I’m an actress. A Tony Award–winning one, at that, but I just can’t hide my feelings today.
“I’m sorry,” I say at last, and clear my throat. “As you can see, my brother isn’t well.”
Finn doesn’t say anything, he just reaches for his phone and calls his assistant. “Please bring in some hot tea.”
He hangs up and watches me in silence until the tea arrives. He pours us each a cup and passes one to me, along with sweetener and milk, and when we both have our tea the way we like it, he says, “Do I have to worry about him coming after you to hurt you?”
I glance up in surprise. “He doesn’t know where I live.”
He pins me with those chocolate-brown eyes. “Do you honestly believe that?”
I take a sip of my Earl Grey and then sigh. “No. I’m sure he could find me. My building is secure. I’m not worried about him.”
“I can file a restraining order.”
I laugh. “For what? A piece of paper isn’t going to stop him if he gets it in his head to find and hurt me.” I shake my head and take another sip of tea. “No, I’ve dealt with him and his issues most of my life. He’ll disappear for a while now, do God knows what, until he runs out of money again and calls me.”
“Do you give him money?”
“Not anymore.” I squirm in my seat and then set my tea aside. “Thanks for the tea, but I’m okay. We can finish this.”
Finn opens the folders and passes me forms to sign, explaining how the properties will be transferred to my name.
“You’re a very wealthy woman, London.”
“I was wealthy before this,” I reply, hearing the hollowness in my voice. “I didn’t need my parents to die in order to have money.”
“Of course not,” he says, shaking his head. “I meant no disrespect.”
My leg is beginning to ache again. I’ve only been taking the bare minimum of the pain meds, unwilling to be in a constant hazy coma. But damn, it hurts today.
“If we’re finished, I’ll go.”
“Can I give you a ride home?” he asks, standing with me. I reach for my crutches and get myself situated.
“I have a car and driver.”
He nods and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Can I take you to dinner?”
I glance up in surprise. Finn’s a sexy man, and under normal circumstances, I’d do more than let him buy me dinner.
But these aren’t normal circumstances.
“Seriously?” I tip my head to the side and scowl at him, no longer surprised, and fully irritated. “You’re asking me out just after you’ve read my parents’ will?”
He rubs his fingers over his mouth and then shakes his head, as if he’s at a loss for words, and escorts me out to the elevator. “Just call if you have any questions or need anything at all.”
“I have one question. Now that I own all of the properties, can I live in them?”
“Of course.”
I step into the elevator, turn to face him, and offer him a small smile. “Thanks.”
Chapter 1
~London~
Three months a year. That’s how much time I spent here on Martha’s Vineyard off the coast of Massachusetts each summer of my entire life. The rest of the year we lived in Connecticut, so my brother and I could go to school and do what families do.
But every summer, from the day after school let out until the day before we went back, my family lived here, on the beach in the West Chop area of the island. Our house is massive, and worth several million dollars, but as a child, I didn’t know that. I just knew that it was a magical place of sunshine and water, of summertime friends that came back every year. Of daydreams and happiness.
It was more home to me than our “full-time” house then, and it still is.
So when Finn told me two months ago that I had inherited all of my parents’ properties, and that I could live in them or do what I wished with them, I knew that I’d come here for the summer.
Home.
I’m walking on the beach, without a cane now, thank you very much, enjoying the breeze from the ocean. I have over a hundred feet of private beach, but I can hear kids playing off in the distance, and sailboats are gently meandering by with bright sails and happy people.
At least, they’re happy in my head.
Walking in the sand isn’t as easy as I would like. My leg aches like a toothache, but it’s healing. Slower than I’d like, but it’s getting there.
The sand is warm beneath my bare feet, and I have to hold my dark hair off of my face as I stop and look out at the choppy water.
“Because I just have to be meeeee . . .”
I glance over my shoulder at the sound of the small voice and smile. A little girl with a riot of dark curls is dancing down the beach, making grand gestures with her arms and singing loudly. Ironically, she’s singing the song from the musical that I starred in for over a year on Broadway.
She stops when she sees me and glances around like she’s not quite sure how she got here.
“You have a pretty voice,” I say kindly.
“Thanks,” she says, and shrugs one shoulder. She’s tall, but I don’t know kids well enough to know if she’s tall for her age. Her eyes are sky blue, standing out against her olive skin and dark hair. “It’s my favorite musical.”
I nod, smiling. “Mine too.”
“Is that your house?” she asks, pointing behind me.
“It is,” I confirm. “Where do you live?”
“Over there,” she says with a sigh, pointing to the house next to mine. “But ours doesn’t have a pool or a playhouse like yours.”
I tilt my head to the side, watching her. “You must have had a look around, since I don’t think you can see all of that from your house.”
She shrugs one shoulder again. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Gabby!” A man comes running down the beach, a scowl on his face. “You know this isn’t our beach. You can’t just run off like that.”
Gabby rolls her eyes and then turns back to him, and as he gets closer, I immediately recognize him.
