A Better Man

by Candis Terry

  “Do not read today’s issue of Talk of the Town.” Claudia’s voice on the other end of the line sounded panicked.

  “Why?” Curiosity soared; she pushed aside the mail to grab the local paper buried beneath. Reading the headline, she choked on a gasp.

  “I told you not to look.”

  “Oh my God.” Her eyes scanned the article but she couldn’t comprehend anything past the shock. Her nightmare had come true.

  “I’m so sorry, Lucy. I know you’re a very private person. Although I can’t help being a bit miffed that you didn’t tell me there was something going on.”

  “There isn’t. I just went along to help out with his sister.” Lying really wasn’t her thing, and yet, in this circumstance, telling the truth would only hurt more.

  “That’s not what the look he’s giving you says.”

  “Don’t misinterpret that for anything other than gratitude.”

  “Sure, go ahead. Ruin my fantasy that you finally found someone to love.”

  She had.

  Her chest tightened as she tried to end the call before she broke down in tears. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday. If I still have a job.”

  “You didn’t break any rules,” Claudia said. “You’re an adult. It was spring break. You’re allowed to spend the time any way you want.”

  She’d slept with a student’s brother. There had to be a rule against that.

  “Even if you say otherwise, I do hope you managed to have a little fun,” Claudia added before she hung up.

  For once, she’d had more than fun.

  And now she had to pay the price.

  Hot tea burned her throat as she reread the article. When she read the part the editor/pathetic-­excuse-­for-­a-­journalist had interjected into the story, the words burned like acid around her heart.

  For some reason, Margaret Brickridge had dragged the Kincade family name into the slop by questioning the behavior of all the brothers.

  Lucy wasn’t a person who normally lost her temper, but at that moment she needed a fire extinguisher to put out the flames.

  The old building on Main Street that housed Talk of the Town had a deceptively businesslike exterior. Yet most of the garbage they printed was nothing but outrageous tales and gossip without any verification. As Lucy pushed open the door, she wondered why anyone would want to lie and stir up a hornet’s nest.

  Margaret Brickridge appeared as ancient as the mountains surrounding the town when she came to the front desk with a walking cane and a stiff back. The woman had been editor of the gossip rag for over fifty years, and from what Lucy could see, she needed to retire.

  “What can I do for you?” Mrs. Brickridge asked in a bitter tone that let Lucy know she was accustomed to people showing up in her office ready to unload.

  Lucy set the morning’s paper on the counter and gathered up her courage. No wimping out. No backing down. No taking no for an answer. “You need to retract this story.”

  “Now why would I do that?” The woman looked up through squinted hazel eyes.

  “It’s garbage and lies.”

  “Says who?”

  Lucy gritted her teeth. “If you’re going to print such absurdity you should probably be more aware of who you’re writing about and take the time to get some clarification on matters.”

  The woman leaned closer, took a good look at Lucy, and snickered. “So you’re the teacher.”

  “Yes, I’m the teacher who has nothing romantically going on with Mr. Kincade.” At least not anymore.

  “Well, once a story is inked I’ve got no recourse.”

  “Of course you do. You can print a retraction.”

  “The article originally ran in the North Carolina Observer. So why would I want to retract it?”

  “Because you added to the original story. Why would you do that?”

  The woman shrugged her stooped shoulders. “It’s a local interest story. I’ve always had a hankering to be one of those Weekly World News journalists. Figured I’d just spice it up a little.”

  “At the detriment to a local family?”

  “Haven’t you heard the old sayings, ‘If it bleeds it leads’ and ‘Scandal sells’? A retraction now won’t mean spit.”

  The door opened behind her but Lucy was too fired up to care.

  “A retraction will matter.” Lucy inhaled a deep breath. “Look. You can make up all the lies you want about me, I’ll survive. But I won’t let you drag the Kincade family’s good name through the mud. They’re nice, respectable people who’ve recently suffered an unspeakable tragedy. They run a successful business in this town and they don’t deserve your acid tongue. Why do you want to be so mean anyway? Does causing people heartache make you happy? Do you sleep well at night knowing you’ve made someone’s life miserable?”

  The newspaper editor opened her mouth, then snapped it shut when Lucy continued her rant.

  “If you don’t print a retraction and apologize to the Kincade family, I will personally sit outside your office and protest, as I’m sure will some of the others you’ve offended over the years. Gossip is vicious and the damage done never goes away. Someone needs to show you how it feels to be on the receiving end. I don’t mind being that person.”

  Lucy exhaled, straightened her shoulders, and gave the woman her nastiest glare. “Now what do you have to say?”

  “I say bravo.” The comment came not from Mrs. Brickridge but a deep male voice directly over Lucy’s shoulder. Though she’d know that voice anywhere, she spun around.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Something crazy fluttered in Jordan’s chest as he smiled at the woman who seemed to have changed everything in his life. “Watching you stand up to a town menace.”

