Love By Moonlight: A Small Town Grumpy Sunshine Romance (Solhaven Forevers Book 2)
Love By Moonlight: Chapter 1

Claire Bradstock twirled around in the small cottage at the bottom of the Haven House Hotel grounds, set on the very edge of the glorious sweep of Haven Bay. Delighted she was back in her beloved Wales, her heart sang. She’d made it! Changed careers to something she’d always loved doing, and which she knew would be way less stressful than teaching. It had taken determination, tenacity and hard work, and she’d been left with almost no free time at all over the last three years, but oh, it had been worth it.

She’d loved being a teacher, but as the years had passed, the record keeping and goal-setting had taken all the joy away, and she’d ended up feeling as if she was letting the kids down. Hating the dissatisfaction, knowing there was nothing she could do to change the system, she’d thought long and hard about her future and finally decided to do something entirely different.

Always a lover of the outdoors, and the person who’d tended their garden at home while her dad had been ill, Claire was determined to train as a gardener. Being her own boss and seeing what was in her charge flourish for a change. Creating beauty. Growing food. She was that sort—caring, nourishing, kind. She was always the one who would buy a homeless person a coffee and some food, or stop to help if she thought someone was in need.

She’d enrolled at a local university to complete her degree in horticulture, and spent every holiday, in all kinds of weather, gaining practical experience. She’d worked in gardens and market gardens, and sometimes on arable farms, learning about crops. None of it had been easy, but she was proud of what she’d achieved, and she loved everything she’d learned.

Then the icing on the cake. Claire hugged herself, now grinning in glee as she remembered the phone call. Late last November, with only the rest of the school year between her and becoming unemployed, her mum had called.

‘Claire, cariad. You won’t believe this! You really won’t—’

‘Hi, mum. Yes, thanks, I’m very well. Things are pretty quiet here at the moment. How are you?’

‘Oh, sorry, I do run on, don’t I? Yes, yes… how are you then? Oh, but you just told me, didn’t you? Listen… you’re never going to believe this!’

Curious, Claire had settled onto the settee in her small flat, smiling at her mother’s excited voice. ‘Okay, so what won’t I believe?’

‘Well, see, it’s hard to know where to start. You know old Mr Whitchurch, who took Jake under his wing?’

‘Duh, yes, mum.’ Claire’s smile had broadened. Mr Whitchurch had been a kind, elderly man with no son of his own and a penchant for surfing, so had sponsored Jake when her brother was competing.

‘He’s left the estate, Claire, the estate, mind you, to Jake. The house and the café, with the access road and car park. Jake didn’t want me to tell you until they executed the will, or something.’

Eyebrows lifting, Claire had felt pleased for her little brother, whose career had been cut short three years ago by an accident which had caused spinal damage. ‘That’s great! I know Mr Whitchurch had promised him the café, but the house as well? My, my, he’ll be too posh for us now.’

Her mum had laughed. ‘Well, wait until you hear this! He’s given the house away.’

‘He’s what?’

‘Given it away.’

‘You’re joking. You have to be. He wouldn’t be so daft.’

For despite Jake’s tendency to drift through his life apparently doing nothing much, Claire knew how hard he’d worked to achieve his position in the surfing world before his accident. She was aware he did a damn good job with the café, too, and it wasn’t just holiday makers who went there, but locals as well. And at old Mr Whitchurch’s insistence, he also had a decent property portfolio. His sponsor had always told him never to fritter his money away, but to make it work for him, so to give Haven House away seemed inconceivable.

‘No, I’m not joking. He’s given it away, but he’s going to live there, as well. Oh, Claire, Jake’s finally settled down. He really has. With Emily. Have I said anything about her? Probably not, because at first, I thought she was just one of his candy-flosses, but it turns out they really love each other. And she’s so different from his other ones. She’s older, for a start, and a businesswoman. Opposite of Jake in lots of ways.’

Claire had sunk back on the settee, her eyes wide. ‘I can’t believe it. You’re pulling my leg. I thought I’d settle down before Jake. Are you sure it’s solid?’

‘Completely. She’s going to turn the house into a hotel, and they’ll live in the attics. But this is where you come in, see? Emily needs a gardener, and I thought you might be interested because I know you want to come home. She wants to interview you at Christmas, when you come here for the holidays. She’s going to restore all the grounds back to what it was like when the house was built, apparently, so it’ll be a big job, mind.’

