by J. S. Scott
“You haven’t met Xander yet,” he warned ominously. “I’ve seen your references, and believe me, we did an extensive background check. And please call me Julian. There are way too many ‘Mr. Sinclairs’ in this town.”
“You do understand that I’m just a housekeeper and a cook.” I’d reminded him of this fact several times, but I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t expecting miracles.
Oh, yeah. I knew Xander Sinclair was a big hot mess. I’d done my homework before I’d come here, and I’d spoken with Julian at length on the telephone many times. I could tell he was protective of his younger brother, and worried about his state of mind.
“I get it,” Julian answered with a nod. “What I don’t understand is why you wanted to come here to Amesport. When Micah and I started putting out private feelers for somebody to help and stay with Xander, the last thing we counted on was somebody with your qualifications,” Julian replied. “Xander knows you’re a housekeeper that’s going to be here on the island for as long as possible, which God knows he really needs. But he isn’t crazy about the idea of you being in his house, much less staying with him. I think he just wants to be alone.”
The last thing Xander needed was to continue with his self-inflicted isolation. From what I’d gathered from Julian, his younger brother had been left alone long enough.
“My reasons for accepting the position are personal,” I explained. “I wanted to get away from New York City for a while. I thought a nice beach town in the summer might be a great place to hang out.”
“So you said. But you could have just gone on a vacation, right?”
I shook my head. “I like to work, and I wanted to check out things up north. I might eventually move to Maine. My grandparents had a summer cottage in this area when I was little, and I’ve always loved it.”
The memories of having our family all together at Gran’s beach house were some of the best recollections of my childhood. Unfortunately, she’d passed away when I was still in junior high school.
“It’s a hell of a lot slower paced here, and a world away from New York City.”
I shrugged. “Not everybody is cut out to live in the city.”
Okay. That was a bit of a lie. I had actually liked my job in New York, and I’d miss my friends. But I wasn’t lying when I told Julian I’d needed a break.
“Xander doesn’t want you in his house. If he knew that I’m hoping you’ll stay for longer than a few months, he’d refuse completely. Hell, I’m not even sure he’ll let you in now.”
I lifted my chin. “Tough. He’ll have to get used to me being around.” I was confident about my ability to talk my way into Xander’s home. I’d dealt with a lot of badass men in New York that I was pretty certain were ornerier than Xander Sinclair.
“Don’t underestimate my little brother,” Julian warned as he took a gulp of his coffee. “He’s an asshole right now, and in worse shape than I’ve ever seen him. He’s clean, but I have a feeling he’s hanging on by a thread.”
“Can I be frank, Julian?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Xander has to want to stay clean. If he doesn’t, nothing and nobody is going to be able to keep him from going back to abusing drugs and alcohol. He’s isolated, and even though he’s close to his family physically now, he’s obviously not feeling like he’s part of the family again.”
I knew a thing or two about addicts. I’d dealt with one in my immediate family.
“He doesn’t seem to want to be part of the family again. We’ve tried,” Julian answered huskily. “I don’t know what the hell to do to make him want to stay free of drugs and alcohol. It’s like I lost my little brother, and I don’t know how to get him back.”
“I understand,” I murmured. “I’ll do what I can to help him.” At the very least, Julian’s brother would end up with a clean house. I was kind of anal about living organized and in a happy space—which for me meant a tidy living area.
“That’s all we ask,” Julian replied. “What are you going to do if he won’t let you in?”
“Convince him,” I replied. There was no way in hell I was going to let Xander turn me away. I hadn’t up and left my old job and driven for hours just to let him slam the door on me.
Julian grinned. “You know, you almost make me believe you can manage that.”
I smiled back at him. “Like I said, I’ll handle it.”
“His house really is a pigsty.” Julian grimaced and drained the last of his coffee.
“I don’t mind,” I replied. “Cleaning it up is part of my job.”
The two oldest Sinclair brothers were paying me to clean a house and cook meals, even if that home was currently a disaster.
He shook his head. “You haven’t seen it yet. It’s a beautiful home that Micah had built for him. It even has a recording studio, but that was wishful thinking on Micah’s part, since Xander says he won’t ever perform again. The mansion is close to the shoreline, and the beach is pretty private. The place is almost brand new, but my little brother has already trashed it pretty badly.”
“Has he always been messy?”
“No. Well, no more than any other single guy who puts off cleaning up after himself. When we were kids, Xander was probably the tidiest of the three of us. He was also probably the one with the biggest heart. He’s changed.”
“He sounds angry and depressed. You said he still hasn’t hurt anyone.” I’d had other, lengthier conversations with both Micah and Julian on the phone to discern my new client’s current state of mind. I knew what I was getting myself into. But as long as my new boss had never injured anybody, I was good. I could handle an asshole as long as he didn’t have violent tendencies.
“He hasn’t. Not on purpose, anyway. He’s been startled by flashbacks a couple of times, but he wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone. The only one he seems to want to destroy is himself.”
“He has multiple issues, Julian. I’m sure it will take time.”
