Big Sky Bride, Be Mine!

by Victoria Pade

  “Don’t get tired out yet,” Jenna cajoled, taking the baby out of the high chair to place on her lap. “You still need your bath tonight before you can go to bed.”

  “I probably drew this meal out longer than it would have taken otherwise, haven’t I? And I know you worked today, and then you made this great food and now you still have to get Abby to bed. How about if I clean up down here as restitution for inviting myself to dinner while you give Abby a bath?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t let you do that.”

  “Sure you could. It’s the least I can do. Just tell me what to do with your leftovers and leave it all to me.”

  It still took Jenna a few back-and-forths before she conceded to having a guest clean her kitchen, but Ian wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Then, too, she thought as she gave Abby a quick bath and got the baby to bed, the idea of going back downstairs and having a little time alone with Ian wasn’t altogether awful.

  But after she got the fifteen-month-old settled and drifting off to sleep and descended the stairs, she found Ian with his coat already on, leaning one shoulder against the front door waiting for her.

  “You’re leaving?” she said, trying not to sound unhappy.

  “Not without saying thanks or goodbye, but yeah, I figured you probably wanted some peace and quiet.”

  And maybe he wanted to call Chelsea…

  But as if he knew what Jenna was thinking, he added, “And I have to go over the talk I’m giving at your town meeting tomorrow night. Will you be there?”

  Was there a hopeful note in his voice? Jenna wondered as she reached the bottom of the steps and met him at the door to stand facing him.

  “I planned to be,” she said, not revealing that the reason she’d planned to be there was to learn how much more money had been raised for the save-the-farm fund.

  “Would you let me buy you dinner afterwards?” he asked.

  That surprised her, and he must have seen it on her face because he smiled.

  “Or does it look bad if you’re seen fraternizing with the enemy?” he joked. “If it does, I could meet you back here with take-out….”

  She wasn’t worried about being seen fraternizing with the enemy, but the thought of ending up alone here with him did have some appeal. Especially since he was cutting tonight shorter than she wished he was.

  Not that it should matter….

  “I did promise my babysitter that I’d be home right after the meeting—she has a chemistry test the next day.”

  “But you’ll let me in if I show up bearing pizza or burgers or Chinese food?”

  What about Chelsea? she was tempted to say.

  But that would have revealed the fact that she’d eavesdropped on him and his father, and she didn’t want to do that. And once more she thought, Just friends exchanging playlists…

  “I might not turn away the bearer of such offerings,” she allowed.

  He smiled but committed to no more than he already had. Instead he just studied her, continuing to smile as if he liked what he saw.

  Then he said, “Thanks for letting me barge in on your dinner tonight. It really was the best lasagna I’ve ever eaten.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “And the company, too….” he said quietly.

  Somehow it seemed as if she would be exposing too much to tell him she’d also enjoyed his company. To such an extent that she was hating that he was leaving. In order to hide that, though, she hid behind levity and said, “Abby is known far and wide for her stimulating conversations.”

  “And generously sharing her food,” he played along. “Oh, and you’re not so bad yourself,” he added to tease her.

  “I just follow Abby’s lead.”

  His smile stretched into a grin as he continued to study her, his gaze settling on her eyes after a moment.

  He reached out and took her upper arm, rubbing up and down, gently, sending a glittery sensation all the way to her fingertips.

  Then his hand stopped to close around her arm in a tender but firm grip that could easily have gone to pulling her in closer….

  And suddenly there was something different in the air around them. Something that caused Jenna to think about kissing. But not in the way she’d thought about kissing the night before. This wasn’t as whimsical, this seemed to have more foundation.

  The air around them was charged, and kissing seemed like more than a fleeting thought in her mind alone. It actually seemed possible.

  Maybe even about to happen…

  Especially since he was leaning just a bit more toward her…

  Her chin rose a fraction of an inch—but only in a questioning sort of gesture, she told herself. Not to accommodate a kiss. Not to encourage one. Not to meet him partway. It was purely coincidence that that tilted chin accomplished those things, too.

