Jasmine pushed with all her weight to close the lid on the bucket of plaster. She wiped her hands on her mud-speckled jean shorts. She studied her handiwork and stretched her aching back. The second coat of plaster on the drywall would set by tonight, especially with the windows open.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She lifted the bottom of her shirt and wiped her face and forehead.
Ding-ding. Ding-ding.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and silenced the alarm. Almost time to pick up Zoey from preschool. Jasmine made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass before filling it with tap water. She drank the cool liquid, quenching her thirst. She peeked out the window, beyond the back deck to the ocean in the distance. It had always been a source of calm for her. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she’d actually get to live here—to have her vision become a reality. Pride swelled in her chest. Zoey will know that her own dreams can come true because of my example. Jasmine had done something right.
She glanced at the clock on the stove. Time to go.
Jasmine grabbed her keys and purse, then threw in a juice box and bag of crackers. Zoey always got hungry on the drive home.
She headed out through the front of the inn, making sure the sign with her number was front and center for the guests, should they need anything from her. As she pushed through the door, the fresh spring air wrapped around her like a soft pillow. She inhaled, the sweet scent of rose hips melding together with the salty sea air in perfect harmony. She pulled hard to open her car door with a squeak. The rickety old Toyota Corolla was barely hanging on. But it ran. What more could she expect from a twenty-year-old car?
She slid into the hot vehicle, her legs sticking to the leather seat cover, the tears held together with tape. The heat was stifling. She cranked down the window manually. She just needed to get it started and then she could get a breeze going.
She pressed the key in and turned.
Click.
Please no.
She tried again.
Click. Click.
“For fuck’s sake!” She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. This was the last thing she needed right now. She could barely afford groceries for her daughter and their guests. Now she’d need to call Lincoln and hope he could fix her car. Again. And pray it didn’t cost too much. Not that she could even afford a hundred-dollar repair at this point. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. She inhaled long and deep through her nose and let it out.
“It won’t always be like this.”
She pulled out her phone and exited the car, dialing the one person she could always count on.
“What’s up?” Bently answered.
“Can you do me a huge favor? My car won’t start and I need to get Zoey from preschool.”
“No problem. You need me to call Link?” Bently asked, the sound of jangling keys filtering through the phone.
She clamped her eyes shut, holding back her frustration. “No, I can handle that.”
“Okay. We’ll be over soon. Might stop for ice cream first. High Tide Diner just opened up the summer treat window.” Her brother was truly the best. He’d do anything for her. He already had.
She swallowed and pushed away the dark cloud of memories that always seemed to hover around her. “Thank you, Bently.”
“What are uncles for?”
“See you soon.”
“Yup,” he said before ending the connection.
Jasmine inhaled and looked towards the inn. An outsider might say the old white Victorian-style building looked like something from a postcard. But she saw every hour spent sanding down the surface for a fresh coat of paint. The palm prints she and Zoey had added to the sidewalk. The hours her brothers and their friends had toiled bringing this place to life. This was her home. The haven of safety she’d created for herself and her daughter. Their lighthouse in the storm. Nothing could hurt them here. She’d make sure of it.
Picking up her phone again, she dialed Link. He answered on the second ring. “Let me guess—that piece of shit finally kicked the can?” Link laughed.
Jasmine grabbed her purse as she spoke. “It won’t start.”
“That beater was on its last legs three breakdowns ago. I think it might be time to get a new one. I can make a couple calls and find you something for your budget,” Link said, the sound of metal clanking against metal in the background.
Just towing it isn’t in my budget. “I’d rather you work your magic and fix it.”
“Okay. I’ll be over to pick it up in a bit,” Link said.
“Thanks so much.” She ended the call and slid the phone into her back pocket.
She turned around and pushed the door closed. It took more effort than it should have. Her gaze swept over the banged-up, rusted car. Zoey deserved better. More than Jasmine could give her. More than me.
A twinge of pain tightened her chest. She closed her eyes and imagined Zoey’s smiling, laughing face. She painted a picture in her mind of her little girl with a room all of her own, and a car that was safe and always worked. A full fridge, and dinner on the back deck with the clap of the ocean waves in the distance. She’d have a mother who loved her, but she wouldn’t be alone. She’d have her father there too. Atlas.
Nerves skittered up her spine. Her eyes snapped open, ending the fantasy. When Zoey came home, would he take one look at her and know? Would he try and keep Zoey from her?
