You Can't Hurry Love

by Lee Kilraine

  “What? No, I only had ten items on my shopping list.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, you have seventeen items in your basket.” Mrs. Frock gestured into the cart.

  “Oh, ring her up, Patty. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing the poor girl?” Agnes Simon stood behind her in the ever-growing line. “You have no reason to blush, Jo. Good for you, getting one of those delicious Cates brothers to park his shoes under your bed.”

  “Oh no. Paxton and I aren’t—no, he was just . . . we were just discussing the plans for the next class reunion. That’s all. Pfft. No, we’re not—his shoes are not under my bed. Nooo.”

  Both Mrs. Frock and Agnes Simon snorted delicately.

  Gage Tierney and Doc, standing next in line, coughed before both turned away to carefully study the candy and gum display.

  Jo looked down into her basket to count her items and heat rushed up her neck and into her face. She was going to kill Paxton. Because along with the ten items from her list, Paxton had slipped in men’s deodorant, a refill pack of blades for a man’s razor, two toothbrushes—one pink, one blue—a canister of whipped cream, a squirt bottle of chocolate sauce, a box of extra large condoms—of course; she rolled her eyes—and, worst of all, a roll of butter rum LifeSavers.

  “I’ll check you out this one time.” Mrs. Frock winked at her like she knew her secret. Her and the whole town of Climax now. “Everyone knows butter rum are Paxton’s favorite. He comes in every Monday for a new roll during lunchtime. Unless he’s in court of course. Then he comes a little later in the day.”

  Turning around to peek down the line behind her, she felt her face flush warm all over again when Gage wiggled his eyebrows at her. If she didn’t think it would attract more attention and back up the register, she would have tossed Paxton’s contraband out of her cart.

  Chocolate sauce and whipped cream and condoms? Oh brother. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted that sneaky smile of his.

  Chapter Six

  Paxton left the grocery store with a grin on his face. Even if he never convinced Jo to help him, what had happened back there had been fun. He and Jo had moved their relationship from enemies into . . . well, that was still to be decided, but whatever it was, he was enjoying the hell out of it. He found himself looking forward to the way her eyes sparked when he baited her and the way her cheeks flushed when he teased her.

  But the thing he found most fascinating? The way her breath changed when he got close. And the way her pulse fluttered under his fingertips like the wing of a hummingbird. Damn. He was disappointed to think how much fun he’d missed out on with them mostly ignoring each other the last few years.

  He started up the engine of his truck, about to head back to his office, when his phone chirped with a text. Glancing at his phone sitting in the holder above his radio, he saw a text from his brother Tynan.

  Dad’s garage. Now.

  Getting an abrupt text from Tynan wasn’t anything unusual, but the fact that he was being summoned in the middle of a workday wasn’t normal. And his dad had just had that visit at the doctor with all the tests. Crap.

  Instead of turning into town to his office, he headed his truck away and to his parents’ house. Paxton tried to prep himself to hear bad news but damn, he really wasn’t ready.

  Her father had always been larger than life to all his sons. He was a big man. His brother Tynan took after him most physically, both of them standing at six foot four. Quinn, the baby of the family, was probably the closest to their dad in temperament; the two were extremely laid back and . . . well, nice would be the best way to describe them.

  Paxton drove down his parents’ long gravel driveway, noticing his mom’s car was gone. Made sense. You couldn’t have an emergency meeting with her around and think she wouldn’t get wind of it. And if Dad had bad news from his doctor, Paxton knew he’d try to keep it from her as long as he could.

  Pulling his truck past the house, he parked in front of the detached garage that had made many a grown man cry. It was the ideal man cave: part woodshop, part garage, with a couch, TV, and refrigerator. Yep, he and his brothers had spent many happy hours tinkering and bonding with their dad in this space.

  Bad news usually got dissected and discussed over the open hood of Dad’s ’66 Ford pickup truck. That way a person had a chance to hear and let the bad news sink in slowly. Every time Paxton had been grounded, the punishment had been meted out over the Ford’s engine. His head had been bent over the engine when he’d heard the news that Tynan’s unit in Afghanistan had taken casualties and when he’d learned his Uncle Cullen had died.

  The barn-style doors were flung wide open and, to Paxton’s surprise, he didn’t find them bent over the Ford’s engine, although they were gathered around something. Parked in the middle of the circle of males was a baby stroller and his brother Quinn’s one-month-old baby girl.

  “Oh hell yes.” Paxton veered to the sink, rolled up his sleeves, and washed his hands. “It’s about time we had some uncle time. How did you sneak her away from Delaney?”

  To no one’s surprise, Delaney was a doting, protective mama bear. They all understood. After her own dysfunctional parents, Delaney was going to be as close to the perfect parent as she could.

  “Delaney had a follow-up doctor’s appointment,” Quinn said, looking all kinds the proud papa at his sleeping baby girl.

  “Well, why are y’all standing around?” Paxton joined the semicircle in front of the stroller and glanced at his dad and brothers. “Fine, I get the first turn to hold her.”

  “No. You’ve heard Ma. Never wake a sleeping baby, Pax.” Tynan stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest, staring down at the sweet face of their niece.

