Pieces of Broken Time

by Lorenz Font

  She didn’t know Blake well, but when she thought of all he’d done for Trent in the past her anger eased and she felt compelled to return the favor.

  What can I do when he’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me?

  Through it all, one question kept nagging—how had he ended up in the same city? Of course, that one caused a chain reaction of questions to sprout up. How long had they been neighbors? She was sure the Jeep she had spotted parked in front of his house was the same one she’d seen racing past her house yesterday. Had Blake been watching her all along? She had questions piling on top of each other and the only person who had the answers wanted nothing to do with her.

  There was a faint knocking at her door.

  She threw the picture on her bed and pushed the box back in its hiding place. Pulling her robe tightly around her, she ran toward the door as she wiped the errant tears away.

  Leaving a little gap but not releasing the chain bolt, she peered out and gasped.

  Blake, hands buried in his pockets and one-eyed piercing gaze, regarded her with intensity. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

  Chapter 7

  Jennifer remained glued behind the door, watching Blake through the small crack that separated them. She must’ve have stared long enough to make Blake uncomfortable because he shifted and looked at her expectantly.

  She only blinked twice in reply, and he sighed and turned back toward the door.

  Say something!

  “You’re not the same man I met a year ago. You’re an angry man and very, very rude.” Not what she’d intended to say, but the words were out of her mouth before she’d had the chance to think.

  Blake whipped his body around, his eye flickering. “I’m not at all what Trent painted me out to be.” His voice was gravelly, and there was a hint of sadness Jennifer recognized right away.

  “Trent was never wrong, but I suppose there’s always a first time.” Another one of those things she wouldn’t have said under normal circumstances, but this wasn’t even remotely normal. She pushed the chain lock to open, stepped past the threshold, and out the door.

  He narrowed his uncovered eye into a slit and watched her just long enough to make her squirm. “I apologized already. I could’ve handled your uninvited visit better.”

  She gaped and her blood began to boil.

  The nerve of this … this …

  She stepped forward to give him a piece of her mind but stopped short when she realized this was about to turn into fighting like little children in front of her house.

  “I should have called before I came, but since we are neighbors … I thought it was neighborly to pop in and say, ‘hi.’ ”

  Blake’s jaw clenched, and she thought she heard him huff. His insolent gaze traveled from her face to her ratty robe, lingering around the area of her breasts, before slipping to her bare feet.

  How dare he! As if I’m something to eat.

  She felt a frisson of anger flush within and tilted her chin up.

  His mouth twitched upward.

  If he felt uneasy with her reference to their living proximity, he showed no signs, and it only made her angrier.

  “This is a free country. I chose to live in a town where my neighbor doesn’t have to know my name.” He turned around and moved across the gravel drive toward a Jeep with a dog in the seat waiting for him.

  “Where are you going?” She took several steps down her small porch, but the searing heat of the pavement under her bare feet made her jump back.

  Blake glanced over his shoulder, his lips quirking into a sneer. “I came to apologize and I did. I’m going home.” He swung his right leg into the driver’s seat with obvious effort. Half seated, he pulled his left leg up. He shot her a glare, as if daring her to say something.

  You pompous ass!

  Jennifer felt the curse working its way out of her mouth and, before she could stop herself, the words spilled out. “If you made the trip, the least I can do is offer you a cup of coffee.”

  What the—okay, not where I saw that going.

  Blake stared out the windshield with a hard scowl. It took another moment before his shoulders relaxed.

  “You can bring your dog, too.” She stepped inside and gripped the doorknob, hoping he’d say yes.

  What’s gotten into me?

  Sure, he had been Trent’s friend, but this man had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d come to apologize, and he’d done just that.

  To her surprise, he heaved his body out of his Jeep, wincing at the same time.

  She could only imagine his physical pain. She had so many questions, but common sense told her she’d better hold them for another time.

  “Drew, come, boy.” The bass of his voice lacked the hostile tone he had used on her. It sounded almost mellow, like a caress.

  The large dog jumped from the backseat onto the hot pavement and looked up at his master.

  With a noticeable limp, Blake walked back to her porch, dog on his heels, and took the few steps one at a time.

  She had no medical background, but it was easy to see his caution had something to do with his visual impairment.

  She stayed still, trying not to stare, and restrained herself from offering help. Once he made it up the steps, she stepped back and let him walk in. When his arm accidentally brushed against hers, she shivered despite the hot day. He smelled like mint and honest-to-goodness male sweat.

  Get a grip, Jennifer.

  He stood in the middle of the room with the powerful looking animal next to him and waited for her.

  She stepped to his right, his good side, and stopped short when it registered what she’d done. She had no idea why.

  Why do I care when he seems hell-bent on making me uncomfortable?

  Jennifer cleared her throat and gestured toward the chair. “Have a seat. Let me start the coffee.”

  Blake didn’t respond nor did he move.

  Instead of running to the kitchen to start the pot, she headed toward her bedroom. She heard a grunt followed by the squishing sound of the sofa cushions as soon as she was out of view.