The interview had gone well, and Emily and Claire had formed an instant bond. The hotel had opened nearly four months ago, back at Easter, and until Claire could start work, Emily had employed some contractors to keep the place tidy.

And here she was, officially a gardener and in the delighted occupation of a cottage she’d loved all her life. As Mr Whitchurch had occasionally used the cottage for guests, it came with a double bed, a cooker, and some basic furniture, so she’d chosen to store her furniture until she’d had some time to adjust to her surroundings, outside and in.

Not only officially a gardener, but in sole charge of starting the restoration of the Victorian grounds, and the kitchen gardens, as they’d been when the house was built. The challenge, getting to work, excited her, though apprehension pricked at her as well. It was an enormous task, but Emily apparently had the original plans, which would help a lot, and at her interview, she’d reassured Claire this would be an extensive project covering several years before completion. It was so incredibly exciting to have landed a job like this. She would do her best.

Her mobile pinged, breaking into her reminiscences and the pleasure at being home.

It was a text from Jake asking her, of all things, if she could work in the restaurant tonight. Apparently, a couple of their staff had phoned in sick, so they were short, and, he pointed out, he knew she could wait on because she’d had holiday jobs in the café.

A far cry from dreaming about her gardens, spending the evening waiting on! Laughing, remembering those times when Jake had sent the same plea, but to come help out at his café, Claire texted back an affirmative before shooting upstairs for a shower. Not quite what she’d envisaged for her first night, but it would be a bit of fun. The sunset and bottle of wine could wait until tomorrow.

Drying herself, she pulled on a navy cotton skirt and white shirt and dragged a brush through her thick, dark-blonde hair, which fell in heavy waves around her shoulders, before tying it back into a low ponytail.

Picking up her bag, she let herself out just as Jake drove down the narrow track at the side of the hotel grounds. The distance between the cottage and hotel was slightly more than a quarter of a mile, normally easily walkable, but tonight, Jake had played nice and come to collect her in one of the two small buggies they kept up at the hotel.

‘Hiya, little brother.’ She smiled at him as she climbed in. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

‘Claire.’ He shot her a grin. ‘Settled in? Like the cottage?’

‘Like it? How could I not? It’s amazing. But I still worry that you and Emily could have used it as guest accommodation?’

‘Nah. We talked about it, but it’s too far away from the hotel. We don’t want cars down here, and we didn’t want to lend out any of the buggies regularly. Anyway, it’s called Gardener’s Cottage, so yours by default.’

‘Yes, but rent-free? On top of a decent wage, as well.’

‘I know you’ll earn it. Probably do loads of overtime into the bargain.’

‘Is Mum enjoying working here too?’

Jake pulled the buggy round the corner of the beautiful Victorian house and stopped by the back door. ‘Loving it. And she’s damned good at it.’

‘Why isn’t Emily waiting on tonight? Not that I mind doing it at all, but I just thought she’d be the first to step in.’

He rested his arm on the wheel and turned towards her. ‘She’s tired.’

‘Doesn’t sound like Emily. I hope she’s okay?’ She looked questioningly at her brother, but instead of him looking worried, a sheepish, yet delighted grin was breaking out on his face.

‘No!’ Emily exclaimed. ‘How far on is she?’

‘Coming up to four months, and she says it may as well become general knowledge because she’s beginning to show—just.’ He glowed with pride.

‘Oh, Jake!’ Claire’s eyes filled with happy tears as she looked at her easy-going, handsome, surfing brother. She’d always thought he would never settle down, never have a meaningful relationship. ‘I’m so pleased for you both. But…’ she hesitated a moment before diving in. ‘Are you happy about this? Really happy?’

Jake’s face was serious as he looked at his sister. ‘Couldn’t be happier. You don’t know what Emily’s done for me, and how much I love her.’

‘I’m pleased for you both,’ Claire repeated, as she grinned and punched him lightly on the arm. ‘And I don’t mind waiting on. Any evening, if you’re short.’

‘Ah, we don’t expect to be busy tonight, and I’ll be around as well. Jenny’s closing the cafe for me today.’