Xander’s brothers hadn’t held back when they’d given me information on their little brother’s state of mind. They’d been honest, letting me know that he had problems, and exactly what they were.
“You think he just needs more time? Even though it’s been several years since my parents were killed and Xander was injured? He’s been through multiple rehabs with counseling.”
“Like I said on the phone, I think he needs purpose. He needs to want to recover completely.”
“Well, I hope you can help him find that purpose, because Micah and I have fucking failed miserably.”
“I’ll do my best.” It was all I could do.
“Fair enough,” he answered. “Would you like me to go with you to his house to introduce you?”
“Julian!” A loud female voice interrupted our conversation. “Hello, Julian.”
I watched as the handsome, blond Sinclair brother turned around. His back was facing the entrance, but I could see the elderly woman waving at him near the door. Brew Magic was packed, but she quickly made her way to our table with more spunk than I’d expect from a female who was probably in her eighties.
Julian shot her a charming smile as she stopped beside our table. “Beatrice. Nice to see you.”
I wanted to flinch from the intense, knowing stare the gray-haired woman gave me as she appeared to survey me carefully. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to being stared down, and her pink sneakers and purple jogging outfit weren’t exactly intimidating. But for some inexplicable reason, she made me uneasy.
“I’m so glad you finally got here, dear,” the woman exclaimed happily.
I looked at Julian in surprise. I thought he hadn’t shared my arrival here with anyone except Micah, their wives, and Xander.
He shook his head, indicating silently that the older woman didn’t know why I was here.
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” I told her politely, smiling back at her.
“Oh, there’s no mi
stake.”
Julian interrupted. “Samantha Riley, let me introduce you to Beatrice. She’s Amesport’s own official psychic and matchmaker.”
I picked up on the tone of his voice, and instantly knew he wanted me to humor this woman. Since she seemed harmless, I was okay with that. “How lovely,” I answered cordially. “You must have some remarkable talents.”
Beatrice waved her hand. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. Although Julian is very sweet to say so. I consider myself a seer, actually. And I don’t always recognize soulmates. But I seem to have a certain affinity with the Sinclairs. Predicted every one of their matches.”
I wasn’t quite sure what the truth actually was, but the elderly female was harmless enough, and her elevated spirit seemed almost contagious. “Is that right?”
“Oh, yes, dear. And I’ve been waiting a very long time for you to get here. Xander desperately needs you. This is for you.”
I held out my palm without thinking about it as she offered me a dark object. “What is this?” I questioned curiously.
“It’s your Apache tear,” she explained. “I don’t think you need it nearly as much as Xander, but it will help you along. You do have some of your defenses to break through.”
Okay. It was one of the most bizarre conversations I’d ever had, but as I closed my fist, I could swear the stone warmed in my hand. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this. You don’t even know me.”
Beatrice was still staring, her intense gaze still uncomfortable. “I know your soul,” she professed.
“Are you saying that Samantha is Xander’s match, Beatrice?” Julian asked, sounding surprised.
I shifted my eyes to him, wondering if he really believed in the mystic. His question hadn’t quite sounded convinced. But he’d seemed hopeful, which scared the hell out of me.
The older woman nodded. “And we all know how much Xander needs her. I was afraid she’d be too late.”
Beatrice turned back toward the door, waving at another woman around her age. “Oh, there’s Elsie. We need to talk. It’s been nice meeting you, dear. Welcome to Amesport.” She patted Julian on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re happy now, Julian. Take care of your beautiful wife.”
“You know I will,” he answered.
I watched as the petite, elderly woman made her way back to the door and embraced her friend.
I clutched the stone tighter in my fist, trying to get rid of the weird feeling that it was meant to be mine. “Did that really just happen?”
Julian chuckled. “It did. I think you’ll find out that Amesport is a colorful town. But there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
“Did she really predict your soulmates, or is she delusional?”
“Actually, she did. None of us know if it was coincidence or psychic magic, but we’re too happy to care.”
“Interesting,” I mumbled, knowing that Beatrice would be disappointed this time. I quickly dropped the stone into my handbag, which was hanging on the back of my chair.
“I think so,” Julian teased. “Honestly, I hope she’s right.”
I stood, sucked down the last of my coffee, and grabbed my purse. “Why? The last thing your brother needs right now is a relationship. And I certainly don’t.”
Julian rose. “I don’t have a damn clue what my brother needs, Samantha. There’s not much we haven’t tried.”
“Please call me Sam.” I held out my hand.
Julian reached out and shook with a firm grasp. “Sam,” he corrected. “Honestly, I don’t care how you help Xander. I just want my little brother back.”
I nodded. “It could be a twisted road,” I warned. “And if he doesn’t want to talk to me, then I can’t be a companion to him. You’ll have to settle for his house being clean.”
“I’m willing to wait,” he answered hoarsely as he released my hand.
“I’ll be in touch.” I put the cross-body strap of my bag over my head.
“Do you want me to drive you?” he asked as he accompanied me from the building.
“No, thanks. I’ll find him.” I was better off approaching Xander alone. If he wasn’t thrilled about having company, I’d rather choose my own methods of persuasion.
