Page 6 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage (Jonathon Island #6)

Now that the excitement of Jonah’s ambush and Martha’s visit, and the disappointment of being told “Just kidding! You can’t stay here” was sinking in, Bronte found that she was exhausted.

She held a hand up, cutting off whatever Jonah was rambling on about. “You know what? I’m tired. I think I’m just going to go to bed.” She gathered her laptop and notebook, looking longingly at the yellow velvet couch, wishing she were able to stay.

“Okay. I really am sorry. We’ll figure something out tomorrow.”

Bronte just nodded as she passed Jonah and trudged up the stairs.

Only when she stood behind the closed bedroom door did she allow herself to breathe. She took in the blue floral bedspread, the antique dresser, the perfect alcove with a window that looked out over Jonathon Island and onto Lake Huron.

It had been perfect.

Even if she hadn’t gotten started on work right away, she knew this place held the magic she didn’t believe in to get her book written.

Now she could feel that magic slipping through her fingers.

Tomorrow she’d leave on the first ferry and find a place to stay on the mainland.

She supposed it’d have to work. Magic or not.

Leaning up against the door, Bronte pushed out a breath, determined not to think about all the ways staying in a house with a complete stranger could go wrong—even if Martha had vetted him. Jonah seemed safe enough, but Bronte locked the door and wedged a chair under the handle for good measure.

After a quick shower, she fell onto the bed with a sigh and grabbed her phone off the nightstand to look for hotels on the mainland.

The two closest were showing no vacancy.

Did she really want to stay somewhere that wasn’t here, or would it be better to just head home?

She’d like to be away for Christmas, but she couldn’t afford another two days of travel.

Sighing, Bronte shot off a message to Lexi, who would definitely still be up working. The woman was a workaholic.

Bronte

Looks like I’m headed back home.

Lexi

Wait, what? I’m calling.

Bronte

Don’t call. I’m fine. A family member showed up at the house and didn’t get the memo that the family was gone for Christmas. Since there isn’t any other place to rent on the island, I’m just going to head back home to get this book done.

Lexi

Why don’t you fly here? Mom and I would love to have you.

Bronte

Can’t. Have too much to write. Thanks for the offer though.

She was in the middle of messaging Holland on the rental app, trying her best to explain the situation, when her phone rang.

This late, there’d only be one person who decided to forgo their text thread and call. Bronte swiped to answer. “I told you not to call. It’s so late, shouldn’t you be in bed already?”

“It’s not even midnight in LA.” Lexi brushed her off.

Right. The two-hour time zone difference.

“Are you safe with this other family member in the house?”

“Yes, I’m safe.” Bronte looked over to the door to her bedroom.

Jonah may have scared her, but upon closer examination from the safe distance across the full length of the bar, he had kind, tired eyes and appeared as frustrated by the situation as she was.

“He looked harmless enough, and I have my door locked and a chair under the handle.” The things you picked up when you bounced back and forth in foster homes your entire life.

Quick people-reading and intruder safety.

The faint sounds of a keyboard clacking came through the phone. “Is there some kind of Christmas special on fish or something up there this week?”

Bronte frowned. “I don’t know. Why?” She dragged her suitcase out of the closet where she’d stashed it earlier, then tossed it on the bed.

“Because I’m checking the availability of hotels in the area, and there are none. And right now, I’m showing flights being delayed.”

Stalking over to the dresser, Bronte pulled out the contents of the top drawer. Surely that was a mistake. All the flights couldn’t be delayed. “I think there’s another airport a little farther out.”

A few more taps filtered through the phone. “Nope, looks like all those are delayed as well.”

“Then I’ll just take the ferry back over to the mainland and figure something out until the flights open back up.” Bronte cringed.

“And if you can’t get a flight?” Lexi voiced the fear dancing through Bronte’s brain.

Bronte threw her hands up. “Then I’ll rent a car and drive myself home.”

“You hate driving.”

“I know.” Bronte moved back to the dresser and yanked the second drawer open.

She stuffed the contents of the drawer into her suitcase a little more forcefully than necessary.

Sighing, she leaned on the side of the bed.

“Look, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

I’ll just figure it out in the morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” Bronte pasted on a fake smile, hoping it came across in the sound of her voice. The smile, not the fakeness.

After saying goodbye, Bronte went back to making sure she had repacked everything. Having completed the task, she let herself plop on the bed. She just needed a good night’s sleep, and then she’d figure this out in the morning.

So long as her initial impression stayed true and she wasn’t murdered first, that was.

* * *

All Jonah had wanted was to come home and surprise his family, say what he needed to say—with no hearts being broken—and then…

something. He didn’t have a plan after that.

Joke was on him, apparently. Although, why hadn’t the family told him they were planning on a cruise or resort or wherever sunny place they were?

He would have loved time with his family on the beach.

At least the beach would have definitely made the news he needed to tell go down a little easier. Probably.

Or maybe he should take this as a sign. A sign that he had made the wrong decision.

But his house guest—no, not his, she was Holland’s paying house guest—had gathered her stuff and stomped upstairs before they could formulate any kind of plan.

Which room was she staying in? Knowing Holland, she’d probably given Bronte his old room.

A few minutes later, he heard a shower turn on, the location of the sound confirming that was exactly what his sister had done.

This was a mess. Jonah ran a hand over his face and back through his hair. For once in his life, he’d like something to just work out the way it was supposed to.

