Chapter 13

Blaire

Friday 4.37pm

From inside my room where I’ve shut myself, I hear the high-pitched laugh of an author who’s been irritating me all week long.

Considering this was supposed to be a getaway for me, and considering I have a deadline, the last five days haven’t produced anything but dread I’ll run into her.

Friend to my ex and the journalist who decided to spotlight my impending divorce, spending five days with Carol Casey has been exhausting and completely unproductive.

The stay on Heart Island seemed like a fabulous idea at the time a friend suggested it.

Only accessible by boat, and set on six acres of land, with extensive gardens, a pool, and a real-life castle to stay in, it was the perfect place to get inspired.

But when one of Abbie’s kids got sick, and I had to make the trip here alone, my anxiety only blossomed into a full-fledged panic when I saw the elegant, auburn-haired woman was also on the ferry.

Instead of finding inspiration, all I’ve done is hide from Carol and the other writers, avoiding them at mealtimes, spending way too much time procrastinating in the gardens, taking an early morning swim, reading in the drawing-room by the fire, and staring at a blinking cursor on a blank page.

I only came back to my room to hide from Carol and to check my email before the ferry arrives to pick everyone up.

But instead of good news regarding a contract for a three-book deal I was expecting, I’m staring at a reminder of how pathetic I am right now.

I’ll meet you at the solicitor's on Wednesday. Then I’ll move the rest of my things out.

Moisture pools in my eyes blurring Kent’s departing email. I refuse to let him upset me all over again.

So what if he moves his things out? It’s my damn house, no matter how much he wanted to sell it. My London born, soon to be ex-husband doesn’t have a leg to stand on, and he knows it.

I’m still scowling, trying to decide whether this week has been a complete bust since my word count was ridiculously low when a knock at my door lets me know my time is up.

“Come in. The door isn’t locked,” I call.

Mary, the red-haired, flushed face owner, pokes her head in the door and smiles at me. “I thought I’d find you in here. The ferry will be here in five minutes.”

I sigh and glance around the room. “Thanks. I’m all packed. I was trying to finish something.”

I nearly snort aloud. Start something more like. I was supposed to have finished an outline by now.

Mary smiles widely. “Did you achieve what you wanted?”

I know she wants to hear Heart Island’s first-ever romance writers retreat was a huge success, and she’s a friend of a friend, so I choose my words carefully. “To be honest, I work better alone. The setting is amazing, but—”

She gestures to the cackling noise coming from the hallway. “The noise isn’t?”

A smile twitches at my lips. “I could do without it.”

She nods slowly, and a thoughtful frown grows on her face. “Well. Since you’re a friend of Abbie’s, I might be able to help you. We’re closed for maintenance this weekend so my husband and I will be staying in the city until Monday. Our caretaker will be arriving on the ferry. You’re welcome to stay until it comes back to pick him up on Monday morning?”

I’m so overwhelming grateful; I nearly hug her in my enthusiasm. “That would be incredible.”

She chuckles. “You may change your mind. It gets a little eerie here at night. And you’d have to cook for yourself. Luther would just be here working, and he’s not technically a member of staff. Are you okay with being alone most of the time?”

My stomach backflips. But I can’t exactly be truthful. No one knows that about me. Not even Kent, who put my anxiety down to missing him at night.

I’m so preoccupied; I nearly miss the warning in her voice. “He’s an inactive Marine like my husband, so he’s trustworthy. But he’s not exactly a people person.”

I nod, even though I’m barely listening. Mainly because I’m still tossing up having time to write and the possibility of three nights of not sleeping.

I know I have to make a snap decision when she looks at her watch. “Well. We’re leaving now too, so unless you want to come to the dock, I’ll leave you here and have Luther come see you. Oh, and this is important. Jake just installed a new alarm that connects to the door in some way I don’t understand. It shouldn’t be an issue, but it’s set to switch on at ten each night. So, it’s important you aren’t outside.”

It’s an incredible opportunity. I have my pills, and after a week spent dwelling on what a complete mess I am, and how screwed up my life is, I hardly wrote a chapter.

But here, with no distractions, I should be able to get a sizable portion of my first draft done.

I’m still trying to convince myself I can do this when I notice Mary is talking to me. “Sorry?”

Her smile is uncertain. “Do you want to speak to Luther before committing?”

She’s going out of her way, so I smile to set her at ease. “Please don’t worry. There’s absolutely no reason to.”

Her lips pinch together, but she nods slowly. “We’ll stay in touch with Luther, and in an emergency, you can call me, and I’ll see what I do. But with the yacht out of action, Jake and I can’t get here. We’d have to call the Coast Guard.”

