Page 20 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
She wanted to scream.
Three hours later, and she only had fifteen hundred words, give or take, to show for it. She backspaced her last sentence. Make that fourteen hundred eighty-nine. She ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Her eyes landed on her empty mug. Tea. She needed more tea.
She pushed back from the table, then walked over to the stove and turned the burner on under the kettle. Jonah had been sitting for a while on the couch reading but had disappeared about half an hour ago and hadn’t returned. Maybe he was taking a nap. A nap sounded nice. Maybe that’s what she needed to push through.
Ninety thousand. Ninety thousand. Ninety thousand.
Nope. She definitely didn’t need a nap. She needed to figure out what happened to the Pike sisters.
Bronte opened a package of her favorite tea, then poured the hot water over the bag and slunk back to the table. The wooden chair was starting to hurt her rear end. Now that the couch was available, she would move locations. Maybe the yellow velvet couch held magical plotting powers, and if she sat there, her writing would start to flow.
She looked toward the stairs in the entryway. It didn’t seem Jonah was coming back anytime soon. Besides, he’d forfeited his spot when he’d left. Gathering her laptop, notebook, pens, and fresh mug of tea, she moved to the couch.
Tucking her legs underneath her, she grabbed the cozy, white throw off the back of the couch and put it over her lap before settling her laptop in front of her. This was better.
Okay, where had she been? Oh yes, the part where the mysterious Roarke arrives on the island. Of course, he was the one who was going to crush Marisol’s heart.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Where did she need to go from here? Words. She needed words. The couch wasn’t doing its job.
“Gaaah!” She screamed, picking up her pen and tossing it across the room.
“Aw. What did that pen ever do to you?” Jonah appeared behind her, arms full of boxes. “Having trouble?”
Bronte chose to ignore his question. Her? Having trouble? Psh. She was completely fine. Or would be as soon as she figured out where in the world this scene was supposed to go. “Where did you come from?”
“I was in the attic.”
Bronte’s face scrunched. “The attic? Why?”
“I was looking for these boxes. There are six more in the garage and the big one that holds the tree. I figured since we’re stuck here for a bit, we might as well decorate.”
“Decorate?” Bronte looked around the room. “It seems like your sister has really good decorating taste.”
“Not those kinds of decorations.” Jonah motioned to the boxes in his arms. “Christmas decorations.”
Putting the boxes on the hearth, Jonah turned back to Bronte, hands on his hips. He’d changed from his gray sweatpants and T-shirt into a pair of black joggers and a red hoodie. His socks had little images of Santa and reindeer, and Bronte would have rolled her eyes if they didn’t seem so…Jonah.
“Oh. Right.” Bronte melted a little farther into the couch. Of course it would be Christmas decorating.
She wouldn’t have any part in that.
She turned back to her computer and stared at the blinking cursor. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the cursor was mocking her.
Looking up, she saw Jonah hadn’t moved, was still standing in front of her, his hands on his hips.
“What?”
“Do you want to help?” His eyebrows quirked in an unspoken challenge.
“With Christmas decorating?” Bronte scoffed. “No, thank you.”
“Come on. You need a break. You’ve been sitting at your computer for hours.”
“As one does when one is writing a book, Jonah.”
Jonah bent his knees and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Bronte. Help me for a few minutes and then get back to writing. You have to take a break at some point.”
Bronte chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t reallydoChristmas.”
