Eva frowned. “Oh, crud. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” Amy said. “I thought for sure you two would be jetting off into the sunset.”
For a few seconds here and there over the past couple of weeks, Mikayla had allowed herself to believe it was possible. Now she knew it wasn’t. “Nope. We’re just friends now.” She forced her gaze off Amy’s engagement ring and Eva’s wedding ring and onto her grow-with-me dress. She had to change the subject before she started bawling. “I hope this thing stretches over this giant belly of mine,” she said way too brightly, holding up the dress on its hanger. “I’m sure a Jones family anniversary party is on the dressy side.”
Eva narrowed her eyes. “Do friends invite friends to a family-only anniversary party? I think not! That is a completely dateworthy event. So, it’s a date.”
“I have to agree,” Amy said. “Mik, sounds like you and Jensen are serious—no matter what you two call it.”
“A serious friendship and a serious relationship are two very different things, though,” Mikayla pointed out. “Take Thursday night. He made me the most delicious comfort-food dinner ever—spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread. Then he cleaned everything up himself. As he left, he gave me a kiss—on the cheek. That’s serious friendship.”
“Huh,” Eva said, frowning. “I guess so. But what man does all that for a woman he’s not in love with?”
“I asked myself the same thing that night,” Mikayla said. “I really thought there was hope, that he just had to come to this big realization that he loved me, too—and would.”
Amy scrunched up her face. “What dashed it? I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“A text when he got home from making me that serious-friendship dinner. How he was so happy I said yes to going to the party because it’ll be a special way to spend our last night together.” She sighed. “I have to face facts. He’s leaving tomorrow morning. There’s no us.”
She almost couldn’t believe it. After tonight, Cinderella would lose her Prince. No more Jensen. That megawatt smile—gone. Those gorgeous blue eyes—gone. His friendship, which she’d always had, even when they were a temporary couple—gone. That she’d miss most of all. His sweetness. His kindness. The way he loved her, whether he knew that was what he was doing or not.
She knew.
And she’d miss him like hell.
* * *
Saturday afternoon, Jensen drove out to Guthrie Barnes’s property, sure of what he had to do. It certainly wasn’t what he’d come to town expecting to do, but neither was getting involved with a very pregnant woman.
It wasn’t as if Jensen had planned on giving his father the signed land deal for the crisis distribution center for an anniversary present, but he’d had a strong hunch that a tribute to his old friend would have brought peace to Walker the Second’s heart. Whatever had come between the two men didn’t matter anymore; Davison was gone. And they’d never be able to make things right between them face-to-face. But in memory, his father could finally come to terms with his feelings. Jensen truly believed that doing so would change his father—that the armor he’d put on an already hard shell would break off, that he’d love more deeply. His wife. His children. Even his work, which he’d always approached with his head, not his heart.
But there was no signed land deal, not on this trip. He had the two alternate locations chosen, had his assistant gathering information and crunching numbers, and once he was back home in Tulsa, he’d put together an offer for one of the sites. He wasn’t going to try for Guthrie Barnes’s property one last time. Because he’d learned something important over the past few weeks. That he had to honor someone’s feelings instead of trying to turn that person to his way of thinking. The way he’d done with Mikayla. Guthrie Barnes had made it clear as water that he wanted nothing to do with selling his land, and Jensen would honor that.
But first he wanted to apologize to Barnes, to shake the man’s hand and let him know he wouldn’t be bothering him anymore, and that whatever kept the man from selling, he admired his hold on his principles. Money had never swayed Guthrie Barnes.
Now he stood on the rickety old top step to Barnes’s ramshackle house and knocked on the wooden door, which looked like it might fall off one hinge any second.
The screen door opened. Barnes appeared, his wiry gray hair sprouting in every direction. “Oh, hell, it’s you. Didn’t I—”
Jensen held up a hand. “I’m only here to apologize for not honoring your refusal to sell, which you couldn’t have made more clear. I’m sorry I kept at you, Mr. Barnes. That wasn’t right or fair.”
