"Oh, man…" Joe let out a breath. "That must've been rough."
"Let's just say I wasn't fit for human company for a long time after that. So I quit the force, came back here, bought this sorry-assed place and spent the next three years taking out my frustrations on every two-by-four I could reach. Knowing I could lay down a shingle and hammer it into place, right where I wanted it…that was my therapy, I guess. All I wanted was to be alone, just me and my hammer and nails." A sardonic smile twisted his mouth. "Then Jenna and Blair showed up and blew that idea right out of the water."
Joe listened as Hank told him about Blair's being Jenna's niece, that her sister had never told anyone who her child's father was until Hank's name surfaced after her death and Jenna looked him up, because she figured he had a right to know his daughter.
"Except the last thing I needed, or wanted, at that point in my life was a kid. And the very last thing I wanted in my life was to ever feel about another woman the way I had about Michelle. Until I finally got over myself long enough to realize maybe I wasn't doing myself any favors by closing myself off from the world. Damn," he said when they reached the crest of the hill and the first of the new cabins. "I'd pay good money to stay here! Would you look at that view?"
Breathing a sigh of relief that the unasked-for lecture was apparently over, Joe followed Hank's gaze. Yeah, it was pretty damn spectacular up here, especially with the air all rain-washed and the sun slicing across the valley…
…perfectly spotlighting Taylor's house through the trees. And like a video playing in his head, he could see her chasing the dog around the yard, rubbing Seth dry with the towel on her porch, hear her laughing.
See the rejection in her eyes when he wouldn't stay for dinner.
He knew Seth was probably wondering why Joe had been so quiet after they'd left last night. The truth of it was, Joe'd been too angry to talk for some time. Not with Taylor, though, not exactly. With the fact that being around Taylor made him want things he had no idea how to get.
Not the sort of stuff he could exactly discuss with an eight-year-old boy.
Loneliness threatened to take him under, combined with a wanting that was so intense, he could hardly breathe. And it was no use pretending that Taylor wasn't a major part of that wanting. Oh, man…looking into her eyes was like recognizing some part of himself he hadn't even realized had gone missing. As if his entire being had gone numb and then he'd met Taylor and all those little nerve endings were shrieking in agony as feeling rushed back in.
"Looking good," Hank called from the cabin's porch.
Joe turned, startled to discover he hadn't even been aware of Hank's leaving. He walked back toward the cabin, forcing a grin. "Told you."
"Okay, okay, so I needed a little extra convincing," Hank said as Joe joined him inside, his voice echoing in the empty space, rich with the scent of new wood and damp forest. Mutt rushed around the cabin, trying to smell everything at once; Hank's boots clumped against the cement slab when he walked over to one of the windows and cranked it open. In the distance they could hear the sound of hammering reverberating through the woods as the crew, now back in action, worked on one of the other cabins. "When's the flooring coming?"
"Couple of weeks," Joe said. "Once the rest of the cabins are up."
Hank turned to him. "You know, it concerned me a little, how you were going to handle two projects at once. But from this end at least, I'm impressed as hell."
Joe stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded his thanks. "That mean you'll put in a good word with my boss?"
That got a speculative look, then a nod in return. "Sure. If that's what you want." Hank walked over to the kitchen area, currently a collection of gaping holes and marks on the walls indicating where the cabinets and appliances would go. "Think this might be finished by the time your mom and sister get here?"
"Probably. But I thought you were putting them in one of the original cabins."
"This is farther away from the main building, which should be a real mess by then."
"Yeah. I suppose you're right."
Hank hesitated, then said, "I know about your sister's…condition." At Joe's frown, he added, "Taylor mentioned it to Jenna, who probably wouldn't've said anything if I hadn't told her they were coming to visit. And don't go getting all bent out of shape because Taylor said something. She was just being sympathetic, is all."
"Sympathetic?"
"Yeah. You got a problem with that?"
Joe waited out the surge of irritation, then went back outside, only to feel it lance through him all over again at Hank's "Mind telling me what's got your boxers in a bunch?" behind him.
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"Bull."
Joe whipped around to look Hank square in the eye. "See, this is what I hate about small towns—not only does everybody know your business, but they all seem to think it's their divine right to tell you how to conduct it!"
"Yeah. It's called giving a damn."
"It's called sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong! Why is it so freaking hard for everybody to see I just want to be left the hell alone?" He stomped off, only to let out a "Hey!" when Hank's hand landed on his arm in a steel grip.
"I said—"
"I know what you said," Hank replied, shaking Joe's arm before letting go. "I also know a front when I see one. Because I've been there, and for damn sure I've done that."
Joe looked away for a moment, trying to regain some control. Then he met the other man's gaze again. "And like I said, it's none of your business."
"If whatever it is you're going through messes up this project, you better believe it's my business. You are right on the edge, you know that?"
"Hank?" Joe felt like his heart was about to pound right out of his chest. "I mean no disrespect, but go to hell."
"Fine. You don't want to talk to me, don't. But you need to talk to somebody, and bad. You got somebody you can go blow off some steam with? You know, go out for a beer, play some pool for a couple hours?"
