Brave the Heat

by Sara Humphreys

“Which one?”

  “The tall Waterford one that your mother gave us for our first wedding anniversary.”

  “Sure. That was only a hundred years ago. How am I supposed to remember which one that is?” Gavin’s dad rolled his eyes and shrugged. Strolling past Gavin he whispered, “You know I won’t get the right one, and she’s gonna make me go back ten times. I don’t know why the woman doesn’t get it herself.”

  “I can hear you,” she sang as she snipped the ends of the stems. “Unlike you, I am not half-deaf. It’s on the bottom of the closet on the right-hand side.”

  Smirking at their familiar banter, Gavin sat on one of the wooden stools at the island before grabbing a cookie and gobbling it down in two bites. A glass of milk appeared in front of him, and his mother gave him a knowing look.

  “Not that I’m not thrilled to have my favorite flower for my birthday,” she said, arching one brow. “But—”

  “This one?”

  Gavin stifled a laugh. His father stood behind him in the arched doorway to the living room holding up two crystal vases which, based on the look on his mother’s face, were both wrong.

  “No.” She sighed with exasperation. “The bottom right side.”

  He could hear his father muttering as he left the room, which elicited an eye roll from his mother.

  “What was I saying? Oh yes, the flower shop.” She placed two more cookies on a plate and pushed it to Gavin before making quick work of putting away the rest. “Your choice of birthday gift wouldn’t happen to be due to the recent return of a certain young lady who is working at said flower shop, would it?”

  “It might,” Gavin said around a mouthful of cookie before washing it down with a hearty gulp of milk. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not for me,” she said with a shrug. Peering at him over her glasses, she arched one brow. “How is Jordan doing? I heard she and her girls rented the Sweeneys’ old place down on the beach. Her mother told me Jordan got divorced a few months ago.”

  “Jeez,” Gavin grumbled. “Did everyone know about this except for me?”

  “Probably,” his mother said casually.

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

  “Why would I?” she asked innocently. “If I recall correctly, the last time I brought up her name, you bit my head off and told me it was ancient history. Or was that another one of my sons named Gavin?”

  “Sorry.” He let out a sigh. “Well, to answer your question, she’s exactly the same.” He ate the last bit of chocolate chip goodness. “She’s still gorgeous and stubborn as hell.”

  “Yes, well, you’re one to talk.” Trimming off the thorns, she huffed. “If stubborn were an Olympic sport, you’d have the gold medal.”

  Gavin wiped his mouth with the paper napkin and avoided his mother’s inspecting stare. She sure did have his number. He and his brothers never got away with much because his mom always seemed to know what was going on. It was uncanny.

  “So?” Wiping the excess water off the counter, she continued her inquiry. “How was it?”

  “Is this it?” His dad emerged with an ornate crystal vase that, as far as Gavin was concerned, looked exactly like the two he’d brought out before. “It was on the bottom right.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She took it from him, and he planted a kiss on her cheek.

  “No extra charge for kisses.” His dad winked and smacked her on the butt again. “Or that.”

  “Stop being fresh,” she said. “Gavin was telling me about his visit with Jordan.”

  “Oh yeah.” His dad leaned on the counter and nodded. “I heard she was back in town; I’m not surprised. Old Brookfield is always home. Besides that, her father is on his way out.”

  “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” Gavin grumbled.

  “Gavin Charles McGuire,” his mother huffed. “That is unkind.”

  “Yeah? Well, so is her old man.”

  “He’s not wrong,” murmured his father.

  “Be that as it may, I don’t want to hear you all say things like that.” She fluffed the arrangement of roses.

  His mother’s intelligent greenish-gray eyes peered at him from between the yellow blooms, and he was instantly reduced to feeling like a five-year-old. He fought the urge to squirm on the stool.

  “He’s a dying old man, Gavin, and I think it’s wonderful that Jordan came home to make peace with him. Not for him but for herself. Besides, I know her mother has been itching to have her and the girls back in town. Poor woman hasn’t even been able to get to know her grandchildren. Can you imagine?”