The man harrumphed. But before Barnes could slam the door in Jensen’s face, Jensen took a check out of his shirt pocket and held it up. “I’d like you to have this, regardless, as an apology for having to deal with me breathing down your neck.” The amount would cover some basic upkeep around the place. “No amount of money would sway you, so I figure you’ve got a good reason not to sell. I won’t be bothering you anymore, Mr. Barnes.”
The man opened the door and took the check and stared at it. Jensen figured he’d rip it up and throw the confetti at him. He turned to go; he had a party to get ready for and didn’t want random bits of check on him.
“My little girl died on that land,” Barnes said.
Jensen gasped and turned around. “Your little girl?” Nothing in the information he’d gathered on Barnes even mentioned a child.
The old man stared out the screen door at the land. “It was fifty-one years ago. My wife and I had just moved to Rust Creek Falls and were showing Lynnie the fish in the creek at the far end of our property. There was a flash flood and—” The man reached up a hand to his eyes. “Lynnie was just two years old.”
Oh, God. Tears burned the backs of Jensen’s eyes. “I am so sorry, Mr. Barnes. I can’t begin to imagine the heartbreak.”
The man began weeping, and Jensen opened the screen door and ushered him out to the weathered bench along the outside windows. He sat Barnes down and sat beside him, an arm around the man’s shoulders, which shook with his sobs.
“Mr. Barnes, I’m going to open the crisis distribution center and have two other locations scouted out. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to name the center after Lynnie.” Davison would want that. Jensen knew that without a doubt.
The man looked at Jensen. “You’d name it after Lynnie?”
“As I’ve mentioned, my mentor—Davison Parkwell—died in a flash flood, too,” Jensen said. “Last year, he was volunteering on the outskirts of town and helping to rescue two people when he got pulled in. Remember back in 2013 when another flood practically destroyed Rust Creek Falls? A crisis distribution center is exactly what this area needs.”
Barnes nodded and swiped under his eyes. “My wife passed on over ten years ago, but I stayed here because it’s all I have left of Lynnie. I stay away from the creek when it rains, of course, but I go down there at least once a day to just remember before—” He clamped his mouth tightly together.
Jensen sat there, his arm around Guthrie Barnes’s shoulders, and the two of them just looked out at the land, the majestic trees in the distance, the clear blue sky.
“I’ll accept your original offer, Jones,” Guthrie said. “If you’ll really name the center after my Lynnie. Lynnie Barnes.”
Jensen blinked back the sting of tears. “Only if you accept my last offer, which was triple the original bid. And I’ll build you a new house at the edge of the property, near the creek. You have my word on the name. The Lynnie Barnes Crisis Distribution Center.”
Barnes sucked in a breath and extended his hand. Jensen shook it.
And they continued to sit there for a good while.
Tonight would be his last hours with Mikayla, the woman of his dreams. Had he just thought that? The woman of his dreams? Yes, she absolutely was, he realized. She was everything he’d ever wa
nted in a woman, including things he had no idea he even liked. Such as those crazy wrap-around-the-ankle sandals. Or the way she called him out on anything he deserved to be called out on.
This made no sense, but he could sit here with Guthrie Barnes forever, as lost in thought as the older man was. The more he prolonged getting ready and heading over to the party, the longer he didn’t have to really focus on the fact that when he saw Mikayla tonight, it would be for the last time for a long time. In fact, the woman had him so tied up in knots that maybe he wouldn’t come back to Rust Creek Falls at all. He could work on the distribution center remotely. He could video chat with his brothers. He didn’t need to send himself off a cliff by running to the woman who challenged him in the one area he couldn’t abide.
His heart. Commitment. A future.
He wasn’t going there ever again. So tonight would be goodbye.
Which was why he stayed put on Guthrie’s bench, listening—truly listening—to the man open up about his little girl, how cute she’d been, that she’d wanted pigtails every day, that she hated the color pink but would only wear dresses.
It was only after he’d finally left and was sitting in his truck that he realized little Lynnie Barnes had crept inside his heart just like Mikayla had. Man, this town had changed him.