"And how the hell would I do that? I've got an eight-year-old to take care of, remember?"
The instant the words were out of his mouth, Joe realized he'd walked right into Hank's trap. Especially when Hank said, "So maybe Blair wouldn't mind watching him for a couple hours some evening. Or what about Taylor, since Seth goes over there already anyway? Or better yet, leave Seth with Jen and me and take Taylor out."
"For a beer and some pool?"
Hank shrugged. "Why not?
Joe gawked at the man for a second, watching as a grin marched across the hard angles of his face. Then he shook his head at the absurdity of the situation, feeling the anger leak out of him like air from a tire. "That wouldn't be an attempt to hook Taylor and me up, would it?"
"Hell, no. Far as I can tell, the two of you are no more suited to each other than ice cream and ketchup. Just thought both of you could use the diversion, that's all."
Then Hank started back down the hill, the dog ambling along beside him, and Joe followed, his head about to explode from trying to puzzle out all of this. Especially the part about Taylor and him not being suited to each other. Not the truth of it—that went without saying—but why Hank would say it. Especially after suggesting Joe take her out.
"She dated my brother Ryan once, a couple years ago," Hank said, and Joe thought maybe he was about to get the answer to his question. "He's the doctor, lives in that great big corner Victorian in town. Like I was saying, he asked Taylor out before he married Maddie. You've probably seen Maddie around—about five-foot-nothing with big gray eyes? Real pregnant? She makes the pies for Ruby's."
The thought of Maddie's pies sent Joe's brain off on a little detour. "She makes good pies," he said wistfully.
"Damn good pies. You had her apple?"
"Oh, yeah. But the peach…"
"And don't forget the cherry."
As if he could. Both men drifted into reverential silence for several seconds to reflect on Maddie's pies, unti
l Hank finally got to his point, which was that while Ryan and Taylor wouldn't have worked out in any case—his already being crazy for Maddie at the top of the list, with Taylor's not being interested in getting involved with another man married to his work running a close second—as far as he knew the poor gal hadn't been out on a date since then.
"And that was a good year and a half ago. Just seems to me the two of you would be doing each other a favor."
Now back in the parking lot in front of the office, Joe glared at the bigger man. "You know, I'm not sure which one of us you're making sound more sorry."
Hank laughed. "You forget you're talking to a former hermit. For more than three years. You wanna talk sorry. You and Taylor don't even come close. Besides…" One brow lifted. "You can't tell me you don't like the woman."
"But you just said…"
"A man and woman don't have to be suited to spend a couple hours in each other's company, right?"
Joe stared at Hank for a long moment, then shook his head and walked away, thinking there was nothing worse than a reformed loner.
Especially when that reformed loner went around planting dumb ideas in people's heads.
Chapter 9
As the days marched on and the sky took on that hazy, pallid blue of high summer and the mosquitoes threatened world domination, the only thing Taylor was sure about was that she wasn't sure about a damn thing.
Well over a week had passed since the dog-washing debacle, a week during which her hormones settled down enough for her to start acting like a rational human being again. A week during which she and Seth got closer, which probably wasn't good but there was no way she could fight it, while she and Joe acted as though one of them had a highly contagious disease, communicable merely through conversation with the other person. All in all, a good thing, since she wasn't about to kid herself that she had a will of iron where Joe Salazar was concerned. Shoot, she'd be doing well to muster up a will of straw. Because, honey, if that man were to ever even hint he'd like to fool around…
Oh, yeah. Definitely a good thing he was keeping his distance.
Of course, there was the possibility that he wasn't being strong at all, but that he simply no longer had the hots for her. Since this was a depressing idea, she thought as she rinsed out her coffee cup and set it in the drainer, she decided to reject it in favor of her original theory.
Through her kitchen window, Taylor heard Jenna Logan's bicycle bell chirrup.
"Be right there!" she hollered. She and Jenna often jogged together in the early mornings, but at least one Saturday a month they'd bike into town to Ruby's to pig out on waffles and bacon and omelets and yak their heads off. In the past couple of months, Jenna's two sisters-in-law had taken to joining them—Dawn Gardner Logan, freshly married to the youngest Logan brother and with a brand-new baby boy; and Maddie Logan, who was so pregnant with her and Ryan's baby that the first words out of Taylor's mouth when she set foot outside were, "You know if Maddie's gonna make it?"
"As of an hour ago, yep," Jenna said with a grin, redoing her ponytail. "Although she said if the kid gets any lower, one good sneeze and he'll fall out."
Taylor chuckled, feeling some of the tension melt from her shoulders at the prospect of hanging out with her friends for a couple of hours. She got her bike from the side of the house, checked her fanny pack one last time to make sure she had her wallet—lack of sleep over the past few weeks were wreaking havoc with her brain cells—told Oakley to be a good boy, and they took off.
Even though nobody would exactly call the morning cool, there was at least enough of a breeze to fake them out, and the humidity had dropped enough so a body could at least breathe without fear of drowning. The two women cruised the hilly first mile or so of the five-mile ride in silence, enjoying the sunlight sprinkling over them through the trees and the nagging of a thousand mama birds trying to teach their babies to fly. In the distance, the Ozarks smudged the horizon, and Taylor could almost believe she felt content. Maybe not as much as when she'd first moved here, when the countryside proved to be the perfect balm for her divorce-tattered nerves, but enough to remind her of why she loved this area of the world.
