“I thought I fixed all of the squeaky treads.”
Katie grunted. “I guess you missed one. I’ll dock your pay.” With that she headed toward the kitchen and the lifesaving caffeine it promised. Knowing Katie as she did, Jillian had set the coffee pot on a timer before she’d left for her run.
Then she winced, hearing Katie sigh when she opened the fridge.
“I’m going to the store as soon as I shower,” Jillian called out, recalling that she’d used the last of the cream.
Katie reappeared momentarily, a mug clutched between her hands.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s probably better that I drink it black,” Katie said. “Less caffeine dilution.”
“Maybe you should just start running it through an IV.”
“Don’t think I haven’t considered it.” She sat down on the bottom step. “The next time I get a bright idea like opening my own restaurant,” Katie said “just shoot me, okay?”
“Since you’ve already opened the restaurant, I think it might be a little late.”
“You know better than to use logic before I’m adequately caffeinated.”
Jillian only smiled. Katie had indeed been working her butt off, but Jillian knew that she loved every minute. After cooking professionally for other people for years she was finally realizing her dream. Parker’s on the Park was little more than a hole in the wall, but it was also a wildly successful hole in the wall. Less than a year after opening, Katie was already looking at expanding into the second floor space above the restaurant.
“I put the mail on the hall table,” Jillian said. “Looked like Christmas cards, mostly.”
Katie dropped her head onto her lap. “It can’t be time to do that yet.”
“Tis the season.” Taking pity on her friend, Jillian patted her on the head. “I’ll be happy to do a photo card – maybe you and the staff in front of Parker’s – for you to send out. That would work for both personal and business purposes.”
Katie’s tired eyes lit up like holiday candles. “Would you?”
“No problem. Just tell me when you want to do the shoot. I’m going to run up and hit the shower and then I’ll go to the store. I started a list and pinned it to the fridge if you want to add anything.”
She started to move past, but Katie stuck out her mug, blocking her path. “Before I forget, Brian stopped by the restaurant last night.”
“Oh?” Brian was Katie’s older brother.
“He’s having a little get-together later today on Tybee. Kind of an early Christmas thing before everyone’s schedules get totally crazy. He told me to invite you.”
Jillian frowned. Huge, bald and tattooed, Brian Parker was Jesse James to Katie’s Bo Peep. And while underneath all the testosterone Brian was actually a total sweetheart, he was also a cop. FBI, technically. But still a cop. And likely to invite other cops.
Quite frankly, Jillian had had enough dealings with law enforcement to last her a lifetime.
“That’s sweet,” Jillian said, as casually as possible. Not that she had a single thing against Brian – she thought of him as an honorary brother – but she didn’t particularly want to socialize with his friends. “I think I’m going to stay in tonight, though. I still have to edit the photos from that engagement shoot I did last week.”
Katie shook her curl-covered head. “Brian said that you’re not allowed to bow out, and to remind you that you owe him.”
“Can’t he ask for something easier, like one of my kidneys?”
Katie gave her a retiring look.
“Fine.” Jillian capitulated with a sigh. She’d stay for an hour. Two, tops.
But when Katie looked smug, Jillian narrowed her eyes. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with any single, available friends of his, would it?”
“No.” Katie squirmed under Jillian’s stare. “But there’s nothing wrong with putting yourself out there. I think it’s time for you to start seeing people again.”
“I see people.”
“Through the lens of your camera, which doesn’t count. Nor does the resident geriatric set.” She indicated their neighbors. “The goal is to get you socializing with people who aren’t marrying other people and who still have a full set of teeth. And don’t look at me like that,” Katie complained. “It’s been almost two years since Cooper.”
“I know how long it’s been,” Jillian said dryly. “I was there when the divorce papers were signed. And besides, it’s not like I haven’t dated. I even let you set me up.”
Katie winced. The last man whom she’d convinced Jillian to meet for dinner was currently sleeping in Katie’s bed. And had been more often than not for the past six months.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“It’s the gift that keeps on giving.” But because Katie and Davis were smitten with each other and Jillian bore no ill will over that fact, she smiled at her friend. “I’ll go for a little while, okay? That way Brian can’t accuse me of welshing and you can assuage your misplaced guilt.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure none of Brian’s friends wear dentures.”
Jillian shook her head. “If that’s the standard we’re using now, maybe you should be the one to shoot me.”
She continued up the stairs – and damn it, one of the treads was squeaking. She bent down and examined it. Somehow, the new screws she’d put in had worked their way loose.
“That makes no sense,” she muttered. She’d just replaced them last week. Maybe the wood was too worn? The house was pretty old. Sighing, she made a mental note to get some wood glue to drop into the holes before she tightened the screw again. Hopefully that would do the trick.
Jillian rounded the corner toward the hall bathroom just as the door to the master bedroom opened.
“Unh,” Davis said by way of acknowledging her presence, scrubbing a hand through his dark blond hair, currently standing in spikes. A creative manager with one of the local theaters, his schedule involved a lot of late nights. He wasn’t one to greet the day before he absolutely had to.
