Chapter Two
949 Words
Elena woke to sunlight pouring across her face and the smell of coffee drifting upstairs.
For one blissful moment, she forgot where she was.
Then reality returned.
Grayhaven.
The inn.
Rowan.
Her eyes squeezed shut.
Terrific.
She rolled out of bed and padded toward the window.
The storm had vanished overnight.
Morning sunlight glittered across the harbor below.
Fishing boats cut through the water while gulls wheeled overhead.
The view was beautiful enough to hurt.
A knock sounded at her bedroom door.
“Elena?”
Her pulse betrayed her instantly.
Rowan.
“Yes?”
“The coffee’s getting cold.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.”
Silence.
Then:
“You still hate mornings?”
“I hate people who ask questions before caffeine.”
His quiet chuckle faded down the hallway.
Elena stared at the closed door longer than necessary.
This was a mistake.
Coming home had been a mistake.
Being near Rowan again was an even bigger one.
Because some part of her had never really recovered from him.
And judging by the look in his eyes last night, she wasn’t the only one.
...
By the time Elena reached the kitchen, Rowan had already made breakfast.
Which felt annoyingly domestic.
He stood at the stove wearing a dark henley with the sleeves pushed to his elbows.
Strong forearms.
Large hands.
A dangerous amount of competence.
Elena firmly ignored all of it.
“Since when do you cook?” she asked.
“Since Theo got tired of my sandwiches.”
“Theo?”
“My nephew.”
She blinked.
“You have a nephew?”
Rowan glanced over his shoulder.
“You really have been gone a long time.”
Guilt twisted unexpectedly inside her.
“I guess I have.”
He set a plate in front of her.
Eggs. Toast. Bacon.
Perfectly cooked.
Rude.
“You’re making me feel inadequate,” she informed him.
“You were already inadequate in the kitchen.”
“Wow.”
“There she is.”
Elena tried not to smile.
Failed.
Rowan noticed.
His gaze lingered for half a heartbeat too long.
The air shifted.
Heat climbed slowly up Elena’s neck.
She grabbed her coffee before she could say something reckless.
“So,” she said, “how much trouble is this place actually in?”
Rowan leaned against the counter.
“The inn can survive.”
“That doesn’t sound optimistic.”
“It sounds expensive.”
“Right. That.”
He studied her quietly.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
Something in his tone made her chest ache.
Elena looked down at her coffee.
“I’ve gotten pretty good at alone.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
The words landed harder than they should have.
Before she could answer, someone pounded on the front door.
A bright voice called out.
“Elena Marlowe, if you’re hiding in there, I swear I’ll climb through a window.”
Elena grinned instantly.
“Piper.”
She hurried toward the entryway and yanked open the door.
Piper Bennett launched herself inside carrying two bakery boxes and enough energy to power the entire town.
“Oh my God, you actually came back.”
Elena laughed as Piper wrapped her in a fierce hug.
“You’re crushing my lungs.”
“That’s because I missed you.”
Piper pulled back dramatically.
Then she noticed Rowan standing in the kitchen.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh,” she said slowly.
Elena already hated that tone.
“No,” Elena warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Piper looked delighted.
“This is going to be fun.”
Rowan hid a smile behind his coffee mug.
Traitor.
Elena groaned.
She had a sinking feeling returning home was about to become far more complicated than repairing an old inn.
And infinitely more dangerous to her heart.
The rain had trapped them inside the workshop for hours.
Music played softly from Rowan’s old radio while Elena sat on the workbench pretending not to stare at him.
Which was impossible.
He was covered in sawdust.
His sleeves were rolled up.
And every time he smiled at her, something warm and reckless unfurled low in her stomach.
“You’re distracted,” Rowan said.
“I’m thinking.”
“You’ve been holding the same nail for five minutes.”
Elena glanced down.
“Maybe I’m emotionally attached to it.”
His laugh filled the workshop.
God, she’d missed that sound.
The realization startled her.
Because missing someone was dangerous.
Missing Rowan was catastrophic.
She hopped down from the workbench.
They ended up closer than intended.
Close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.
Close enough that her breath caught.
Rowan’s expression shifted subtly.
The teasing faded.
Something deeper took its place.
“Elena,” he said softly.
Her name in his voice nearly ruined her.
She should step back.
Instead, she reached for him.
His hand slid along her waist slowly, carefully, as though giving her time to change her mind.
She didn’t.
The kiss started gently.
Tentative.
Then years of unresolved longing caught fire between them.
Elena tangled her fingers in his shirt while Rowan pulled her closer with a low sound that sent heat rushing through her.
The storm outside faded into nothing.
There was only Rowan.
His mouth.
His hands.
The way he looked at her like she was something precious.
He rested his forehead against hers.
“You sure about this?” he asked quietly.
Elena answered by kissing him again.
And when he carried her upstairs to the small apartment above the workshop, the door closed softly behind them while rain whispered against the windows.
- Writer
