend a lot of time together. Daily contact, at least. Her heart thrummed in her ears.
“Any good marketing plan takes time to implement,” she said without meeting his gaze. “You wouldn’t see results overnight.”
“I get that. The crazy thing is my dad ran this place for twenty-some years without posting and tweeting and chatting with people halfway around the world.”
“And how’s that working for you now?”
He grunted. “The business worked better before all this cyber-stuff. Once upon a time people actually talked to each other in person.”
Sara understood that, although most of her business was done through text messages and online orders.
“Just because you feel nostalgic for the good old days doesn’t mean you should leave a pile of money on the table.” She tipped her head to the side. “How old are you anyway? You’re acting like a grumpy old man who doesn’t want to get with the times.”
He tipped a make-believe hat in her direction. “Good day, my lady.”
She laughed. “I said grumpy old man, not Irish man.”
He smirked. “Thirty-two. And already extremely cranky.”
“Naw,” she said. “You’re one of those super positive people. I can tell. Always looking for the lesson in situations. I’m more of a glass-pretty-dang-close-to-empty kind of girl.”
It was Jackson’s turn to disagree. “I don’t see it. The real Sara, who is hiding just below the surface of that protective exterior, is a walking ball of sunshine. I think you’ve just been dealt some rough hands.”
Sara clucked her tongue. She was about to insist that he stop throwing her pity parties, but Jax barked and she jumped.
Someone called out, “Ding dong!”
Saved by the bell, Sara thought.
Jackson craned his neck to see the front door. “Back here, Viv,” he said and rose to his feet.
Sara turned on her stool to see a ridiculously beautiful woman with a head of deep red, flouncy curls and electric blue eyes that, once she got close enough, looked right through Sara to Jackson.
“Sara, this is Vivian Fine,” Jackson said. “She took over as president of the Mimosa Key Chamber of Commerce when Matt’s term ended. She owns Vivian’s Linens on the south end of the island.”
“Vivian’s Fine Linens,” the redhead corrected and extended a hand.
Sara gave a quick shake, noting Vivian’s perfectly manicured fingernails and how her own hands looked rough and unkempt by comparison. In fact, her whole body felt rough and unkempt next to this elegantly dressed woman in
high heels, black pencil skirt and wrinkle-free purple blouse. Her matte lipstick was flawlessly applied and her eye shadow accented those piercing eyes while playing off the purple in her top.
There was no wedding ring on her finger.
Vivian lifted the basket she carried and held it out to Jackson. “I stopped by Little Blessings Bakery this morning. Thought you’d like some muffins.”
Jackson accepted the basket. “Sara’s the newest business on the island, just arrived two days ago. Perhaps you should give these to her.”
“Oh, sure,” Vivian said and turned reluctantly back to Sara. “I’d heard you were coming into town. Selling candles or something?”
“Something like that,” Sara said, tearing the sheet from the notebook and pushing it into her bag.
Vivian held out the basket. “Muffin?”
Sara was smart enough to know that meeting her wasn’t part of Vivian’s plan. Those muffins were bought and delivered specifically for Jackson.
“No thanks,” she said. “I try to stay away from gluten.”
Vivian tilted her head. “Oh, you’re one of those new-agey eaters.”
Sara stiffened. “Just doesn’t agree with me,” she said and turned to leave. “Nice to meet you, Vivian.”
The front door couldn’t have seemed farther away.
“Hey, let me walk you out,” Jackson said and caught up to her with just a few of his long strides. “I’ll be back in a sec, Viv.”
“You don’t have to walk me out,” Sara said. “I know the way.”
“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
Sara cursed her little heart for being so entranced by him, especially when he reached out and touched her arm to slow her down at the door.
“Hey, think about the marketing stuff. I could really use your help.”
“Sure, I’ll think about it,” she said, unable to think clearly at all at the moment.
He gave her one of his handsome smiles and released her arm.
When she hit the bottom step, he called after her, “See you tonight.”
She turned. “Tonight?”
“Dinner with Matt and Andi. I can pick you up if you’d like.”
She continued onto the sidewalk and gave what she hoped was a friendly wave. “Thanks, but I’ll just meet you there.”