Jack groaned.
"From a fellow woman. That's all. I'm just saying, you might need to be more upfront with women in the future. If they think you want a relationship but you don't—"
He held up a hand. "Gigi knew the rules. She thought she could change them. Nothing more to it than that."
"Oh." Gwen looked embarrassed. "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for. We had our fun, it's over." He jangled his keys, hoping Gwen would take the hint.
"Are you going to be single for the rest of your life? Sounds pretty lonely to me," said Gwen.
What had he done to deserve this? First, Gigi throwing a fit. Next, Gwen prying into his personal life. He and Gwen might be friends, but they weren't friends of that sort.
Jack Benson didn't have any friends he talked with about those things. That was what women did: talk, talk, talk. Talking about their feelings until you wanted to get on the nearest boat and sail until you hit the edge of the world.
"Are you offering to fix that problem?" he drawled. "Because it sounds to me like you're interested."
Gwen blushed. Being a redhead, she blushed easily and often. It was one of the things Jack found charming about her.
"I am not offering to fix anything. I'm just wondering." She spread her hands. "I just want people to be happy."
"Then how about you stick to making your customers happy. I'm doing just fine on my own."
"Sounds like someone doth protest too much."
Jack shot her an annoyed look before he took off.
The day Jack had met Gwen Parker, she'd been covered in paint splatters, her hair a mess. She and her older brother, Elliot, had been working on the bed and breakfast all summer long. When Jack had heard that someone had bought the old, boarded-up house on Main Street, he'd assumed the new owner would simply bulldoze it.
Jack knew everyone on Hazel Island, even if he didn't make a point to be friends with them. When he stopped by the house-in-progress, he had to sidestep a hole in the porch. When the boards under his feet squeaked ominously, he prayed he didn't fall through to his doom.
Gwen had opened the door with a flourish. She'd smiled at him, and that smile had been like a punch to the gut. Jack was hardly a guy who used fancy words, but the word radiant had been the first thing that had popped into his head.
Gwen was radiant: from her bright hair, to her smile, to the way she moved, like some mystical spirit. She did everything with energy.
He introduced himself, and she shook his hand, her grip surprisingly strong despite her size.
"I'm in desperate need of fresh salmon. I've heard you're the guy for the job," she said brightly.
"Yeah, that's me."
"I honestly don't know anything about what makes any fish good or not. I've eaten my fair share of sushi, but if you handed me a tuna, I couldn't tell you if it was a good one or not."
Jack listened as this woman he'd never met chattered on. She didn't come up for air. He wondered if there was something wrong with her.
Or maybe, just maybe, she just liked to talk to people. He shuddered internally at the thought.
"If you're worried that I'd screw you over," he said, "you don't have to be. Ask anyone on the island. They can vouch for me."
Her eyes widened. "Oh! Of course not. I didn't mean to imply that. I'm sure you're very honorable. The most honorable fisherman there is."
He eyed her. Was she messing with him? But based on her expression, she seemed entirely sincere.
He couldn't help but notice that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Her brother was helping her renovate the place, so she must not have a boyfriend or fiancé. That surprised him. Gwen didn't seem like the type of woman who would do well on her own. She needed to talk too much.
She'd hate how Jack lived: in a tiny house, isolated from humanity, no computer or internet. He had a radio and not much else for entertainment.
"Are you from Hazel Island? A lot of people seem to have been born and raised here. It's not like Seattle. Everybody is a transplant there, it seems like," said Gwen.
"I've been here for a while," was all Jack said in reply.
Gwen glanced at her phone. "Oh, crap, I need to meet my brother. I lost track of time. It was nice to meet you. If you're ever free, please stop by when we're open for a bite to eat."
Jack just nodded. He had no intention of coming to this little hole in the wall that would probably go bankrupt within a year. Not that Gwen Parker seemed out of her depth. It was just the nature of this island that small businesses either sank or swim given the fluctuation of the local economy. If you didn't know how to save during the months of good business, you wouldn't have enough to sustain you through the leaner months.
Gwen's phone rang right before Jack left. He watched as her face turned pale. The phone kept ringing, Gwen staring at the screen, like she couldn't decide if she wanted to answer it.
That was his cue to leave. But the sudden vulnerability of her expression compared to how she'd been just minutes earlier pierced something inside him.
Finally, her phone stopped ringing. When she looked up, she started, as if she'd forgotten about Jack's presence.
"Spam call," she said, clearly lying, considering she wouldn't meet his eyes. "They're the worst, right?"
"I wouldn't know. I don't have a cell phone."
Gwen gaped at him. "Seriously? How do you call people?"
"I have a landline."
"Well, you're maybe the last person on earth that does. Even my dad has a cell phone, and he barely knows how to print something."
Gwen's phone started ringing again. This time, she turned it off and shoved it into her pocket.
"Somebody bothering you?" said Jack. Why do you care? he asked himself.
"Oh, just my husband." She grimaced. "I mean, my ex-husband. We're separated."
Ex-husband. So she'd been married–was still married, technically. Jack didn't know why that angered him. Was it because she was still legally bound to another man?
Or because she was free to date other people?
"He keeps wanting to talk. I don't know what there is to talk about. I already served him the papers. Now suddenly he's got cold feet." Gwen made a face. "I'm sorry. TMI. You don't care, I'm sure."
Jack saw the way her shoulders hunched. He noticed the circles under her eyes, and how she kept touching her back pocket where she'd put her phone, like a weird talisman. He had the sudden urge to keep her safe.
"Don't apologize." His voice was gruff. "You don't have anything to be sorry about."
She looked a little stunned at that pronouncement.
As Jack drove to his next stop, he kept seeing her face in his mind's eye.
As the weeks, the months, the years passed, he and Gwen fell into a routine: he'd come by every Tuesday and Thursday with a fresh catch. He never told her that he under-charged her, especially when she first opened the bed and breakfast.
She'd make sure to have a fresh cup of coffee–sugar, no cream–ready to hand to him. Sometimes she'd ply him with a donut or pastry, although she soon discovered he preferred savory things. So she started making him breakfast burritos, telling him he was her guinea pig for new items on their menu.