He let his gaze rest on her as she showed him the spot she recommended. Her bright energy, her can-do spirit, her jaunty personality—it all washed away the aftertaste of that conversation with his mother like a drink of cool water after a run.
6
As soon as they got back to the house, Rollo dragged Brianna into the kitchen for some hot tea so she'd stop shivering.
"This is a big mess," she told him as he put the kettle on to boil. "Finn now thinks I'm interested in you. When he first saw us, I was, I don't know, tickling you or something. When he whispered in my ear, you know what he said? 'Nice move. Nice outfit, too. Men like to see a little skin.'"
"See? Exactly what I said." He grinned at her.
"This isn't funny, Rollo. He thinks you like me because there's no way you'd ever want a koi pond. He thinks it was all a big scam to get me to come out here." She rolled her eyes. "Now what do we do?"
"Ah, shit." Rollo ran his hand across the back of his neck. He wondered once again why everyone seemed determined to pair him up with Brianna. "I can tell him I'm not interested. I can tell him I asked you out and you said no."
"Really?" She brightened. "Would that work?"
"No. Finn's pretty loyal. If he thinks you rejected me, he won't go near you. Also, if he thinks you didn't reject me, he won't go near you. It's a hotshot thing."
"Agghh." Brianna covered her face with her arms. "We totally screwed this up."
"I'm sorry, Bri. I still think the plan is good, we just hit a few roadblocks."
Strangely, he didn't care as much as he thought he would. She was still wearing his sweater and that did something to him. Made him feel…proprietary. Territorial, even. Which was damn confusing. And completely inappropriate, considering all the emails from Cornelia that were probably waiting for him.
He went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips.
When he came back into the living room, she'd flopped onto the couch, rag doll style.
"You know, maybe you should just…look for someone else. What's so special about Finn?" Rollo sat next to her on the couch and ripped open the chips. He offered the bag to her and she plunged her hand in, coming out with a huge handful.
"Finn is…" She crunched on a potato chip, tilting her head to the side. "How can I explain this? I've lived in Jupiter Point my whole life. I was born here. My parents were born here. They met at Jupiter Point High, for goodness' sake. I love this place with all my heart. I know where the first wild strawberries grow, I know the tartest crabapple tree on the entire West coast. I know every plant that grows here, and which elevations are good for which varieties of roses. Did you know we have a wild thyme here that's just a little different from all other varieties in the entire world? Its flower has an edge of pink."
"I honestly didn't know that."
"That was kind of a rhetorical question."
"Right." He popped a barbecue chip in his mouth and let her continue. He was enjoying her rant.
"I would never leave Jupiter Point. I'm so rooted here, it's like I'm one with the soil. And I'm fine with that except for one thing. There aren't a lot of available men. And I know them all. And worse than that, they know me."
"Not understanding."
"They've known me since I had two little red braids and was called Pippi Longstocking. They know I'm a tomboy who tried out for cheerleading and fell on my ass while performing a jumping jack. They know that speaking in class always turned me into a babbling idiot. They know I put non-hybridized corn kernels in our time capsule project because I'm so worried about biodiversity. I'm not glamorous, Rollo. I told you. My only hope for romance is with someone new to town. Someone who doesn't know how non-sordid my past is."
He nodded his sympathy, even though he thought she was exaggerating her ordinariness. With all her gingery hair and that sunbeam smile, ordinary was not the right word at all. "So the town needs new blood."
"Yes. Enter the hotshots. Two of my friends have already fallen in love with hotshots."
"And now it's your turn."
"Yes." She let out a long breath. "I think it was love at first sight, Rollo. As soon as I saw Finn, I felt like I'd stepped into another world, you know? He's so glamorous and exciting, and the scars on his face actually make him more fascinating. And now he thinks we're into each other and this is a big mess."
Rollo munched more chips and pondered the situation. It seemed to him that there was one surefire way to clear up the misunderstanding. "We could be honest with him. Tell him how you feel. Reveal our evil mastermind plan."
