She took a deep breath, putting her fist to her chest. “I can’t breathe. You took my breath away, and forgot to give it back. I look for you, I listen for you, I take the scenic route just to see if I can find you. I feel stupid, I feel cheap, I feel like I gave you something I can never get back. I’m selfish, you’re selfish, we’re both stupid. Too fast, too slow, too everything, dammit. I don’t know love, but I got a taste. It was sweet and full and warm and precious. But now it’s cold and dark and so, so bitter. Because I don’t understand. I’ll never understand.”
She paused, turning away from Shelby to grab a tear that had appeared out of nowhere. Then she turned toward her, a suspicious thought crystallizing in her brain.
“Hayley assigned you to do this, didn’t she?”
Shelby went all wide-eyed innocent for a moment, then let her shoulders fall. “I mentioned how she’s pretty much always right, right?”
“Yeah.” Emma sighed. “You did.”
“I really do need a song for the album. And I really do want a heartstrings-puller. That’s not a lie. She just maybe pointed me in your direction for inspiration. ‘Two birds with one stone,’ she said. ‘You get a song, and she gets a much-needed vent.’ ”
“This is a strange, strange little place.”
“Agreed.” Shelby put the notebook on the table, then pulled up her knees and stared toward the stables. “But as the most recent in a long line of transplants, I’ll be dead honest with you. Every single person I’ve met here at Whisper Creek operates with the best of intentions. They are as nosy as all get-out, but it’s because they care.”
“I can see that.”
“Actually? You probably can’t yet. But it’s okay. It takes time. It took me a long time, but I wasn’t ready. I was a born-and-raised Tennessee girl, and there was no way I was pulling up those roots to move out here, especially since it’d been so long since I’d felt any roots.” She smiled softly. “But this family—this town—it has a way of growing on you. It has a way of just sort of wrapping you up like a warm blanket on a cold night, and boy, did I need a warm blanket.”
“Well, I’ll only be here for a couple of months, so I’d probably be well served not to go looking for any more warm blankets.”
Shelby laughed. “Jasper?”
“I’m not even going to wonder how you know. Everybody knows everything out here.”
“Well, I heard it from Cooper, who heard it from Daniel, who probably heard it from Gunnar or Liam. I’m not sure.”
Emma smiled, picturing that particular bunch of holy-alpha-male cowboys dishing at the café bar like a bunch of old ladies.
“Your men are worse gossips than any women I’ve ever met.”
“Noted. Agreed. But again—”
“I know. It’s because they care. Yadda yadda.”
Shelby studied her for a long moment, then took a deep breath like she was trying to decide whether to tell Emma something. Finally, she closed her eyes tightly and spoke.
“Has anyone told you what happened to Jasper’s wife?”
Emma felt her stomach squeeze. Wife?
“I, um, I didn’t know he had a wife.”
“He did. She died in a car accident five years ago.”
“Oh, God.” She crossed her arms across her body, feeling actual pain for Jasper.
Shelby nodded. “He blamed himself then, and I don’t think he’s ever stopped.”
“Why?”
“Because the night it happened, she was leaving him.”
“Oh, no,” Emma whispered. “Why?”
Shelby shrugged sadly. “I don’t think any of us knows that part. But—I just thought you should know, in case you were thinking his cold feet are all about you. They’re not. Everyone can tell how much he cares about you, but I think he’s just not ready to have someone in his life again. Not ready to risk that heartbreak again.”
“Wow.” Emma nodded slowly. “Just…wow.”
“I’m sorry, Emma. I’m sure at another time, somewhere down the road, you guys could have been a perfect match. Maybe you still will be—who knows? And the wife thing probably should have been his to tell you, but I know how it feels to have your heart shattered, and to have nobody think your heart could possibly have fallen for somebody so fast and hard. I also know how easy it is to blame yourself and assume you’re damaged goods, and you don’t deserve that.”
Emma shook her head. “You don’t even know me. Why—”
“I know enough.” Shelby shrugged, then stood up. “Focus on you, and focus on the things you want to accomplish while you’re here. The rest will sort itself out, right?”
“I like your optimism.”
“Ha.” Shelby laughed. “And thanks for your help with the song. I’ll let you know how it comes out, after I play it for the horses enough times.”
Emma smiled, then clasped her hands nervously, an idea forming in her head. “Hey, Shelby? What if I offered you a better test audience than horses?”
Hours later, Emma washed the last kitten bottle, feeling a smile creep over her face. She’d fed the itty-bitties, who were now snuggled together on a new blanket in their basket, and now it was time to sit down for some good, old-fashioned decision-making.
She had eight weeks left here in Carefree. Eight weeks to run Shady Acres, live at Whisper Creek, and do her best to make it all count somehow. Mooning over Jasper wasn’t going to get her anywhere besides Prozac Lane, and before she knew it, she’d be back in her neat Florida office working on spreadsheets and proposals and watching animal control wrest yet another alligator out of the retaining pond behind the building.
Maybe she was on her way to the corner office, but—maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Duncan didn’t think she had the chops, or maybe Duncan had been cutting her off at the knees for years now, in fear that she might overtake him on that ladder.
