It was really none of her business now and yet it bothered her. She couldn’t help but remember how he’d defended her when she’d told him about Kieran sleeping around on her. This whole time Jakub had another woman in the wings? Because the way he acted with this woman, it seemed like they had…history.
For a few minutes, Harper waited, crouched behind the rocker, shame and regret coursing through her until Jakub went inside. Finally, she rose and after one more glance through the front window, abandoned the inspection of the house. What had she been thinking anyway? There was no way she would ever buy this house and live next door to where Jakub worked.
She had to change her running route. Tomorrow morning.
She skipped down the steps and took off at a sprint for home.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tucking the package he’d found against the door onto his lap, Jakub sat down in the fire station kitchen and eyed suspiciously the pile of slop on his plate. Caldwell’s turn to cook was always a minefield.
“What’s the matter? Never had corned beef hash before?” Caldwell stood in front of the stove, holding a spatula and wearing the blue Cubs apron he always wore when he cooked.
Jakub poked a pale pile of something rubbery with his fork. “That what you call this?”
Ritchie walked in, rubbing his hands together. “Mmm. Smells like my grandmother’s trashcan. What is that—boiled cabbage?”
“So that’s what it is.” Jakub lifted a leaf of the limp vegetable. A little stream of steam escaped. “Nothing like a pile of meat and veggies for breakfast.”
Ritchie nodded to the manila envelope on Jakub’s lap as he took a seat on the stool next to him. “Whatcha got there?”
Jakub slowly removed the package bearing his first and last name in a loopy, suspiciously feminine script.
“Popular with the ladies this morning?” Ritchie asked.
Apparently, Aurelia had been so touched by the money he’d given to her cousin as a wedding gift, she’d wanted to invite him to dinner in person. His own sister wouldn’t take his money, and he was getting restless to share it. Why shouldn’t he give a chunk to his buddy’s family? Ritchie had been the brother he never had. Aurelia was practically his sister.
“What’s Ritchie talking about?” Caldwell lifted the apron off and sat down with a heaping plate of food.
“Jakub is getting love notes from my wife.”
“Not from her.” Aurelia had denied the package was from her. “However, your wife did invite me to your place for dinner tonight.”
“The flirt.” Ritchie laughed. “Nah, just kidding. Always glad to have you, man.”
“What about me? Where’s my invitation?” Caldwell threw his palms up.
Ritchie ignored him and leaned over the envelope. “Who’s it from?”
Jakub shrugged. He had never seen Harper’s handwriting, but a thrill was working up his spine at the thought that the envelope was from her.
“Are you going to open it?”
“Yeah, of course.” Whatever was inside here, it would give him an excuse to escape the stench of this meal. Jakub grabbed the package and stood. “Lost my appetite. Sorry, Caldwell.”
“Aw, come on. I eat all your crap.”
Jakub lifted the middle finger of one hand as a parting gift as he made his way to the lounge. He sank into the black leather couch and tore open the envelope.
Inside, his hand met something fuzzy. He pulled out a…stuffed piece of poop? Tied with a little bow. Odd was an understatement.
His hand dove in again and found a letter.
Dear Jakub,
I want you to know I’m so very sorry. For everything. I’m sorry that you lost your wife in such an unthinkable tragedy. I’m sorry for all the deficiencies of medicine and the broken health care system that didn’t adequately help your wife in her greatest time of need. If I could, I would go back in time and change all that and give you Samara back. But I can’t.
You did make a profound impression on me, Jakub Wojcik. I’m grateful for your help when I didn’t think I needed it and for your company that I didn’t know I wanted. You’re kind and funny and insightful. You are a walking list of attributes that would make a great partner any woman would be lucky to have. I wish you all the best.
Regards and regrets,
Harper
P.S. That thing that looks like a turd is a plush likeness of the Ebola virus. And now you can never say I didn’t have a sense of humor.
Very not funny, Harper Peters. Nothing humorous about this letter, in fact. Starting with the fact that she was saying he would make a great partner for any woman—except her.
Ritchie strolled in and collapsed into a recliner. “Boiled cabbage tastes a lot better than it smells, by the way.”
“I’m ecstatic to know that.”
“So, what’s in the package?”
“You’re one nosey mother fucker, you know that?”
Ritchie kicked the footrest back under the recliner with his heels as he sat forward. “So…?”
Jakub handed the letter to him. Better than having to say any of this aloud.
Ritchie read the letter, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. Wide-eyed, he gave it back to Jakub. “That’s some serious shit.”
“She’s really hung up on my wife’s death.”
Ritchie flinched. “You talked about Samara with her?”
“She asked. So I told her. And soon after that conversation, she pulled back.”
“What’s up with that?”
“I may not have been able to finish, you know…the job. In bed.”
“Dude. This is getting heavier by the minute.”
“I don’t have a problem with that in general. But Harper blindsided me with some pretty intense information.”
“Like what?”
“Like she said I was some kind of perfect missing puzzle piece of her life. I kind of choked when she said that. She thought it was because I wasn’t ready to be with another woman, because of Samara.”
