Should he take it back? She’d changed her expression quickly enough, but it had been there. Regret. Disappointment.
“Will this be cash or charge? The room?”
“Cash,” he answered.
For the next few moments, while signing in and paying for a week upfront, Trent replayed the conversation in his head. There would be no date. He’d paid $800 for a freaking blanket, for crying out loud. Sure, he’d helped a good cause, but still …
At least the B&B gave discounts to those in law enforcement. Part of him was tempted to decline, but he decided to take the reduced rate. Who knew how much involvement Jessie had in the place, anyway. It wasn’t like she owned it.
“Okay,” she said, unlocking a nearby drawer. She grabbed a keycard and swiped it before handing it to him. “I’ll show you to your room.”
As they stepped out of the office, a group of people came walking down the central staircase.
“Good morning,” Jessie said. “Help yourself to some French toast and fixings. I’ll be right back.” Boy, did she sound a lot kinder when speaking with the other guests.
The front door swung open, and though Trent didn’t know the name of the woman who stepped inside, he recognized her from the night before.
“Hey, Charlotte,” Jessie hollered as she led the way up the stairs. “Would you mind taking the bacon out of the oven and adding it to the stack on the counter?”
“Got it,” the woman said, but her eyes were pasted on Trent. “Is he getting a room here?”
Trent glanced back at Jessie. When was the last time someone talked about him like he wasn’t in the room?
“Yep,” Jessie said without looking back.
The stairs creaked beneath his footsteps as he followed her up. The place was wide and spacious. A U-shaped walkway led to several doors, each closed. She stepped over to one on the left and slipped the card in the lock.
She pushed the door open, and the smell of clean linens wafted in the air.
Light poured in through the east side of the room while the windows along the north revealed a view of farmland. Perfect parallel lines of green waved at him from below. Opposite the bed was a flat-screen television. Something he hadn’t expected to see in such a quaint, rather old-fashioned-looking space.
“You’ll find all the amenities you’ll need here. But should you need anything, feel free to ask Charlotte or me. If it’s after hours, you can knock on the door to my room, which is right below this one.”
“Your room?” he asked, spinning to face her.
She tilted her head. “I own this place, Sheriff.” There was a level of boasting in that statement, as there should be. The place was nice. Very nice.
“I see,” he said. She wore boots and jeans again. Had he seen her in gray yet? It looked nice on her. Even if it was just a casual T-shirt.
“Breakfast is happening now. Feel free to grab a bite if you’d like. Social hours are between 7:00 and 9:00, just like breakfast except at night. We have light snacks, drinks, that type of thing.”
Trent tucked both hands in his back pockets and nodded. “I’ll go get my bag.”
Jessie gave him one quick nod in reply, that hint of regret playing over her face once more. “Well, enjoy your stay.”
“Hey, Jessie,” he blurted.
She stopped just outside the doorway, spun to look at him.
His heart jumped. “I’d actually like to keep that date with you after all. Might be nice to get the lowdown on folks in town.”
The slightest quirk tugged at the corner of her lip, and then it was gone. “Suit yourself,” she said, and then walked away.
Chapter 9
Jessie could feel Trent’s eyes on her as she strode away. Had she really just said that? Suit yourself?
She hurried down the steps and into the kitchen, greeting the guests who’d come down. Some had already dished up and made their way to the dining nook. A few filled their plates at the bar, and at least one of the families hadn’t come down yet.
Jessie busied herself by rearranging the powdered sugar, syrup, and the butter knives. Inside, she was a ball of nerves. I’d like to keep that date with you after all … The sentence repeated over and over in her head to the tone of his hypnotically deep and slightly raspy voice. And each time it did, she fell subject to a grin. Was it satisfaction that thrilled her? Or the idea of spending time with him? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t like admitting it—even to herself—but when he’d agreed to call off the date, disappointment had struck her like a mean blow. Probably just her ego. Yet as the hour ticked on, seven turning to eight, eight into nine—with no sight of her newest guest—a dose of frustration stirred within her. What, was he too good for breakfast? Would she see him later that night during social hour? Probably not. Seemed like the antisocial type.
