A Brambleberry Summer Page 5

  That was a long time ago, she reminded herself. A world away from this beautiful house, which might or might not contain a friendly spirit who smelled like flowers.

  She tried to give Jen a reassuring smile. “It should not be long,” she repeated. “But if you need anything at all—even company—you know where to find me. In fact, if you would like, you and Addie could sleep in my guestroom.”

  Jen looked up the stairs as if tempted by the idea, then shook her head. “We should be all right. It’s only a storm. But thank you.”

  Impulsively, Rosa reached out and hugged the other woman, sensing Jen needed reassurance as much as Rosa did.

  “Good night, my friend. Everything will be better in the morning. That is what my mother always told me.”

  “I might have to hold you to that.”

  Jen waved at them both then closed the door. Rosa could hear the sound of the dead bolt locking. Good. Jen could not be too careful.

  She and Wyatt continued up the final flight of stairs. She had not locked her door when she’d left in such a hurry. Behind it, she could hear Fiona whining.

  She hurried to open it and was met with a warm, worried dog, who came bounding out to lick her hand.

  “I’m here. Safe and sound, darling. Were you worried about me? I am so sorry I left you.”

  She rubbed her dog until Fi settled down enough to go over to investigate Wyatt.

  He reached an absent hand down to pet her. Here on her apartment landing in the dim light of the flashlight, a quiet intimacy seemed to swirl between them.

  She wanted to kiss him.

  The urge came over her, fiercely undeniable.

  She had to deny it. She should get that crazy thought out of her head immediately. Wyatt wasn’t the man for her and he never would be.

  It was hard to remember that now, here in this cozy nook with the rain pounding against the glass and his scent swirling around her.

  “What is your neighbor downstairs running from?”

  Rosa tensed, all thought of kissing him gone in her instant defensiveness over Jen.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve been in law enforcement for a long time. I can tell when someone is scared of something. Jen is frightened, isn’t she?”

  She could not betray her friend’s confidence. If Jen wanted Wyatt to know what had happened to her over the past year, she would have to be the one to tell him.

  “I cannot tell you this.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “What is the difference? She is my friend. Her business is her business.”

  “Just like your secrets are your own?”

  What did he know about her secrets? Rosa felt panic flare. Carrie would not have told him what she knew, would she?

  No. She could not believe that. Carrie had agreed never to tell anyone the things she knew about Rosa’s past and she trusted her friend completely.

  “Everyone has secrets, do they not? Some they share with those they trust, some they prefer to keep to themselves.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “I hope you know that if you ever want to share yours, you can trust me.”

  She trusted very few people. And she certainly wasn’t going to trust Wyatt, who was only a temporary tenant.

  “If I had any secrets, I might do that. But I don’t. I’m a completely open book.”

  She tried for a breezy smile but could tell he wasn’t at all convinced. In fact, he looked slightly disappointed.

  She tried to ignore her guilt and opted to change the subject instead. “The lightning seems to have stopped for now. I am sure the power will be back on soon.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Thank you again for coming to my rescue. Good night. Be careful going back down the stairs.”

  “I will do that. Good night.”

  He studied her, his features unreadable in the dim light of her flashlight. He looked as if he wanted to say something else. Instead, he shook his head slightly.

  “Good night.”

  As he turned to go back down the stairs, the masculine scent of him swirled toward her. She felt that sudden wild urge to kiss him again but ignored it. Instead, she went into her darkened apartment, her dog at her heels, and firmly closed the door behind her, wishing she could close the door to her thoughts as easily.

  Chapter Four

  He didn’t want this.

  As Wyatt returned down the stairs at Brambleberry House, his own flashlight illuminating the way ahead of him, his thoughts were tangled and dark.

  He didn’t want to be attracted to Rosa but couldn’t seem to shake her image. The high cheekbones, the warm, dark eyes, the mouth that looked soft and delicious.

  He had wanted to taste that mouth, with a hunger he hadn’t known for a long time.

  He didn’t want it. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he ever would be.

  Tori had been the love of his life. His childhood sweetheart. He had loved her fiercely and wholeheartedly.

  She had been funny and smart, a little acerbic sometimes but kind. A dedicated school guidance counselor, she had loved her students, their home, their family.

  He had fully expected they would have a lifetime together. Her death, especially coming out of nowhere, had shattered Wyatt’s entire world. For the last three years, he had done his best to glue back together the pieces, for Logan’s sake.

  He thought he had done a pretty good job for his son. He knew Logan missed his mother. How could he not? Tori left a huge hole to fill. But by moving to Cannon Beach, Wyatt had made sure Logan had his aunt Carrie to fill in some of those gaps. She was there with hugs at the end of the school day, she baked him cookies and she helped him with his homework.

  His son was happy. That was the most important thing.

  As for Wyatt, he knew he couldn’t stay in this odd limbo forever.

  For the first two years, he had been in a daze just trying to survive with work and being a single father. About six months ago, he had started dating a little here and there, mostly going out to lunch or coffee while Logan was in school.