The sound of a car door shutting jarred her out of her head.
“Jasmine?” Atlas called.
Fuck my life. Couldn’t he have come back after she was showered and looked presentable? When she looked more like a great mother figure? Not covered in sweat and plaster?
She took a deep breath, summoning her courage, and turned to face him. “Hey.”
His gaze slid over her body. His eyebrows bunched together as if he was trying to figure her out. You and me both, buddy.
He lifted a bouquet of yellow sunflowers towards her. “Uh, these are for you.”
She stared at the flowers, frozen. No one had ever bought her flowers before. He really must have no idea who she was if he thought she needed wooing. The reminder brought a sense of relief, but also a pang of shame. There wasn’t much need for flowers when you were having a quick fuck to numb the deepest pain in a supply closet or a bar bathroom.
“You don’t have to take them. I just saw them and thought of you.” Atlas winced and dropped his hand to his side.
Damn that was corny, but oddly enough, it stirred something in her. A lone butterfly flipped and tumbled in her belly. She’d been staring at him like a deer in headlights. “Oh, no. I mean, they are beautiful. I’ve just never . . . had anyone get me flowers before.”
He blinked as if in disbelief and handed her the bouquet. Just like the ones she’d looked at earlier today at the farmer’s market.
He adjusted the paper bag in his other arm. “I got some supplies. I thought maybe I could show you more of what I’m made of in the kitchen.”
She swallowed, her mouth going dry. Zoey would be home soon. “That really isn’t necessary.”
He shook his head. “You challenged me yesterday, and I still have yet to prove what I’m capable of.”
“But you did cook last night.”
He smirked. “Technically, I boiled pasta. You already had the sauce done. I promise my culinary skills are beyond boiling pre-made spaghetti.”
Zoey’s grey eyes flashed in her mind—the mirror image of the man who stood in front of her. He was going to find out one way or the other. Might as well see how he was with her.
“I—”
“Hey, you were the one who doubted my abilities. Give me a chance to prove you wrong.” Atlas’s voice, mixed with his pleading look, stoked a different kind of challenge inside her.
Her eyes flicked to his mouth—so full. How soft would those lips be against hers? He’d never actually kissed her before. They’d been in too much of a rush. Would he take his time if they tried again?
She blinked twice. No. They couldn’t. Zoey needed her father in her life and Jasmine wasn’t going to ruin that for her. She had to get to know Atlas as a person, not in the biblical sense.
“Okay, dinner sounds great. I’m going to go put these in water and then shower. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” Jasmine spun around and walked into the inn, escaping the building attraction between them—running away like she’d done so many times in the past. Until Zoey.
She grabbed a glass quart jar from the cupboard and filled it with water before unwrapping the flowers and setting them inside. Jasmine couldn’t hold back the smile as she looked at the bright sunflowers. They were beautiful.
Her phone chirped, the security system alerting her that the front door had opened. She left the kitchen, passing Atlas with a nod before jogging up the stairs to her room. She shut the door and slipped off her shirt, throwing it into the hamper.
She pulled out her phone as her screen lit with a text.
Emma: How is it going with your baby daddy?
Jasmine chuckled. Emma was never one to mince words.
Jasmine: It’s going . . . 99 percent sure he doesn’t remember me at all. But Zoey will be here in a few minutes, so I need to shower quickly. Do you think he’ll take one look at her and know?
She slid off her pants and underwear as she waited for her friend’s response to come through.
Emma: No. That shit only happens in romance novels. I mean, maybe if he remembered you, he’d be able to put two and two together. But if he truly doesn’t know you except as the sexy-ass, inn-owning boss-bitch that he’s renting a room from, then I’d say you’re safe. Let me know how it goes!
Jasmine: Thanks. Will do.
Emma: You got this, mama.
Jasmine smiled and tossed her phone on the bed before she went into the bathroom. Turning on the water, she climbed into the shower. She sucked in a sharp breath as ice-cold liquid rained over her naked skin. She needed the jolt to her system. She didn’t have time to entertain fantasies of a man like Atlas falling for someone as damaged and broken as her.
A wounded mama bear was ten times more dangerous when you messed with her cub. Her role was Zoey’s protector. Would Atlas rise to the occasion once he found out?
There was only one way to know for sure. The way a man treated a young girl said a lot about him. And in a few minutes, she’d discover just what kind of man Atlas was.