  “When else will we get a turn? The women hog all the good baby time.” Paxton looked across at Quinn. “Quinn won’t tell, not if he wants us to babysit one day so he and Delaney can have a romantic date night.”

  “Excellent point.” Quinn nodded. “I won’t say a thing.”

  Paxton didn’t waste any time, especially because both Tynan and Kaz had better reflexes than he did. He leaned down, unbuckled the baby from the stroller, and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her up to his chest. Something tugged at his heart every time he held his tiny niece in his hands.

  He leaned his face down close and inhaled. “Still there; new baby smell.”

  “I know, right?” Tynan said. “Almost as good as new car smell.”

  “You’re just lucky I changed her diaper an hour ago,” Quinn said.

  Kaz gathered in close too. “If you tickle her chin, she wakes up.”

  “How would you know that?” Quinn frowned.

  “Just a guess.” Kaz shrugged but didn’t fool anyone.

  Paxton tickled her chin, and within a few seconds, the sweetie was stretching her arms over her head and blinking her eyes open. “Hi, little one. Hi. It’s your favorite uncle, Paxton.”

  Tynan and Kaz joined in on the cooing.

  “Hey, she smiled at me,” Tynan said. “I knew I was her favorite.”

  “She didn’t smile at you, Ty. That was a gas smile.” Paxton had experienced it himself last week. It was stuck fast in his memory because he’d innocently volunteered to change her diaper after that smile.

  “You’re just jealous I’m her favorite.” Tynan held out his hands. “Now pass her over.”

  “Sure. She’s all yours, favorite uncle.” Paxton handed the baby over, and then he and Kaz took a big step back. Kaz was no dummy.

  Tynan got halfway in to blow a raspberry on her cheek and froze. “Oh man. That isn’t new baby smell.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Quinn grinned and took his daughter from Ty’s arms. “Hiya, sugar bug. Daddy loves his stinky princess.”

  “Hell, Quinn, you’re wearing spit-up and baby poop like a badge.” Tynan turned to the sage advice of their dad. “Is that what happens to new dads?”

  “All that and more.” His dad laughed. “And you know what? You don’t mind it
a bit either. Not if you’re doing it right.”

  Once Quinn changed the baby’s diaper, Tynan and Paxton talked Quinn into letting them take a few silly pictures of her on the condition Delaney didn’t see them. Photos where it looked like she was holding a wrench and driving their dad’s truck.

  “Next time she falls asleep we can try to break the Cheerios challenge.” Tynan pointed at Quinn. “I think the record is twenty-one on a sleeping baby’s head.”

  “You’re off the babysitting list, Ty,” Quinn said. “Paxton and Kaz are moving up on the list.”

  When Quinn turned away, Paxton pointed at Ty and mouthed, I’m in. Twenty-two or bust.

  Clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention, Kaz said, “Not that this wasn’t worth it, but is this why you got us here, Ty?”

  Ty’s face went completely serious. “No. Dad needs our help. Dad?”

  Crap and double crap. This was the moment Paxton didn’t want to deal with. He didn’t want to hear about his dad’s doctor’s appointment. He didn’t want to hear that the heart test had revealed a dire health situation. Nope. Not ready. He crossed his arms and waited, his body tense and his heart pounding against the walls of his chest.

  “The doctor says I have angina.”

  “What the hell is angina?” Tynan frowned.

  “Chest pain caused by reduced blood flow to the heart,” Kaz said. Kaz’s expertise was computers, but no one doubted him. His twin had always been wicked smart and a sponge when it came to learning. “Stable or unstable?”

  “Stable. Look, the doc says it isn’t that bad. Not even close to needing angioplasty. He thinks we can knock it back with a few lifestyle changes even before I have to try medication. That’s where I need your help. Doc’s put me on a healthy eating plan.” His dad looked around into each of their faces. “It’s taken thirty years, but I think this is my chance. I’ve got to leverage this opportunity.”

  “What kind of opportunity are you talking about? Healthy eating—ah.” He and his brothers all got it at the same instant. “Ma’s meat loaf.”

  There was a round of grunts, nods, and knowing looks from all the brothers.

  “Exactly,” his dad said, tugging on his ear. “This is my chance to get her to stop making it without hurting her feelings. I just need the exact right thing to say so she’ll buy it.”

  “Paxton,” Kaz said.

  Quinn nodded. “Yep, Paxton could convince a burglar to put the goods back where he got them, and then wipe his feet on the way out.”

  “I’ll give it a try. Email me the list of your doctor’s dietary restrictions and I’ll send you bullet points for your oral argument before dinner.”

  His dad slapped him on the back. “Appreciate it. You boys just don’t know . . .”

  “We know, Dad. Ma’s meat loaf was a true inspiration for each of us to get our shit together so we could move out,” Paxton said.

  Quinn looked at his watch. “Hey, I’m out. Delaney should be home soon, which means it’s lunch time for the bug.”

  “I swear to God, Quinn, if you talk about Delaney breastfeeding again, I’ll draw that handlebar mustache on the baby.” Ty grimaced. “With permanent marker.”

  Ty and Kaz left when Quinn did since each had to get back to work.