Claire got out of the buggy and entered the hotel, finding her way to the lounge, thinking wistfully of her own lack of love life. Her previous boyfriend had given up on her half-way through her studies. He’d thought the whole idea of becoming a gardener was a step down in the world, despite her protests and mentioning various well-known television gardeners. He’d replied scathingly they were all men, implying women were useless at the job. If he hadn’t walked, she would have pushed. His lack of faith in women and his contempt for her change of career had been the writing on the wall. Ah, well… she was confident it would happen someday.

‘Hey, Claire.’ Emily stood behind the small drinks bar in a corner of the lounge, wiping the already gleaming woodwork with a pristine cloth. ‘Settling in okay?’

‘Great. I love that cottage and Jake’s just reassured me for the millionth time why you didn’t want it as guest accommodation. Oh, and he let something out, too. Congratulations!’ She leaned forwards to kiss Emily’s cheek then slid onto a stool, resting her forearms on the spotless counter.

Emily smiled, her hand resting on the slight bump which, now Claire looked carefully, she could just see. ‘Thanks. We’re thrilled about it. And look, we’re not being kind or anything about the cottage. Just glad you don’t mind being isolated.’

‘Oh, come on, hardly isolated. I can see the hotel, and it’s only about a mile along the sands to Solhaven.’

‘The sands, yes. About two miles on the cliff path, and that’s mostly up and down!’

The cliff path along the whole of the coast was hard work, but the stunning scenery would reward anyone prepared to walk it. Emily and Jake had employed Dominic Winchester, a friend of Emily’s brother, to design the conversion of the old garage and outhouses into three cottages and some hostel accommodation for walkers. To attract the walkers, they’d put a sign just below Gardener’s Cottage, directing them up to the hotel, as well as running adverts on numerous tourist sites. It was a good move. Much of the visitor accommodation in Solhaven wasn’t for a casual night or two, so they were filling a sizeable gap in the market. As well as the holiday accommodation, the architect had also designed the conversion of the attics of the hotel into an amazing living space for Emily and Jake.

‘I still can’t believe how Jake’s changed,’ Claire murmured.

Amused, Emily raised her brows. ‘How changed?’

‘Oh, just happier. It’s obvious he adores you—’

‘It’s mutual.’

‘And now the baby’s coming, and he’s immensely thrilled about that, I could tell.’ S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

‘Ha! I think he’s hoping for a surfer dude baby.’

They laughed.

‘Maybe I can see the change more because I’ve been away.’

‘Maybe.’ Emily gave a half-smile and shrugged. ‘Oh, yes… Jake’s been telling me you paint seascapes and local beauty spots for a hobby? I hope you’ll find some time to continue?’

‘I haven’t painted anything since I was here at Easter. Geoff down at the Shell Gallery takes a few from me to sell, and he’s turned a couple into cards.’

‘Impressive! I think it’s great that you sell some. I wouldn’t know where to start.’

Claire gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘I’m an amateur.’

‘We all have to start somewhere.’ Emily grinned. ‘Do some of the hotel and round about the grounds, and we can sell them in here, maybe?’

‘Would you?’ Claire’s face lit up. ‘That’s kind of you. Helps towards buying new paints.’

Through the open door, they saw some people pass through the hall, on their way to the dining-room.

‘Looks like things are warming up.’ Emily nodded towards a disappearing couple.

‘I better shift myself.’ Claire slid off her stool and grinned. ‘You realise I’m only Jake’s Café trained? No silver service here.’

‘You’ll be fine. It’s been a fairly slow start to the tourist season this year, but it’ll get busier now it’s the summer holidays. And thanks for helping us out. This isn’t exactly in your job description!’

Laughing, Claire flipped a wave as she disappeared. It would be amusing serving again, and anyway, there might be someone she knew who’d come for a meal, and they could have a catch-up.

Nearly four hours later, Claire surreptitiously eased her shoulders and flexed her feet, regarding the almost full restaurant with a wry smile. Mmm, not so much amusing as damned hard work! So Jake had said it would be quiet mid-week, and Emily had claimed it would be slow? Huh! They’d been rushed off their feet for the first part of the evening, and it was only recently things had quietened. Most people had reached the dessert or coffee stage, and there had only been two or three additional groups who’d come in during the last half hour. Jean, who should have finished at nine, had only just gone home, and Claire had been grateful for her help. She glanced at her watch. Twenty to ten. Surely no one would come in to eat now. The restaurant closed for service at ten.