  But then it struck her that last night, when she’d thought about him trying to kiss her, she’d thought that she wouldn’t let him.

  And tonight she wasn’t so sure that was still true…

  If he tried, she just might…

  He was still looking into her eyes, searching them, holding them. He was coming ever so slightly nearer…

  Oh, yeah, if he tried to kiss her she was going to let him…

  But then he gave her arm the same kind of squeeze he’d given her shoulder the previous evening, straightened up and let go, so he could reach for the doorknob and open the door instead.

  “I really better get going,” he said in a quiet voice that was deeper than it had been before. “I’ll see you tomorrow night—at the meeting and then here later.”

  Just to pay her back for the meal she’d fed him, Jenna told herself. There was nothing more to it than him being friendly. He had a Chelsea….

  “Thanks again for tonight,” he added.

  “Sure,” Jenna said.

  Still, his eyes were on her and she had the impression that he was having second thoughts about just walking away.

  But in the end, that’s what he did, muttering a simple, “Good night.”

  “Good night,” Jenna called after him, watching him go out to his car, drinking in that parting view of broad shoulders and long, muscular legs.

  And again she chanted to herself: Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea, there is a Chelsea…

  A Chelsea his father wanted him to be with. In the future, even if they weren’t together now…

  But tonight he maneuvered himself into being with me, she couldn’t help thinking.

  Tonight, he’d made plans to be with her tomorrow night, too.

  And tonight, unless she was mistaken, he’d come very close to kissing her.

  A kiss she would have let him have.

  A kiss she would have returned.

  Even knowing that she shouldn’t.

  Because what she discovered, in the immense disappointment that came over her as she watched him drive away, was that she really, really, really had wanted him to forget everything—the farm, his father, whoever Chelsea was.

  And just kiss her like crazy….

  Chapter Five

  “Molly-The-Dolly—she’s one of my favorites,” Jenna informed Abby after the fifteen-month-old had chosen the toy from her downstairs toy box on Wednesday evening.

  Jenna had fed Abby dinner, given her a bath and gotten her ready for bed, along with undertaking some of her own concentrated primping for the Town Meeting tonight. She’d made sure to start early enough so that she would have some time to spend with Abby before the babysitter arrived. Becky would be putting Abby to bed, and Jenna wouldn’t get to see her again until morning. Every minute she didn’t spend with Abby, she missed her.

  So now, with everything finished, Jenna had taken Abby downstairs and encouraged her to get a toy for them to play with. Abby had chosen the rag doll that taught how to button buttons, zip zippers, tie ties, snap snaps, buckle buckles and stick Velcro. Jenna also used it to teach basics, so when she took Abby to sit with her on the couc
h and settled Abby on her lap, she said, “Where’s Molly’s hair?”

  Abby yanked the doll up by its yarn-loop locks, and Jenna laughed. “That’s right, that’s Molly’s hair. Where’s Abby’s hair?”

  The baby was more gentle in patting the top of her own head.

  “That’s right—you’re so smart! Where’s my hair?”

  Abby pointed to Jenna’s hair—freshly washed and scrunched into a full mass of curls she’d caught at her nape. It seemed slightly dressier than usual, without being overly obvious that she’d put some thought, time and effort into it. The same thought, time and effort she’d taken with all aspects of her appearance tonight because she knew she’d be seeing Ian. At the meeting and then later, too. Back here…

  “Where are Molly’s eyes?” she asked Abby.

  Abby poked one of the doll’s felt eyes.

  “Very good. Where are your eyes?”

  Abby showed her.

  “And my eyes?” Complete with mascara and a dusting of barely visible shadow.

  Abby pointed to Jenna’s eyes.

  They did noses, and then went on to Molly’s mouth which was comprised of much brighter, red felt lips than Jenna’s pale lip gloss had provided her.

