She Rented a Seaside Cottage, Not Knowing Her Neighbor Was a Millionaire Running From His Past
Secrets Shared Under the Stars
Norah averted her gaze.
“Of course, sorry.”
He set down a small box.
“Everything okay? You seem distressed.”
“The hot water gave out mid-shower. Apparently, it’s a feature, not a bug.”
Daniel frowned.
“The rentals out here can be problematic. The agency usually cuts corners on maintenance.”
He hesitated.
“My place has a tankless water heater. If you need a proper shower, I can make myself scarce.”
The offer was tempting, but Norah shook her head.
“Thanks, but I’ll manage. I’ll call the agency tomorrow.”
“Good luck with that. They’re notoriously unhelpful.”
He started to turn away, then stopped.
“I’m making pasta tonight. Nothing fancy, but there’s always too much. You’re welcome to join me around seven if you’d like.”
The invitation caught her off guard.
“That’s very kind, but…”
“No pressure,” he said quickly. “Just an offer. Eating alone gets old after a while. I should know.”
With a small smile, he headed back to his cottage. Norah retrieved the package, a book she had ordered for research, and closed the door.
Her thoughts swirled. Daniel Jeffres was undeniably attractive, but there was something guarded about him that hinted at complications. The last thing she needed was complications.
By 7:15, however, the combination of hunger, curiosity, and the enticing aroma wafting from his cottage proved too powerful to resist. Norah found herself standing on Daniel’s deck, a bottle of wine in hand.
The interior of his cottage revealed a stark difference in their accommodations. Where hers was functional at best, his was thoughtfully designed with an open concept and high ceilings.
Modern furniture complemented the seaside setting. Floor-to-ceiling windows captured the ocean view perfectly.
“This is stunning,” she said, accepting the glass of wine he offered.
“It’s comfortable,” Daniel replied, returning to the kitchen area where pots simmered on a professional-grade range. “I got lucky. The owner is a friend of a friend.”
“Some friend,” Norah remarked, taking in the original artwork on the walls. “They must like you a lot.”
Daniel gave a non-committal shrug.
“How’s the writing going?”
The abrupt subject change was not subtle, but Norah allowed it.
“Slowly. First days are always the hardest.”
As Daniel served the meal—a simple but perfectly executed pasta with seafood—Norah found herself increasingly intrigued. He spoke knowledgeably about literature and asked insightful questions about her work.
Yet he deflected most personal questions with practiced ease.
“You’re very good at that,” she commented after her third attempt to learn what had brought him to this remote stretch of coastline.
“At what?”
He refilled her wine glass, his expression innocent.
“Redirecting. Every time I ask anything about you, we end up talking about something else entirely.”
Daniel sat down his glass, studying her for a long moment.
“Is it that obvious to someone who interviews people for a living?”
“Yes.”
He laughed softly.
“Fair enough. Let’s just say I needed some distance from my regular life. Seabrook provided that.”
“What is your regular life?”
Daniel hesitated, then seemed to make a decision.
“I run… ran a technology investment firm in San Francisco. It was consuming everything. I needed perspective.”
“So you walked away?”
Norah could not hide her surprise.
“Temporarily. My COO is handling things. I check in regularly, but…”
He trailed off, looking out at the darkened ocean.
“Sometimes you need to step away to remember why you started something in the first place.”
The conversation shifted to safer topics after that: books they had both read and places they had traveled. By the time Norah realized it was nearly midnight, they had finished the wine and moved to the sofas.
Daniel was in the middle of a story about a disastrous sailing trip when she yawned involuntarily.
“I’m boring you,” he said with a smile.
“Not at all. It’s just been a long day.”
Norah stood reluctantly.
“Thank you for dinner. It was unexpected but lovely.”
Daniel walked her to the door.
“The offer stands about the shower. Just let me know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Good night, Daniel.”
“Good night, Norah.”
The walk back to her cottage felt longer than it should have. Norah found herself glancing back several times, seeing Daniel’s silhouette against the lighted windows.
There was something compelling about him. There was an intensity beneath his casual demeanor that both intrigued and warned her.
Whatever had driven him to this isolated spot was not simply burnout. Men like Daniel Jeffres did not hide in seaside cottages because of work stress.
The next week established a pattern. Norah worked during the day, sometimes productive, often distracted by the view and thoughts of her neighbor.
Daniel maintained a similar schedule, visible on his deck with his laptop during the morning hours. He often disappeared in the afternoon.
They began sharing evening meals, sometimes at his place, occasionally at hers. Though she was embarrassed by the comparison, Daniel never commented on the stark differences in their accommodations. He seemed perfectly content at her weathered dining table.
On Friday evening, Norah was struggling with a difficult section of the memoir when a power outage plunged the cottage into darkness. The suddenness startled her into knocking over a glass of water onto her laptop.
“No, no, no!” she gasped, frantically dabbing at the keyboard with a dish towel.
The screen flickered, then went black. Panic rose in her throat. Weeks of work were potentially lost.
She was still trying to revive the machine when a knock came at the door. Daniel stood there with a battery-powered lantern.
“Power’s out in the whole area,” he began, then noticed her distress. “What happened?”
“My laptop,” Norah said, fighting tears of frustration. “I spilled water when the lights went out. It won’t turn on.”
Daniel set down the lantern and approached the table, examining the laptop.
“Do you have your work backed up?”
“Some of it. Not today’s changes.”
She watched anxiously as he carefully examined the computer.
“First rule: don’t keep trying to turn it on,” he said gently. “You’ll cause more damage. Second rule: rice is a myth.”
He looked up with a reassuring smile.
“I have some tools at my place that might help. Would you mind if I take it?”
Relief flooded through her.
“Please. If you can save it, I’ll be forever grateful.”
“No promises, but I’ve rescued worse.”
Daniel carefully picked up the laptop.
“Why don’t you come over? I’ve got a generator, so at least you’ll have light while I work.”
Norah grabbed her notes and followed Daniel to his cottage. As promised, his lights were on, though dimmer than usual. He led her to a small room he had converted into an office.
The setup was impressive: dual monitors, specialized equipment, and components she could not identify.
“This is more than just checking email,” she commented as he cleared a space on the workbench.
Daniel gave a half-smile.
“Technology investments, remember? I should know how this stuff works.”
He began carefully opening her laptop.
“This might take a while. Make yourself comfortable.”
Norah retreated to the living room, spreading her notes on the coffee table. She tried to work by the light of a lamp, but her thoughts kept drifting to the man hunched over her computer in the next room.
For someone taking a break from work, he certainly had brought a lot of equipment with him. Nearly two hours later, Daniel emerged with her laptop.
“Good news. I managed to dry out the components and extract your hard drive. Your files are safe.”
He set the computer down.
“Bad news: the laptop itself is probably a goner.”
“The files are what matter,” Norah said, relief evident in her voice. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“I transferred everything to this.”
He handed her a small external drive.
“You can use my backup laptop until you can get a replacement.”
“Daniel, I can’t accept…”
“You can, and you will,” he interrupted firmly. “I have three laptops here. Occupational hazard.”
He disappeared into the office again, returning with a sleek machine.
“It’s already set up with standard writing software.”
The generosity left Norah speechless.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night. Not here, not at your place. There’s a restaurant in town I’ve been meaning to try.”
Norah felt a flutter of something she had not experienced in a long time.
“Are you asking me on a date, Daniel Jeffres?”
His blue eyes crinkled at the corners.
“I believe I am, Norah Walker.”