“You’re up early,” she told him.
“Dress rehearsal tonight. Do I smell coffee?”
“As long as Katie didn’t get the last cup.”
“Unh,” he repeated, staggering toward the stairs.
Jillian watched him go, a little smile on her face. Katie had met him when he’d hired her to cater a cast party he was hosting, and Katie had been sure that he and Jillian would click. And they did click – when the possibility of any sort of romance was taken off the table. Jillian suspected it was a case of them being too much alike for any sort of spark to ignite. Davis seemed more like her brother.
A little wave of sadness passed over her at the thought, but Jillian shook it off. She needed to shower and run her errands if she was going to have time to get some work finished before Brian’s party this afternoon.
Locking herself in the bathroom, she turned on the shower, removed her pepper spray bracelet and stripped out of her sweaty clothes. Her thighs burned, reminding her that she’d been less than faithful about her exercise routine lately, a consequence of too much work. Not that she was complaining about the work – she’d put in a hell of a lot of effort to build her photography business.
But she knew better than to let her physical fitness, speed and agility slide. Those things were every bit as important to her ability to defend herself as the can of pepper spray. In fact, maybe she should consider taking a self-defense refresher course.
Reaching back to pull free the ponytail holder which held her mass of hair, Jillian glanced out the bathroom window.
And froze.
Changing the angle on the plantation shutters so that she could get a better look, she blinked to make sure that her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
“You have to be kidding.”
Yanking her robe off the hook on the back of the door, she wrapped it around herself and then reached into
the shower to shut off the water.
Flying down the stairs, she strode into the kitchen where Katie and Davis were canoodling against the counter.
“Hey,” Katie said, peeking around Davis’s bare shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Jillian yanked open the back door, too angry to adequately respond. Crossing the little courtyard, she winced as stray pebbles bit into her sole, but didn’t let it deter her from her march toward the back gate.
She unlatched it, glaring at the sight that greeted her, a sight confirming what she thought she’d seen from the bathroom window.
Some… asshole had shattered the back window of her car.
More cautious now, seeing as there was broken glass scattered over the parking pad, Jillian picked her way around to the back.
Her back window and her rear taillights, she amended. Just freaking great.
“Ouch,” came Davis’s deep voice from behind her. “That sucks.”
“Oh no,” Katie added. “I guess they got you, too.”
They were the perpetrators behind the recent spate of vandalism – soaped windows here, a spray-painted mailbox there. It appeared they were upping their game.
Jillian sighed. She could file an insurance claim, but figured that by the time she met her deductible she’d be better off just paying it out of pocket so that her rate didn’t go up.
“Do you want me to call the police?” Davis said and then added “I guess not” when Jillian glared at him over her shoulder.
“At least they didn’t get anything,” she said, considering she never left valuables in her car. That was another thing she’d learned, having been targeted before.
A chill ran over her as memory wanted to intrude. She pushed it back. This was nothing like that. It was random. An unfortunate byproduct of her car being parked outside when some hooligans were looking for somebody to mess with, something to destroy.
There was nothing left to be done except place a call to her garage and see about getting the glass replaced.
She turned toward Katie with resignation. “I’ll get your cream,” she told her. “But it looks like I’ll have to borrow your car.”
JILLIAN also had to bum a ride to Brian’s party, which put her at the mercy of Katie’s schedule far more than she liked. At least Brian’s friends did have all of their teeth, she acknowledged. And most of them were single. With the exception of one engaged couple and two marrieds, they met Katie’s criteria for Jillian’s target demographic.
So Jillian mingled, appreciating the festive atmosphere of the funky little beach bungalow that had originally belonged to Katie and Brian’s grandparents. She was also relieved to find an eclectic mix of people – none of whom appeared to work with Brian – rather than the sausage fest she’d feared. A sausage fest in which she’d expected to play the role of sacrificial virgin.
Maybe she’d grown cynical, she mused as she carried her glass of red wine through the crowded kitchen, toward the doors leading onto the screened porch. She’d become accustomed to being alone, or to being Davis and Katie’s third wheel.
It was… easy, she guessed, to keep to her safe little routine.
Rut, she admitted. She was in a rut. Because even as her professional life continued to grow and expand, her personal life became progressively narrower. Maybe Katie was right – not that Jillian was going to come right out and admit it. Regardless, she couldn’t feel sorry that Katie and Brian coerced her into coming tonight.
She stepped through the French doors, which had been left open to catch the salty breeze off the beach and to allow guests ease of movement between inside and out. The weather gods had cooperated, bringing sunshine and milder temperatures. Tiny lights glowed like lines of fireflies around the ceiling, and Jillian couldn’t help but smile at the image of big, bad Brian Parker stringing them up before his party.
Speaking of Brian, Jillian looked over to see him speaking with someone in the corner. Brian’s back was to her, but both his size and his Santa hat were unmistakable. She couldn’t make out the identity of the other person, but it was clear by the well-muscled arm that reached out to sit an empty beer bottle on the porch ledge that it was a man with whom he was engaged in conversation.