  “I can’t believe Jordan wants to see the old son of a bitch again.” Anger shimmied up Gavin’s back. “How could she forgive him after the way he treated her?”

  “I’m not talking about forgiveness for him, Gavin.” Her voice softened. “It’s about Jordan. You can’t undo the past, but you certainly can make peace with it in order to have a happier future.”

  Gavin nodded slowly while holding his mother’s knowing gaze. Why did he think she was talking about more than Jordan and her father?

  “Now, Charles, please take these lovely blooms out to the table in the front hall. That way I can look at them every time I come in and out of the house.”

  “Yes, dear.” His father scooped up the vase. “We have to get a move on, or we’re gonna be late for that appointment with the caterer.”

  “Oh, look at the time.” His mother peered at the digital clock on the stove. “We have to be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Caterer?” Gavin picked up his plate and glass with the intention of putting them in the dishwasher, but his mother beat him to it. “For what?”

  “Our anniversary party.” She shut the stainless-steel door of the machine and punched a couple of buttons. Then she untied her apron and tossed it on the counter. “As you know, Daddy and I will be married forty years this August.”

  “That’s a long freaking time,” Gavin said with genuine awe.

  “Yes, it is, so we decided to throw ourselves a party.” She grabbed her pink purse off the little chair in the corner and murmured, “Though how it’s been that long is beyond me.”

  “When?”

  “Saturday the twenty-eighth of August, and it’s going to be right out here on the lawn overlooking the ocean. We’ve got a big tent rented and an eight-piece band. The whole shebang!”

  “It sounds more like a wedding,” Gavin said, rising to his feet.

  “Well, I can’t very well wait for one of you boys to get married, now can I?” She scooted around the corner of the granite island and patted his cheek. “The rate you all are going, I’m never going to have any grandchildren. My goodness, God certainly does like to take his time. I mean, for heaven’s sake, it took me almost ten years to get pregnant with you. But then look at what we got. Five boys! I can only imagine how many grandchildren we’ll eventually have. If waiting all those years to have my children taught me anything, it’s to have patience and have faith. But you boys aren’t getting any younger…”

  “Mom,” Gavin groaned.

  “Oh stop it, I’m only teasing.” She waved her hand in the air and swept past him toward the living room. “Anyway, save the date for the party. Speaking of the flower shop, I told Maddy what we’re looking for, and she already gave a preliminary list to Veronica and Cookie. I’m sure they’ll put together some lovely centerpieces. If you happen to see Jordan again, let her know I’ll be in on Monday to confirm everything.”

  “I’m…going to see her tomorrow actually.”

  “Really?” She lingered in the doorway and adjusted the purse on her arm. “Getting me more flowers?”

  “No.” Gavin shuffled his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Like I said, she’s going out to see her old man and I offered to go with her.”

  The smile on his mother’s lips widened slightly and that knowing twinkle glinted in her eyes.

  “It’s not like that,” Gavin insisted. “
She was my friend before anything else, and I don’t trust that old SOB. Hell, she hasn’t seen him or spoken to him in fifteen years.”

  “Whatever you say, Gavin.” His mother waved as she left. “Close the door on your way out.”

  Gavin let himself out the side door of the kitchen. Thoughts of Jordan stayed on his mind. Once he’d set eyes on her again in the shop and gotten close enough to breathe in her scent, Gavin had about lost his mind. Any anger or bitterness he’d felt vanished. Memories of their night in the lighthouse. Stolen kisses under the bleachers. The smell of her skin, the soft, velvety feel of it as it rushed beneath his fingers. Damn. What he wouldn’t give to touch her like that again.

  To love her.

  He’d offered to go with her to her parents’ place without thinking about it. He couldn’t bear the idea of her and those two little girls being in the presence of such an ugly, angry man. Offering to go along had seemed like the most natural thing in the world. And that probably made him crazy or stupid, because Jordan was right.

