Deconstructing Lila (Entangled Select)

by Shannon Leigh

  He gave Lila a tight smile meant to put her in her place.

  She straightened and leaned forward, resting a hand on the edge of Howard’s antique oak desk. Jake could see the angry glint in her blue eyes.

  “You don’t like it because of what used to go on there. Admit it, Mr. Mayor. You think because a prostitute ran her business out of there, it doesn’t deserve to be protected. To be respected and acknowledged.”

  Howard scowled, but didn’t deny the accusation.

  “As the great-great-granddaughter of that prostitute, I intend to preserve her home and her memory.”

  Howard stood abruptly, his face red with barely contained anger. His attempt to build and maintain a city of character flew in the face of Lila’s efforts to save, and probably promote to great fanfare, the former whorehouse.

  “I’m warnin’ you two. That building better be more than just up to code. I’m not going to allow you to grandfather it in under any of the permits, Jake,” he said, turning his glare on him. “You hear me? I want it safe and secure for our citizens.”

  Howard was such an asshole. That he questioned the quality of Jake’s work made him madder. “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Jake motioned to Lila and they left the mayor’s office.

  They walked in silence through the lobby and out into bright sunshine.

  They had a lot of silence lately. Since the bathroom.

  “Jake, thank you so much. I—”

  “Stop.” They paused on the wide concrete landing outside city hall. “Let me make something clear. I’ll do this project for you against my better judgment, and at the risk of really pissing Howard off. I realize I’m the only one in town who has the team to do the job. But I don’t want to mislead you into thinking it means anything more than that.” He stared into her sky-blue eyes, driving his point home. “It’s a job. Not an opportunity for us to relive old times.”

  She flushed red. “You’re not going to make me feel bad for what happened the other day, Jake. It’s natural we still feel a connection, and there’s nothing wrong with acting on it. We’re both adults, and still married for Pete’s sake.”

  Yeah, he heard her. And the man downstairs was paying close attention. He groaned inwardly at the thought of working side by side with her day after day. The stress of it would have him constantly taking cold showers and rearranging his junk.

  He shook his head and tried for a subject change as he walked her to Rose’s office to pick up the keys. “So this Prudence. She’s really your great-grandmother?”

  “Great-great-grandmother. And yes, she is. You should read her journal, Jake. It’s amazing. She was extremely sharp and loving. Took care of the women she employed like they were family. It breaks my heart to think she might have been run out of town because people didn’t like her. People like Mayor Armstrong.”

  “Wouldn’t be the last time,” he mumbled under his breath, thinking of Lila when she left Hannington for Dallas. She’d stuffed everything she owned in her old blue suitcase and disappeared into the sunset. Literally.

  If he couldn’t give Lila what she deserved, a full life with a husband and a family, maybe he could help her rebuild Miss Pru’s. Regain what both women lost: a sense of love, belonging, and worthiness.

  He could do that much.

  Lila bounced the keys to the Goodwin store in her hand. Their weight felt good, reassuring. Like she’d put down roots, established herself once again. Although Jake’s rejection the other day still cut deeply, she had to remember: baby steps. Crawling before walking. Walking before running.

  She would do this. One painful step at a time. And right now, Miss Pru’s was next.

  She couldn’t wait to get inside and get her hands filthy. Re-creating history from nothing more than rusty ceiling tiles and scarred wood gave her a fulfilling sense of accomplishment.

  Never mind the soured project in Austin. Or the bad press coverage. Despite the owner’s attempt to sue her for bringing the project in over budget and past deadline—his fault, not hers—the old hotel ranked up there as her favorite restoration.

  She suspected Miss Pru’s place would bump the old hotel back a spot. To number two. And she had Jake to thank for a large portion of her success today. Without him, she knew the mayor wouldn’t have budged on his position. Miss Pru’s might even now be reduced to a pile of rubble if Jake hadn’t stepped in and championed her.

  They were once again a team, and it felt right. The small success inspired her all the way down to her toes.

  Marching purposely up to the front door, she fit the key in the lock. Although she got it in far quicker than Rose the other day, it wouldn’t turn. She jiggled the entire assembly, trying to loosen the tumblers.

  Nothing.

  She pulled the key out and slid it back in, only more gently this time. Patience and a little TLC did the trick occasionally. She hoped.

  It still wouldn’t turn.

  “Dammit.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose in sudden response to an invading body heat. Jake. He’d returned from the store across the street with bottled water.

  “You never were mechanically inclined.” His voice rumbled through her, tightening her insides in all the right places. She spun, pulling the key with her. A soft snap sounded.

  Jake grinned and his eyes twinkled with humor at her expense. “Well, that presents a problem.”

  “How long have you been watching me struggle with this lock? You could’ve offered a hand. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  “Yeah, but then I would’ve missed a good laugh. Don’t get too many of those these days.”

  He was interested. Despite all his denials, he stood here, with her, just as she’d asked him. Sharing a joke. That had to count for something.

  “Okay, funny guy, figure out how we’re going to get this door open.” She stepped to the side, allowing him access to the old beveled-glass door. From her mechanically challenged assessment, the lock looked hopeless.