Jillian hesitated. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Brian beyond thanking him when he’d handed her a glass of wine, but she didn’t want to interrupt. She’d wait a minute, see if the other man left. Right as she had the thought he stepped around Brian, making a gesture she took to mean that he was getting another beer.
He saw her standing there and stopped.
Jillian thought that her heart may have stopped as well.
It started again with a great thump against her ribcage, a thump that picked up in pace when his gaze locked onto hers and stayed there. He wore glasses over eyes that she couldn’t quite discern the color of from this distance, under a mane of dark, unruly brown hair. Tall. He was almost as tall as Brian, though built along leaner lines.
Sensing his friend’s arrested motion, Brian turned, saw Jillian standing there, equally frozen. He shot a quick glance at the other man and then turned a smile on Jillian.
“Jillian! There’s my best girl.”
His words knocked Jillian out of her reverie. She gave him a wry look. “I’ve heard you say that to at least three other women tonight.”
“A man can’t have more than one best girl?”
“Not according to the definition of that particular superlative.”
“In that case, I was lying those other times.” He extended an arm in invitation. “You’re clearly the best girl here.”
“On the porch, maybe.” But she moved forward, snuggled against his familiar and comforting bulk.
Brian bent down to plant a smacking kiss on top of her head and then cleared his throat. “Hey. Let me introduce you to my friend, Jesse.”
Jillian let go of Brian, looked at the other man. Blue. His eyes were blue – a really unique shade which eased toward something floral. Violet, or maybe chicory.
Jillian shifted her glass to her other hand to shake the hand he offered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m pretty sure the pleasure is mine.”
His palm was callused, suggesting he worked with his hands, and it scraped against hers as he slowly released it. Jillian swallowed. She thought she might be blushing, which was mortifying. It hadn’t been that long since she’d talked to a good looking man.
Okay. A really good looking man.
But that was beside the point.
“I, uh, can go get you that beer,” Brian said to Jesse. “If you want.”
“That’d be great.”
“Jillian?” Brian said, a bright, bright smile on his face. “More wine?”
Regaining her mental balance, Jillian narrowed her eyes. Brian was about as subtle as a buffalo stomping through a field of daisies. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Okay, then. I’ll be right back. With that beer.”
He scampered off as quickly as a man his size could scamper, and Jillian was left standing in the shadowy corner with a man whom she’d just met. She hadn’t had nearly enough wine to become chatty, and realized, to her returning mortification, that she had no idea what to say. The sound of breaking waves filled the ensuing silence, the equivalent of crickets chirping.
“I would make a comment about the lovely weather we’re having this evening, but as far as conversational gambits go, that’s about as lame as it gets.”
Jillian found herself smiling. “It’s better than what was running through my mind, which I’m ashamed to admit was somewhere along the lines of do you come here often?”
“That is bad.” He shook his head in disapproval, though a smile lurked in his eyes. “At least neither of us asked for the other’s sign.”
“Stop,” she said. “If someone used that line on me, I think I would have to say that my sign is Stop.”
He grinned. “Well then I’m doubly glad I didn’t say it.”
&nbs
p; Jillian rocked back on her heels. Cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m out of practice talking to people.”
“Recently released from a vow of silence?”
“What?” But she laughed. “No. I don’t think I’d make a very good monk. I’ve just been…” in a rut “focusing on my career, I guess. Which involves talking to people, of course, but that’s professional. If you’d like to discuss the golden hour and why it’s the best time of day to do an outdoor shoot, I’m your girl.”
“Since I don’t think you’re talking about gun ranges, I’m guessing you’re a photographer.” He had a way of zeroing in, she noticed, as if you were the only other person in the room.
Which, she considered with chagrin, she actually was. They were currently the only two people on the porch.
“Guilty. Mostly portrait photography – weddings, engagements, babies. Senior photos. That sort of thing.” She took a sip of her wine. “How about you?”
“I’m a crappy photographer,” he told her. “I always cut off the tops of everyone’s heads.”
She looked at him over the rim of her glass. “That wasn’t quite what I meant.”
He grinned again, quick and easy. “Sorry.” He had a fabulous smile. “Smartass is sort of my default setting.”
Jillian leaned that direction as well, when she wasn’t tongue tied because she’d spent the past two years avoiding small talk in the way some people avoided contagious diseases.
“Your hair is… striking,” Jesse said, catching her off guard with the unexpected compliment. He reached out, lifted a loose strand from her shoulder. “The setting sun was hitting it when you were standing over by the door. It looked like flame.”
He smiled, a little rueful, noticing that he’d flustered her. He dropped the hair, stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I guess that makes me the moth.”
“Ah. That’s…” God, why was she having so much trouble forming complete sentences? “Thank you. I hated it, growing up. Not quite red, not entirely blonde. And so much of it. I…” Honestly, his smile was making her stupid. “I swear I’m not normally this incoherent.” She peered into her glass. “Must be something in the wine.”
The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set Page 2
