Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(27)
Author: Irene Hannon

 

All the ones he’d stuffed away in that dark corner of his heart and tried to ignore while he told himself that despite all his trauma, he’d gone on to lead a productive life.

 

Which was true.

 

But it wasn’t the life he’d envisioned. It lacked the human connection that infused a person’s days with joy and laughter and love.

 

Jon exhaled. Removed his sunglasses. Massaged the bridge of his nose.

 

Maybe Kyle and Ashley and Laura were right.

 

Maybe hiding out here on Windswept Way with only Daisy for company was as disfiguring to his psyche as the scars were to his face and body.

 

Maybe he should begin reaching out. Test the water. See if he could establish a few tentative connections.

 

Not of the romantic variety, of course. It would take a special woman to see past the ugly evidence of his injuries to the man underneath.

 

A woman who probably didn’t exist.

 

Yet as he slowly put his sunglasses back on and began taking measurements at the gazebo site that would host countless weddings in the years to come, a tiny spark of hope that refused to be extinguished flickered to life in his heart.

 

 

 

What on earth had gotten into her?

 

Hands braced on the sink in her new home above the carriage house bay that now held her car, Ashley took a long, slow breath of the salty air drifting in through the open window.

 

Bringing up Jon’s scars had been a huge breach of etiquette, even if he’d cracked open the door with his remark that they were scary.

 

But she should have let that comment pass.

 

Why hadn’t she?

 

Outside the window, a pair of gulls in close formation wheeled and dipped on the wind currents, out for a romp together on this beautiful morning. On the ground, two squirrels played a game of tag, zipping among the trees.

 

God’s creatures enjoying each other’s company and companionship.

 

She picked up her mug from the counter. Wandered over to the coffeemaker.

 

People were supposed to be like that too. It wasn’t normal to cut yourself off from the world, as Rose and Jon had.

 

At least Rose was open to a bit more human interaction, or she wouldn’t have signed on for the plan to welcome the public to Edgecliff on occasion.

 

Jon, on the other hand, showed no such inclination.

 

Sad. And oddly bothersome.

 

Huffing out a sigh, she filled her cup with the dark brew.

 

Why should she care about her landscaper’s private life? After all, if he wanted to live in a Covid-like quarantine, complete with masks and social distancing, that was his business, not hers.

 

And in truth, his attitude wasn’t difficult to understand despite her inappropriate remark about vanity. Anyone who’d suffered injuries that left scars even half as bad as he’d intimated his were could have their confidence shaken, and a bruised self-image was difficult to overcome.

 

As she well knew.

 

Memories of her senior prom came flooding back, and Ashley took a sip of coffee. Grimaced. Stirred in half a teaspoon of sugar to curb the bitter taste.

 

Strange how more than a dozen years later, thinking about that night could still make her wince. Yes, she’d gone through with the event and managed to act as if the hideous black eye from her rollerblading fall hadn’t bothered her, but she’d cringed inside at every stare. Instead of her peers noticing her knockout dress and elaborate do and acrylic nails with glitter polish, her shiner had taken center stage.

 

What a disaster her prom had been.

 

But it did give her a tiny taste of what Jon lived with day after day.

 

Except unlike his scars, her eye had healed and life had returned to normal.

 

What if she’d had to keep the black eye forever?

 

Ashley shuddered.

 

Having to look at it every day in the mirror and endure the unwanted attention it would generate could have damaged her psyche. Driven her to live in a self-imposed exile, as Jon had done. Like her new business partner, the landscaper she’d hired had an understandable justification for keeping his distance from society.

 

And trying to push either Rose or Jon past their comfort level was wrong, no matter how altruistic her intentions.

 

If Rose wanted to hide out in the caretaker’s cottage, as she’d been doing except for a quick visit late yesterday with a welcome plate of scones, so be it.

 

And if Jon wanted to keep people at arm’s length, that was his choice—and his loss.

 

From now on she would refrain from venturing into restricted territory with either of them.

 

Mashing her lips together, she gripped her mug and marched out the door.

 

She was through being Miss Buttinski.

 

Since Jon was still measuring when she returned, she waited off to the side until he finished and joined her.

 

“Not much to see yet, is there?” She motioned toward the concrete pad that would form the foundation for the gazebo, calling up a too-bright smile.

 

He didn’t return it.

 

“The concrete has to dry and set before they can begin construction. That takes about ten days.”

 

“BJ told me that. Impatience is one of my faults.”

 

“I haven’t picked up many of those yet.” Before she could digest that comment, he flipped open a folder and pulled out a schematic of the gazebo and gardens. “I had a few additional ideas for the landscaping to share with you. Does now work?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“I know you wanted a short, manicured boxwood hedge around the gazebo, but Japanese holly may be a wiser choice. Boxwoods don’t like being this close to the ocean. We can put lower-growing annuals in front of the hedge for continuous color. It would look like this.” He angled the printout her direction, and she moved closer.

 

As he continued to explain his vision for the site that would be the location for many of the weddings at Edgecliff, Ashley tried to concentrate.

 

But the scent of a very masculine aftershave swirling around her was super distracting.

 

So were the long, lean fingers holding the diagram inches in front of her and the broad shoulder that brushed hers as Jon pointed out the various plant groupings while he discussed his proposed alterations from the bid.

 

He had a pleasant voice. Mellow. Deep. Calm. Composed. All qualities that had been evident during their phone conversations, but much more apparent in person, with him standing mere inches—