  Jenna’s tan slacks and the teal blue blouse she wore over a cream-colored tank top were less gaudy than the doll’s multi-colored outfit, too.

  “Where are Molly’s hands?” she asked next.

  Abby jumped ahead and showed her own hand—palm out, fingers splayed.

  Jenna laughed again. “That’s Abby’s hand. And how many fingers does she have?” Jenna counted them, gently pinching the tip of each one as she did.

  “How about toes? Does Abby have toes like Molly?”

  The infant’s toes were concealed in the feet of her one-piece pajamas but still Abby grabbed them, rocking back against Jenna in the process.

  Once more Jenna laughed, praised the baby and then did This-Little-Piggy through the pajama feet.

  But it was nearing Abby’s bedtime, and she was clearly weary because she stayed cuddled against Jenna, tucking Molly under one arm and fiddling with the untied ribbon in the doll’s hair rather than giving Jenna more access to the toy.

  Jenna got the message and was content to merely sit and hold Abby, to snuggle with her, to talk to her.

  “Becky will be here in a few minutes,” she told the child. “She’ll stay with you while I go into town for a meeting. I won’t be gone long, but you’ll be asleep when I get back.”

  “Be-hee,” Abby said in acknowledgment because she knew the teenager—Becky was the sitter Jenna used on special occasions.

  “That’s right—Becky. She’ll read your story tonight, and I’ll be sad that I don’t get to,” Jenna said, bending over to kiss the top of Abby’s head and suffering the regret that leaving the child for any reason always caused her.

  Abby repositioned herself until she was using the arm Jenna had around her back as a neck brace, resting her head on the sofa cushion and looking up at Jenna with huge, dark brown eyes.

  Just gazing down at those chubby pink cheeks, at Abby’s perfectly peaked lips, at her cap of blond curls, made Jenna feel as if her heart actually did swell.

  “I love you, do you know that?” Jenna said. “I know some awful things brought us together, but I can’t help feeling so lucky to have you.”

  As if she understood that, Abby reached a tiny hand up to smooth Jenna’s lightly blushed cheek.

  Several years ago, Jenna had hit the point where she wanted kids. A baby. That drive had grown and grown, along with the fear that she wouldn’t be allowed to, since every time she’d brought it up with her husband he’d treated the idea as if it were the plague.

  The marriage had already been on the downslide by then, and fighting about having a family hadn’t helped matters. Then the marriage had ended. And Jenna had wondered—worried—that she might never get to be a mom, to have the child—the children—she had come to so desperately want.

  But now she had Abby. And that helped fill so many of the other gaps that had been left in her life.

  When she was with Abby like this, she felt some of the peace she was striving for. She felt content. She felt as if everything really would be all right. She felt as if raising Abby, being the best mother she could be to her, was fulfilling enough.

  So why did thoughts of Ian Kincaid keep creeping into her mind? Why was she more dressed up than she ordinarily would be for a town meeting and actually looking forward to it? And to having Ian come back here with dinner? Why hadn’t she been able to stop reliving that moment when he’d left last night and wondering again and again if he really had been on the verge of kissing her?

  She needed to go to the town meeting, but maybe she should tell him that she’d changed her mind about dinner afterwards. Having him repay her for the lasagna wasn’t important to her, so maybe she should just cancel with him tonight. She didn’t know why she was drawn to him, but resisting it by staying away from him seemed like the smart thing to do. This peace she found alone with Abby was too nice to let anyone else invade it. Maybe years from now she would feel differently. But now was not the time.

  “I’ll just tell Ian thanks but no thanks for dinner tonight,” she muttered.

  “Un?” Abby echoed with her form of Ian’s name, sounding hopeful.

  Jenna laughed again. Apparently Abby did listen when she talked to her. And even when she wasn’t talking to her. Plus, it was funny how much the baby liked the man.

  “He does seem like a nice guy….” she assured Abby as she stroked the child’s head, unreasonably reluctant to call off their after-the-meeting plans. “So, you think it’s okay to be friendly with him? Because that’s all there is to it—he’s just being friendly and I’m just being friendly back. I probably imagined things last night. He probably wasn’t going to kiss me….”