"No! Don't you dare!" Brianna rolled over and launched herself on top of him. The bag of chips went flying, scattering chips everywhere. "I would die! Please promise you won't do that." She pinned his shoulders to the back of the couch and fixed him with a look that promised bloody revenge. "Promise right now, or I'll…I'll…"
"What?" He was laughing now, he couldn't help it. Their size discrepancy was so big it was comical, but she wasn't intimidated at all. "What do you weigh, like a hundred pounds?"
"See these fingers?" She lifted one hand and curled the fingers into menacing claws. "I dig in the dirt all day long, and these babies are strong. I can tickle you until you cry for mercy. Until you pee your pants. One word—just one word to Finn and I'll—"
Deep waves of laughter rolled out of him. "Now you have me curious," he managed through the chuckles. "Do it. I want to see what those hands are capable of."
She brandished the "claw" overhead. "You laugh now, big guy. But you don't know what you're asking. I can make you whimper like a baby. I can make you scream for your mama."
And then she pounced, digging her fingers into his side.
Maybe it was thanks to the long buildup, but his entire body lurched upwards. A laugh that was more like a spasm ripped through him. He let loose a full-throated roar, so loud he almost didn't hear Finn's voice.
"Oops, sorry man."
Brianna scrambled off Rollo's big, warm body and somehow landed on her butt on the floor. She jumped to her feet, desperately trying to regain some degree of dignity. Finn stood in the doorway, sporting a smile that said he knew exactly what was going on. But he didn't. He didn't!
"This isn't…I mean…we're just goofing around. It's not what it looks like," she told him, with all the composure she could summon.
He lifted one hand. "No need for explanations. You crazy kids have fun. Rollo, mind if I borrow your car? Last night I got pulled over for a broken taillight, I need to pick up some parts in town."
"Yeah, sure." Rollo sat up and dug in his pocket. Since she was wearing his sweater, he wore only a t-shirt, which made her realize she never saw him undressed to this degree. His muscles were spectacularly well-defined, bulging from the sleeves of his white t-shirt. He wore some kind of carved pendant on a chain around his neck. It rested against the hard bulges of his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. Kind of distracting, really.
For a moment, Brianna flashed on how it had felt to sit on his lap. It felt good. More than good—amazing. He was such a big guy, like a giant, gentle bear. But every so often she caught a flash of something else in his eyes. Something more fierce than gentle.
But she wasn't here for Rollo. This was about Finn.
As Rollo tossed Finn his car keys, Brianna realized this was a golden opportunity. "I can drive you, Finn. I'm heading back into town and I know exactly where the auto parts store is. I mean, I know where all the stores are. I'm from here, did you know that? Local girl all the way."
She cringed at the babble emerging from her mouth. Would she ever stop acting like a love-struck kid around this man?
Finn gave her an odd look, which her hormones interpreted as smoldering. "But how would I get back?"
"Oh." She hadn't thought of that.
Rollo stepped into the awkward moment. "I have to go in a little later, I can bring you back up."
Finn tossed his car keys back across the room. "Then I'll just wait for you, Rollo. No hurry. I can rewrite t
he scene I'm on again. Maybe number three hundred and five is the lucky charm." And he slipped out the door with one more knowing look at the two of them.
Brianna's shoulders slumped. This was so hopeless. Beyond hopeless, verging on pathetic. She glanced at Rollo, whose blue-gray eyes met hers with maybe a little too much sympathy.
"It just got worse, didn't it?"
"Probably. Don't worry about it, Bri. We'll try again. Next time you come up here to work, I'll leave so you can be alone with Finn."
"Doesn't matter. If he thinks I'm with you, he won't even look at me."
"Well…" Rollo rested his elbows on his knees and dug his hands through his hair. "Maybe it's better that way. Finn is used to girls falling at his feet. If he thinks you're off-limits, he can just get to know you. As a person. A friend. You can sneak in under his radar. Then at the right time, we tell him that we were never dating. That we've always been good friends—with no benefits. So there's no reason for him to hold back."