The idea irritated her, which only added to the confusion. Jessie couldn’t tell if she liked Trent Lockheart or if she hated him. But it seemed a large part of her was anxious to find out.
Once breakfast was through, Char waited four whole minutes before bringing it up.
“Did he say anything about the date?” she asked, pulling a batch of warm sheets from the dryer. “I can’t believe how handsome he is. Not too often we get someone coming through here that looks like that. He’s big screen beautiful, like he just walked off the set of—”
“Okay!” Jessie blurted, yanking a pillowcase from the batch. She folded it in half, then in half again, wishing she could control herself better. But seriously, it wasn’t as if Char was saying anything she didn’t already know. “I have eyes,” she added. “And yes. He did bring up the date. He told me that it wasn’t the reason he bid on the quilt, and that it was fine with him if he didn’t take me out at all.”
Charlotte gasped like someone had just threatened the life of her children. “You better be kidding about that.”
Jessie reached into the basket and freed a flat sheet from the warm bundle. “I’m not. But after I showed him to his room, told him he could join us for breakfast downstairs, he said he’d like to take me out after all.”
“Geeze,” Charlotte hissed. “That’s odd.”
Jessie lined up the corners before folding the large sheet. “Yeah. No wonder he’s still single.”
“Did he mention a day or time that he’d like to take you?”
“Nope.”
“You never know,” Char said. “Fate wears all sorts of faces, and it steps in when we least expect it. Could be a coincidence that the sheriff came into town just in time for the fundraiser. And that he felt the sudden urge to spend $800 on a quilt and a date with a woman he doesn’t know. But as Albert Einstein said, ‘Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.’”
“Grandma used to say that, too,” Jessie said. Perhaps Grandma Jess was taking some time away from the clouds, because Jessie had felt her presence several times over the last day or so. And being here … the smell of bleach and Downy always reminded Jessie of folding laundry in that very room with her.
She could see her round face so clearly. The narrow bridge of her nose leading to that bulbous tip that crinkled when she laughed. She’d breathe in every article before folding it, basking in the clean smell.
“She was a great woman,” Char said softly.
“Yep.” Jessie nodded, wiping at tears as they escaped.
“When your expression is thoughtful like that, your head tipped to one side, that’s when you remind me of her the most.”
“Really?” Jessie wanted to look in the mirror and see if she could appreciate the likeness her friend saw. Instead, she reached for another sheet and shook it out. “I miss her like crazy.” Her voice cracked.
Charlotte nodded, wiped a welled-up tear with the back of her fingers. “Me too.”
Jessie let the soft linens warm her from the outside in as more fond memories filled her mind. Sweet tea on the veranda. Flour-covered aprons in the kitchen.
“Come here, hon.” Charlotte stepped clos
er and wrapped her arms around her. “Your grandma made me promise I’d give you lots of hugs after she was gone. Did I ever tell you that?”
“Only three or four times a week,” Jessie said, leaning into the welcome embrace.
“We all need a little love sometimes, don’t we?”
Jessie wiped at a few more tears. Charlotte was right: she needed this. An image of Griff came to mind. Had Grandma made him promise to do the same? The old man always had a hug for her. The idea led to a question Jessie had always wanted to know. “Did Griff have a thing for Grandma?”
Char pulled back to look Jessie in the eye.
Jessie continued, “I remember thinking that they should get married. I’d tell her that, too, but she blew it off, saying that Grandpa was the only man for her.”
“Sounds a lot like the conversations I had with her,” Charlotte said. “I would have liked to see that happen, with as young as Warren was when he passed. I think Griff and her could have had some good years together.” She sighed, her gaze shifting toward the window. “Sadly, we can’t control what others do. Only the choices we make for ourselves.”