  Abby sat up quickly and kissed Jenna’s cheek as if Jenna had requested that of her.

  Again Jenna laughed. “Thank you,” she said. “Those are the only kisses I need.”

  But a purely friendly dinner with Ian tonight after the town meeting?

  “That’s harmless, isn’t it? We both have to eat….” she said in response to her own thoughts.

  It was harmless, she decided.

  Especially if she made sure that she kept her distance when they said good-night, so there wasn’t so much as the possibility of a kiss.

  Which was exactly what she swore she would do.

  And the fact that she’d just talked herself into going through with seeing him again?

  Maybe it was better not to think about that.

  What Jenna learned at the town meeting was that there still wasn’t anywhere near enough money in the Save The Bowen Farm fund to pay her taxes. There was enough to make a bid on the farm at auction, but she was sure that any bid would immediately be topped by the Kincaid Corporation, and that that would be that.

  She learned that while the other local farmers were still on her side, she’d lost some support particularly from business owners, due to the mayor’s campaign to bring the training facility to Northbridge.

  And she learned that Ian was a very persuasive public speaker because even she—who didn’t want to hear the merits of bringing the Monarch’s training center to town—was enthralled by his speech about the plan’s advantages and how the Kincaid Corporation was committed to minimizing any downsides.

  Of course she was also enthralled by the sight of him in another pair of jeans—darker blue than what she’d seen him in before—and a maroon crewneck worn underneath a nearly black sport coat. But he looked so good standing on the stage in the school auditorium that she doubted that she was the only woman there who noticed.

  After the meeting, Ian was instantly surrounded by the mayor and the council members. And while Jenna saw him look past them to search the crowd for her, while he kept his eyes on her until she returned the wave he extended, there was no getting near him, so she didn�
�t try.

  Instead, after talking with a few friends, she went home, relieved the babysitter, looked in on the soundly sleeping Abby, and then, wondering if Ian might not show up after all, went back downstairs.

  She actually wasn’t wondering that for long, though, before her doorbell rang, and there he was, bearing two bags from the local general store.

  “Those don’t look like burgers, Chinese food or pizza,” she noted in greeting, leaving him standing on the porch in the still unusually warm weather while she drank in her closer look at him, enjoying it even more than her earlier one at the meeting.

  “That’s because I didn’t bring burgers, Chinese food or pizza,” he answered. “I was feeling guilty thinking about what a lousy payback fast food was for the meal you made last night, and I just couldn’t do it. I’m not much of a cook, but what I do make is a fantastic sandwich—”

  “All humility aside,” she goaded him.

  “Wait till you taste it,” he countered. “The Big Sub—it got me through college, won me friends in high places and women in low places,” he said with a wicked smile and a raise of one eyebrow. “It made me famous, in fact. What you will behold in these sacks are the makings for this legendary sandwich.”

  The man was definitely persuasive. Jenna couldn’t suppress a smile at his sales pitch as she pushed open the screen door and let him in.

  “That is a lot to live up to,” she warned.

  “Just wait,” he said, accepting the challenge as he came in and she closed the door behind him.

  He set the bags on the floor, took off his jacket and hung it on one of the coatrack pegs.

  “To the kitchen,” he said, retrieving the grocery sacks and heading there with Jenna bringing up the rear.

  Her gaze rode along on the back pockets of his jeans in admiration of some of the best buns she’d ever seen. It was such an amazing derriere, in fact, that she almost forgot to look up when they reached the kitchen. Ian put the bags on the table and glanced over his shoulder at her. But she did look up, just in the nick of time.

  “Here’s what I need, and then you can just sit and watch majesty-in-the-making,” he was saying. “I need two plates, a bread knife, a paring knife, a fork, a spoon, a cutting board, some salt and a bowl. And something to wipe my hands on.”