  Those experiences had been such a bust that he had decided he wasn’t ready to move on.

  Maybe he would never be ready.

  He would be okay with that, though he knew Tori wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone forever.

  He kept recalling a conversation between them when they were driving home from some event or other, just a month before her death. Almost as if she’d had some instinctive premonition, Tori had brought up what should happen if one of them died.

  He worked in law enforcement, was at much higher risk for a premature death, so he had assumed she had been thinking about what she would do if he died.

  They both said they wanted the other one to move on and find happiness again. She had been insistent about it, actually, saying she would hate thinking about him being lonely and would haunt him forever if he didn’t find another woman.

  Maybe she and Abigail were in cahoots. The thought made him smile a little, imagining a couple of ghostly matchmakers, scheming in the background.

  Now that the raw pain of losing Tori had faded to a quiet, steady ache, Wyatt knew he should probably start thinking about the rest of his life.

  He wasn’t ready, though. The past three years had been so hard, he didn’t know if he could ever risk his heart again—and there was no point in even thinking about it in connection to someone like Rosa Galvez, who didn’t seem to like him very much.

  Rosa had secrets. He had known that for some time. She always seemed evasive and tense whenever he was around, especially on the rare occasions he was wearing his badge.

  Maybe she didn’t like the police. He knew there were plenty of people in that camp, for some very justifiable reasons.

  She could keep her secrets
. They were none of his business. He was living in her house for only a short time and then he and Logan would be back in their own home, away from a woman who smelled like vanilla and berries and made him ache for things he wasn’t ready to want again.

  * * *

  A major fraud investigation kept him busy over the next week and Wyatt didn’t see much of his lovely landlady or his intriguing, skittish neighbor on the second floor. He was grateful, he told himself. At least about the former. He didn’t need any more temptation in the form of Rosa Galvez.

  He had decided it was easier all around to pretend his attraction to her was only a figment of his imagination.

  By the Friday of the week after the storm, Fourth of July weekend, he was looking forward to extended time with Logan. He had the weekend off and he and his son had a whole list of fun things to do before he had to go back to work on Monday—fishing, going for a bike ride and picking out new furniture for Logan’s room in their house.

  Right now, his focus was dinner. Wyatt hadn’t given any thought to what to fix and Hank was running around in circles after spending all day cooped up.

  He decided to solve both problems at the same time. “Why don’t we take him for a walk down the beach and grab some dinner at the taco truck?”

  “Tacos!” Logan exclaimed joyfully, setting down the controller of his device.

  After Wyatt changed out of his shirt and tie and into casual weekend attire, they hooked up Hank’s leash—a tricky undertaking while the dog jumped around with excitement.

  Neither Rosa nor Jen and her daughter were out in the large yard of Brambleberry House as he and Logan walked through the garden toward the beach gate at the back of the property.

  The early evening was beautiful, the air scented with the flowers blooming all around them.

  Though it was still a few hours from sunset, the sun had begun to slide toward the water, coloring the clouds orange as it went.

  The beach was crowded with weekend visitors. Everybody seemed in a good mood, which was one of the benefits of working in a town frequented by tourists.

  “What did you do at camp today?” he asked Logan as they walked across the sand. With Carrie’s help, Wyatt had been lucky enough to find a place for his son in one of the most popular science day camps in town.

  “Tons of stuff. We went tide pooling and I saw about a zillion starfish and a cool purple anemone. And when we had free time, I played on the slide with my friend Carlos, mostly.”

  “Do I know Carlos?”

  “He just moved here and he’s my age. He likes Star Wars, just like me.”

  Logan went on to enumerate the many wonderful qualities of his new friend as they walked a few blocks along the packed sand toward the parking lot just above the beach, where their favorite taco truck usually parked.

  “And after lunch and free time, we did another art project, the one I showed you. And then you came to get me to go home.”

  “Sounds like a fun-packed day.”

  “Yeah,” Logan said cheerfully just as they turned up toward the taco truck.

  “There it is. Yay. I’m starving!”

  Seven-year-old boys always seemed to be starving. “Are you going to get the usual? A soft chicken taco and a churro?”

  “Yes!”

  The taco truck was busy, as usual. The food here was fresh and invariably delicious. He and Logan joined the queue and were talking about some of the things they planned to do that weekend when Logan’s face suddenly brightened.

  “Look who’s here! Hi, Rosa. Hi, Fiona. Hank, look. It’s your friend Fiona!”

  Hank sidled up to greet Fiona with enthusiastic sniffing, as if they hadn’t seen each other for months, while Wyatt tried to calm the ridiculous acceleration of his heartbeat.

  He had not been able to stop thinking about Rosa since the night of the storm.

  She beamed at his son but avoided meeting his gaze. Was it deliberate or accidental?

  “¡Buenas, Logan! ¿Cómo estás?”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means ‘good evening. How are you?’”

  “How do I say I’m good?”

  “You can say soy bueno or just bueno.”

  “Bueno,” Logan said, parroting her. “¿Cómo estás?”