I’ll figure it out when I meet Xander, but I am getting into that house.
“Take care,” Julian said as we parted ways outside. “If things get rough, call me.”
I nodded as I made my way to my compact car, hitting a button on the key chain to open the door as I absorbed the scent and warmth of a perfect summer day on the Atlantic coast.
The town was packed with tourists, most of them heading to the beach. I was momentarily diverted as I listened to the sound of the waves, and the smell of saltwater lingering in the air.
I wanted to explore all of the little shops along Main Street, but a different, more intense mission was calling me, so the town and the beach would wait.
With one last deep breath of the outdoors, I situated myself in the driver’s seat and maneuvered my car out of town.
I was beyond ready to meet Xander Sinclair.
I just hoped he was ready for me.
CHAPTER 2
XANDER
All I wanted was a goddamn drink! Why in the fuck was I still fighting falling off the sobriety wagon?
The seduction of successfully blocking out reality with alcohol or drugs haunted me every minute of every day, taunting me to give in. I wasn’t bullshitting myself into thinking that one drink would help. I wanted the whole fucking bottle.
Yeah, I’d been through the Alcoholics and Narcotics Anonymous routine. More than once. I’d never made it past the first step in the twelve-step programs. I’d given my counselor the necessary assurance that I had so I could get the hell out of rehab. And I could admit that I was powerless in the face of alcohol and drugs. But that was it.
There was no sanity for me.
I couldn’t give my shit over to a power greater than myself.
And I sure as hell had never made some kind of fearless moral inventory of my actions. If I tried to search my soul, all I’d find was an all-consuming darkness.
My moral compass was fucked up. The only things keeping me from shooting up, popping some pills, or swallowing a pint were my two older brothers. They’d been through enough, and they were finally happy. I didn’t want my stupid ass to mess up their well-deserved peace. Julian and Micah had put up with enough of my bullshit—everything from overdoses to near-lethal alcohol limits that put me in the hospital or rehab.
I could take care of myself now, and I was trying to prove that point to them by staying sober and clean.
Even if it killed me.
And to be honest, I kind of felt like I was dying right now.
But I sure as hell didn’t want a babysitter. The last thing I needed was somebody here in my house day and night.
I didn’t particularly like company; I preferred to wallow in my misery alone.
A cook and a housekeeper? Why did I need to give a shit if my home wasn’t a showplace? I wasn’t exactly entertaining. I didn’t have guests except my brothers, and occasionally Liam Sullivan.
“Housekeeper, my ass,” I mumbled as I tossed an empty soda can toward the overflowing trash, not surprised when it bounced off the pile of rubbish and landed on the floor.
I ignored it, just like I always did.
Julian had mentioned some guy named Sam was coming over today, but I’d told him not to send him. I didn’t want a roommate, even if the man cleaned and cooked. Did they honestly think I was that stupid? I had no doubt my brothers wanted someone to watch over me, make sure I didn’t fall off the wagon.
I didn’t like people.
I didn’t like loud noises.
And if I got hungry, I could eat a sandwich or something I could toss in the microwave.
The doorbell rang, and I hauled my ass off the couch reluctantly, hoping to hell my older brothers hadn’t really followed through on their threat to send me a housekeeper. If they ha
d, I’d send him packing. Or maybe he’d take one look inside the house and run away screaming. Either way, I’d make sure he had no delusions about working for me.
It wasn’t happening.
I was accustomed to drowning in my despair alone, and that was the way I liked it.
I tripped over some junk on the way to the door, and kicked it aside as I made my way to the front entrance. Some small part of me wished it was one of my brothers or Liam. Damn! I missed seeing Julian and Micah, but I was fucked-up company right now.
I pulled the door open . . . then stood absolutely still as I saw the woman on my doorstep. It was impossible not to notice the wheeled suitcase she was dragging behind her.
My housekeeper?
No fucking way!
She was petite, but the curves of her delectable body were hard not to notice, especially for a guy who hadn’t had sex in years. I’m not quite sure why my cock had suddenly sprung to life and was pressing urgently against the denim of my jeans, but there was something about this female that brought the appendage to attention. It hadn’t happened in a long time, and it caused me to take a second look at her.
The woman was nothing like the chicks I’d dated in my past. She looked like the quintessential “girl next door.” Her expressive face was almost devoid of makeup. The light-blonde hair on her head was obviously confined behind her, but messy escapee locks framed her delicate face. When our gazes finally met, my gut ached like I’d been sucker punched.
Her eyes reminded me of the clear waters of the Caribbean on a perfect day, aquamarine and calm.
Or were they green?
Or were they blue?
It was a no to both questions, but a little of both. If I had to pick, I’d sway more toward blue.
I shook myself out of my stupid thoughts. Holy fuck! What the hell did I care what color this woman’s eyes were? Especially since she was leaving immediately.
“Mr. Sinclair?” she inquired, her husky, confident voice making me harder. It was the kind of sexy voice I wanted to hear screaming my name while she was in the middle of a mind-blowing climax. If I didn’t suspect she was sent to clean my house and cook me food, she could be making a fortune as a phone-sex operator.