  They did have things to talk about—lots of things—and he had a bunch of unanswered questions for her. But staring into those deep, soulful eyes of hers, all he could think about was keeping her safe. Jordan’s old man wasn’t a danger to her physically anymore, but words could still carry a hell of a punch. His need to protect Jordan was as strong and deep-seated today as it had been fifteen years ago.

  His mind drifted to their fight at the lighthouse. He’d acted like a macho, overbearing dickhead, but that was because he’d been scared—not for her, but for himself. The ironic part was that he’d said all that stuff because he didn’t want to lose her. In the end, that’s exactly what had happened.

  As he made his way across his parents’ sprawling lawn toward his cottage, the fresh ocean air filled his head. The feel of it helped him push aside those uncomfortable memories. Growing up here was a blessing and a curse; no other place on earth could hold a candle to their family home on the bluff. He’d been stationed around the world during his ten years in the military, but nowhere even came close to the beauty and serenity of Old Brookfield.

  The sun started to set, the sky burning in bright hues of orange and pink along the horizon. The lighthouse and the little row of houses lay below along the strip of sandy beach beneath the bluff. The Sweeneys’ gray saltbox cottage was a few houses away from the lighthouse, the one with the long gravel driveway. The house had been empty for the past two years. But not anymore. For the first time in a long time, it was alive inside.

  Staring at the shoreline, Gavin couldn’t help but smile. At the moment, he and that damn house had a lot in common.

  * * *

  Jordan double- and triple-checked the delivery list against what had come in, while the girls colored quietly at a table in the back room. She’d checked the list when the guys unloaded everything into the cold storage room, but going over it again couldn’t hurt. It would also keep her mind off the fact that Gavin would be arriving any minute.

  She tapped the pencil against her chin and stared at the steel door of the refrigerated storage room. As with the delivery, she’d gone over yesterday’s experience with Gavin countless times; she’d had a hell of a time falling asleep last night.

  She could have refused his offer. Told him “thanks but no thanks,” and that she and the girls would be fine. But she hadn’t. Jordan had been struggling to keep her head above water for so long that the notion of having someone help her was both a relief and completely horrifying.

  Especially when that someone was Gavin McGuire.

  What the hell was she doing? She’d intended to come back home and set up a stable new life for her daughters, not start mooning over her long-lost love. Frustrated and bordering on nausea from fried nerves, Jordan went to the tiny pink-and-white powder room in the back corner of the workroom. Grace was humming a tune, swinging her sandal-covered feet over the linoleum floor, and she paused to give her mother a wide grin.

  “You have to go potty, Mama?” Grace asked with a giggle. “I like that bafroom ’cause it’s pink.”

  “Nope.” Jordan laughed. Grace was obsessed with bathrooms, even if she didn’t have to go. Anytime they went to a restaurant, the girls would make a point of visiting the ladies’ room; the fancier the bathroom, the better. “I’m going to wash my hands because we’ll be going to Meemaw’s house in a little while.”

  Jordan placed the clipboard on the table between the girls and peered at their drawings. Her chest ached when she saw Lily’s. It was only the three of them. No sign of their father anywhere. For the first month or two after Jordan left Ted, the girls would ask for him. But when he stopped calling and didn’t come see them, they didn’t take long to get the hint.

  It was heartbreaking and infuriating at the same time. She could kill Ted for being such a heartless bastard. But she wasn’t just pissed at him. Not at all. Jordan was even angrier with herself for being such a poor judge of character and choosing a man like Ted as the father of her children. Oh, he had been charming at first but that didn’t last long. By the time she’d figured it out, her daughters were paying the price for her bad decisions. That was something she’d never forgive herself for.

  “Look, Mama.” Lily pushed her picture over and grinned, pointing a yellow crayon at the paper. “That’s you and me and Gracie at our new house. I like it better here than being in the city.”

  “It’s beautiful, baby.” Jordan smoothed the back of Lily’s hair and fought the swell of emotion. Keeping these girls safe and assuring they didn’t have a volatile childhood like hers was Jordan’s top priority. “I like it better here too.”