Brianna scrunched up her face. "I don't know, Rollo. Being friends with you, that's one thing. But whenever I'm with him, I act like a goofball. Not like myself at all. Ugh." She buried her face in her hands again. "I need some kind of brain transplant. Or a body transplant. Like, trade in my whole body and head and everything and get someone else's."
"Honey." Rollo stood up from the couch, which seemed to take forever because of his size. He came close to her and lifted her chin with his hand. "I want you to take that back. Right now. Some of us really dig the whole Brianna experience. Finn will too. Just give it a chance."
Brianna felt a little catch in her heart as she gazed up at the big bear of a man trying to reassure her. Looking into Rollo's eyes, feeling the kindness and affection pouring from him, made all her anxiety over Finn evaporate.
She threw her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest, where his heart kept a steady thumping rhythm. His beard brushed the top of her head. He smelled so good—like a tree fort in the forest, like autumn leaves and a walk through crisp mountain air. For a moment they stood like that, as if they'd surprised themselves by their sudden burst of mutual affection.
And then, once again, Finn's voice interrupted the moment. "Sorry! Sorry, guys. There's someone from the gas company asking for you, Rollo. I told her you were busy, but—"
They broke away from each other. Out of the corner of her eye, Brianna caught a glimpse of Finn's head disappearing out the half-open door.
OMG. Seriously? Again?
She turned to Rollo, whose face twisted into a look of apology so abject, all she could do was laugh.
"I promise I'll make it up to you," he muttered in a low voice. "Just come back later in the week. I'll do some fast talking in the meantime."
"You're a really nice guy, you know that?"
She had no idea why his expression shuttered when she said that. Oh well. She shrugged and hurried out the door, where Finn was chatting with Laurie from the gas company, who looked so dazzled she'd probably forgotten the difference between propane and Rogaine.
Completely discouraged—yet oddly happy—Brianna hopped in her old red Toyota pickup and headed to her next job. Having a friend like Rollo made all the difference when you were hopelessly in love.
7
Brianna drove out to Melvin Turner's place, which was near the old farm currently being transformed into the Star Bright Shelter for Teens. Suzanne Finnegan was the driving force behind the project, but many people were helping out with it. Brianna had sweet-talked the old farmer into offering most of the property to the shelter in exchange for free labor from the teenagers who would be staying there. He couldn't handle the place on his own anymore, and she didn't have time to provide all the help he needed.
Since Old Man Turner was the grumpy hermit type, he'd kept one remote corner of the farm to himself. It contained a few acres, a small house, a vegetable garden and a shed, which was all he claimed he needed.
She found him in the garden, untangling worn-out tomato plants from their supports. The pile of dry stalks next to him reminded her of scarecrow marionettes.
"Are those the Brandywines?" She peered closer at the spent tomatoes. She and old Melvin shared a passion for heirloom varieties of tomatoes and other vegetables.
"A-yup. Biggest sellers, like always."
"Want me to take all this to the compost?"
"Why not? That's the way of life, ain't it? Straight to the compost we go."
She gathered an armful of stalks and walked over to the big pile of garden scraps corralled behind chicken wire. "You're in your usual cheerful mood, huh?"
"Don't get cheeky. Just cuz I let you come around here and pester me don't mean you can sass me."
His arthritis must be bothering him. Working outside in blustery weather was guaranteed to make it worse. "You got it. No sass for you, Gramps."
She stuck her tongue out at the older man, which wrung a thin smile from him. It was actually amazing that he was still working in his garden at the age of ninety. But in the past year, things had gotten much harder for him. She'd tried to help as much as she could, and hadn't charged him a dime for a couple of years.
"How about I finish this up and you make us some tea? I'll even drink some of that lemon verbena gunk you like."
He dropped the stalk he was working with and rubbed a knot out of one hand. "That's real medicine, girl. Don't let the doctors tell you different. You come in as soon as you're done, there's something I want to ask you."
"Sure. Be right in."