Jessie nodded.
“But,” Char continued, that I’m-about-to-nag-you look on her face, “my hope for you is this … and this will be the last thing I’m going to say about it.” Char lifted a hand like she was under oath.
Jessie knew her better than that. “At least the last thing you say about it today,” she said with a laugh.
“Exactly.” Charlotte smiled shamelessly. “I want you to give this guy a fair shake. No matter what you think fate has in store for you, okay?”
Though she wasn’t sure she was even capable of giving Trent a fair shake, as Char called it, Jessie forced a nod. Besides, speaking up would only solicit a lecture.
“Okay,” she agreed, at least halfway meaning it. “I’ll try.”
Chapter 10
“Staying late again?”
Benny’s question seeped into Trent’s conscious thoughts like a slow leak. He tore his eyes from the file cabinet in his office and glanced at the clock. Just after seven.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” Trent replied. “How’d you know I stayed late the other nights?” Benny had been clocking out at five o’clock on the dot.
“Judy told me.” Benny ran a hand over his buzzed hair and stepped into the room. The kid—who would soon be a father—was round in the face, despite his thin build. Perhaps that’s what kept him looking so young. Young enough to remind Trent of Brett as an early teen.
Benny sank into a chair facing Trent’s desk. “Have you decided when you’re going to take her out yet? Where you’re going to take her?”
Trent’s feet, propped onto his desk as he leaned back, blocked the lower half of his friend’s face. “No,” he said.
Benny looked at his watch and then back to Trent. “Have you and her talked since you’ve been staying at the B&B?”
Her. Funny how Benny didn’t even have to say her name. “I’ve only been there a couple of days,” Trent said.
“What about breakfast? And doesn’t she do a bunch of snacks and stuff at night? Don’t you see her then?”
“I haven’t gone yet.”
“To either one?”
He shook his head.
“So you’re avoiding her.”
Trent fought the urge to pull his feet down and lean across the desk. Doing so would reveal the fact that the comment had put him on the defense. “Yeah,” he admitted instead, reclining further into his seat. “I suppose I am.” The taste of that truth wasn’t pleasant, but denying it would be futile.
Benny shifted in his seat. “If you don’t speak to her soon, she’s going to be offended, you know? You won a bid to take her out. You don’t want to make her think it’s something you’re dreading. Least that’s what Darcy says.”
“Darcy?” The feet came down, and before he knew it Trent was leaning over the desk, staring Benny in the eye. “So the whole town’s talking about this now?”
Benny shrugged, scratching his neck beneath the collar. “Practically the whole town was there, Sheriff. And I guess that—well, seeing that we all know Jessie Jean doesn’t really date anyone—we’re interested in how this is going to play out.”
An image of Jessie came to mind. The reddening of her cheeks as she’d argued about the flyer. That quirk in her lip when he told her he’d like to keep the evening out with her after all. And the immeasurable depth in those hazel eyes. They were entrancing. Some unearthly magnet that drew him in like a spell.
“You think she’ll be offended if I don’t follow through? She’d probably be relieved.”
The officer came to his feet, shifting the bulky utility belt at his back. “Naw, trust me. I’ve known Jessie forever. If you never took her out, then word would get around, and it’d be a real blow to her ego after she got on that stage in front of half the town. She basically agreed to it by not speaking up or anything. Now it’s time for you to man up and follow through.”
Trent nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He stood to follow Benny out of his office. How long could he avoid Jessie, anyway? Not like it’d get any easier. He just needed to ask her out and put the date behind them. Maybe that would put all the chatter to rest as well. Once they went out and everyone saw that nothing would come of it, the townsfolk could move on to the next hot story.
After locking up his office and checking in with Officer Flint, Trent followed Benny to the parking lot. He wanted to drive right to the bed and breakfast, spark up a conversation with Jessie, and set up a time for their date. But as he pulled onto the road, he couldn’t get himself to head in that direction. Not yet, anyway.