There was the murmur of conversation, the muted sound of cutlery on china plates and the delicate smell of good food. The lighting was subdued, and the atmosphere relaxed. Emily had done a great job of re-creating a Victorian dining-room with her choice of furniture and decoration. The hotel was small but was apparently doing very well and gaining an excellent reputation. Claire was pleased it was succeeding.

She cleared a table recently vacated by a family of four who’d told her they were down for the weekend, staying in their caravan on the local site above Silver Sands. Quickly and neatly, she re-laid the table, brought coffee to another party at the far side of the room, and served dessert to a couple she had learned were celebrating their engagement. Once more, with a moment of leisure, Claire stood to survey the room, a feeling of satisfaction stealing over her at a job well done. Bit different to teaching biology!

‘Does it matter where I sit?’ The voice behind her was deep, and shot through with weariness. It pierced Claire, sending a shiver down her back.

Turning slowly, her eyes met those of the man standing in the doorway. For no obvious reason, her stomach lurched, and she drew in a quick breath, feeling almost boneless.

He was tall and lean, and his face was etched with the lines of sadness and suffering. Despite his obvious emotional pain, he stood with authority, hands thrust into the pockets of creased, faded denims which clung to the length of his lean thighs. A fine, white cotton shirt, hanging loose round narrow hips, emphasised the breadth of his shoulders, and the rolled-back sleeves displayed muscled forearms. Claire brought her eyes back up to his face. Not conventionally good-looking. His jaw was square and uncompromising, his gaze coolly grey and rock-steady on her. He looked exhausted as well as upset, with shadows under his thickly lashed eyes, and his mouth showed no trace of a smile. Dark brown hair curled onto the collar of his shirt, unruly and overlong.

For what seemed an eternity she continued to gaze at him, snared by her rush of emotions—she was melting and trembling, and her heart was racing—all because she was looking at a total stranger who offered in return no smile, no sign of interest. No understanding of the effect he was having on her. This was ridiculous. She had to get a grip on herself. But as well as this visceral reaction, her heart ached for his misery. She wanted to reach out and help him, make everything right in his world.

It was the man who broke the thrall that held Claire immobile. He gave a small shake of his head, stepping back as if distancing himself from her. ‘I asked if it matters where I sit?’

‘No, no… you can sit anywhere,’ she finally said.

She was thirty-one, for heaven’s sake. No green girl behaving as if she had a crush on the latest hero of the hour. She’d had plenty of boyfriends, a couple of whom had been quite serious relationships. Yet none had made her react like this, and she was only looking at the man.

She watched as he strode into the room, glanced round, and chose a table near the wall.

He dominated the room, Claire decided, as she picked up the menu and wine-list to follow him, threading her way between the tables. Such was his presence, she noticed women of other parties covertly eyeing him as he pulled out a chair and sat. He was that sort of man—someone you turned to look at, in a room, on the street. Magnetic? Sexy? Claire couldn’t quite define what it was, but he seemed unaware of the attention he attracted.

‘I’ll have a Tallaig, please.’

Claire handed him the menu and wine list, murmuring something incoherent before fleeing to the safety of the lounge.

‘Whoa!’ Claire leaned a hand on the bar and rolled her eyes.

Emily looked up from her laptop, a frown creasing her brow. ‘What’s the matter? You look a bit shaken. There’s no trouble, is there? No-one’s been rude to you?’

Claire’s hands trembled, and she clasped them tightly together. ‘No, no trouble. I need a whisky, please. A Tallaig, he said.’ Dazed, she replayed her first sight of him and minutely examined her immediate response, but no matter how many times she did this, the result was the same. He’d made an enormous impact on her, and she wanted to know him better. A lot better. As a person. And, she admitted to herself in stark honesty, with heat pooling inside, to know him in the biblical sense, too.

‘Surely.’ Emily served the drink, still looking concerned. ‘But if there’s no trouble, then what is the matter? Because something spooked you, that’s obvious.’

‘It’s weird, but I think I just fell in love,’ Claire murmured, disbelief clear in her voice.

‘Fell in love?’ Emily laughed. ‘What do you mean? Impossible!’ She eyed Claire with curiosity.

‘Didn’t you see him?’ Claire shook her head in disbelief that anyone might have missed him. ‘That man who came through to the dining-room about five minutes ago?’

‘Tall chap? Dark hair?’

Claire nodded. ‘Him.’

