Just For The Weekend

Chapter Three: Unwanted Chemistry

Brooke had kissed seven guys in her life, not that much for someone her age.

Two were just high school flings. One was her college boyfriend who turned out to be gay. Three were quick attempts at adult dating. And then there was Tyler, who got way too much attention from the media.

But now, standing on the porch of Driftwood House, watching Jake Carson hammer away at a stubborn board, she felt something weird.

She wanted to kiss him.

Jake wasn’t shirtless, but man, it sure felt like he was. His T-shirt hugged his back just right, and every time he swung that hammer, his muscles flexed in a way that made her heart race. There was sweat rolling down his neck, a bit of dirt on his jaw, and when he looked up and caught her staring? He smiled like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She turned away too fast and nearly spilled her iced tea.

"You good up there?" he called out.

"Just soaking in the breeze," she replied, trying hard not to turn into a puddle on the deck.

Jake sauntered over with too much confidence. "You sure? Because I swear that iced tea just shivered."

"Do you ever take a break?" she shot back, narrowing her eyes.

Leaning on the railing next to her, he shrugged. "Tried it once. Bored me."

"You’re a handful," she said.

"I’m not the one sighing like I’m filming a perfume ad."

She couldn’t help but laugh. Ugh, was this number four?

Jake tilted his head. "What’s that sound?"

"What sound?"

"That laugh. The real one. You should use it more often."

"You’re pretty cocky for someone who’s only known me for two days."

His voice turned soft. "Long enough to know you’ve been putting on a front."

Brooke looked away, hating how right he was.

Later that day, she tried to keep busy in town.

She swung by Salt & Pine again, and Ruby handed her a new book before she could even ask. Then she popped into a local art shop, picked up a handmade mug, and somehow managed to spend half an hour on the beach without checking her phone. But no matter where she went, Jake’s name kept popping up.

"Oh, Jake fixed that wall last week."

"Jake donated the grill for the cookout."

"Jake taught my daughter to surf—bless him, she almost drowned him!"

Apparently, he was some kind of local hero without even trying. It was kind of annoying. Also, kind of sweet. Super frustrating. And somehow, it was working on her.

That night, she found herself back on the balcony, book in her lap, legs tucked underneath her. She wore a comfy sweater and some cotton shorts, her hair still damp from a swim at sunset. Planned to read, but instead, she just stared at the moonlit waves, letting her mind drift.

Then came a knock on the door.

Jake.

Naturally.

He stood leaning against the door frame, two mugs in hand. "I come bearing gifts. Cocoa or chamomile?"

She blinked. "Do you ever knock normally?"

"This was a totally normal knock. You just scare easy."

She grabbed the cocoa. "Thanks."

He stepped onto the balcony with her, quiet for a moment. Then he said, "So, do you always run away when stuff gets tough?"

She turned to him, surprised. "What?"

"I meant it gently," he said, not even flinching. "You said you’re here to recover. Just wondering—from what?"

Brooke hesitated.

"No cameras here," he added. "No tabloids. Just us. You can tell me to back off, and I’ll listen."

Looking down at her mug, she confessed, "I was with someone for three years. Tyler Madsen."

Jake nodded slowly. "The tech guy?"

"The narcissist," she corrected. "It ended—loudly. Publicly. I lost more than just a boyfriend. I lost my brand, my reputation, and clients. My life was all about control, and then it was just gone."

Jake didn’t pity her. He just sat there, letting her feel understood.

"I came here to breathe. That’s all," she continued. "No romance. No surprises. Just air."

"And how’s that going?"

Brooke really looked at him. The way the soft light caught his eyes, how he held her gaze like he didn’t fear what she might say.

"It was going great," she admitted. "Until you kept popping up."

Jake smiled a little. "Guess I should apologize."

"For what?"

"For showing up when you needed it."

She swallowed hard, feeling the silence buzz with something intense.

Then, out of nowhere—lightning. A c***k of thunder followed.

Jake glanced at the sky. "We should probably head downstairs. That storm’s coming in quickly."

Looking around, she noticed the wind picking up, the air thick with ozone.

"Fine," she said, getting up. "But I’m not baking cookies or playing Monopoly."

"Good," Jake replied, already leading the way. "I can’t stand Monopoly. Too many rules."

The main living room at the inn was cozy—storm lanterns, soft blankets, and a fire crackling that Jake had lit in no time. He tossed her a blanket before setting her mug on the coffee table.

She curled up on the couch while Jake sat in the chair across from her, barefoot and relaxed as the rain started pouring outside. For a while, they just listened.

Then Jake broke the silence.

"You know what I miss most from before?" he said. "Before the Marines. Before everything got complicated."

"What’s that?" she asked.

"Stillness. Just being still and it being enough."

Brooke studied him. "You’re pretty good at that now. The stillness. The calm."

"Takes practice," he said with a soft smile.

"I’d like to get there too," she admitted, her voice small but sincere.

Jake didn’t say anything. He just looked at her like she wasn’t broken and like she was brave.

Then the power went out.

Brooke jumped at the sudden darkness.

Jake laughed. "Chill. It’s just a fuse. Happens every storm."

"I can’t stand the dark!"

"Then sit tight. I’ll fix it."

He handed her a flashlight and disappeared down the hall.

Sitting there in the glow, her heart was racing—not because of the storm, but because of the way he’d looked at her. Like he really saw her.

When he returned ten minutes later, the lights flickered back on.

"Everything good?" he asked.

Brooke nodded. "Surprisingly, yeah."

He settled back in the chair, the fire crackling away.

They were quiet for a while, then out of the blue, he reached out—just casually, fingers brushing against her hand.

She could’ve pulled away.

But she stayed.

For the first time in ages, she didn’t feel like she had to prove herself. She just felt… present. Not as the heartbroken ex, not as the career-driven woman.

Just Brooke.

And that was enough.