Falling Fast: Westmount Island, #1

Falling Fast

Julia Jarrett

Copyright © 2021 by Julia Jarrett

Editing: CM Wheary

Cover Design: Mae Harden

This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Julia Jarrett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. and Canadian copyright law.

Contents

1.Ella

2.Marcus

3.Ella

4.Marcus

5.Ella

6.Marcus

7.Ella

8.Ella

9.Marcus

10.Ella

11.Marcus

Epilogue

Also By Julia Jarrett

Chapter one

Ella

The spray from the ferry boat wake is a fine mist, cool on my skin, as I watch the peaks of Westmount Island draw closer. It could have been a poignant moment, if not for the wind whipping my long hair into such a frenzy; it starts to slap me on the cheek.

Oh, for fudge’s sake, I mutter to myself as I try in vain to twist it back from my face. What I wouldn’t give for a hair tie. But they’re in my car, on the vehicle deck, and even after just two days away I am so homesick for my island, there’s no way I want to go down there and miss this view.

A chuckle from behind makes me turn, ready to glare at whoever was mocking me. But when my eyes land on him, a glare is the last thing on my mind.

Holy shiitake, I breathe, most likely cementing my place in his mind as the weird girl who uses food words instead of curse words. What can I say? You can take the kindergarten teacher out of the classroom, but you can’t take the goody-goody bone out of the kindergarten teacher. Wait. That doesn’t even make sense.

Clearly, the guy in front of me is scrambling my brain.

He’s tall, like towering over me tall, which is hard to do when you consider I’m above average height for a woman at five-eight. His eyes match the stormy grey of the water churning below us and his chiseled jaw is quirked into a grin. And yes, that’s the first time I have ever said chiseled jaw. His body seems to be made of solid muscle, which I can see rippling beneath his shirt, currently plastered to his chest from the wind. Never have I been more grateful for wind.

When he opens his mouth and his voice pours over me, warm like melted chocolate, I’m not sure if I’m drooling, or if it’s just more spray from the boat. I try to casually wipe at my face, just in case.

I’m not sure fudge could hold back your hair, but I’ve got this if it’ll help. He holds out his hand, which has, of all things, a rubber band in it. Part of me winces at the damage it’ll do to my hair, the other part is just grateful not to have the strands smacking me anymore.

Thanks, I say, still unable to meet his penetrating gaze.

Anytime.

That one word comes out as a rumble, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. Good grief, I can’t remember the last time a man affected me like this. I take that back; I can’t remember the first time a man affected my body with just his voice. Westmount Island has a depressing shortage of hot men my age.

Maybe I can blame my visceral response to him on my mood. After all, I’m not exactly in my normal, more logical, frame of mind right now. I never am when I leave the island, but my sister Tawny insisted I take a weekend and visit some friends.

I’ve spent the summer helping Tawny run the inn our family has had for generations. It’s fun, but exhausting dealing with so many different people, with so many different demands. And with the school year rapidly approaching, it’s almost time for me to go back to my regular job teaching the littles of the island. I love my work, there’s nothing more rewarding than watching a child play and create and develop into an awesome tiny human. But it is also exhausting. So every year, I take the last three weeks of summer off for myself and do whatever I want. Which normally means hiking around the island and lots of reading. But when Tawny suggested I go visit some old friends from school, I listened. A weekend on the mainland was meant to be a fun break, a chance to connect with friends and live the life of a typical twenty-seven-year-old. Instead, I’m tired and drained from the hustle and bustle of the city. Yes, after just forty-eight hours away, I’m happy to be home. Call me a small-town girl; I don’t care. I’m ready for my cozy cottage and maybe even a hot bath. What I’m not ready for is this gorgeous hunk of a man standing in front of me, eyeing me like I’m some tasty treat he wants to lick all over.

Where did that come from? I’m no prude, but my love life has always been more vanilla than any other flavor. Even if I wanted to change it, as I mentioned, the options are limited on the island.

I blink back to the present moment, aware that he’s been talking while I’ve been lost in my dirty little fantasies about ice cream and licking.

…at this old inn, so if you have suggestions on where to eat, that would be great. He looks at me expectantly and I hurry to fill in the blanks, hoping I’m making the right assumption about what he was asking.

Oh! My older sister owns an inn. The inn, I mean. The inn you’re staying at. There’s only one. Well, I guess my sisters and I all technically own it, but Tawny’s the only one who works there. Anyway, it’s really cute and I’m sure you’ll like it. The restaurant there is great. Good food, really good. I let my voice trail off, feeling the heat on my cheeks as I cast my gaze downward in embarrassment. I hate it when I ramble, but it’s inevitable. When I get nervous, my mouth takes over and I babble like it’s my last chance to say anything, ever.

When I finally look up, he’s grinning at me appreciatively. I don’t miss the way his gaze travels up and down my body. How could I, when my body is suddenly hot, as if he’s shooting laser beams from his eyes.

His seductive voice rolls over me yet again, and I shiver involuntarily. Would you care to join me for dinner at the really good restaurant?

I know he’s teasing me for my rambling, but my jaw drops, and I hurry to close it before he thinks I’m a total country bumpkin. What the hell is going on here? Is this Adonis of a man asking me out? I’m nothing special, just Ella Michaels, kindergarten teacher from Westmount Island. My family has been on the island for generations, so I guess you could say we’re well known there, but the three of us – my two sisters and I, we’re just regular people. This guy – he is anything but regular. He’s got this air of importance surrounding him.