“Well, what would you expect her to think? She spills her guts and your dick stops working.” Ritchie stared at him with a little too much admonishment in his eyes. Fucker. Whose side was he on?
Jakub stood and began to pace.
“So if it wasn’t because of Samara, you choked because…?”
“I choked because Harper is one intense chick and am I ready to jump into this all the way? I don’t know. I care about her, but she’s so…stubborn. She went off to assist an Ebola case without batting an eye. And the idea of her being exposed to all those infections she works with makes me sick.”
Deep, thunderous laughter filled the room.
What the fuck? “You think this is funny?”
A devious smile crept over the fucker’s features. Ritchie pinched his eyes. “The stuffed poop is pretty funny, you gotta admit. But seriously, you don’t want her because she’s stubborn? Oh, bro, the stubborn ones are so much fun.”
Jakub glared until Ritchie wiped the smile off his face. “I know Samara is gone and she’s not coming back.” He paced to the end of the room, emotion surging through him. He took a deep inhale and let it whoosh out of him before turning to lean against the white board on the wall. “I just don’t know if I can lose another woman.”
Ritchie’s derisive expression fell. He stood and crossed his arms. “Listen, man, if I know one thing, I know that nothing is worth having that doesn’t come with a risk of losing it. And you can’t lose what you don’t even have. This girl has gotten to you in a big way. It’s obvious, man.”
He was right. Jakub had to tell Harper he wanted her, not his wife. “So I tell her I want to really jump in and start something with her. Then what? Then I just let her go off and treat deadly infections every day?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” Jakub slammed his fist on the back of the couch. “No!” He shook out his hand and let out a breath. “She’s involved with some kind of new therapy that treats rare i
nfections with get this: other infections. She probably thinks I have no clue, but I looked it up.”
Ritchie leaned an elbow on the back of the recliner. “What happened to Samara was a freak accident. You can’t go around expecting the worst is always going to happen.”
“Hard to do when Harper’s flirting with disaster on a daily basis.”
“You’re not going to be able to control her. Trust me. I got a stubborn one myself.”
“I’m not trying to control her!”
But maybe he was, he began to think as he stormed out of the lounge and headed to his locker to grab his coat. Maybe he had a controlling side that simply had never come out around Samara.
Samara had been a dental hygienist with good work hours. She was always home in time to make dinner on the nights Jakub didn’t work. She didn’t have any dangerous career aspirations. She seemed content to garden, decorate the house, and just be his wife.
Harper would never be that kind of woman. But he liked them both for who they were. How could you fall in love with two entirely different people?
In love? Who was he kidding? He wasn’t in love. He was in frustration. Deep frustration.
Jakub drove to Harper’s townhouse, not sure what to say. Showing up in person would send a message even if he couldn’t find the right words. It was Sunday, so she wouldn’t be at work. They’d have plenty of time to talk this out.
He pulled up to the curb in front of her townhouse. A pick-up truck was parked out front, forcing him to park behind it. A woman in a flowing hippie dress got out of the driver’s side door. She looked right at him. Her eyes bulged wide as though she recognized him.
That was weird.
She took a step closer, “Are you….?” Her eyes darted to Harper’s house then back to him, running her gaze down the length of his body.
He was in uniform still. Probably she was wondering if he was here in some kind of formal capacity.
“Are you Jakub?”
Or maybe not. “I am. And you are…?” He reached out a hand to shake.
“Bev. Friend of Harper’s.” Bev seemed exceedingly pleased to meet him. A flush rose to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled.
Well, damn. Harper had talked about him to her friend Bev. Pride at that knowledge expanded his chest. Maybe he still had half a chance to salvage things between them.
At that moment, Harper stepped through the doorway of her townhouse. Without looking up, she closed the door and locked the deadbolt. The sight of her looking so ordinary—hair up in a ponytail and wearing jeans and a V-neck T-shirt—sent a rush of heat through his chest. He knew how very not ordinary this woman was, and he suddenly knew he was going to tell her just that.
Harper turned and saw him. She visibly jumped an inch. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and recovered a confident posture.
She met them on the sidewalk. “Jakub. Hi. This is Bev.”
“We met.” He side-eyed Bev conspiratorially. “Though she had the advantage of already knowing who I was.” Let Harper know he was touched that his reputation in her life preceded him.
Bev laughed a generous laugh.
Harper just stood there, a scowl marring her face. “What are you—?”
“I got your letter.”
Bev’s eyebrows hopped up at this. Quickly, she moved to the pick-up bed and began to organize things in the back—shovels, bags.
“I wanted to talk to you, but it looks like you’ve got plans.” With shovels. Gardening? He remembered Samara in her green gardening clogs, planting bulbs. He shook his head to rid himself of the image. “Can we grab a coffee later? I’d like to talk to you.”
“How about you grab a shovel and come along?” Bev called from behind them. She was leaning against the pick-up now, making no attempt to give them privacy.
Harper looked like a goldfish that had been plucked out of its bowl, standing there while her mouth opened and closed then opened again.