‘He was okay, I suppose.’ Emily shrugged, looking mystified. ‘Come on, Claire. You can’t just fall in love with a total stranger! In lust, maybe. But you’d need to get to know him and…’ her voice faded.

Watching Emily, Claire knew she was thinking about what had happened between her and Jake. They’d taken one look at each other, according to her mum, and made an instant connection. A connection so strong Emily had changed her entire life for him. ‘Like you and Jake, yes?’

Emily threw up her hands. ‘Touché!’

‘And if it happened to you, it could happen again?’

‘I suppose.’ Hesitation seemed to lengthen the wait for Emily’s reply into an eternity. ‘Anyway, you better take him his drink.’ She pushed the tumbler of Tallaig towards Claire.

Picking up the glass, Claire returned to the dining-room. Considering herself to be moderately level-headed, Claire found the emotions sweeping through her disconcerting. Anyway, he could be passing through, and after tonight, she would never see him again. Or he might have come just for a holiday, so maybe all she would get was a holiday romance? Ah, but what was the prognosis for one of those? Jake had known the formula off by heart, and both she and her mother had despaired of him. It wasn’t what she wanted. One day, she hoped for permanent, but until tonight, she’d never met someone who put the thought of permanent so firmly into her head.

It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

She paused in the dining-room doorway, her eyes seeking him out, before taking a deep breath, walking over to his table, and placing the whisky next to the long-fingered hand lying loosely on the starched white cloth.

‘Are you ready to order now?’ she asked.

The stranger looked up and eyed her blankly. ‘Eh? Oh, ordering. Yes. I’ll have the mixed seafood platter. And I’d like half a bottle of Australian Chardonnay as well, please.’ He looked away, blocking any attempts to chat.

‘It’ll be about twenty minutes.’ Claire left, and after dropping the order into the kitchen, went to collect the Chardonnay.

‘How’re things?’ Emily asked cheerfully.

‘He’s not very forthcoming. Can I have half a bottle of the Chardonnay, please?’

Claire knew herself to be attractive and friendly, and she usually had no difficulties in getting people to open up, but she hadn’t had a chance to try with this guy. At a guess, his defences had been up before he’d entered the dining-room. Mind you, he looked rough. Really rough. Whatever was going on inside his head was probably not conducive to socialising with anyone.

Handing her the bottle, Emily looked sympathetic. ‘Good luck.’

For Emily, it’d been easy. When they’d first met, Jake had been just as interested as she was.

Without allowing herself pause for thought, Claire walked over to his table, uncorked the wine, and poured some into his glass.

‘That’s fine,’ he said, having perfunctorily tasted it without lifting his eyes from an eBook he was reading.

Within fifteen minutes, she returned with his meal. ‘I hope you enjoy it. It’s one of the chef’s best dishes.’

‘Thank you.’ He still didn’t look at her.

It was as if he’d shut himself off from the world. Perhaps he was trying to come to terms with some terrible trauma. A bereavement, or a dangerous illness he was only now recovering from? Never mind her visceral attraction, her heart went out to him in sympathy.

Moving round the dining room, clearing tables, chatting to the remaining clientele, Claire was aware of his near-motionless figure picking at the meal in front of him. He used his fork and propped his head on his other hand. She wanted so much to offer some sort of help, but he’d likely not appreciate it. She was also trying to rationalise her sudden attraction. Okay, he was good looking, and he seemed very sad and tired, but it couldn’t just be that. There had to be more. Something at a much deeper level had sparked between them the moment they’d looked at each other. That seemed to be the real reason, but why had it happened? Something else was bothering her, too. She thought he looked slightly familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think where she might have come across him.

When he’d finished the meal, she went back to clear his plate. ‘I hope everything was okay?’

‘Thank you, yes. It was good. I won’t have anything else, but perhaps you can help me?’ His voice softened slightly as the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-hearted smile. The soft light from the discreet table lamps brought some warmth to the grey depths of his eyes and a coppery glint to his thick, unruly hair.

‘Perhaps,’ she acknowledged cautiously, hoping against hope she would be able to.

‘I’m looking for some people,’ he said. ‘A family called Bradstock, and I—’

‘Bradstock?’ Claire asked, holding onto the back of a chair, unable to believe her ears. Her body went numb again, but from shock this time.

He wanted her family?

She still hadn’t worked out why he looked familiar, and she’d no idea who he was.

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