  She smiled. “Soy buena.”

  Wyatt had to again fight the urge to kiss her, right there in front of everyone in line.

  “This is our favorite taco truck,” Logan told her. “Do you like tacos, too? Oh, yeah. You probably do because you speak Spanish.”

  He winced at his son’s cultural misassumption but Rosa didn’t seem offended. “Except I am from a country called Honduras and these are tacos from Mexico. I like them very much, though. The owner is also my friend.”

  They reached the order window at that moment and the owner in question, Jose Herrera, ignored Wyatt for a moment to greet Rosa in Spanish.

  Wyatt had taken high-school Spanish and had tried to work on his language skills over the years. Unfortunately, he still understood best when Spanish speakers spoke slowly, which didn’t happen often in general conversation.

  He had no idea what the guy said. Whatever it was, it made Rosa laugh. She answered him in rapid-fire Spanish, which sparked a belly laugh in Herrera.

  “Go ahead and order,” Wyatt said to her.

  “You were here first.”

  “We’re still trying to decide,” he lied.

  She gave her order then stepped aside for him and Logan to do the same.

  “Don’t forget my churro,” Logan instructed.

  “How could I?” Wyatt smiled at his son.

  When he finished, the three of them moved together to one of the open picnic tables set around the truck that overlooked the beach.

  “And how are you, Señor Logan?” Rosa asked.

  “Señor means ‘mister.’ We learned that in school.”

  “You are correct.”

  “I am fine. I like living in your house. It’s friendly.”

  She smiled with warm delight. “I am so happy you think so. Some houses, they are cold. Brambleberry House is not that way. When you step inside, you feel like you are home.”

  “And it always smells good, too. Like flowers,” Logan said.

  Rosa met Wyatt’s gaze with an expressive eyebrow, as if to say See? I told you.

  “Aren’t we lucky to live in such a nice place with beautiful flower gardens that smell so good?” Wyatt replied blandly.

  “How is your house coming along?”

  Was she in a hurry to get rid of them? No. Rosa had been nothing but accommodating.

  “We’re making progress. They’re painting soon, then we need to do the finish carpentry.”

  “That is progress. You will be home before you know it, back in your own bedroom. Your dog will like that, yes?”

  He loved listening to her talk, completely entranced by her slight accent and unique phrasing. Okay, the truth was, he was completely entranced by her. She could read a lawn-mower instruction manual and he would find her fascinating.

  “I think so far he’s having fun being friends with Fiona,” Logan said.

  The two dogs did seem pretty enamored of each other. Hank hadn’t been around a lot of other dogs and it was good to see him getting along well with the Irish setter.

  Rosa smiled at his son. “Fiona can be a charmer. She is quite hard to resist.”

  That made two of them. Wyatt sighed. This had to stop. He didn’t want this attraction. Even after a short time, he still hadn’t come to terms with his growing interest in his landlady.

  Seeing her again here in the July sunshine, bright and vibrant and lovely, only intensified the ache that had been growing since the night of the storm.

  He pursed his lips, determined not to think about that. “
How is Jen settling in, living in Cannon Beach?”

  He had only seen the second-floor tenant in passing a few times. She still seemed as anxious and uncomfortable around him as before.

  “Good, as far as I know. She and Addie seem content for now.”

  Something told him that was a new state of affairs. He didn’t know what the woman was going through but was glad at least that she was finding peace here.

  “We bumped into Addie and Jen at the grocery store the other night. Jen seems a little uncomfortable around me.”

  If he hoped Rosa might take the bait and tell him what was going on with Jen, he was doomed to disappointment. She quickly changed the subject away from her friend.

  “I’m sure I don’t know why. Logan, did I see you walking past my store window today with a bucket?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. My day camp went tide-pooling.”

  “Oh, I love doing that at low tide. What did you see?”

  “About a zillion sea stars and some anemone and a sea cucumber. Only it’s not the kind you can eat.”

  “How wonderful. Is it not fun to see what can be found beneath the water?”

  “Yeah. It’s like another whole world,” Logan said. He started regaling Rosa with a few stories of interesting things he had seen during previous tide-pooling trips.

  “My teacher said you can sometimes go snorkeling and be right in the water looking at some different habitats. That would be fun, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. Very fun. Maybe your father should take you to Hawaii. Or to my country, Honduras.”

  Logan’s face lit up. “Can we go, Dad? And can Rosa come with us?”

  Wyatt cleared his throat, his mind suddenly full of images of warm tropical nights and soft, flower-scented breezes.

  “That would be fun. But Rosa has a busy job here. She probably wouldn’t have time.”

  Logan seemed unconcerned. “Maybe we could go with Aunt Carrie, Uncle Joe and Bella. That would be fun, too.”

  Not as fun as Hawaii or Honduras with Rosa, but, of course, Wyatt couldn’t say that. To his relief, a moment later Logan’s attention was diverted from snorkeling and travel when he saw another friend from school ride up to the taco truck along with her parents on bikes.