I swallow hard and try not to kind of the emergency she thinks will happen in three days.

I reassure myself that if one does occur, a Marine seems like the perfect person to have around if there were an emergency.

With thoughts of the empty and depressing hotel room waiting for me, I stop finding reasons not to stay and listen as she gives me a few instructions and mentions places that are off-limits.

“You can keep staying here. Luther will be right above you on the third floor. Just make a note of what you make for meals, any wine you drink, and we’ll add it to your bill on Monday.”

With a final look at me and a knotted brow, she leaves me to take in the growing silence.

I exhale slowly, releasing the tension from my shoulders and pull out my laptop.

I give myself a mental pep talk as I read back through what I’ve written.

I can do this. I can get through the weekend.

I just hope I can do it without making a fool of myself.

***

Luther

I nod at the skipper and jump onto the dock to find a gaggle of women eyeballing me.

Mary mentioned her idea to make this some sort of a writer’s retreat. From the looks of things, she managed to find at least a half dozen willing to pay to stay here.

I ignore them and stalk towards Mary and Jake as they say goodbye to their guests.

Jake’s eyes drift to mine, and his false smile disappears as he sees me. As I grasp his outstretched hand, it’s plain to see he’s under stress.

His blue eyes are shadowed and I’m sure there’s a little more grey in his beard and at his temples than last month.

He turns on his heel and walks with me as I ignore the whispered asides coming from the women behind us. Jake slides me a glance sidelong. “Lucky they aren’t all staying this weekend.”

I frown at him. There’s something on his face that makes me uneasy. “What do you mean all?”

He jams his hands into his pockets. “Mary is letting one stay the weekend. I have orders to ask you to be polite to her.”

I stop walking and glare hard at him. “I’m not here to babysit an author all weekend.”

He shoots a look over his shoulder, his posture stiffening as my voice carries to the group getting on the ferry.

A tall woman, with fiery red hair, openly appraises me, then turns back to her friend.

I watch her lips and scowl even harder as I make out the words she utters to her friend. The things I could do to him.

Jake shakes his head and keeps walking toward the castle, talking low so I’m forced to follow after him. “I didn’t get a say in this. The last thing I want is a famous author here alone with you.”

I bristle at the scorn on his face. But he’s not wrong. The last thing I want is to have to play host. “Why is she here then?”

One look at his drawn face and I have my answer. Mary. His wife, and the reason he’s up to his neck in debt.

He runs a hand over his face. “She’s a friend of a friend of Mary’s. Apparently, she’s going through a breakup or something. I’ve barely seen her. She’s keeping to herself so it might not go as bad as you think.”

I shake my head. “Don’t expect me to wait on her hand and foot. I’m not a chef, and I’m not a damn butler. She needs anything she can get it herself.”

His eyes narrow and a flickering of annoyance shows as Mary appears behind him.

I should be pleased she’s here. Her presence actively prevents Jake from telling me to suck it up.

“Are you going to be okay with Blaire here?” she asks.

I flick a look at Jake before nodding. “Doesn’t look like I’ll have much choice.”

Mary’s lips press together. “She’s a lovely woman. And she’s been the least trouble of everyone this whole week. I’ve warned her you aren’t used to company but please try to be polite to her.”

She looks so desperate, I release a breath and find myself nodding. “I’ll be polite.”

Jake opens his mouth, looking like he has something to say, but his eyes dart to Mary and then back to me before the skipper shouts from the ferry.

With a final warning handshake and a terse goodbye, Jake picks up their luggage and leaves me standing inside the door with an apprehensive Mary.

She sighs deeply. “Oh, Luther. Don’t look so gloomy. She’s really sweet. Maybe it’ll do you good to spend some time with her?”

I set my shoulders and at the slight smile on her face have to wonder if this isn’t some misguided matchmaking attempt.

She looks over my shoulder. “She’s in her room. Second floor, room twenty-two. I told her you’d be up to introduce yourself.”

An impish grin grows on her face. “I’m trusting you, Luther. Be nice or you’ll have me to answer to.”

It’s an idle threat, but one that I know Jake would follow through on, so I nod slowly and she turns on her heel and hurries to the waiting ferry.

I exhale slowly, every muscle tensing as I consider how awry my plans for this weekend have gone.

Instead of peace and quiet, Jake and Mary want me to spend it with a romance writer.

Probably some repressed, fat old middle-aged woman who’s going to drive me insane chattering all weekend.

Fucking fantastic.

***

Blaire

I’m stuck on a scene and contemplating using the island as a setting when I hear heavy footsteps coming towards me.

My head snaps up and I suck in a breath as I take in the man currently glowering in my direction.

