Page 39 of All the Ways You Save Me
As Sandy Harbor became an increasingly desirable summer destination, developers began mass-producing monstrous vacation homes so they could attract wealthy visitors from New York City and Philly. I appreciate the thought and care that Ian and his builders put in to matching the original architectural style of the island. A place of this quality will probably survive a hurricane and still be standing in a hundred years, unlike some of those places I passed on the way here.
I head to the sink to wash my hands so I can unpack the dishes, but the faucet is lying in the basin next to a hole where it should be standing upright. All the pipes seem to be in place, but the lower cabinet doors are also missing. I can live without baseboards in a bedroom and cabinet doors in the kitchen, but I’m probably going to need someone to fix the faucet sooner rather than later.
I open the kitchen door to check out the deck while I text Vanessa. It’s furnished with a table, four chairs, and a brand-new grill, and I make a note to cook and eat outside as much as possible. Beyond the deck I follow a stone path that leads to a small shed. Peeking inside, I find beach chairs and an umbrella. A little thrill runs through me as, suddenly, I feel like a teenager again with my whole summer stretching endlessly before me.
I pause on the path to glance at the house next door, wondering if it’s a rental too. It appears to be set on a double lot. Where there’s a neighbor’s house behind my small shed, the house next door has a gravel driveway with a Jeep parked on it in front of a large garage. The garage door is open, revealing an array of drills, saws, and other tools arranged neatly along the back wall, and a worktable with a stack of wood in the center. Propped outside the garage, near the Jeep, is a set of surfboards.
My heart flips, and my gaze flies from the surfboards to the Jeep and back. Before I can fully process what I’m seeing, a man strolls out of the garage and stops short on the path.
“What the… Madeline? What the hell?”
My eyes widen. It’s Garrett, standing ten feet away with an absolutely furious look on his face. He stomps over and stands in front of me. “Are you seriously stalking me? I know we agreed to be friends, but this is getting out of hand. You can’t just show up where I live.”
My mouth drops open. “Youlive here?”
“Obviously.”
“I had no idea.”
He props his hands on his hips. “Sure.”
“I didn’t! I’m not stalking you.” I wave at my cottage house. “This is where I’m staying for the summer. This is the rental your friend Ian gave me. How was I supposed to know you live next door?”
His gaze slides back and forth between the house and me, and finally he blows out a heavy breath. “Shit. This isn’t the right place for you. Vanessa was supposed to give you the house on 24thStreet, not this one. I’m still working on the lower cabinets on this one.”
“You’re still…” I take a few steps toward the garage. Closer now, I can see what I thought were stacks of wood are actually half-finished kitchen cabinets that match the ones in the cottage. “You made the cabinets in my cottage?” Of course he did. I should have put it together. “They’re beautiful. I was just admiring them inside. You do amazing work.”
His lips twitch into a half-smile, almost like he doesn’t want to react, but I can see the pride in his eyes. “Thanks.”
“Where did you learn how to do work like this?”
“On the job, mostly. When Ian hired me to work for the company, he had a fantastic carpenter who mentored me. Ralph retired a couple of years ago.”
“And do you rent your house from Ian, too?”
“No, I own it. When the land came up for sale, we split up the property. I built my house and garage a few years ago, and then built your cottage this past winter.”
I make a mental note to do an internet search for his address later, to see if there is any information on the real estate listing. And then I bite my lip because I literally just told Garrett that I’m not stalking him. But that information is in the public record, right?
He pulls his phone from the worn pocket of his jeans. “Let me call Vanessa and see if she can move you over to the other place.”
“Don’t call her.” I actually can’t believe my luck. With Garrett living right next to me, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to get to know him and learn if he’s really Adam. “I told Ian I’m fine if you still have a few projects to finish. I can live without cabinet doors. All I need is someone to come over and install the kitchen faucet.”
His finger hovers over the call button as if he’s debating whether to press it or not. I reach out to stop him, my fingers grazing the warm, sun-kissed skin of his forearm. His gaze rakes over me with that same intensity that I felt last night at the bar. All I’d have to do is step forward a couple of inches and I’d be pressed against him. Would I feel as safe with his arms wrapped around me as I did on the beach yesterday? As I used to when we were seventeen?
“I promise I won’t bother you,” I say. “I know you’re not Adam. I’m just here to enjoy a summer at the beach.”
Garrett hesitates for another moment and then drops his hand away from the phone. “Okay, come on, then. Let’s go fix your faucet.” He heads into the garage to gather up some tools, and I watch him from my spot on the path, wondering what convinced him.
In the kitchen, Garrett drops his tool bag on the floor andslides headfirst under the sink to fiddle with the pipes. I take a moment to admire him undetected. His plain, heather-gray T-shirt rides up on his flat stomach, revealing the geometric lines of his ab muscles. I swallow hard, my gaze drifting to the colorful birds flying gracefully across his bicep through branches of trees and flowers.
Do the tattoos have any meaning? Adam’s mother’s name was Laurel, but I don’t actually know what mountain laurel looks like, so I can’t tell if it’s represented in the ink on his skin. I add it to my mental list of things to look up later. On the inner curve of his arm, I spot a stalk of black-eyed Susan like the variety that grew in the fields by Adam’s family trailer and a stem of Queen Anne’s lace. But those are common wildflowers all over the East Coast, so it’s not exactly a waving flag.
Garrett reaches for a wrench in his tool bag, and I quickly turn away before he sees me staring. In my hurry to check out the house, I forgot about the bag of groceries I left on the front porch, so I retrieve it and get to work putting cheese in the fridge and cereal in one of the cabinets out of the way of Garrett’s work. I’m relieved that in addition to pots and dishes, Vanessa has left me a coffee machine and filters. I haven’t had any caffeine this morning, so I fill the pot with bottled water and put some ground beans in to brew.
When Garrett crawls out from under the sink to attach the faucet to the basin, I fill a mug and shoot a questioning glance in his direction. “Do you want some coffee?”
He stretches his arms overhead, and I focus on reaching for a second mug and not staring at the ropey lines of his biceps. You’d think I would have had my fill moments ago, but no. It’s not only the fact that he looks just like Adam. All that manual labor has chiseled him into one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. I hand him the mug and settle onto a stool at the island.