Which was why he had to leave.
Chapter Thirteen
Everything was set for the surprise party. Jensen was picking up his parents from the airport at five. His brother Walker had already picked up Autry and his family and Gideon, who’d flown in a couple of hours ago. Hudson was en route to the caterers’ for the buffet Jensen had ordered. And Mikayla would be driving over to Walker’s for the party at six.
At the airport, Jensen spotted his parents quickly. They tended to stand out in any crowd. His father was six foot three and looked like he owned wherever he was, and his mother never dressed down, not even for travel. Patricia Jones’s blond bob was perfect, her red lipstick never leaving a mark on a cheek, since she paid well for that nontransference feature. She wore a bright white pantsuit and heels and so much jewelry on her neck that Jensen was surprised she didn’t topple over. His father was, of course, in a suit.
After slightly awkward hugs, Walker the Second clapped his hands and said, “Okay. Our flight leaves in an hour. We might as well have a light dinner at that burger joint over there. It’s ridiculous how I love a good fifty-dollar steak and a six-dollar airport burger.” He chuckled and his wife smiled.
“What do you mean, our flight leaves in an hour?” Jensen asked, looking from his father to his mother and back.
“We came to get you, Jensen,” his father said. “Here you are. So let’s head home to Tulsa.”
Jensen stopped dead in his tracks. His father had to be pulling a fast one. Even Walker the Second couldn’t be this devious. “You said you were coming to visit your sons. Walker and Hudson aren’t here. And I doubt you intend for them to meet us here for a burger.”
“We just saw your brothers at Autry’s wedding in that dive bar,” his dad said, grimacing. “With the poker name.”
“Ace in the Hole,” Jensen said on a sigh. “Look, we went to a lot of trouble for your visit, and the two of you are coming to Walker’s whether you want to or not.”
“Don’t you speak to your mother in that tone, young man!” Walker said, jabbing a finger at Jensen.
“Oh, put that away, Walker,” Patricia Jones said, pushing her husband’s finger aside. “Now, Jensen, what is this about an eight-months-pregnant woman?”
Ah. How could he be so stupid? That was why his parents had come. To drag him back home—alone. They were afraid he’d stay in Rust Creek Falls and marry Mikayla.
He mentally shook his head. He’d been planning on using a fib about falling for a woman to trick his parents into rushing to Montana to save him, but then, in a rare moment when he’d been all heartsick, he’d blurted out the truth to his dad without even realizing it.
“We can talk about everything at Walker’s,” Jensen said. “Let’s go pick up your luggage.”
“Oh, we don’t have luggage, dear,” his mother said. “Since we didn’t intend on staying the night.” She patted the small overnight bag on his father’s shoulder. “Of course, we never travel without a change of clothes and our toiletries, since mishaps can occur. One bump from turbulence or a clumsy passerby and you end up with your gin and tonic all over yourself.”
Was he completely out of his mind or did his mother just wink at him slightly? Patricia Jones had softened up a bit about losing her sons to Rust Creek Falls with the third such marriage—Autry’s last year—but her husband had not. Clearly, his mother had expected to stay the night at Walker’s, even if his father thought they were flying in, dragging Jensen back to their private plane and turning right around and flying home.
I always knew you had it in you, Mom, he thought, smiling at her.
She smiled back.
“Fine, fine,” his father grumbled, unaware as usual. “I could use a scotch.”
His mother nodded at Jensen and off they went to Jensen’s pickup. In a half hour they were at Walker’s house. When he parked, Jensen quickly texted Walker a We’re here to alert him that everyone should go into surprise mode.
As the three of them walked to the front door of the log mansion, Jensen actually felt excited again. The party had to have some kind of effect on his father. As would the distribution center. Even though it wouldn’t be named for Davison, the man was the driving force behind it. Jensen was sure his father would come around. Ninety percent sure, he amended as he rang the doorbell.
Walker pulled open the front door. “Mom, Dad, glad to see you. Come in.”
