Page 3 of Chasing Stars
I let out a low whistle. “That’s a long time.”
“It is. How old are you?”
“I’m forty-one.” I force a laugh to lighten the mood. The urge to crack a joke about AOL chat rooms and the A/S/L days bubbles, but something tells me Jenna isn’t in the mood fornostalgic joking. She gives me a quiet, polite smile and nods, turning back to the window.Message Received: doesn’t like small talk. That’s fine with me because before I can ask her anything else, we’re pulling into the parking lot at Cape Realty & Property Management, the business my father started three decades ago, now run by my brother Nate and me.
Nate’s locking the front door just as Jenna and I get out of the car. “Yo,” he says over his shoulder, looking surprised to see me. “I thought you had left for the day.”
“I got a call about someone trespassing on Monarch.” I give Nate a wry smile and gesture teasingly at Jenna. “Turns out, it was the owner.”
“No, shit.” Nate laughs, holding his hand out to Jenna. “I’m Nate, this guy’s younger and much better-looking brother.” He winks, glancing at me for my reaction. I could punch him.
Jenna smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I hardly know her, but I get the sense that she’s just being polite to both of us so she can get this over with and get the hell out of here. “Hi, I’m Jenna.” She gently pulls her hand back and wipes it on her jeans.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Nate says, sidestepping. “I’ve got to get Caden from the sitter.” Nate is a newly single dad. His wife passed away from cancer when Caden was three. Now he is raising his four-year-old son alone and is far more responsible and dependable than I am. I love to josh him for it too, but truthfully, I am really proud of my little bro.
I take out my keys and unlock the door that Nate just locked, motioning for Jenna to follow me inside. Our office is an open-concept space with a variety of seating arrangements—my desk, Nate’s desk, and our assistant Linda’s desk. A casual seating area with a sofa and end tables sits off to the side when you walk in. Big floor-to-ceiling windows cast the room in the glow of the setting sun. Instead of taking Jenna to my desk, I motion for her to sit on the sofa, so it won’t be in her eyes.
“It gets really bright in this room in the afternoon,” I say, awkwardly. It’s not often that a pretty girl makes me fumble my words, but something about Jenna unsettles me. We just met but it’s like she’s carrying a silence that I feel the need to fill. There’s a heaviness in her eyes, as if she’s somewhere else entirely. For some reason, I want to know where. It’s because she looks so downtrodden, it tugs on something deep inside of me. It’s an unfamiliar feeling.
“Why don’t you sit here so the sun doesn’t blind you and I’ll be right back?” I don’t wait for a response and instead, turn and walk to the back of the office where we keep the residential keys and paperwork in a locked cabinet.
Jenna settles on the edge of the couch, flipping through the fall edition ofCape May Magazine,though it’s clear to me that she isn’t really seeing the pages. From the back of the office, I take a minute to study her before digging for the key. She looks drained, shoulders slumped, T-shirt rumpled, like she threw it on in a hurry and doesn’t have the energy to care. There’s a tiredness in her brown eyes, a sadness behind them. Despite all that, she is very beautiful—striking even. Her shiny brown hair catches in the afternoon light, highlighting her olive complexion. She has full pink lips that look like they haven’t smiled in some time. I have to actively stop myself from thinking about how they might taste. Her voice breaks my stare, and I thank my lucky stars she can’t see me from where I’m peeking, or else she’d definitely think I’m a perv.
“Are you finding it?” she calls, sounding a bit impatient.
“Be right there,” I call back, unlocking the cabinet. I know exactly where the box for 503 Monarch is because I have never touched it. My father took on the property about twenty-five years ago as a favor to a friend. He said the family had just endured a tragedy and wanted to hold onto the house, but they wouldn’t be using it. They didn’t even want to rent it out. Itnever made any sense to me—they paid it off and then left it untouched for years. When my dad retired, he told Nate and me that the weekly landscaping was to continue until further notice, and that is literally all we’ve done since we took over Cape Realty fifteen years ago.
Until today, I’ve never put a face to the name—and it’s a pretty one at that. I take the keys out of the lockbox and swing them on my finger, whistling as I walk back toward Jenna.
Jenna stands and holds out her hand for the keys. “Great. Thank you so much. “You don’t have to drive me back, I’ll call an Uber,” she adds hurriedly.
I laugh. “Whoa, hold on. Let’s sit down for a minute.” I motion toward the couch. “What’s the rush?”
Jenna rolls her beautiful brown eyes and plops back on the sofa. “I am hungry. And I'm tired, and I just want to get in my house, eat, and go to sleep.”
“Okay, well. You should know that I can’t just hand you the keys… There is paperwork to file.” I scratch my jaw, mulling over what I’m about to say next. “I can file it tomorrow but let me make copies of the will and death certificate so I can do it first thing in the morning,” I say, knowing full well that I shouldn’t be skipping this step.
Jenna sighs with relief. “Thank you.” She hands me the folder of paperwork.
I start to turn and walk away but pause and, as an afterthought say, “You know you can’t stay in that house tonight, right?” I frown.
“What? Why not?” Jenna’s jaw falls open in disbelief.
“Because the utilities haven’t been turned on in years, Jenna. There’s no heat or electricity. It’s dropping down into the fifties tonight… Honestly, I’ve never even been inside it. You don’t know what you’re walking into.” I wince when her face falls.
“Now what am I supposed to do?” She bats at her eye, and panic grips me—she might actually cry. “And I can’t drive my car.” she groans, and my heart lurches in my chest.
I take a step closer and awkwardly pat her shoulder. I force myself to ignore the spark that ignites my fingertips. “Listen, let me make these copies, and then we’ll drive back over there and check things out, okay?” I know I’m going above and beyond for this woman, and it’s not just because she’s beautiful—though I’m sure if my buddies were here, they would say otherwise.
Jenna sniffles and wipes at her eyes, and that’s when I realize she really was fighting back tears. “Thank you, Miles,” she says quietly. She sits up straighter and I think she may feel better.
I swallow hard. “You’re welcome, Jenna. Let me get these copies.”
Twenty minutes later,we’re back in front of 503 Monarch. The air is cool, and the sun dips behind the trees. It’s going to be dark inside the house, but Jenna is hell-bent on getting inside, and I am not going to let her down now. She starts for the front door, and I catch her wrist without thinking. There it is, that electric buzz again. I shake my head and shift my focus to anything—everything—but this beautiful woman in front of me and her full lips that I’d kiss until she was smiling again. “Hold on,” I rasp, then clear my throat. “Let me get a flashlight.”
Jenna nods and waits on the sidewalk while I walk around to my hatchback. I suck in a breath, open my car emergency kit, and pull out two flashlights. I close the trunk and hand one to Jenna. “Let’s do it,” I say, putting my hand in the middle of her back in a way that feels too familiar. I immediately pull it back,and she shoots me a small smile and an eyebrow raise, like she knows I feel awkward.
I take the lead, bounding up the steps and unlocking the door. It’s an old steel door and requires a little umph to budge. I push my shoulder into it and force it open. It creaks, hinges groaning in protest, but I get it. On the other side is a dark entryway with oak floors and an oak staircase to our right with cobwebs in the corners of the bottom steps. Jenna hesitates in the entrance.