Finn Cavanaugh.
“I’m right here,” she says.
“Hey,” he says to me, and offers me a small smile. “Sorry if she was bothering you.”
Gabby rolls her eyes again, and I can’t help but laugh a little. “She’s not bothering me at all. We were talking about musicals.”
His lips twitch, and I’m reminded just how handsome Finn is. Scratch that. Not handsome.
Fucking hot.
Just my luck, he’s my neighbor.
Which I knew, I just forgot.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as Gabby twirls in a circle and dances away to sing and dance some more.
“Better,” I reply. “Not fantastic, but I’m finally rid of the crutches and cane, so I’ll take it.”
“You look good,” he says, and then clears his throat. “Any issues?”
Oh, you know, my parents are dead and have left me with a mess to clean up all by myself, my leg is killing me, and I’m pretty sure I lost my career, but nothing major.
“No, I’m good.”
He watches me for a moment and then nods. His hands are in his pockets the same way they were in his office two months ago, but this time he’s not wearing a suit. No, he’s in a red T-shirt and black cargo shorts with no shoes.
I had no idea the casual look could be sexier than the suit, but here we are.
“Your daughter is beautiful.”
He grins and glances at Gabby, then turns back to me. “She’s my niece. She’s staying with me for about a month.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
He frowns and looks down, and I feel like I’ve said the wrong thing, but the moment passes and he calls over to Gabby, “It’s about time for your horse-riding lesson, Gabs. We should go.”
“Fine,” she replies with a heavy sigh, and takes off running toward his house.
“She doesn’t like horses?” I ask.
“She does, she’s just been difficult lately, so very little makes her particularly happy. It’s a long story.”
“Well, I don’t want to keep you.” I step back and offer him a smile. “Oh, before you go, it finally clicks as to why you represented my parents. You’re the neighbor.”
“I’ve spent the past five summers here,” he confirms. “I liked your parents very much. Your dad asked me to update his will about two years ago.”
I nod. “Makes sense. Have a good day.”
“You too, London.”
And with that, he turns and jogs down the beach back to his own house, which is only about a hundred yards from mine. His shoulders are ridiculously broad, especially from behind.
And speaking of behinds, his ass is something to write home about.
Or something to grip on to while he fucks a girl silly.
I clear my throat and shake my head as I walk back toward my house. I must be feeling better if I’m undressing the sexy neighbor with my eyes. I’m not irritated with him anymore for asking me out on that day at his office. That doesn’t mean that it wasn’t inappropriate. Because it was.
But on a scale of one to house fires on the life-altering scale, that would be a negative fourteen.
I walk up the sandy path to the house, brush my feet clean, and walk inside through the screened sun porch to the kitchen. I brewed some iced tea this morning, so I pour myself a glass, add some lemon, and carry it with me to the library, where I’ve been working all morning on sorting books.
Mom loved to read. She has to have more than a thousand books in here, everything from outdated encyclopedias to paperback romance novels. Thrillers, true crime, interior design, and biographies are in there too.
And pretty much everything else.
I remember when we’d come here in the summer, I’d be playing at the beach or in the pool with friends, and Mom would be on the sun porch with a book and a glass of tea, absorbed in another world, but ready for us in case we needed anything.
I sit at her desk and take a sip of my tea before carefully placing it on a coaster and reaching for another stack of books.
Some of them are signed by the authors, so it’s not just a matter of donating the ones that I won’t read or don’t need. I have to look at every single one of them, check for a signature, notes or thoughts that Mom might have written in them, pressed flowers, you name it.
It’s become a long process.
I have two boxes nearby. One for donations and one for trash. I mean, who needs an encyclopedia from 1987? Not me. That’s what Google is for. And there are plenty of books that are empty and would be welcome at a library or the Goodwill.
Just as I toss a paperback into a box, my phone pings with a text.
What are you doing? It’s from Sasha, a former colleague and my best friend. She’s in New York, working on a new play that debuts in six weeks, but she texts or calls every single day, checking in on me.
Sorting books in the library. What are you doing?
I set the phone aside, take a sip of my tea, and glance out the window as a huge sailboat with a bright-blue sail soars past.
Having lunch before I head back to rehearsal. Are you ready to sort through your parents’ things? They haven’t been gone long.
I smile at her concern. She’s always been a mother hen.
I can’t just sit in this big house and do nothing. I might as well get something accomplished. It’s just the library.
Not their bedroom, or the kitchen, where Mom’s special dishes are. Those two rooms will have to wait for quite some time.
Don’t overdo it. When is your next PT?
Now I feel like Gabby when I roll my eyes and reply.
Tomorrow. Go to rehearsal and stop harassing me.
I grin and rub my thigh where it’s started to ache again. I’ll take more Advil when I go downstairs.
Fine. You’re so difficult. Call you later!
