Page 34 of A Beach House Beginning

At the same time, he needed to stay away from Jenna so he could work on getting rid of these inconvenient feelings he was developing for her. Arranging his life so he was guaranteed to see her at least twice a day probably wasn’t the solution.

What choice did he have, though? All his efforts to find someone to stay with Brielle for the hour between camp and the end of his shift had come to naught.

“That would actually be really helpful, unless I can find someone else tomorrow. I was trying to figure out how to squeeze in everything. I was planning to go in late and come home early to work around her schedule.”

“You don’t have to try. I’m more than happy to help.”

“Thank you.”

She still hadn’t met his gaze directly, he realized, except for that first brief moment.

“Thank you also for dinner,” he said. “I definitely need the lasagna recipe to add to my rotation.”

“No problem. I can share it with you, if you want to give me your email.”

She handed him a notebook and he quickly wrote down the email address he rarely used.

“I’ll send it later tonight.”

“Thanks. I’ll watch for it. Let’s go, Brie. Looks like the race is over.”

His daughter sighed, clearly reluctant to leave her new best friend.

“Bye, Addie. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“For sure on Monday.”

The girls hugged as if they were each heading off on different long sea voyages, and Wes had to hide a smile. He caught Jenna’s gaze, finally, and saw that she was smiling, too.

She quickly shifted her gaze back to the dog in her lap, leaving Wes feeling slightly bereft.

Bad enough that he had kissed her, when he had every intention of keeping his attraction to her bottled up.

He really hoped he hadn’t completely ruined a friendship he was beginning to cherish.

Chapter Seven

“What time will Brielle be here?” Addy asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

Jenna sipped her tea, frustrated with herself for the butterflies jumping around in her stomach. She had awakened filled with a mix of anticipation and nervousness about seeing Wes that morning when he brought his daughter down the stairs.

She could not stop thinking about the kiss the other night.

The memory of it seemed seared into her subconscious. Every time she closed her eyes, she recalled the heat of his body next to hers, the strength of his muscles beneath her fingers.

She had wanted more than a kiss.

At some point in the early hours of the morning, she had finally admitted that to herself. For the first time since Ryan’s death, she had ached for a man’s touch.

For Wes’s touch.

Despite two tortured nights of wondering what it might be like, she knew anything more than a heated kiss between them was impossible.

She was the problem.

It was easy enough to tell herself she wasn’t ready yet. But Ryan had been gone for four years. While some part of her would always grieve for the future they had dreamed about, she had determined years ago that she couldn’t spend the rest of her life aching for something she could never recapture.

She had decided to move on three years ago, when she had first accepted a date with Aaron Barker.

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