  “Then how come we never came here before?” Lily picked up a blue crayon and started coloring the sky behind the house she’d drawn. “It’s pretty and I love the ocean. It smells nice.”

  “It’s complicated, Lily. The important thing is that we’re here now, and I know Meemaw is so excited to have you come to her house today.” Jordan looked at her watch and her gut clenched. It was quarter to nine and Gavin would be here any minute. “It’s almost time to go, so clean up the crayons. Okay, girls?”

  Shoving aside the cavalcade of emotions, Jordan slipped into the little powder room and shut the door. Leaning her hands on the white porcelain sink, she let out a long, slow breath. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. There was no denying the years that had passed. She was no longer the young girl with a fearless spirit, but a woman clinging to her sanity.

  As if going to see her father wasn’t stressful enough, now Gavin had been inserted into the mix. Jordan let out a curt laugh before turning on the water and washing her hands free of the residue from the flower boxes. The funny thing was, she was more nervous about riding in the car next to Gavin than she was about seeing her father. Nervous and excited.

  The old man couldn’t hurt her anymore, but Gavin was another story entirely. After their little encounter yesterday, it was obvious that she was still fiercely attracted to him. If they continued spending time together, there was a good chance they’d end up in bed. The prospect of getting involved with him again physically was intriguing, to say the least, but there was no way it could only be a physical relationship.

  Not with Gavin.

  In addition to wanting to strip him naked and lick him like a lollipop, she also had the urge to crawl into his arms and stay there forever. That little fantasy was a far more dangerous desire to entertain. It would mean gambling her heart, and that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. What if they did try and things didn’t work out? What then? Move away? No. Her daughters needed stability.

  She couldn’t afford a risk like that, and neither could her girls.

  Jordan dried her hands with a paper towel and tossed it into the little wicker wastebasket before giving her reflection one last look. She’d told herself she chose the light-blue eyelet sundress because it was the first thing she grabbed out of the closet, but that was a big, fat lie. Smoothing the fabric of the skirt, she
let out a sound of frustration and rolled her eyes at her conflicting emotions.

  Blue was Gavin’s favorite color.

  “You are a jackass,” Jordan whispered at her own reflection. She pointed at the mirror. “Yup. A great big idiot. And now you’re talking to yourself.”

  Shoving aside the internal argument, Jordan swung the door open and found Lily closing the Tupperware box full of crayons. Jordan scooped up the clipboard and kissed Gracie’s head before tugging gently on her pigtail.

  “Where’s your picture, kiddo?”

  “Lily took it.” Gracie giggled and covered her mouth with both hands.

  “She drew a picture of a bathroom.” Lily held up the drawing, a swirling mass of pinks and purples, with a stick figure that was probably supposed to be Jordan. “What a weirdo.”

  “It’s a princess bafroom,” Grace proclaimed proudly. “I need glitter, but we didn’t have any.”

  “We’ll get some at the store next time we go shopping, okay?” Jordan brought the clipboard over to Maddy’s desk on the far side of the room and slipped it onto the shelf. “Because what princess bathroom is complete without glitter?”

  “Goody!” Gracie clapped her hands furiously and squealed with delight. “And Meemaw said we could make brownies at her house today.”

  “It’s only nine in the morning, Gracie. It might be a little early for brownies.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Gracie shook her head. “It’s never too early for brownies.”

  “Mama,” Lily asked innocently, “when will the fireman be here?”

  The question had barely escaped her daughter’s mouth when Gavin’s voice boomed from the front of the store. Even though the shop was closed, Jordan had left the front door open for him.

  “Anybody home?” The little bell by the register dinged three times. “Oh well,” he sang in a painfully familiar way. “I guess I’ll have to eat these doughnuts all by myself.”

  “Doughnuts?” To Jordan’s surprise, Lily scrambled off the folding chair, grabbed her sister’s hand, and ran to the swinging door. “Come on, Gracie.”

  Sucking in a deep breath as the door swung shut behind the girls, Jordan leaned both hands on the long, stainless-steel worktable.