His phone chimed multiple times with incoming texts. The first came from his childhood friend Oliver, who was the co-owner of a small publishing house. He wondered if Oliver would be home for Christmas. It would be great to catch up with him at some point.

Oliver

Heard you made it home for Christmas. While you’re there, can you vet Dani’s fiancé? Let me know if he’s as great as my sister says he is. Did you hear Mr. Johnson’s bookstore is up for sale? Remember all the times we hid out reading comics in the summers?

So, not coming home for Christmas then. Not able to think about vetting anyone at the moment, Jonah switched to the second text.

Cody

So, Mia probably told me at some point, but apparently, I wasn’t listening. I’m pretty sure your family is out of town, and someone is renting your sister’s house.

Jonah snorted. “Yep. Would have been nice for you to remember that half an hour ago, Cody.” He sent back a thumbs-up emoji.

Laying his phone on the counter, Jonah opened the fridge. He should be exhausted after twenty-six hours of travel, but of course his body still thought he was in Germany. Not like he would be able to sleep with a stranger in the house anyway.

His phone chirped again. Why was he so popular tonight?

Letting the fridge door close, he set down the carton of eggs and grabbed his phone, seeing an incoming text from Reeves, one of the guys back on base who was holding down the fort while Jonah was on leave.

Instead of answering it, Jonah hit the Call button.

It was mid-morning halfway around the world at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center.

“You get in okay?” Reeves said in lieu of a greeting. “How’s the family?”

“The family is MIA. Apparently, they decided now would be a good time to go on a family cruise in the Bahamas.” Or something like that.

“I mean, can you really blame them? What’s the weather like there right now?”

Jonah looked over to the picture windows that led into the backyard. For the most part, he could only see his reflection, but he knew the snow had probably started coming down. “Cold and snowy.”

“Right. See? Sounds awful. I’d be stealing away to the beach as well.

” There was a beat, and Jonah could practically see Reeves take a gulp from what he knew was piping hot coffee.

He was fairly certain that his friend’s esophagus had been replaced with a metal pipe.

“So, what’s the plan now? Are you going to spend your leave chilling at home until they return? How long are they gone for?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet. Not only are they gone, but Holland rented the house out. There’s a woman here who I’m not sure is happy I showed up.”

Reeves cleared his throat. “Oooh, a gorgeous woman, I hope.”

Jonah thought back to the cute button nose, rosebud lips, and that hair.

The curls rivaled his niece Ruby’s favorite Disney princess, Merida.

If only they were red instead of dark ashy-brown.

Her wide eyes had quickly turned stormy gray when she’d found out she and Jonah were stuck there together for the night. “She’s all right.”

“There are worse ways to spend a leave.” Reeves’s chuckle let Jonah know he could hear through his lie.

“I am not sharing a house with a stranger for two weeks,” Jonah deadpanned as he grabbed a skillet from the cabinet and put it on the stove. “I need to see if I can reach my family.”

“Well, if you can’t, it’s a big house from what I hear. Maybe you can just avoid the hot renter until it’s time to return to base.”

“For two weeks? Hardly.” Jonah cracked three eggs that sizzled when he dropped them onto the hot skillet. This had to be a sign. Amy was right, and he shouldn’t have come. “I don’t really know what I’m going to do if I can’t get ahold of them.”

“Surely someone has their travel plans. What about that island busybody you told me about? The one that knows everything about everyone.”

“Martha?”

“That’s the one. Get with her tomorrow, see if you can get your family’s itinerary and fly out to each of their ports.”

Jonah’s mood started to lift. Maybe Reeves was onto something. Why hadn’t he thought of that when Martha was here earlier?

He glanced at the clock, tempted to call Martha and start making arrangements now, but he decided he didn’t want the ten-minute lecture for calling so late—even if Jonah knew she’d still be up.

Maybe he could still have his Christmas surprise after all.

“That might work. As long as the snow lets up and the ferry is running.” Jonah glanced back out the picture window—not that he could see much.

With the lights on, the window had turned into a makeshift mirror of sorts.

If the ferry wasn’t working, maybe Pete, the mostly retired pilot who now flew the air taxi, would be up for flying him over to the mainland.

After Jonah ended the call, he put the phone down on the counter and dumped the eggs onto a plate.

He wandered over to the couch and flicked off the TV, which was now playing Return of the Jedi .

He didn’t feel much like watching anything, so instead, he pulled a book off his sister’s shelf.

A blue cover, something about kisses and bodyguards.

Holland had told him about this one. Something light and easy to read to help his mind wind down.

He sat down at the kitchen table, elbows framing his plate of eggs, and cracked the spine open.

He lost himself in the book, and twenty minutes later, plate empty, he refilled his coffee and made his way to the couch.

Holland had been right. This one was funny.

Romantic comedy might not be the genre everyone expected him to read, but with four sisters, he read the same books they did so they could talk about them.

They also returned the favor and read the Brandon Sanderson books he recommended—well, Holland and Amy did.

It even seemed like Ruby, Amy’s ten-year-old daughter, was going to like fantasy as well.

Mika Beth and Halle would rather shove pencils in their eyes.

He drained the last of his coffee, then put the empty mug on the side table, nose still stuck in the book. Tomorrow he’d figure out how to meet up with the rest of his family and leave Bronte to do whatever it was she’d planned to do alone.

Once he met up with his family, he’d figure out how to have the conversation with his dad—somehow without ruining the last part of his dad’s vacation.

Yep, it would all work out. It had to.