I shove my phone in my pocket, and now that I’ve gone through that stack of books, I decide to go downstairs rather than reach for more. They’re heavy, and I’m tired. One thing I’ve learned during this whole damn mess is to listen to my body and not push it too hard. If I’m tired, I need to nap. If I hurt, I need to take something. Being miserable isn’t worth being stubborn.
I hobble slowly down the stairs to the kitchen and take two Advil, and then wander to my favorite napping spot on the porch. I’ll let the ocean breeze lull me to sleep.
***
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
I’m standing in my driveway, the hood of my car open, and I’m staring at it as if it just magically holds all of the answers.
So far, all I see is a bunch of stuff that I know absolutely nothing about.
All I do know for sure is, the damn car won’t start.
“Don’t do this to me today,” I plead with the three-year-old BMW. “I have to go to PT today, and I’m already running late. Please start.”
With that, I march around to the driver’s side, prop my ass on the seat, and push the start button.
Nothing.
“What the hell?”
I get out and face the open engine again, frowning as if it’s scorned me on purpose.
“Okay, maybe Siri knows.” I pull the app up on my phone and speak into it. “Siri, my BMW won’t start. Can you diagnose the problem?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
I roll my eyes and try again.
“Why won’t my BMW start?”
She thinks for a second. “I can’t find that answer.”
I groan and then try again.
“Siri, please give me possible reasons for why my BMW engine won’t start.”
“You should seek a professional.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Yeah, no shit. Why are you always such a bitch to me, Siri?”
I hear movement behind me and startle when I see Finn standing there, his hands on his lean hips and a smirk on that sexy face of his.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to hear you have an argument with Siri.”
“I thought this was a smart phone.” I wag it in the air. “If that’s the case, wouldn’t she know what’s going on?”
“In theory. Maybe someday they’ll be that smart.”
I sigh and turn back to the car. “I guess I’ll call AAA.”
“Well, hold on. What’s wrong?”
“It won’t start. It doesn’t even make a noise. Just . . . nothing.”
He steps up beside me and glances inside. Suddenly he reaches in and wiggles something around.
“Try it again.”
“Seriously, I can call someone.”
“London.” He looks down at me with hot brown eyes now and leans both hands on the car, as if he’s keeping himself from touching me.
Which is completely all in my head and wishful thinking because he’s a stranger and I’ve been without sex for way too long.
“Yeah?”
“Try it again.”
“Okay, I’ll humor you, but I really think it’s something far more serious than that.” I prop my ass on the seat again and push the button, and just like that, the car comes to life. “What did you do?”
“The cable to the battery was loose, which is odd, but not impossible, I guess. It should be fine now.”
“Thanks.” I check the time and swear under my breath. “I’m late, and they won’t see me now. I’ll have to reschedule my appointment.”
“So you’re free for a while?” he asks, and I look up to find him smiling at me.
“Depends.”
“Well, how about if I take you to lunch?”
“If you’re going to feed me, yes, I’m free.” I smile and then blink, remembering that he showed up out of nowhere. “Wait. Why did you come over here?”
“I was walking out to my own car and heard you talking to Siri,” he says with a shrug. “I wasn’t trying to be no
sy, but I figured you could use a hand.”
“Thanks.”
He nods. “So, lunch?”
“Where’s Gabby?”
“I have to pick her up from piano lessons. She’ll join us, if that doesn’t bother you.”
“That doesn’t bother me.”
“Great.” He waits for me to follow him over to his car, opens the door for me, and pulls out of his driveway.
“So, Gabby had horseback-riding lessons yesterday, and piano lessons today?”
“Yes,” he says with a nod. “I have her in several activities. I want her to meet other kids and have fun.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but is she okay?”
He sighs and signals to make a turn. “I’m not sure what’s up with her. She’s been really challenging for her dad, so I offered to bring her here for a few weeks to give him a break. I was hoping it would help her attitude, but so far it hasn’t.”
“Where’s her mom?”
“She passed away about five years ago,” he replies. “Her mom was my younger sister. Carter, Gabby’s dad, is still a good friend, and a partner at the firm, and he was about at his wit’s end with her.”
“Maybe she’s just going through a rough patch.”
He nods and swings into a driveway where Gabby is waiting on the porch of a house with a grandmotherly woman waiting with her. She waves at Finn as Gabby runs down to the car.
“She’s in my seat,” she grumbles as she climbs into the backseat.
“London is my guest and you’ll be polite, young lady,” Finn says, staring her down in the rearview mirror. “Apologize for being rude.”
“Sorry,” she says, and looks out her window as Finn pulls out of the driveway. He takes us to a restaurant by the water that is known for its fish and chips.
“I love this place,” I say when he finds a space to park. “I’ve come here since I was a kid.”
“Perfect,” he says with a smile, and we all climb out of the car and get settled at a table inside. Once we’ve ordered our lunch and have our drinks, I take a sip of lemonade and turn to Gabby.
“So, what musicals are your favorite, Gabby?”
“A Summer’s Evening is my favorite,” she says, not looking me in the eyes.