Page 45 of Brass Anchor Inn

Mrs. Murray’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful. I look forward to it.”

Josie’s gaze moved to the woman’s snow-white hair, which now had a bright purple streak in it. “I see purple won out.”

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Murray’s hand moved to her hair. “It’s my granddaughter’s favorite color. So when we got our hair done together, she was getting purple highlights and insisted we had to have the same color.”

“Well, it looks great. Makes you look at least twenty years younger.”

Mrs. Murray let out a laugh. “I wish.” And then her gaze strayed through the doorway where Lane was standing patiently with the painting. “Oh, I didn’t notice you had company.”

“Mrs. Murray, I’d like you to meet Lane Johnson. Lane, this is my neighbor, Mrs. Murray.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mrs. Murray said. “Aren’t you handsome? If I was just a little younger, I’d definitely fight Josie for you.” She sighed. “Oh, well, you two make a cute couple. You should definitely take her to dinner. She’s been working way too hard and needs a break.”

“We’re not a couple,” Josie quickly clarified.

“We’re just friends,” Lane said.

Friends? She didn’t know he thought of them as friends. She liked the idea they were no longer at odds with each other over the inn. Perhaps there were more benefits of the contest than she’d originally considered.

“Yes, we are.” She flashed him a smile, and he smiled back, causing a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. Heat rushed from her chest to her cheeks.

“In my day, people were said to be a couple, but it seems these days friends with benefits is the new terminology. Well, I’ll leave you two to get on with your evening. I’ve got to get to my meeting at Knit-a-Yarn.”

Had Mrs. Murray really said friends with benefits? The heat in Josie’s cheeks intensified as the woman made her way outside. Josie was quite certain that at any moment her hair would spontaneously combust.

Lane made his way next to her and lowered his voice. “Do you think she has any idea what that saying really means?”

“I have absolutely no idea, but I hope not.”

And then they both burst out in laughter. Life certainly never got boring on the island. She glanced over at Lane, definitely not boring. Not even close.

It was a nice day.

A really nice day.

The last time Lane had the same thought was when he’d closed on a multi-million-dollar home. He didn’t think anything would ever top his business accomplishments, but today had proved him wrong.

Jo’s presence made him feel better about being here on Bluestar Island. She acted as though he had always been a part of Aunt Sandy’s life, and it made it easier for him to wrap up her estate—a task that wasn’t easy, even without knowing Sandy. In fact, in some ways it made it harder for him.

As he’d sorted through his aunt’s belongings, he’d found all sorts of mementos from her younger days and lots of photos of her with his mother. In fact, he’d never seen his mother look so happy. He couldn’t help but wonder how things in his mother’s life had gone so horribly wrong. The questions mounted, but there was no one to give him any answers.

But now that he was away from the bungalow, he was able to think about other things—like how everyone on the island liked Jo. Not that he could blame them. She was so easy to like.

When he’d first arrived on the island, he’d been determined not to make friends. He’d intended to come here, do what he needed to do in order to settle the estate, and be on his way. Now thanks to Jo’s prodding, he was finding himself relaxing a bit and actually enjoying himself. And he had no regrets.

When he stepped inside Jo’s apartment, he was surprised to find the walls a stark white. There were no wall hangings aside from the large-screen television above the fireplace.

A large gray couch was in the middle of the floor, facing the fireplace, with royal-blue throw pillows. Two white chairs flanked the couch with a large gray upholstered coffee table in the middle. It looked warm and inviting, but it lacked any character.

He turned to find a small dining room area with a table and four chairs. The kitchen had a center island with pendant lights. The white cabinets had brushed nickel hardware. It was a nice-looking place. He just didn’t see much of Jo in it.

“This is a cute place,” he said.

“Thanks. I haven’t done much with it.”

“How come?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just moved in last year, and I’m always at work, so I haven’t bothered.”

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