Holly Jacobs - Here with Me

He nodded, still studying her.

“It’s small, a one bedroom that sits on the lake. It has great views, if you like the water. I usually rent it out by the week. Plumbing, electricity…the basics, but not very fancy.”

A man this pressed and preppy on a hot, humid summer day was the type who was used to fancy…demanded fancy, even.

Her small cottage probably wouldn’t suit him at all.

“Is it vacant?”

She nodded.

“Good. I’ll take it for a month.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a checkbook.

“But you haven’t even seen it,” Lee protested, knowing it wasn’t a very businesslike response.

He ignored her. “How much for a month?”

Lee thought quickly. She’d never been overly aggressive about renting the cottage out and never for an entire month.

The cottages were built by her grandmother and her great-aunt on lakefront property years ago. They stood side-by-side overlooking Lake Erie. Lee now lived in her grandmother’s cottage and rented out its twin.

She wasn’t sure she wanted this man living next to her that long. The feelings he stirred were not conducive to a quiet, happy summer.

Tense. That’s how she felt. Like a string on a bow, pulled taut.

A string that hadn’t been pulled in far too long.

A string she wasn’t sure she wanted pulled.

She named an absurd rate that amounted to what she’d made all of last year renting the cottage out sporadically.

He didn’t blink an eye. Didn’t even pause. He just started writing in his checkbook.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Paying in advance.” He paused and looked up. “I assume you’re not going to object to the month’s rent up front, are you?”

“No, but I…I mean…”

“How do you want the check made out? To you personally, or to the store?”

“Either way,” she said weakly, unsure how he’d managed to rent a cottage she wasn’t sure she wanted to rent to him.

“If I’m going to make it out to you personally, what name should I use?”

“Lee,” she said. “Uh, Lee Singer.”

“Lee?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes. And I suppose if you’re going to be renting the cottage, I should know your name.”

“Adam,” he said, then waited half a beat, watching her intently again. “Adam Benton.”

He thrust out his hand, obviously ready to shake on the deal.

But the funny thing was, Lee absolutely didn’t want to shake his hand…didn’t want to touch him at all. Not because he was scary, but because he wasn’t. Not the least bit.

After her disastrous marriage, she’d sworn off men. But for this one, she might reconsider. And that’s why she didn’t want to touch him.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of any way out of it. So she took his hand, gave it one quick shake, then pulled back. That small bit of contact made her feel as if she’d been running a marathon. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty and her mouth was dry.

She nervously fingered her necklace.

“What’s that?” he asked, peering at her neck.

She dropped her hand, hoping he’d shift his attention. “Nothing. It’s just a nervous habit.”

“No, the necklace. It looks unusual.”

“Oh.” She pulled the small glass rectangle out so he could see it. “It’s one of my necklaces. It’s what Singer’s Treasures is known for.”

She pointed down at the glass case filled with jewelry.

Her small Perry Square store specialized in jewelry made from small bits of glass, polished smooth by the lake. Blues, browns, greens and translucent.

Lee took the glass and fashioned it into all kinds of interesting pieces. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets.

In addition to the jewelry, the store sold other trinkets. Small driftwood carvings. Paintings of the lake. Most of the work was hers, although she did display other people’s pieces on consignment.

But the lake was the theme that ran through all the treasures in the store.

Lake Erie was her inspiration.

Her home.

She realized the man, Adam, was studying her again. It was almost as if he was looking for something. She wasn’t sure what.

She dropped her necklace and tried to get back to the business at hand. “Before I cash your check, you should take a look at the cottage to be sure it will suit.”

“You made all these?” he asked, studying the contents of the case and ignoring her comment.

“Yes. Now, about the cottage. You’re sure you don’t want to see it first?”

He tilted his head, then smiled a slow upturn of his lips. Rather than making him look less intimidating, it made him look even more so.

“I’m sure,” he said in a low, smooth voice. “You see, I’m the kind of man who knows what he wants, then goes after it. And right now I need someplace quiet to figure a few things out. Your cottage on the lake should be just right.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she simply said, “Oh. Well, thank you.”

“The key.” There was the slightest hesitation, then he added her name, “Lee.”

“Oh, right.” She rummaged through her desk drawer and withdrew the key. “Here you go. And if you wait, I’ll copy you directions. It’s about twenty minutes from here.”

“Don’t bother. I know the way.”

“But how?” she asked.

He ignored the question. “I’ll be moving in tomorrow. Thank you.”

He turned and headed out of the shop, stopped abruptly and turned. “I’ll be seeing you, Lee.”

Again, there was a weird pause as he said her name.

“Yes, you will, you see—” She started to tell him she lived next door, but he simply turned and left.

She looked at the check.

Adam Benton.

It listed a New York address.

Her grandmother used to say everything always happens for a reason. Lee couldn’t help wondering just what reason Adam Benton had for renting her cottage.

And even more, she couldn’t help but wonder about her out-of-character reaction to him. There was something about him…something more than just attraction. Almost a familiarity.

She shook her head. That was silly. She’d certainly remember meeting a man like Adam Benton.

And yet the feeling nagged at her. There was something about him.

Well, she’d have the next four weeks to figure it out.

The thought wasn’t very comforting.

Her new tenant had been gone less than ten minutes when the front door of the shop opened again.

“Now, that was a fine lookin’ man if I ever saw one,” Pearly Gates, Perry Square’s version of a town crier, said as she strode into the shop. “He met up with some woman and baby in the park after he left here. The three of them got into an SUV and drove off.”

“That’s nice,” Lee said, not knowing what else Pearly was after, but knowing there would be something.

“So who is he?” Pearly, a spry, grey-haired woman with a touch of the south in her voice, pulled a stool up to the glass case that held Lee’s jewelry and waited for her explanation.

“Why would you think he was anything except a customer?” Lee asked, rather than answering.

“A customer doesn’t spend nigh on twenty minutes pacin’ up and down the block. He paused in front of your door at least half a dozen times and I’d think, there he goes, he’s goin’ in. But he wouldn’t. He’d just walk down the block again. Looked to me like he was workin’ up his nerve.”

“I can’t imagine why. Maybe he was just trying to get a feel for the neighborhood.”

“Ha,” Pearly said, not a bit convinced. “He didn’t look like someone coming from the police station, and he barely slowed his gait when he walked by the Five and Dine. Misty says today’s a cinnamon-roll day. Who can resist slowin’ up to smell that? No, he was working up his nerve for something. And I want to know what it was.”