Navy Christmas

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He looked at her questioningly. “What—tip-top? Yes, I suppose so. Look, I realize you don’t know me, not yet. But I’m the one person who could give you a hand bringing this house back to its full potential.”

For the first time since she’d inherited the place, Serena felt a strong surge of possessiveness. This was her home. Hers and Pepé’s.

“I’ve gone over it pretty thoroughly the past several months. I’ve got an extended list of what I’ll update and when.” She crossed her arms. What was it about this man that brought out her defensiveness?

“No doubt you’ve made a great start, Serena. But an old place like this has secrets that are hard to find. For example, have you uncovered the buried treasure yet?”

His eyes twinkled. Serena clenched her hands as she heard Pepé’s feet stomp on the floor inside. He appeared at the open front door.

“There’s a buried treasure in our house?” Pepé’s eyes were wide and Serena wished to heaven and back he didn’t have that enthusiastic grin on his face.

Jonas nodded. “When I was a boy I found a special place to hide my treasures from my three brothers. Maybe you’ve found your own nook for your favorite toys?”

Pepé shook his head. “No, not yet. But I love my room!”

Now Pepé had twinkles in his eyes. Serena wanted to scream but instead pasted on a killer smile for Jonas. He was on her turf.

“Mind if I take a look inside?”

“Of course not.” She paused. Aside from his brothers and the contractors, Jonas was the first man she’d allowed in their home.

But it wasn’t as though he was a man in that sense—she wasn’t going to start anything with him. He was a sailor from the base and he was practically family. The drug-related burglaries on the island were definitely making her paranoid.

Would her fear of living out on this remote property ever completely vanish?

Jonas had even passed Ronald’s appraisal.

It’d be easier if he hadn’t. Then she could chalk up her body’s response to him as nerves and not the blatant sexual attraction she knew it was.

She saw in his eyes what she’d felt in her heart too many times to count. Self-assurance with a hint of sadness.

Why was she being so tough on him? Jonas was no more responsible for her inheriting the house than she was. They were both surprised by Dottie’s decision, and affected by it. One more happily than the other.

“I’m sorry, Jonas. This isn’t easy for you, is it? You didn’t get a chance to say a proper goodbye to Dottie. It all must seem surreal to you. Do you want to have some time alone in the house?”

“I appreciate it but I don’t need to be alone, Serena.”

That she understood.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_96465447-4d44-5a65-947e-54e404010b81)

“I DIDN’T SAY anything at the clinic because I didn’t think it was appropriate. It’s my place of work, and your son was there.” Serena sat across from him in the family kitchen, the kitchen in which he’d watched Dottie bake dozens upon dozens of Christmas cookies. He drummed his fingers on the table. “It wasn’t the time to bring up Dottie’s death, or your involvement in it.”

They were alone at the oak table while Pepé played in the next room.

She’d made them coffee and put out pumpkin bread that he hated to admit was as good as anything Dottie had ever baked.

Serena’s eyes flashed a warning.

“I had no involvement in Dottie’s death. Except that I went to answer the phone for my boss, which left her alone long enough for...for...” She looked down and the waves of regret were practically tangible as the remorse rolled off her.

“I know you didn’t have anything to do with it. And I shouldn’t have pressed you in front of Pepé. Sorry about that.”

“Thank you.”

She leveled a steady look at him. Her emotional strength impressed him as much as it made him uneasy, and it seemed to drive his inexplicable urge to make her understand why he was so wary of her.

“Can you blame my family for being suspicious of you? You blew in here from out of nowhere, and within six months Dottie was dead. Murdered. And, oh, yeah, she left you, a stranger, the house that had been in our family for generations.”

“She left me the house that had been in her family for decades, yes. She was murdered, yes, by a psychopath who used to work at the clinic. I’m not responsible for Dottie’s actions any more than I am for those of her murderer.”

Her skin developed a dusky rose flush at her cheekbones and her eyes blazed with warning. His awareness of her startled him. When his brothers had said “Dottie’s long-lost niece is a Marine widow from Texas,” he’d pictured a nondescript middle-aged woman. Not the sexy beauty who sat in front of him.

“We didn’t know you weren’t responsible for her death, not when it first happened.”

To keep from staring at her, he glanced around the kitchen. It seemed larger, warmer, than he remembered. The dark cupboards had been painted white and their trimmings were red. The woodworker in him hated any natural wood painted over, but the kitchen looked years newer. Children’s artwork, obviously Pepé’s, was taped to every cupboard door. The countertops used to be butcher block but now were hard marble or granite—he wasn’t a connoisseur of home decorating. They looked updated, clean. He liked it.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Jonas.” As much as her pride must have stung at his comment, the gal had class.

“Thank you. It was a huge shock.”

“It was for all of us. The clinic staff was like a family, and our clients were part of that family. Not to mention Dottie was my family. If I’d stayed in the room instead of answering the phone—”

She shook her head as if to clear out ugly thoughts, memories that burned. Jonas knew the feeling. Multiple wartime deployments didn’t allow him to ever pretend bad things didn’t happen to good people.

“The physical therapist gave me the job as a favor to Dottie, since she was one of his favorite clients. I didn’t need the money, and I’d planned to go back to practicing law at some point. But I needed something to do while Pepé was in school, and this allowed me to meet a lot of the people in our community.”

He wondered if she realized she’d referred to the Whidbey Island community as “our.” This wasn’t a woman who was going to pack up and leave anytime soon.

It didn’t mean she had to stay in this house, though.

Serena’s hands were wrapped around her mug and she stared into her coffee. Her silence reverberated with grief. Jonas had to fight like hell to keep from reaching across the table and grasping her hands.

What was wrong with him?

He wanted to comfort her? Serena? The woman who’d been all but responsible for Dottie’s being left alone with a murderer. The woman who’d walked away with the prize of his childhood.

While Dottie had left him a more than generous amount of cash, she’d gone back on her promise of leaving him the house. Did Serena know why? He forced himself to look anywhere but on her. He noticed that the kitchen wall was bare where it had once held several shelves.

“Wait, what did you do with all the frogs?”

“Frogs?” Serena frowned and he realized he’d spoken too loudly.

“Sorry, I have a bad habit of doing that. It’s from dealing with trauma situations where there’s always a lot of noise. I’m used to shouting medical orders over the din.” He consciously lowered his voice. “What did you do with Dottie’s frogs?”

Serena looked over her shoulder to where his gaze aimed at the bare wall, then turned back to him.

“Most of her figurines and wall hangings were gone by the time we moved in. Your brothers came and got all the family items that meant anything to them. I stored what they didn’t want, until I have time to sort through it all. She had a lot of knickknacks!” Serena smiled.

Jonas scratched his chin. “She had a collection of frogs. They were her favorite. I loved buying them for her.” He fought back his defensiveness. Of course his brothers had cleaned out the house before Serena and Pepé moved in.

He’d have to find out who got the frogs. He’d loved Dottie’s frogs as a kid, and had given her many of them for her birthdays and Mother’s Day. One of his brothers had probably boxed them up and forgotten it.