Page 12 of The Sandover Beach Billionaire

Jimmy slapped Jackson on the back as they walked out to the parking lot. The fire station’s red SUV was parked next to his Jeep. “You do what you feel like you need to do. But if I had the chance to try again with Emily, even after everything that went down, I’d do it. That’s the thing about love: sometimes it makes you foolish. But if you aren’t willing to put yourself out there, maybe it’s not love.”

Jackson was still thinking about those words as he went home for a run on the beach. Exercise after eating wasn’t the best idea, but he felt like punishing himself today. The cool air battled with the heat from the morning sun. Another few months and running would be unbearable in the sun. For now, it was the push he needed, other than the eggs and toast sloshing around with the coffee in his belly.

A mile from his house, Jackson slowed to a walk. He moved to the shoreline, where the sand sank a little under his bare feet and the occasional wave rolled over him, sending icy chills up his legs. Everything about the beach felt like home to Jackson. Did Jenna miss this when she left Sandover?

He could see her as she stood the other night on the crosswalk, looking out over the ocean. Maybe it called to her the same way it did to him. He couldn’t understand how anyone left Sandover.

Actually—he could. Often, he wished that he could escape the scrutiny of the On Islanders and the feeling of living inside of a glass bubble, or one of those snow globes they sold at the tacky tourist beach shops. That he got. But moving away from the powerful sounds of the ocean and the smell of salt on the air? The thought made him feel claustrophobic. Spending four years at Davidson College a few hours inland had him itching to get back home. He never planned to leave again.

Did Jenna feel the same pull? He recognized something in the way she stood there the other night, staring at the moonlight on the waves. After college, though, she had rarely come home, not even for their ten-year reunion. He knew she had gotten married by then, but still kept watching the door, hoping to see her walk through. Now that he knew she was on Sandover, he’d be looking for her everywhere. He had avoided Bohn’s that morning, just in case she came back in, and had found himself turning every time the diner doors had opened while he was with the guys. Even now, the woman up ahead on the beach looking for shells reminded him of Jenna.

Jackson sighed. Beau was right. Until he apologized, he would be looking for her everywhere. Maybe that wouldn’t change after he said his piece, but he could hope.

As he neared the woman, he slowed. She didn’t remind him of Jenna; it was Jenna.

Her head was bent as she studied the line of shells left on the beach after the high tide moved out. Every few feet she bent to examine a shell. Some she dropped back on the sand and some went into a small plastic grocery sack with the Bohn’s logo on it. She had on dark jeans that were wet at the bottom, despite being rolled up almost to her knees. Jackson smiled. She had probably put her feet in and gotten hit with a rogue wave.

His heart felt wild in his chest. He wanted so badly to have things be different between them. Not just forgiveness, but something far beyond that. Jackson longed to be able to walk up to her and throw a casual arm around her waist. He wanted to spin her into his arms, to hear her laughter and feel the brush of her hair on his face as he kissed her. He wanted her to look at him with something other than anger, distrust, and dislike.

Jenna chose that moment to turn. She froze, seeing Jackson.

“Hey, Jenna.” He closed the distance between them before she could do something like turn and walk away.

“Jackson. You seem to be everywhere these days.”

Her gaze dropped to Jackson’s bare chest and then snapped back up. He hadn’t worn a shirt for his run. Maybe it was shallow, but at this point with her, his physical appearance was about the only thing he had going for him. Her cheeks flushed and she was looking anywhere but his torso.

He grinned, feeling a small victory. “Small island. You know how it is, right?”

“I do, actually. That’s one reason I left.”

Her voice was curt, but Jackson still had Beau and Jimmy’s words knocking around in his head. Maybe it was foolish to push, but where had his pride ever gotten him? She still stood talking to him, when she could have already walked away.

“You miss it, though. The beach at least, if not the people.” He smiled and was rewarded with a smile that actually looked genuine.

“I do miss the beach. The people …” She met his gaze, eyes looking a little softer. She smiled again. “The jury is still out. Some of them I’m glad to see.”

And some, like Jackson, she wasn’t. Her meaning was obvious as she looked down at the scattered shells. Still—her voice had a hint of teasing to it. And she hadn’t stormed off yet. Progress.

“Mind if I walk with you?”

She snorted, eyes still on the sand. “You really want to look for shells with me, Jackson?”

“If you can stand my company. Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for?”

She was quiet for a moment, then bent to pick up a few shells. He stepped closer when she stood and held out her palm. Her eyes flicked briefly to his and Jackson saw a vulnerability that made his heart swell.

“These are Augers and Shark Eyes. I called them unicorn horns and snail shells as a kid.”

Jackson could see that. The first was longer and twisted just like a horn. The second was a smooth, swirled shell with a dark dot in the center. “Did a snail actually live in here?” He touched the second shell, sucking in a breath as his fingers brushed her palm.

She stiffened slightly but didn’t move away.

“Yep. Moon Snails. They actually feed on other mollusks—and sometimes each other—so when you see a tiny hole like this one—” She pointed to a hole smaller than the dot of a pencil. “—that’s where another snail or mollusk drilled in and ate it.”

“That’s a little harsh. Mollusk cannibalism, huh?”

She did not smile. “You know nature—red in tooth and claw. People aren’t so different. Maybe not always as literal. But in other ways.”

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