  Running to her walk-in closet, she pulled out a pair of denim shorts and a white cotton T-shirt. After changing, she stepped into the bathroom to comb her bed-head hair and tied it into a high ponytail. Taking a deep breath and settling her fluctuating emotions, she passed by the living room on her way to the kitchen.

  The Doberman sat on the floor next to Blake who sat on the sofa, ramrod straight, with his gaze fixed on picture frames on the mantel, and he didn’t seem to notice her passing by.

  She disappeared into the kitchen and grabbed the carafe. She busied herself with preparing the coffee while caught in a daze. She glanced at the clock and debated whether to return to the living room and sit with Blake while the coffee percolated. Deciding against it, she retrieved the powdered creamer and sugar containers from the cupboard and placed them with the exquisite antique cups and matching saucers left to her by Aunt Debbie.

  Thank God, Jennifer’s house was cool. Between his cotton, long-sleeved shirt, his beanie, and the jeans, he looked like one of those wandering transients. He came complete with a dog, too. Blake surveyed the entire room, taking in every detail.

  Her place seemed homey. There were books everywhere, on the table, by the sofa where he sat, and piled in a neat row next to picture frames by the end table. Several mannequins were propped against the wall with rolls of fabrics next to them. The eclectic fireplace was surrounded by green stones synonymous with the 70s era.

  Looking at the hearth with the blackened edges, he imagined Jennifer sitting by the fire during cold winter nights, alone. His heart constricted at the unhappy picture.

  The mantel held several framed photographs and he strained to see them. Squinting, one particular photo caught his attention.

  Trent was grinning happily, but not at the camera. He was gazing down at Jennifer, who wore a small smile and stared right into the camera’s le
ns, her expressive eyes misty. Trent held her hand while his other hand encircled her waist.

  Blake blinked and shifted his attention to the rest of the room, immersing in the warmth of being under the same roof with her. Trent had told him everything there was to know about this beautiful and caring woman. In a strange way, Blake felt as though he’d known her for years. Truth was, he barely knew her and outside of their shared time with Trent, he’d been a total ass to her … nothing to be proud of.

  The scent of hazelnut wafted into the living room, followed by a beeping sound.

  He brought his mind back where it should be and leaned against the sofa, trying his best to look relaxed. His breath caught in his throat as her full form stopped a few feet away—the exact range to catch every single one of her features in perfect focus.

  Although she seemed to have lost weight, she still had one of those knockout bodies that made other females jealous. Her fraying denim shorts complemented her long legs that tapered at the ankles, making her even sexier and soft looking.

  Blake groaned.

  How long has it been since …

  “Coffee’s ready. Why don’t we have it in the other room where the chairs are much more comfortable?” She turned around, clearly expecting him to follow.

  His eyes landed on her full and tight backside filling her shorts in all the right places.

  Fuck it, Connor.

  He pushed his body off the sofa. The short inactivity had already settled his skin into a tight constriction, making the process of getting up more difficult. He cursed at the pain of stretching his legs.

  Jennifer halted and threw him a worried glance.

  “Go …” He gestured with a hand. It was rude, but he didn’t even know how to start explaining his caveman attitude to her. He followed her to the other room, grumbling at the discomfort.

  Drew didn’t move from his spot when he caught Blake’s quick wave to stay.

  The kitchen was another throwback to the 70s. The dark wood cabinets and the fluorescent lighting overhead reminded him of his parents’ home.

  “Have a seat. How would you like your coffee?” Jennifer proceeded to the counter and started pouring.

  “One teaspoon of sugar, please. No cream.” He settled into a bright yellow leatherette chair. His buttocks appreciated the firm but comfortable cushion, and he had to grudgingly acknowledge Jennifer’s attention to details.

  She came back with two fragile-looking cups set in tiny saucers and placed them on the table. She sat opposite him in the small dinette, not bothering to look at him.

  “Thanks,” he said, reaching for the little cup.

  “You’re welcome.” Her voice was low and had a sweet ring to it.

  He eyed the tiny handle and wondered how in the hell he was going to get his finger through the small opening. Like an uncivilized grunt, he grabbed the bowl of the cup and stiffened. The scalding heat of the porcelain left him motionless.

  As though he had no control over his limbs, his hand twitched and the cup fell to the table with a loud clang. “I’m sorry.” He brought the hand to his mouth and blew on it. He hated looking like a pansy in front of a woman, or anyone for that matter, and his anger boiled over at the idea that she had seen him flinch.

  Without a word, Jennifer reached across the small table and pulled on his arm.

  He tensed at her searing touch.

  She applied pressure on his arm until he relented. With care, she turned his palm and started massaging it.

  The sensation was electric. She rendered him weak and vulnerable.

  For Pete’s sake! When did I become such a pussy?

  “You don’t have—”

  “Oh, be quiet. You almost burned yourself.”

  Her statement struck a sensitive chord. He cocked an eyebrow. “If you used a cup that could fit a normal finger, this wouldn’t have happened.” He yanked his hand from her grasp and stood up. He ignored the pain radiating throughout his legs. “Thanks for the coffee and enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Without a backward glance, he stormed out of the room, whistled once on his way toward the front door, and headed for his Jeep.