He weaved through a few nearby neighborhoods. Drove down Main Street, and then checked to see how far the construction crew had come on his house. By the time Trent walked up the steps of the inn, it was just past nine. Perfect. The keycard Jessie had given him would unlock the front door if they’d already locked up for the night, but he was in no hurry to walk in.
He strode along the wraparound porch instead, took in the view of moonlight shimmering on the pond, and rested his elbows on the thick wooden banister. Jessie wasn’t the only one occupying his thoughts recently. His brother had taken up a good portion of his mind as well. Tomorrow he would have turned twenty-five. This time of year was always hard. A time where Trent slipped into a funk that grew deeper with each passing year. Who said time healed all wounds? It’d been nearly ten years, and all Trent could do was think of all the things his brother would never experience. He’d never marry. He’d never have kids. Heck, he didn’t even get his driver’s license, for crying out loud. Each thought took a piece out of him. It felt like birds pecking at a waning cob of corn, gobbling kernel by kernel.
“Where would you be now, brother? Huh? Where would you be if you were still alive?” Trent closed his eyes, lifting his chin as a breeze blew. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“Sheriff?”
The sound of the woman’s voice startled him, causing his arms to jerk from the banister. A sharp pain pricked his elbow, telling him a sliver had dug into his skin. But more noticeable was the embarrassed warmth moving from his neck to his face. He spun around to see just who he imagined he might see. “Hello there, Jessie.”
She adjusted a sheer scarf over her bare shoulders and stepped away from a set of chairs. Had she been sitting down when she spotted him?
“Um. Sorry,” he said. “I hope I didn’t frighten you. I decided to catch some fresh air before heading in.” He scratched his elbow, wondering if there were several slivers there; it itched and burned.
“You didn’t scare me. I was just …” She sighed. “Taking in the view.”
“Yeah, it’s nice.” Silence took over, allowing the chirping crickets to take center stage. Trent wondered if Jessie had overheard him before saying hello. He’d been whispering, hadn’t he?
“Is something wrong with your arm?” she asked.
“What do
you mean?”
“Looks like it might be bleeding. Why don’t I take a look.”
Trent dabbed a hand over his elbow and noticed small spots of blood on his palm. “Oh, no thanks. I’ll take care of it later.”
She tightened the silk fabric around her shoulders once more and grinned. “You will?”
Dang, that smile was deadly. His heart skipped the whole beating routine, opting for a crude sort of clanking instead. Thunking against his chest.
“Just how will you do that? It’s in a pretty awkward place for you to treat yourself, don’t you think?”
Trent imagined trying to remove the slivers through a view in the mirror. “Maybe.”
She tipped her head back, allowing a chuckle to spill from her lips. “Come on in. I’ll help you out.”
Trent followed her through the double doors leading to the familiar kitchen. It looked much bigger now, empty compared to the night of the fundraiser.
Jessie flicked a switch, and a copper hood over the stove came into view with a rustic-looking wall of brick behind it. Details he hadn’t noticed last time. He had picked similar materials for his own kitchen.
“Have a seat,” she said, nodding toward the barstools along the island.
His eyes adjusted to the dim light as he waited. Colorful plates and bowls rested in a nearby hutch, matching mugs beside them. It seemed there were several areas for eating. A small table beside the French doors and plenty of seating around the island, too.
“Okay,” Jessie said, stepping away from the sink. She cupped a dripping washcloth in her hands as she hurried over. “This is pretty soapy, so I hope it doesn’t sting too much.”
Trent lifted his bent arm, making it easier for her to see the splinters. She dabbed the cloth on the bloody spot to clean it as water trickled down his elbow.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, dabbing some more.
He looked up in time to see the scarf slip right off her shoulders and onto the floor. Trent gulped as he took in the slender slope of her arms. The delicate shape of her collarbone. The scent of something sweet and feminine, like flowers or spice, lured him in even deeper.
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