“Sure,” he addressed Harper as though she were the one who’d invited him. “I don’t have much going on today. I could give you a hand—gardening?”
She fish-mouthed again before speaking. “We have plans.”
“That part’s been established.” Was she really trying to pretend her friend hadn’t just invited him along on her plans?
“We’re collecting soil samples,” she said, as if that explained everything.
“Soil samples.” Jakub echoed.
“Phages. They live in the soil. There’s a paucity of—”
“You’re digging for viruses?” Of course, Harper wasn’t going to do something domestic like gardening. Of course, she was going to tinker around with something infectious.
“Yes, the center in San Diego has started a phage bank.” She gave him a shrewd dressing down with her eyes. “How do you know what phages are?”
He smiled and tapped his temple. “Firemen can Google.” Did she think he wouldn’t have looked up the kind of work she was doing? “You don’t have to look so shocked.”
“No, I just…didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course I care, Harper.” He reached for her hand and she let him take it. Her hand was small and warm and felt deceivingly delicate in his. He wanted to do so much more—wrap his arms around her and pull her to him. Demolish the air between them. “I’m known to be handy with a shovel. I’m happy to help. If you’ll have me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’m known to be handy with a shovel. Known by his late wife.
If you’ll have me. That statement was so charged with meaning, more than she dared hope. What of that woman he’d had his arms around this morning?
But his offer to help warmed her. She shouldn’t say yes. There were so many unresolved things between them. But the interest he showed for her work…and to have another hand. Not to mention the thought of spending the day with him lightened her spirit.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt to have some help.” She looked up into those lake blue eyes. So deep and kind.
He gave her a smile as hot and bright as the August sun.
Forty minutes later, Jakub pulled the truck to the shoulder of the farm driveway where Bev indicated to park.
Bev. The hopeless romantic who had to invite him along. Who insisted he sit up front with Harper. The whole ride—which would have been unbearably tense had Bev not sprinkled in conversation like the social lubricant she was—Harper sat next to Jakub, trying to ignore the heat spreading from his body to hers, the warmth reaching up her thigh like an invisible caress.
She wanted his hands all over her again.
But she could hardly believe he was sitting here next to her.
Bev squeezed Jakub’s shoulder from the back seat. “Thanks for driving,” she said before she scooted out of the truck, leaving them alone on the bench seat of the cab.
Jakub cast a glance at Harper, a look that held a plea and an invitation all at once. “Well?” he asked. “Ready to dig up some dirt?”
She gripped the door handle with damp fingers.
“Wait. Harper.” The richness of his voice pressed into her like actual physical contact.
She turned and met his eyes. Ice blue, but blazing with warmth.
“While I have you alone, I need to say something.”
She swallowed. “Go ahead.”
“When you said what you said that night in my bed, I was afraid. Those were strong words to live up to. I was afraid of not being able to do that. Afraid of hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He didn’t want to hurt her. He couldn’t give her his whole heart, because his wife still owned part of it. And maybe that other woman too.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Harper. I am worried. Your letter from this morning. You seemed to think my…hesitation that night was all about my wife.”
“You don’t have to explain. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.” Or if he was ready to be casual with more than one woman, she didn’t care to hear abou
t that.
“I am ready. That’s what I came to tell you.”
“Ready for what exactly, Jakub?” She let the frustration creep into her voice.
“Ready for us.” He reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers.
“I’ve got work to do.” She slid out of his grasp and stepped out of the truck.
She rounded to the pick-up bed and began to help Bev unload shovels and specimen bags. In a moment, Jakub was outside too, standing behind the truck.
Bev held one shovel, and Harper held two—one with a deep, pointed scoop and a shorter one with a flat blade, leaving only the plastic bags in a pile on the folded down gate.
Harper eyed a patch of exposed dirt in the pasture to her left. To Jakub, she said, “If you could grab a few of those bags, that would be great. Bev and I will go to the field. You get as close to the cow manure as possible over there—it’ll be rich with organisms.”
“You’re shitting me,” Jakub deadpanned.
Bev snorted, but when Harper sent a warning glance her way, her friend quickly composed herself. A mischievous gleam still in Bev’s eye, she shrugged. “What? You’ve got to admit the man has a sense of humor.”
Harper hazarded a look at Jakub. He stood, head tilted to the side, a proud little smile on his lips.
Maybe it had been a bit much to order him to the shit pile.
He beckoned with his hand as though he were asking for her to come near. “If I’m going to shovel shit for you, Madame, I’m going to need a shovel.”
Harper held out the implement for him, a little let down that his gesture had been only for the shovel and hadn’t, in fact, been a request for her person. Before he could see how his humor, his simple presence disarmed her, she turned to hide her face and marched into the field.
He watched the petite shoulder blades moving under her thin cotton T-shirt as she walked away. This was rich all right. Her bossing him to shovel shit. Not exactly how he’d imagined the morning would go after telling her he wanted to give them a real chance.
A Beautiful Fire (Love at Lincolnfield Book 4) Page 14