  His verdict, too. “We’ve got to get a new lock. You don’t have one handy, do you?”

  “Oh sure. I carry odds and ends like that in my trunk. You never know when you’re going to break a key off in a nineteenth-century lock.” She gave Jake a you-knew-better-than-to-ask-me-a-silly-question look. “No, I don’t have one, do you?”

  He looked off down the street and readjusted the cap on his dark head. His hair, damp and curly, clung close to his rounded scalp. “No.”

  “As the new lead on this renovation project, what do you suggest we do?”

  He met her fixed stare, his green eyes shadowed in the shade of the veranda. “We go get one.”

  Lila nodded and strolled off the sidewalk to the passenger door of his truck. Grabbing the handle, she swung herself up onto the bench seat, only to discover Jake hadn’t moved.

  “Well, let’s go,” she said, leaning out the open door, calling over the hood.

  His hands rested on his hips, his brows pulled together in exasperation. “Now?”

  “You got a better idea?”

  Jake adjusted his hat once again and swore under his breath loud enough for her to hear. He dug the truck keys out of his pocket and strode to the driver’s side and climbed in.

  “I said I’d come take a look at the place today. I didn’t say I was going to spend the afternoon running around, looking for a lock.”

  He never did do spontaneous very well. Too much of a planner. Always looking down the road toward the future. “Oh, don’t be so short-tempered.” She slapped him playfully on the shoulder. She meant the gesture in good fun, a means to keep him in a pleasant mood, but the feel of his muscles under her hand had her lingering, stroking with sensitive fingertips.

  She ran her thumb against the hard ridge of muscle along his inner biceps. “If you’re going to do the work, you might as well get used to the idea of taking extra special care with this old building. Its needs might be a little different than wh
at you’ve been used to.”

  The diesel engine rumbled to life and Jake’s eyes turned on her, drowning her in emotion.

  Her needs were different these days, too. She needed him, wanted him. The good, the bad, and everything in between.

  “What are we talking about here, Lila?”

  “We’re talking about seeing the project through to the end. Uncovering the strengths and beauty behind the years of neglect and exile.”

  He captured her hand with his own. If he’d give her a sign, one tiny indication he still needed her, wanted her, she’d be the happiest woman in Bell County.

  Without him, her story was incomplete.

  But she wouldn’t beg. Not yet.

  He raised the palm of her hand to his lips. They were warm and soft against her skin. She closed her eyes.

  “Sometimes it’s better to have the memories than the real thing.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t disagree more, Jake.” She purposely misconstrued his meaning and steered the conversation into safer territory, staring out the window to Pru’s place. “This old gal is going to be a beauty once we fix her up.” She reclaimed her hand, pointing through the windshield. “Wait until you see what I have in mind.”

  Her mischievous tone won a smile. They were back on solid ground. “And what is that?”

  “A day spa.”

  “A day spa? What the hell does that mean?” He backed out of the parking space and headed out of the square.

  “You know, a day retreat. A place people can go to relax, be pampered, and get a massage.”

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “In Hannington?”

  “What? You don’t think people around here need to relax and get a massage?”

  He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “I figured if folks around here wanted that sort of thing, they could go into Austin or Fort Worth.”

  “They are both two hours away!” Lila leaned back against the headrest, contemplating Jake’s desire to discourage her. He was doing a bang-up job so far, deflating her enthusiasm.

  But not her determination.

  The road stretched out before the truck with a dry wind rolling through the tall field grass along the side of the pavement. Lila adjusted a vent, targeting cool air toward her face.

  She considered his position of devil’s advocate. For every idea she had, he had a negative. For every step she’d taken forward in Hannington, he tried to push her back another two.

  Although he helped her against Howard. And committed to taking on Miss Pru’s.

  “Why do you want me to leave Hannington?” She watched his profile and saw an almost imperceptible tightening about his lips.

  He lifted his eyes off the road for an instant to meet hers. “A better question is why do you want to stay? This place can’t provide the same opportunities as Dallas.”

  “This is my home.” She knew that now. After ten years in the Big D, she realized she’d rather be with those she loved than with the money she made.

  Home is where the heart is.

  “It hasn’t been for a long time.” His hands grasped the steering wheel.

  “So should I be banished from Hannington, never to return? Is that what you want, Jake? Do you want me to go away and never bother you again?”

  She turned under her seat belt to study him. “If you can honestly look me in the face and tell me you have no feelings for me anymore and wish me gone, I’ll go. But don’t hide behind the cancer. Don’t push me away out of some skewed sense of honor, self-sacrifice, and responsibility. I’m all grown up now and I can make my own choices about who I love and where I choose to spend my nights.”

  The time had come. She’d crossed the line. If he said go, she’d go.

  A loud boom filled the cab as he opened his mouth. The truck veered sharply off the road and Jake steered into the curve, guiding the vehicle to a more or less straight line. Lila grabbed the dash, hanging on as they slowed to a crawl.

  “What happened?” She could barely hear herself over the blood roaring in her ears.

  “Blowout.”

  The truck bumped an old timber fence post on the side of the country road and Jake unbuckled, turning toward her.