Standing at over six feet with broad shoulders and muscles on muscles is a very pissed off looking Luther.

Dressed in cargo pants, with his hair cropped short, and copper-colored skin, he looks every inch the intimidating Marine Mary said he was.

His dark eyes narrow. “Don’t expect me to cook for you.”

It’s so blunt, so direct the words come out in a stutter. “I, I, I don’t expect anything from you.”

He just stares at me so intensely I stop breathing. Finally, he near growls. “Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

Without another word, he turns on his booted heel and stalks away leaving me gaping at his back.

My stomach starts to flip about as I glance out the window and see the ferry leaving the dock.

I blow out a breath and try not to let the anxiety creeping through me take full control.

I can do this. It’s just for the weekend. And if he’s going to be this unpleasant, I have no intention of getting in his way.

***

Luther

Worse than having to have my solitude wrecked by company, she’s a looker.

A raven-haired fox with eyes that cut through the bull shit and lips custom made for kissing.

Blaire is just the kind of woman I used to lust after. She’s the kind of woman I used to chase after and enjoy catching.

But I’m not looking to hook her or any other woman. If Mary and Jake hadn’t decided to spring it on me, and if I didn’t need the money, I’d have got back on the ferry and gone home to my dingy apartment.

I’ve stupidly agreed to stay and babysit a woman who I’m currently picturing naked.

Not good.

I’ll have to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t poke her nose where she shouldn’t.

But looking the way she does, with those slender fingers and dark-tipped nails, I can’t care where she pokes her nose.

I just know I have to keep her nose and every part of her curvy body away from me.

I head back across the hallway and climb the staircase to the third floor.

At least I’m not on the same floor as her. She’s in the fully renovated luxury suite while I’m slumming it in the old servant’s quarters directly above her.

If I play it right, I can avoid her and finish the jobs I promised to do without trying too hard.

It’s a big place. The only common areas are the kitchen and the entrance. I doubt she’s the type to get up at the crack of dawn, so I can carry on my routine and just pretend she’s not here.

I open the door to my sparse room and toss my bag on the unmade bed I slept in a month ago when they closed down for maintenance.

Trying not to think about the woman below me, I carry on doing what I’d normally do when I spend the weekend here.

I grab my tools and head back out the way I came. Usually, I’d take the main hallway, but I use the hidden passage that interconnects the third floor and heads directly to the cellar.

My mood darkens even further when I notice water dripping from a patch-up job I did last month.

They need a structural engineer, not a grunt like me with limited knowledge.

I pull out my cell and tap out a text to Jake to remind him to call someone in before the entire first floor sinks another half an inch.

They’ve already invested everything they have to make this viable; the last thing they want or need is for liquefaction to claim the cellar.

I carry on down the steps and instantly notice the damp smell that wasn’t here a month ago.

With a muttered curse, I check the walls of the cellar, before thoroughly inspecting the rest of the floor.

When I’m as convinced as I’ll ever be, I grab a bottle of wine from the cheaper ones and think about how much daylight is left.

Jake wants the pool drained and cleaned. If I do it tonight, it’ll be draining by tomorrow night so I can clean it Sunday.

There’s no sign of her when I exit the second floor and make my way down to the pool house.

A frown grows as I deposit the bottle in the kitchen, so I can have it with my steak.

If she just stays clear like she’s doing now, I may just get through this weekend without too much trouble.

***

You can read more of Luther and Blaire’s story in One Wild Weekend With Luther.

Stay in touch

Lexi doesn’t have social media, (too busy writing and taking care of her Autistic kiddos) but you can stay in touch with her by subscribing to receive a non-spammy twice monthly newsletter.

Inside Lexi’s VIP newsletter you can expect subscriber-exclusive pricing, snippets, bookish and personal news, the occasional hot men Meme, freebies, and first looks at covers.

Lexi loves to connect with her subscribers, but watch out, she steals names, and loves to hear her readers ideas so you may wind up being the inspiration for one of her stories!

If you’re okay with all that, and want A FREE novella, exclusive offers and more, subscribe here.

Author Bio

Lexi Hart is the pen name of a crazy Kiwi romance junkie who prefers to live in the heads of her characters than her own.

If you want to escape reality with me and love fast burn romances with a splattering of suspense, The One Wild Weekend Series is sure to satisfy you.

For readers who enjoy a slower burn, and a whole lot more angst, I hope you’ll try my ongoing fake romance series, Bad For Me.

If you’d like to connect with me and would like a FREE Novella, sign up for my twice monthly newsletter (no spam, no random promoting of other authors' books) so you can get all the VIP treatment, and we can get to know each other.

www.lexihartromance.com