Page 17 of Island Homecoming

He dropped into the chair and stacked his feet on the corner of the desk. “I’m going to need more context.”

After a look over her shoulder, she came in and closed the door. “Coy doesn’t suit you,” she stated. “We both know you’re not taking her out to get even. That’s the dumbest excuse ever. No one on this island still thinks badly of you.”

“Really?” he challenged. “She doesn’t know that. She hasn’t been here. Are you gonna tell her?”

Another eye roll. “Her parents have been here. How do you think I heard about the date?”

“You talk to Jess’s parents?”

She looked away, her nose wrinkling. His sister was so bad at lying. “I knew it!” He polished his sunglasses, striving for his best imitation of their father, “Nina Billings, you are one reason the island grapevine never dies.”

“Uninformed is unarmed.” She crossed her arms, her expression as thunderous as the rain pummeling the metal roof. “Brookwell may not have an information superhighway, but our short rural route is mighty powerful.”

“Stop.” He choked back a laugh. “You’re just nosy by nature.”

She turned her pert nose up in the air, her dark curly hair bouncing with a toss of her head. “Maybe. I’m not sure that’s worse than still pining for the one that got away.”

Fifteen years ago, he would’ve chased her for that sort of comment. It was still tempting. Though giving in would likely prove her point about being immature or holding grudges or whatever. He could still be mean when necessary. “I’ve never liked you.”

She grinned, wicked and sharp. “Right back at you, sweet brother.” She was ridiculously unrepentant. Foolish. “Youwillbe nice to her, right?”

His gaze landed on the flowers again. Unbidden, he relived the memory of Jess’s face lighting up the first time he’d handed her a few stems of daisies and lilies. Tied with rough twine, but she hadn’t cared.

“I’m not a monster. Your opinion notwithstanding.”

“Then why do this at all? Why take her out and parade her around at the Inn dining room? Jess is—” Nina stopped short. “Well. She doesn’t need your games.”

What did his sister know that he didn’t? Dumb question. “You’re a good friend.” That truth was unassailable. Nina was loyal and caring. Almost to a fault. “But she doesn’t need your defense either. Especially not from me.”

“Ha! You are so wrong.”

Obviously, she had some important intel on Jess that she wasn’t sharing. And though he could grill her, apply particular leverage and threats to get the whole story, that wasn’t how he wanted to learn about the Jess that had come home. If she needed a friend or someone to confide in, he could be that. Maybe. Probably.

Dinner would be the proving ground.

“Go on,” he said to Nina. She was staring at him as if he might sprout horns any second. “I repeat. Not a monster. Jess is safe with me. And,” he held up a finger when Nina started to interrupt, “if she’s got something to share, she can tell me herself. I’m not listening to any gossip about her from you or anyone else in town.”

“I mean it, Nash. Be nice to her tonight.” She stepped closer and drilled his chest with her finger. “Because if you’re mean, I will hear about it and take action.”

“Yes, Nina.” He turned back to his paperwork, not surprised when Nina sailed out in a huff, leaving the door open. It wasn’t a great feeling that his sister was so damned sure he’d be awful to his ex-girlfriend.

But Jess was more than the average ex. The way she’d accused him and extracted herself from his life had shattered his heart. As much as he tried to ignore the facts, to bury the truth under a mountain of denied feelings, no one else had come close to the intangible connection he’d had with her.

Restless, he prowled the nursery, checking plants and looking for a specific order he had scheduled for installation tomorrow. Weather permitting.

Mrs. Carrington wanted a pollinator garden, a place where her grandchildren could enjoy flowers and bees and hummingbirds. Not the usual job, he’d dug in and done some research about pollinators and migrations and the needs of hummingbirds and bees and butterflies.

The whole thing renewed his commitment to the job. Things like this kept his work interesting.

His cell phone gave off a siren sound from his back pocket and Nash smiled as he answered. “Nash Billings.”

“Hey. It’s Jess.”

He knew that, having given her number that outrageous ringtone. “Why are you whispering? You can use a normal voice to cancel on me.”

“What? No. I gave you my word. I just have a last-minute request.”

“I’m listening.” Closely since she was still whispering.

---