  He pried her belt loose and grabbed her arms, running his hands up over her shoulders. “Are you all right?” His eyes were bright, concern crinkling the tan skin of his face.

  “Fine. A little shaken, though.” His hands skidded lower, feathering over her torso to her waist. He massaged the skin of her hip bones where the belt had cut.

  “The belt didn’t bruise?”

  “No, I don’t think so. But I might find differently in the morning.”

  He nodded and some of the concern left his face, but his posture remained tense, ready for action. Pushing open the door, he unfolded his legs from beneath the wheel and strode to the passenger side to investigate the tire.

  Lila hopped out of the cab to see the damage for herself. The front passenger-side wheel hung in limp rubber ribbons. The smell of burning tread filled the air.

  Fortunate for them they had the blowout on a desolate stretch of road. No oncoming traffic to put them in danger.

  “You do have a spare, right?”

  His gaze cut to hers. Obviously he didn’t deem the question valid enough for a response.

  Moving to the rear of the truck, he sank to his haunches and stared underneath the bed. “There’s an L-shaped tool for the spare tire in the glove box. Would you get it?”

  The glove box looked like a tornado had hit it. Papers dropped to the floorboard as she rummaged for the tool. A yellow sticky note on the top of an empty prescription bag caught her attention

  Dr. Rogers, screening. 3:30 p.m.

  This week! Jake had a cancer screening and he hadn’t said a word. Before she could stop herself, old fears and anxieties flared up, making her heart thump painfully. Mostly because she was once again on the outside looking in.

  What did she expect? For him to ask her to accompany him?

  “Did you find it?” Jake’s voice drifted from the tailgate.

  Lila’s hand swam quickly through the mess until it encountered the tire tool. Stuffing the papers back into the glove box, she hurried back to rear of the truck in time to see Jake stand.

  “I found it.” She held it up and he reached for it, only to disappear back beneath the tailgate.

  She wanted to talk to him about the appointment, offer to go with him. She knew without a doubt, if she brought it up, he’d shut down and she’d be right back out in the cold.

  She should be used to it by now. But Gentrys were slow that way. They didn’t take hints easily.

  The spare tire gave a groan and began to lower from its underbelly nest.

  “Well, hell.”

  Her gaze snapped from the tire to Jake’s face and then back to the tire.

  The spare was flat.

  Lesson Number Ten —

  For a woman, sex is both emotional and physical. For the woman to be gratified sexually, she needs the emotional fulfillment first. Understanding this requirement (and pursuing what she wants) helps her enjoy sex as much as the man.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lila didn’t speak for several heartbeats as Jake sat there, his head hanging in his hands. When he looked up, it was directly into her face. “What are you, some kind of jinx on automobiles?”

  “It could be worse, you know. We could be stranded on a deserted highway.” She got a glare for the bad joke.

  Surely someone would come by. They were in Texas, for God’s sake, not the Outback. Though the lack of signal on her cell phone indicated it was, indeed, the Outback.

  He was strangely quiet as he stood and brushed off the rear of his jeans.

  “Don’t tell me we’re stranded out here.”

  He rolled the spare out and lifted it, throwing it into the empty bed. “Okay.”

  The tire clattered, resting flat against the corrugated metal of the truck bed. He strode to the driver�
�s side and rolled the windows down before pulling the keys from the ignition and pocketing them.

  “I’m heading back that direction,” he said, pointing east, “where F.M. 1670 intersects. You going, or do you want to wait here?”

  “Won’t another car pass this way soon?”

  “Not likely.”

  “Why?” She knew her questions were beginning to irritate him; she could see it in the firm set of his jaw.

  “Lila, we’re on pastureland out here. No one but Jim Stokey could happen by and he won’t because he’s in Dallas for his daughter’s wedding.”

  She felt sufficiently castigated. “Oh.”

  “So let’s get walking.”

  “Sure.” She stepped up beside him and they headed off in the direction they’d come.

  They walked in silence for fifteen minutes as she hurried to accommodate Jake’s long stride. Her footwear was not only inappropriate for a five-mile hike, but hurt like hell on her feet. Ordinarily, she wore boots or tight lace-up shoes while on construction sites. She’d made an exception around Jake, however. Her shoe wardrobe now consisted of strappy sandals and heels.

  Apparently toe cleavage attracted men. Or so the Bombshells had said.

  “What’s so funny?” Jake’s brooding tone cut through the Bombshells’ litany of surefire ways to attract a man.

  “Oh, this whole situation, I guess. Here you are trying to avoid me like the plague and we go and get ourselves stranded together on a deserted piece of pasture. Kind of funny, don’t you think?”

  A grumble crossed the distance between them.

  “Well, I find it funny. And I’m sure Otis would find the situation hilarious.”

  At the mention of the old foreman, Jake’s head whipped in her direction. “Don’t mention it to him. I’ll never live it down.” He shook his head in resignation. “Flat spare.”

  “What do I get in return for keeping the secret?”

  His evergreen eyes cut back to her, caution guarding their depths. “What do you want? And be reasonable, Lila.”

  “The truth.” It popped out before she could close her lips around the words.