She pulled out the binder she’d lugged here from Florida, opening it to the section where she’d printed and hole-punched all of her rejected proposals. Then she found some blank paper and got to work.
If they were going to send her to Big Sky country to get her out of the way, then she was going to make the most of being out from under their watchful eyes. She had a binder full of what she knew were good ideas, and dammit, she was going to start putting them into practice.
Step one? Kittens.
Chapter 25
“Morning, Archie.” Emma poked her head into his room three days later. “You up for a little company?”
“Depends.” Archie put down his newspaper, his best growly expression on. “You bringing me one of those disgusting smoothies you taught Horace to make?”
“Nope. And they’re not disgusting. They’re good for you.”
“Disgusting.”
“Well, I have something better.” She ducked out into the hallway and came back in with the kitten basket.
“I’m not folding laundry.”
“No laundry. Look.” She tipped the basket downward so he could see the kittens. “Someone asked if I could look after these guys, and I’m trying, but it’s been a little challenging, what with having to be here at work.”
“You don’t say.” Archie rolled his eyes, but he reached in a gentle hand to pet the fluff pile inside.
“I do say. So I thought—Archie’s got a nice, sunny room and no roommate, and he used to have cats. Maybe he’d be interested in giving these little pipsqueaks a hand.”
“How’d you know I had cats?”
“I read your intake information. I also know you’ve got three lousy kids who don’t deserve you, a sailboat you can’t bear to sell, and a wife you took care of for ten years when Alzheimer’s took hold.”
Archie put a hand over his chin, but Emma still saw it shake a bit.
“Have you ever been down to the sailing center at the lake?” She put the basket down near his feet.
“No.” He shook his head, pointing to his legs, which she knew were ravaged with arthritis.
“W
ell, I’ve got you set up for a sail on Saturday. Four hours, you and a sailing guy, sunshine and fresh air and all the water you can see.”
“Bullshit.” He looked up like she had to be joking, but she saw a glint of hope in his eyes.
“Not kidding. I figured it was the least I could do, if you help me out with these kittens.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I’m so not. Van will pick you up at ten o’clock out front. I’m springing for this one, but if you like it, you’ve got plenty of money, Archie. Take a sailing lesson every week. We’ll get you there, and just think—the more you spend, the less you’ll have to leave to your ungrateful children, right?”
“You make a point.” He smiled, leaning down to pet the kittens again. “You have a feeding schedule for these critters?”
“Right here with the food. I can pick them up when I leave work so you don’t have to worry about them at night, though.”
He lifted a kitten out of the basket and cuddled it under his chin. “Don’t you dare.”
—
He tried his hardest to resist it, but a week later, Jasper found himself walking down the hallway toward the recreation room, drawn by the sound of Emma’s laughter, mixed with the muted squeals and thumps of who knew what else.
When he got to the windowed doorway, he ducked backward, his eyes wide. It appeared that his volleyball team had defected to Emma’s camp, as they were rolling around the room, chasing after balloons that looked suspiciously full of—yep, whipped cream.
He laughed silently as ancient Sylvia wielded her toothpicks expertly, exploding whipped cream all over Joe Senior, who then spun her in a full, squeaking circle in retaliation. As Jasper leaned against the doorframe to watch, he cringed, realizing just how unsafe someone from the outside might find this little game, but the laughter from the residents made it easy to forget how easily someone could—oh, say—lose an eye or something with those flailing toothpicks.
He spotted Emma in the middle of the mix, rolling around in a chair of her own, and he couldn’t unglue his eyes. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she already had whipped cream smeared on her cheek and forehead, but she was racing around the room as fast as she could push herself, almost tipping over as Archie sent a balloon her way.
In her blue scrubs, her cheeks pink with exertion, her eyes bright and happy, she was magnetic. Beautiful. Sweet. Sexy as hell.
He’d been watching her for two weeks now, since that awkward conversation in her office, and if it was possible to fall completely, stupidly in love with someone from afar, after deciding not to, he was damn well doing it.
He spent more time here at Shady Acres now than he had before she’d come. He found himself staying extra-long after breakfast, coming back for lunch whenever he could, finding excuses to go out to Whisper Creek, and watching for his little blue car to go by the café, since he’d refused to take it back till she left, despite her insistence that she could find another one.
It was pathetic, really.
But he’d made the right decision for both of them. He had. There was no way he was ready to go all-in with someone again, and she deserved someone who could.
He…couldn’t.
So now he was suffering the worst punishment imaginable. He’d had a taste of her, and now he knew what he was missing.
The sound of a guitar from somewhere down the hallway made him cock his head. It sounded like—no. It couldn’t be.
He turned on his heel and headed toward the dining room, where servers were setting up for lunch. When he got there, Cooper greeted him at the door, guitar slung over his shoulder.
“Hey, Jasper. Having lunch with your dad?”
“Yep.” Jasper pointed to the guitar. “What’s this?”
“Emma asked if we might want to come play once a week when we’re not on tour.”
“Really?”
“We’ve been busting butt, trying to learn a bunch of oldies she suggested. Said she surveyed the residents to pull together a top-twenty list.”