  Drew followed behind him.

  He had no business drinking coffee in her kitchen, and without a doubt, he had no right to enjoy the warmth of her touch.

  Damn his life to high heaven.

  Chapter 8

  At the crack of dawn, Jennifer was up and ready to go. She had a nine o’clock presentation in LA that her agent had scheduled with a new client. This was one of the rare situations when she left the house.

  The trip doubled as a perfect excuse to meet up with Coleen. Ever since she’d moved to Lancaster, and Coleen had relocated to San Diego after she’d gotten married, finding opportunities to see each other had been close to impossible. Although they often spoke on the phone, nothing could beat a face-to-face gossip session. Los Angeles was the perfect meeting spot, being the halfway point between their residences.

  Still smarting from Blake’s abrupt departure the day before, Jennifer hadn’t gotten enough sleep. She had tossed and turned, rewinding every detail in her head, remembering his reactions and his misplaced anger. If she hadn’t met him before and seen the sweet smile not only tilting his lips but also lighting his eyes, she would have discounted him as a rude prick.

  There had to be a reason behind his rage, and while she’d love to find it, there was little chance she’d be knocking on his door again. Not only had he made it clear that she repulsed him, but his actions left no doubt that he preferred to be alone.

  “So be it!” she said out loud, punctuating her determination with one good nod.

  The hour-and-a-half drive to West LA was uneventful, with light traffic and parking readily available. It was going to be a good day.

  Feeling confident, she strode into the high-rise building, took the elevator to the nineteenth floor, and was promptly whisked to the conference room.

  Her agent, Matt Crest, was already seated in one of the plush leather chairs. He stood up and smiled easily as she breezed in. “Jenny … you’re still pretty and punctual. What a combination.” He walked forward and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  She smelled his aftershave and wrinkled her nose. “And you’re still trying to flatter my socks off, Matthew.” She took the chair next to him and placed her briefcase on top of the mahogany table. “How many clients do we have to convince today?”

  “Just one buyer from Maxie’s. If Ms. Holloway likes your designs and orders all of them, then we are set for the rest of the year.” Matthew grinned and leaned back on the chair.

  “I prepared ten sketches, and I took pictures of each style draped on mannequins. I also brought some samples of the fabrics for her inspection.” She gave Matt a nervous smile.

  “I’m positive we’ll hit our target today.”

  Within a few minutes, a woman in her thirties walked in, dressed in an impeccable two-piece beige suit. She introduced herself and small talk preceded the presentation.

  Once Jennifer got into the staging aspect, she took off explaining the designs for the next hour. Passing her sketches from Ms. Holloway to Matt, she kept a steady pace on her sales pitch concerning the materials, the intricate details of each style, and the intended market for her creations.

  Ms. Holloway seemed impressed, but instead of giving her opinion on the designs, the fashion buyer promised she’d call by the end of the week with her decision.

  Matthew requested Jennifer wait for him in the lobby. He emerged from the conference room looking smug.

  “So …” She followed him to the elevator. “What do you think?”

  Matthew put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, and a feeling of elation washed through her. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I think we caught a fish this big.” He gestured with his free hand, and they laughed together.

  Though Matt was technically her agent, they had gone to fashion school together. He had opted to pursue the
business side of the trade while she had gone after her lifelong dream of designing ready-to-wear clothing. She intended to stretch her wings by getting into haute couture in the future, but for now, she was content with designing for a major clothing chain. So far, their venture together had been successful. Jennifer worked at her own schedule and pace while he scoured for clients.

  Back in the day, few straight men forayed into the fashion world, and many a girl had debated exactly which side of the argument Matt landed on. There had been a few occasions when Jennifer had felt sexual tension emanating from him, but he’d never acted on it. She had brushed the feelings away as her overactive imagination running wild. Even with his attractive features, she’d felt no draw toward him. She had always been fond of Matthew and never once felt threatened by his company. Jennifer considered him one of the few people she trusted.

  He promised to call her as soon as he heard from the prospective client.

  After a few minutes of banter in the parking lot, they drove their separate ways.

  Just past noon, Jennifer found Coleen sitting at a corner booth of the bustling restaurant where they’d agreed to meet.

  With a wave, Coleen jumped from her seat and gave her a warm hug. “Jenny! It’s been a long time, girlfriend! I’ve missed you so much.” Coleen squealed in her high-pitched voice, garnering stares from other diners.

  “I missed you, too. How long has it been?”

  They settled in the booth opposite each other and held hands, both grinning with enthusiasm.

  “Um … I think it’s been too long.” Coleen smiled and her blue eyes twinkled.

  “I know that look. What are you keeping from me?” Jennifer tugged her friend’s hand. It wouldn’t be difficult to get her best friend to sing like a canary.

  Coleen burst into fits of giggles. “I’m pregnant!” Her eyes misted and her mouth stretched from ear to ear.