  “Some people deserve it.” She turned back to the newspaper editor and pointed a finger. “I meant what I said. Push me and you’ll find out how fast I’ll push back.”

  A wave of emotion washed over Jordan as Lucy stepped around him and marched out the door. His immediate instinct was to follow. But like her, he’d come to the newspaper office for a reason.

  “You run this place?” he asked the elderly woman with features so pinched he couldn’t imagine that face would ever crack a smile.

  “That’s right. Don’t tell me you’ve got a gripe too.”

  He gave her his negotiating face—­the expression he used when he found himself sitting across the desk from someone he knew was going to try and screw him over.

  “I’m not the type of person to gripe.” He planted his hands on the counter. “I’m the type of person who takes action. I don’t know how you’ve gotten away with spreading lies and gossip for so long, but it’s time for it to stop.”

  The woman folded her sagging arms across her drooping breasts. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. That’s so. Tomorrow I expect you to print a special edition of your rag paper with a retraction for your addition to the story and an apology to Ms. Diamond.”

  “And who are you to tell me what to do?”

  “You really should know the subjects of your lies better. Like, maybe take a look at the photos you print.”

  The woman looked down at the paper lying on the counter. When she looked up at him, he knew she had it figured out.

  “The way I see it, I don’t figure many people have the means to hire the biggest badass attorney on the planet to sue you. I do. And if I don’t see that apology tomorrow, I’ll shut you down so fast you’ll see stars spinning over your head.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He’d said his piece, now it was time to catch up with the woman who, at her own expense, had taken a bold stand on his family’s behalf.

  Lucy unlocked her front door, threw her purse in a nearby chair, and flopped down on the sofa. Her heart pounded like a trapped rabbit and her throat felt as d
ry as a summer day in Death Valley. Ziggy wandered in and settled his big head on her leg, waiting to be petted.

  She hadn’t given much thought to what she’d say or do once she got to the newspaper office; she’d been running on pure emotion.

  Something she seemed to be doing a lot these days.

  Since Jordan had come back into her life, she’d been jumping in all different directions. Behaving like she normally wouldn’t. Stepping outside her comfort zone. Agreeing to things that were a huge risk.

  Especially to her heart.

  If anyone had tried to tell her that on a whim she’d go to an unfamiliar state in an unfamiliar situation with a man who embodied the word dangerous, and jump in bed with him, she’d have told them they’d bonked their head too hard. If anyone had told her she’d do all the naked things she’d done with Jordan—­happily and willingly—­she’d have told them they were a quart low in the gray matter department. If anyone had told her she’d march into the local newspaper office and threaten the proprietor, she would have put them on the waiting list for counseling.

  Everything had changed.

  It scared her.

  And yet, at the same time she felt good. The worst thing had happened. She’d faced it and won. She didn’t crumble or cry. She’d stood up to wrong and it felt very right. The only thing that didn’t feel right was walking away from Jordan.

  She’d told him they’d never fit. But they did. So why was that so hard for her to accept?

  How could she go on with her life status quo when she now knew what it felt like to share special moments with him? What it felt like to be in his arms? What it felt like to wake up beside him?

  A car pulled up in front of her house and she squeezed her eyes shut. Prayed it would not be him because she needed some time to think. Time to accept that she’d gone down to the newspaper office to stand up for Jordan because she loved him.

  She swallowed.

  Yes. She was crazy, heart over head in love with a man she had no business loving.

  A knock on the door had her peering through the curtains.

  Of course it was him.

  “Go away,” she shouted. “There’s nobody home.”

  “Open the door, Lucy.”

  “Lucy’s not here.”

  “Open the door or I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your door down. I’m not leaving until I see your face.”

  “It looks the same as an hour ago.”

  “Open. The. Door.”

  She sighed. Went to the door. Opened it a fraction and stuck her face in the opening. “Satisfied?” When she went to close the door he stuck his foot in the way.

  She sighed again and backed up to allow the inevitable. As expected, Jordan pushed his way inside.

  “I know what you’re doing.” Eyes sharp and focused, he advanced toward her and forced her to back up into the living room.

  Ziggy barked a welcome and Jordan briefly reached down to pet her dog on the head. Kindness in a heated moment. Moments like that totally melted her heart.

  “What is it you think I’m doing?” Besides hiding like a coward from the plethora of feelings she’d developed for him.

  “You’re trying not to care because you think it will keep you safe,” he said. “But you walking into that newspaper office and taking on the person who printed that article? You were thinking more of me and my family than you were thinking of yourself.”

  Emotionally drained, she shrugged like it didn’t matter.

  “You care, Lucy.”

  “So sue me.” Her chin tilted in a show of defiance.

  “Oooh.” A grin flashed across his face. “I like it when you’re feisty.”

  “I’m too exhausted to be feisty.”

