Page 12 of Me and Mr. Just Right

“She’s our sister. I’m Haydn,” he said, hoping introductions would put her at ease. “Bennett’s in the kitchen, and Jules is getting the SAT phone.”

“Welcome,” Bennett said as he filled a kettle with water.

The woman tucked the blanket even tighter around her shoulders. He backed away to turn on the gas fireplace. He generally didn’t turn it on in the summer, but they generally didn’t have a freezing cold woman here either.

“I’m … Lia,” she said, once his back was turned as he fiddled with the fireplace. She sounded a bit closer when she spoke next. “You really didn’t follow me here?”

Why in the world would she think he’d followed her? She must know some pretty intense people to believe that could happen. Sure, she was beautiful. Gorgeous, one might even say—if they had room in their life to notice such things. But it still seemed extreme to believe he’d follow her all the way to this island. And creepy. Was he unknowingly giving out creeper vibes? He wanted to make it clear to women that he wasn’t in the market for a relationship, not actually scare them. “I promise we didn’t.”

He grabbed a framed photo of the Forrester siblings from the entryway table to show her. Haydn had taken it right after the cabin was completed, and they’d all posed in front of it for his camera.

She took it from his outstretched hand and studied it. “I don’t understand.”

“Welcome to life with Rosie.” Bennett placed four mugs on the counter beside various brands of powdered hot chocolate. Bennett’s solution to most problems was chocolate. The sweeter, the better. “Why don’t you take a seat by the fire, and I’ll bring you a drink.” Bennett was the resident nurturer in the Forrester dynamic—his nurture method of choice being comfort in all forms.

She sat on one of the leather recliners but didn’t relax into it. Her back remained straight, with her hands on her knees, the boat’s key ring looped around her middle finger and clenched in her grip.

“This isn’t our fault, Rosie,” Jules growled into the SAT phone as he walked into the room.

They heard her tinny voice reply indignantly. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to the cabin this weekend. You should have!”

“It. Shouldn’t. Matter.” Jules pulled the phone down to talk to the rest of them. “Apparently she’s been renting out our cabin to vacationers when we’re not here.”

“It’s not like you’re using it,” Rosie retorted. “It’s going to waste, sitting there. And I clean it up when they leave.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Jules asked, his tone steely, befitting a lawyer.

“Over a year,” she said. “And making good money too.”

“On our house!” Jules ran his hand through his hair in frustration, making the ends stick straight up.

Bennett and Haydn exchanged a knowing glance. Rosie had a way of pushing Jules’s patience to the brink of explosion. Maybe it was because they were opposite in so many ways. Where Jules was a planner and executer, Rosie liked to be spontaneous and was the queen of starting projects she never finished.

As much as Haydn disliked that she’d been renting out their house without permission, he was reluctantly impressed that she’d been doing it for so long without any of them noticing.

“Let me talk to Rosie.” Haydn waved his fingers for the phone. The way Rosie’s breathing was hitched, he knew she was crying.

Jules tossed it to him.

“Hey,” Haydn said to his sister, “we’ll get this figured out, okay?” He walked a few steps away and turned his back to everyone, hoping they wouldn’t hear Rosie’s response.

He could almost see her shoulders slump when she spoke. “The extra income is what helped me keep the store afloat this year.”

“You told me your new art was selling well.” He checked in with her nearly every week, and he had offered more than once to loan her money to keep the store afloat, but she’d insisted she had it handled.Don’t hover,she’d admonished him more than once. And so he hadn’t, but this was what happened when he got too distracted. He’d been out of town too often, spending too much time docked in Ketchikan.

“Well, it was fine for a few months. And then it wasn’t—and before you say anything, Haydn, I wanted to do this on my own.”

“I could have helped.”

“Right. Haydn’s the glue. Bennett’s the honey. Jules is the rock. And I’m the sour lemon,” she said, sounding bitter. It was something their dad had said once, right before he left, like the world’s worst parting gift, and it stuck like gum on the bottom of a shoe. Haydn didn’t remember his dad actually using the word sour, but Rosie insisted he had.

“You’re not a lemon. But for the record, lemons are amazing.”

“The best of the fruits!” Bennett yelled out. They’d all had this conversation with Rosie multiple times.

“Bright and cheery,” Jules growled, clearly still bugged, but he’d hated that statement more than any of them.

Lia’s brows furrowed in confusion, but she added, “Lemon tea is my favorite.”

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