As Walker opened the door wide, the huge Happy 40th Anniversary banner was in full view and everyone inside the grand entryway shouted, “Surprise! Happy fortieth anniversary!”
“What on earth?” Patricia said, her mouth dropping open. Tears glistened in her eyes.
One parent down, one to go.
“Oh my God, is that Autry?” his mother said, rushing over to give each of her sons a hug. “And Gideon!” she practically screamed. “All my boys are here!”
“Happy anniversary,” Jensen said.
“Well, if you made your mother happy, I’m glad,” Walker the Second said.
Jensen poured his dad a scotch. “Forty years is something to celebrate, Dad.”
“So is getting you home to Tulsa where you belong.” His father looked around the grand living room, and Jensen realized he was looking for “the pregnant woman.”
Mikayla wouldn’t be here for fifteen minutes. Jensen had figured it would be better to let his parents get acclimated to the surprise party, mellow a bit and then meet Mikayla. Though now that he thought about it, did it really matter? It wasn’t as if he was staying in town to be with Mikayla. He was going home with his parents tomorrow.
Jensen spent the next few minutes chatting with the two brothers he hadn’t seen in a while. Autry lived in Paris with his wife and three little girls for the time being. And Gideon, the closet to Jensen in age, was always traveling for the business.
The doorbell rang. Mikayla.
He turned just as Bella opened the door to reveal Mikayla in a black dress. She looked so beautiful. Her long brown hair was loose past her shoulders, and she was glowing, as usual.
“If you think my son is going to marry you, you’ve got another think coming, young lady,” he heard his father bellow.
Oh, God. Oh, no. His father did not just say that.
There was a chorus of “Dad!” and apologies on his behalf from his brothers.
Walker the Second’s cheeks were red, but Jensen knew his father well enough to know it wasn’t from embarrassment at his outburst; the man was simply furious. “I mean it. Enough of this! I want Jensen back in Tulsa where he belongs.”
Mikayla stood like a deer in headlights until Bella led her toward the buffet.
“Dad, if I want to marry Mikayla and stay in Rust Creek Falls, I damn well will!” Jensen said between gritted teeth.
He glanced at Mikayla, who looked like she wanted to bolt. He wasn’t sure if she’d heard what he’d said.
“Over my dead body!” Walker the Second whispered in Jensen’s ear as he took him by the arm and pulled him over by the bar. “Listen here, Jensen. That woman is in trouble, obviously. Alone and about to have a baby. Poor, given what she’s wearing. She’s got her hooks in you and you’ve always been too tenderhearted. Don’t ruin your life by falling for it.” He glanced around. “The party was nice. Thank you. But we can go home now. I’ll call Stewart and have him get the plane ready.”
Jensen forced himself to mentally count to five. Slugging his own father, particularly at his parents’ fortieth anniversary party, wasn’t how Jensen wanted this night to be remembered. One. Two. Three. Four. Five, he counted again until he felt himself calming down. “Dad, enough.” This time it was Jensen who pulled his dad away—into the study. He closed the door behind them.
“Yes, it is enough,” his father said. “That pregnant woman has you so distracted and discombobulated that you didn’t even accomplish what you came to Rust Creek Falls to do—get that land you wanted. This is how you want to live your life? By throwing away all your hard-earned experience at making deals?”
“Actually, Dad, I did make that deal. My lawyer is drawing up the papers as we speak. I got it done because I channeled Davison and I put people before business.”
His father narrowed his eyes. “What does the deal have to do with Davison?”
Jensen explained everything. The raw memory of losing his lifelong mentor to the flash flood. Davison’s commitment to volunteering in the area to rescue and help rebuild during natural disasters. Jensen’s dedication to building a resource center as tribute to Davison. “But then the old man who kept turning me down for the land explained why he wouldn’t sell. Because he’d lost his two-year-old daughter to a flood by the creek at the edge of his property. He wanted the land to stand forever.”
The Maverick's Baby-In-Waiting (Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch Book 2) Page 15