  “Really?” The tilt of his head told her he didn’t believe her. “So you’re too exhausted to fight if I do this?” He pulled her into his arms.

  She gave a feeble attempt to push him away, but it felt so good to be in his arms she caved in a blink.

  Silly weak woman.

  “You can’t walk away from this,” he said.

  “This? What’s this? You overpowering me?”

  “Baby, you know I’d never do that.” He loosened his hold but didn’t let her go. “I’m talking about whatever this is developing between us.”

  “Nothing’s developing. You know we don’t fit.”

  He pulled her in tighter to prove her wrong.

  “I’m not talking about body parts,” she said.

  “Neither am I.”

  “Jordan. You live an exhilarating full-­steam-­ahead life. You know you’d get bored with me. You need to find someone more exciting.”

  “What if I don’t want anyone more exciting?”

  Great. He agreed she was as dull as rust.

  “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.” He tucked her head beneath his chin. “I need you, Lucy. I need your calm. Your patience. Your ability to cut through the bullshit and get right to the point.”

  “A good therapist can do all that.”

  “See how quick you get to the point? I don’t need a therapist. I need you. The woman who’s wrapped up my heart and made me think of things that have never even crossed my mind before.”

  She looked up at him, not exactly expecting to see humor on his handsome face, but certainly not expecting to see sincerity either. “What kind of things?”

  “Forever things.” His long fingers came up to smooth her hair away and cup her face between his hands.

  Forever? She didn’t dare let herself fall into that fantasy.

  “Until now all I’ve ever thought about was hockey. The next game. The next win. But that’s not all that occupies my thoughts now.” He lowered his head and kissed her so tenderly it brought tears to her eyes. “Don’t walk away, Lucy. Don’t throw away what’s growing between us because you’re scared or because you’ve judged me wrong. I know you’re strong. Stronger than me in a lot of ways. All I ask is that you give us a chance.”

  She should say no.

  But when he pulled her tight against him and kissed her deep, wet, and bone-­melting hot, her hesitation, doubts, and fears evaporated like rain on a summer sidewalk. When he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs, she knew the word no wouldn’t find its way into her dialogue. Because once he got started the only word she’d know would be more.

  More.

  More.

  More.

  Chapter 15

  After passing through the wedding taking place in the event center and the outdoor tent, Jordan felt more strongly than ever that they needed to introduce some fresh ideas into Sunshine Creek Vineyards. They had a gorgeous area surrounded by shade trees that they never used. If they constructed a stage on the grassy knoll, they could have outdoor concerts with wine and picnic supplies available to buy. With dark wood and heavy curtains, the inside of the event center was a bit dated. He felt sure there was a way to bring it back to life without costing them a fortune. Hell, he and Ryan could put in the sweat and labor themselves.

  Tiered wine club memberships that included a concert series could provide them with enough revenue to push them far away from the financial red zone.

  Leaving the bride and groom to their wedding toast, he walked into the main house more determined than ever to do the right thing. Outside the sun shone high in the sky and he’d just spent several hours in bed with Lucy. There had been no pillow talk, just long, satisfied moans interspersed with laughter.

  He didn’t know how he’d missed it the first, second, or even third time, but during his afternoon explorations he’d discovered his sexy little schoolteacher had some ticklish spots. Though the one behind her knee intrigued him, it was the one at the very lowest area on her spine—­just above her sweet rounded bottom—­that tempted him the most. It had been the ver
y spot he’d kissed just before he got out of bed and left her to finish her nap.

  Knowing he’d worn her out and left her with a smile on her face was like being given a piece of his favorite candy. Hell of a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

  Inside his parents’ home he found Aunt Pippy folding laundry on the kitchen table. Never in his life would he refer to his mother’s sister as a domestic goddess. A lovable psychedelic outspoken wacko maybe. Lately she’d become a little secretive. He still hadn’t figured that one out.

  “Well, fancy seeing you here in the middle of the day.” She snapped out a pair of women’s bikini panties before folding them, and Jordan wanted to cover his eyes. He didn’t know if they belonged to her or his sister and he didn’t want to find out.

  “I’ve only got two days to get things worked out,” he said, turning his back when she snapped out another pair of women’s underwear.

  “Exactly what are you working out?” A brown eyebrow that did not match her carrot top head lifted.

  “I need to talk to Nicki. Is she around?”

  “She woke up late. She’s been up there playing that guitar you bought her. Hasn’t eaten a darned thing all day.”

  “Mind if I grab some of those breakfast pastries to take up to her?”

  “Go ahead. You’re lucky those brothers of yours left any of them. I think they were even putting them in their pockets.”

  He didn’t want to tell her that the powdered sugar circling her lips pointed the donut burglar finger at her.

  “I’ll get a plate for you.”

  “Aunt Pippy? Is there something you know about the missing money you’re not telling us?”

  “Me?” Her eyes widened like she’d seen a polka dot baboon. “Wha-­huh-­pffft. No.”