“No kidding.”
“Nope. So while we’re off tour, we figured, why not? She and Shelby were talking about dementia research the other night, and now my wife is all fired up to see if we can do more to help. Apparently there’s a lot of research coming out about music’s impact on brain wiring, so it’s actually pretty exciting.”
“Well.” Jasper nodded. Sounded like Emma had decided she was going to use her two remaining months here to prove out all of the proposals she’d been denied in Florida.
He smiled.
Good for her.
Cooper lifted his chin, raising his eyes to look over Jasper’s shoulder. “Hey, Emma. Speak of the devil.”
Emma laughed. “Uh-oh. Not exactly the moniker I was after.” She gave Cooper a quick hug, then waved at Shelby, who was setting up a microphone in the far corner. “Thanks for coming, you guys.”
Then she turned to Jasper, pointing at her whipped-cream-stained scrubs. “I just learned how to play your psycho volleyball game.”
“And? What’d you think?”
“Well? Somebody’s destined to lose an eye, but good Lord, it’s fun.” She smiled. “I need to go change.”
Jasper crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Looks like you’ve embraced the ask-forgiveness-later method?”
“Heck, yes.” She grinned, spinning around to head to her office. “And it’s awesome.”
—
A week later, Emma felt a wave of nausea wash over her as she came from Ivy’s room, and she swore silently. The entire nursing home was in lockdown because of a GI bug, and she’d been helping the still-healthy nurses for two days now because the rest had succumbed to the bug already.
It wasn’t a fun job.
“You okay?” Katrina walked out of a room with a pile of linens in her hands. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes were dead tired. The poor woman had been working double shifts for days, and Emma knew she was about three steps from falling asleep on her feet.
“Good. Yes.” Emma felt for the handrail. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Katrina dumped the linens in a laundry bin, then pumped sanitizer onto her hands, studying Emma the entire time. She felt Emma’s forehead, then frowned.
“You don’t feel hot, but you look like hell, girl. You need to go home.”
“No. I’m fine. Just need to rest for a minute. I’ll be good to go in a sec.”
“Emma? You can’t be hero-girl here. If you’re sick, you’re a liability. You’re required to get yourself out of here and go home. It’s in your own procedures manual.”
“I know.” Emma cringed, thinking about the week she’d written that section. How smug she’d felt sitting there in her office making medical recommendations that no one would think to argue with. I mean, seriously, if you were sick, you went home. Period. You couldn’t put healthy residents at risk.
But now she was here, and more residents were sick than the nurses could handle, and these were people, dammit. They were sick, and they needed help, and her stupid manual didn’t deal in reality.
“Stay away from the healthy ones, I beg you.”
“I will. And I just ordered all meals in-room tonight, so the dining room’s getting a full scrub-down.”
“What’s going on?” Jasper’s voice came from behind Emma, startling her.
“Emma’s sick, but she won’t admit it.” Katrina pointed at him. “And what are you doing here? We’re in no-visitors mode.”
“I have a stomach of steel. I’ll be fine. You guys need the extra bodies. I can help.”
Emma swallowed another wave of nausea, feeling her forehead go prickly. Oh, no. She needed to get back to her office and sit down at her desk till this passed. She could not be coming down with this evil bug. She couldn’t.
She turned to go, but before she completed a full 180, the hallway tipped strangely, and the prickles became a wave of ice-cold weirdness.
“Uh-oh,” she heard hersel
f say, but it was in a strange, high voice.
And that was the last thing she remembered.
—
“How is she?” Kyla asked as she came through the door of Emma’s cabin later that night, carrying a glass container of what looked like chicken soup.
Jasper put down the remote and stood up to take the bowl. “She’s finally asleep.”
“Good. I’m all set up at the house. I can stay with her for the night.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be till morning. I’ll just hang here on the couch and make sure she’s okay.”
Kyla smiled gently. “You sure?”
“It’s the least I can do, after—well, everything. I’m happy to stay.”
“Don’t get sick.”
He patted his gut. “Superman stomach. No worries.”
“All right.” She headed for the door. “Call up to the lodge if you need anything. Ma made up about ten gallons of that stuff to take up to Shady Acres tomorrow. Apparently Horace is down, too.”
“Oh, boy. The man finally learns to cook, and then he gets sick.”
“I know, right? Okay, I’m off. Get some sleep.”
He closed the door after her and then stood there, looking around Emma’s cabin. He felt sort of guilty doing so, knowing he hadn’t actually been invited. But seeing her fall into a dead faint in the middle of the hallway had ignited every protective instinct he owned, and there was no way he was leaving her alone tonight, even though she’d insisted after she’d woken back up.
He wandered back to the couch, and his eyes caught on a binder and what looked like a journal—both lying open on the coffee table. He’d avoided looking at either of them until now, but he found himself drawn to them, at the same time he feared he might be totally invading her space by reading them.
The binder pages that were open contained two lists. One side was titled Shady Acres, aka New Name That Isn’t a Cemetery, and under the title was a long line of check boxes next to items like Kittens! and Horace—cooking class and Tess—training?
Taking a Chance Page 22