"God, what a gorgeous day," Jenna said, her back straight, her long, muscled legs at rest as they hit a level stretch of road. Even though Jenna had a good ten years on Taylor, there was nothing even remotely middle-aged about the blonde. She'd once said she'd taken up jogging and biking as an antidote to both her sedentary lifestyle as a writer and a propensity toward stress-eating, resulting in a trim figure that belied an addiction to potato chips and luxury ice cream. Taylor, whose hips were clearly determined to hang on no matter how much she exercised, didn't hold her friend's slimness against her, which she thought was very generous on her part.
"Thank God," Taylor said, adding when her friend glanced over, "For the gorgeous day. Otherwise I was beginning to think I might have to kill somebody."
"Ah…" A war-torn pickup trundled into view; they passed it single file. Jenna yelled from behind, "Are we talking a generic somebody, or a specific somebody?"
"Generic." They came to a hill; both bent over their handle-bars, pumping their loyal steeds upward, and Taylor got out between puffs, "For now."
The hill conquered, they coasted down the other side, the wind tangling in their hair as they whizzed past sloping orchards and cornfields and pastures dotted with lazy cows and horses. "God," Jenna shouted, "this is so gorgeous I can't stand it!" Only when Taylor didn't reply, she glanced over and said, "Okay, what's up?"
Taylor's front tire wobbled when it hit a pebble in the road. "Nothing's up," she said, fighting for a second or two to steady the bike. "Why do you think something's up?"
"Because I've never known you to pass up a chance to give me grief for sounding like the deprived city slicker rhapsodizing about the countryside."
"It's too hot."
She could feel Jenna's I-don't-believe-you-for-a-minute glance on the side of her face, but then the other woman faced front again and Taylor—naively—thought she was out of the woods. Until she heard, "So how's it working out with Seth Salazar? If Joe's said it once, he's said it a dozen times, how lucky he was to have you to fill in the gaps between day camp and when he gets home."
And just like that, Taylor lost her admittedly dicey grip on her better mood. Because when it came down to it, whether she and Joe ignored each other or not, filling Seth's gaps only widened the chasms in her life she'd been doing her best to ignore for the past few years.
"He's doing much better," she said. "Seth, I mean. He's pretty excited about getting to meet his sister next week. A good distraction, I think. Something positive to look forward to."
"So Joe told Seth?"
"About Kristen's having Down syndrome? Apparently so. We've been reading up about it online, and from what I can tell, Joe's being very open with Seth about what to expect."
"Sounds good," Jenna says, only to add a second later, "He talks about you all the time."
"Seth? Yeah, I guess he would, since we spend so much time together—"
"Not Seth," Jenna said. "Joe."
Taylor pedaled a lot more vigorously than was necessary. "All the time?"
"Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. A little. To make a point. But he does seem to bring up your name an awful lot."
"And how often…does he happen to bring up my name…because of your lead-in?"
"You have a very suspicious mind."
"With good reason, obviously."
They pedaled for another hundred feet or so. Then Jenna laughed.
"Okay, so maybe I did have something to do with your name coming up…"
Taylor grunted.
"…but that's not why you're blushing."
"That's exertion."
"No, that's blushing. Not that I blame you. That is one seriously hot dude."
"And you have been hanging around Blair too long."
"I won't argue with you there. If I'd known how bad fourteen was g
oing to be, I'd have made a conscious effort to enjoy thirteen a lot more. But the sentiment's the same. The guy is gorgeous. And he's got that whole big-strong-protective-type-who's-a-little-lost thing going. Who can resist that?"
I'm doing my best, Taylor thought. Grumpily.
Fortunately, Ruby's loomed into view and talk turned to what they were going to gorge themselves on. Then they spotted Dawn, in a clingy, ankle-length skirt and Birkenstocks, getting out of the new Expedition her father had insisted on buying for her and Cal as a wedding present, struggling to haul Max, the World's Biggest Baby, in his car seat from the back. Jenna and Taylor angled their bikes in the rack in the little alley by the diner and then headed back around, where Dawn stood, the muscles in her arms straining with the weight of baby and carrier.
"Is it me, or is this bruiser twice as big as he was last month?" Then, without waiting for a reply, she shoved open the diner door with her shoulder, muttering, "My next kid's daddy's gonna be a hobbit."
The aroma of coffee and bacon and pancakes rushed out to embrace Taylor like a long-lost friend, making her stomach leap to attention. Jordy Kennedy yelled out, "Figured it was about time you gals got here," from the grill, his gold tooth flashing, the overhead light glancing off his dark, bald head. Then Ruby herself popped up from nowhere, herding them into "their" booth.
"Maddie's here already," the white-haired woman said. "She's just in the kitchen setting out her pies."
"She's still baking?" Dawn said. Already seated, she swung her long brown braid behind her back as she scooped Max out of his seat and immediately—but discreetly—put him to breast. "The woman's like fifteen months pregnant, for God's sake!"
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