She finished pulling up the tomato plants and tidied up the compost pile. She gathered up the tomato supports, brushed the soil off them and stashed them in his garden shed. Melvin Turner had taught her so many of his gardening and farming techniques, but most of all, he'd taught her to take care of her tools and maintain an orderly space. Just walking into his shed gave her a sense of comfort. In this realm—nature, plants, growing things—she felt perfectly at ease.
So why did she turn into such an awkward disaster around Finn?
Maybe… A light bulb suddenly turned on. Maybe it was proof that this was true love! She'd never felt it before, after all. She'd had plenty of crushes, starting with Jimmy Crowfoot in second grade. She'd thrown spitballs at him until he’d finally looked at her with those beautiful black eyes.
Should she throw spitballs at Finn? That would definitely get his attention. She was willing to bet that Annika Poole hadn't lobbed a single spitball at the smolderingly handsome fireman.
She debated running her spitball idea past Rollo. He would definitely appreciate it. One thing she loved about Rollo was that he found her amusing. They laughed a lot while they were together. It was a relief, since often she felt at odds with the general population. As if everyone had been issued a set of instructions at birth, but she'd lost hers in the shuffle and was just winging it.
When she walked into Old Man Turner's kitchen, the tea kettle was whistling but he didn't seem to hear. He was hunched over the table, peering over his old half-moon glasses at a document. She crossed to the kettle and turned off the flame, then filled the rose patterned teapot with boiling water. He must have forgotten the whole project halfway through, because the crockery jar of dried lemon verbena sat open, the lid askew on the table.
Dementia was definitely setting in. She'd been noticing it for a while. Forgetfulness, confusion, even paranoia.
Melvin started when she brought the teapot to the table. "You're here."
"Yes, old man." She winked at him, though her heart ached at the confusion in his expression. "I'm here."
"Good. Take a look at this. Need you to sign off on it."
"Me?" She frowned and picked up the stapled pages. At the top she saw the typed words Advance Directive. "What is this?"
"You know me and doctors. I don't like 'em. I'm ninety and I'm ready to go. It's a damn miracle I lasted this long with all the folks that want me dead. When it's time, it's time."
"Oh, Melvin. No one wan
ts you dead!" She reached over and squeezed his hand. Its knuckles were so swollen they felt like walnuts.
"It's happening if they do or if they don't. But I want it on my terms. No fuss, no special attention. It's all in there."
She scanned the rest of the document. Not only did it state that he didn't want any extraordinary measures taken to prolong his life, but it named her as a Health Care Power of Attorney. "But why, Melvin? Why me? The doctors will see this and they'll know what you want."
"It's not enough." He lifted his head and fixed her with a stern gaze. "I need someone to stand up for me. Someone who knows what I want. I don't trust anyone. Ninety years on this Earth and you're the only one I know who's straight and true. I pick you for this job. You can say no, and that'll be that. But I pick you."
Brianna stared at him, emotion welling inside her. Melvin Turner was the ultimate bachelor farmer. He'd never married, had no children. He'd devoted his life to this patch of land, to growing vegetables for the people of Jupiter Point. He wasn't from here, and her parents had hinted that there was some kind of mystery in his past. But he'd never said a word about any of that to her.
She turned to the last page where he'd signed his name. Looking closer, she noticed that it didn't say "Melvin Turner." It said something else, Markov Turk-something. Strange. It made her nervous, as if she was getting into something she didn't understand. "Why is someone else's name here?"
"Pour that tea, would you girl? It's getting cold."
She filled his favorite mug, the one with flying cranes around the rim, with fragrant liquid. The scent of lemon rose to her nostrils, bringing back so many visceral memories of this very kitchen.
"It's my name," he finally explained. "Name I was born with, but I gave it up long ago."
Simple explanation. What was the big deal? What was she afraid of, anyway? Melvin needed her. Of course she couldn't say no.
She took the copy on which he'd written her name and looked at it again. "This means you have to do what I say, right? If I tell you to relax while I finish your garden, you can't say no."
Into the Flames (Jupiter Point Book 3) Page 4