  “Shoot me that email, Dad. I’ll be in my office all afternoon.” Paxton hugged his dad. “I’m relieved to know what you have is treatable. Ma’s okay? Not worrying too much?”

  “She’s worrying a little. I’ll tell you what, she heard some news around the Grapevine that cheered her up.” His dad turned on the light bulb hanging from the truck hood, preparing for a few quiet hours of tinkering. “This thing between you and the Joyner girl serious?”

  He never could lie to his dad. “Actually, between you and me, it’s not a thing. I’ve asked her to go to some bar association and company events with me.”

  “Oh. Your mother will be disappointed. She’s worried about you. Worried you’re working too much.”

  “I know. She said as much when I stopped by the other day.” He ran a hand around his neck.

  “What’s up, Son?” His dad leaned his forearms on the truck and turned his gaze on Paxton. “You’ve always been determined and driven, but you used to make time for fun too.”

  “I remember when I was four or five years old, when Uncle Cullen was a lawyer, he used to let me sit in when he interviewed witnesses and took depositions. He used to say, ‘Pax, my boy, never forget a lawyer can only research, present, and attempt to sway. They’re only advocates. But a judge holds the power to affect people’s lives for the better. It’s the judge who decides and delivers justice whether it’s compensation, a punishment, or a second chance.’

  “That’s been my dream. Some days I can still hear him over my shoulder and it drives me to work harder.”

  His father looked at him and nodded before turning back to the engine. “Your Uncle Cullen was fiercely dedicated, but there are other ways to affect people’s lives for the better. Being a judge is a fine goal, but don’t miss the forest for the trees.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jo pulled into her parents’ driveway, eyeing their one-story ranch house as she exited her car and walked up the brick sidewalk. The peeling paint on the shutters had her frowning. Her dad used to keep the house in pristine condition, but he’d really slowed down the last two years and was having trouble keeping up with the maintenance. Maybe she could ask Paxton’s brother to recommend someone to paint the house this summer. Tynan Cates had his own construction company, and if he didn’t handle painting, he could at least point her in the right direction.

  Letting herself in the house, she followed her nose back to the kitchen, where she found her mother at the stove, humming while she stirred her homemade tomato sauce. Dad sat at the kitchen table sorting the mail.

  “Hey, bean.” Her dad looked up with a smile, tearing a piece of junk mail in half before tossing it in the recycling bin at his feet. “One more week until you escape with your life for another year.”

  “You’re so bad, Daddy. My students are great, but yes, one more week of school.” Jo wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “It smells wonderful, Mama. Good day today?”

  “Lovely day, sweetie. And you’re just in time. Dinner’s ready. I made your favorite, chicken parmesan.” Her mother’s brow creased. “Or was that Darlene’s favorite?”

  Darlene’s.

  “You make the best chicken parm. I’ll get the drinks. Tea okay for you, Dad?” Jo opened the refrigerator, lifting out the pitcher of sweet tea. She glanced over her shoulder at her dad when he didn’t answer. He was frowning over a postcard. Oh hell. “Where is she now?”

  “Canada. Maybe. This postcard is dated two weeks ago, so who knows?” He tapped the edge of the postcard on the table a few times. “Want to read it, June?”

  “No.” Her mother’s head sliced her negative response. “Just put it in the china cupboard with the others.”

  Jo focused on pouring the drinks in order to avoid looking at her mother’s face. But she didn’t need to look to know what she’d see. Pain. And also regret and confusion about where she might have made mistakes or how she might have done things differently. As if Darlene’s anger and hatred had been her fault.

  She’d once heard her father say Darlene had been born angry at the world. And the older her sister got, the more she reveled in making sure everyone knew it. It wasn’t simply that she attracted trouble—it was that she sought it out and enjoyed every second of it.

  Shoplifting, underage drinking, drugs, and sex with the baddest boys she could find.

  When Darlene had lived here, home had never been a peaceful place. Years of yelling, along with lots and lots of door slamming and angry grunge rock music blasting from behind Darlene’s locked bedroom door. And the anguished sobs of her mother and the deafening quiet as her father withdrew into silence when he had no answers to the situation.

  Until one day the house went sil
ent. The day her sister had ridden off on the back of her newest boyfriend’s motorcycle and never even looked back.

  It turned out a quiet house didn’t mean a happy house; from that day on, they each lived with the new pain of not knowing how or where Darlene was. It was a horrible feeling. Jo’s mind played cruel games on her, imagining the most horrible possibilities that stole both her sleep and her appetite. She didn’t know how her parents got through the first few years.

  “I’m not sure I say it enough, Jo, but thank you for being such a good daughter.” Her mother drained the pot of spaghetti into the colander in the sink, the steam buffeting up and making her pale hair curl softly. “You’ve been practically perfect.”

  What else could she have done? When her sister had turned their house into a battleground, Jo had made sure never to add to it. Darlene had rebelled against everyone and everything, leaving a trail of angst and angry people in her wake; Jo had become agreeable, dependable, and easygoing. Jo had felt a burning need to counterbalance her sister everywhere she went. It was a role she’d kept up all these years—up until two days ago.

  She glanced at her daddy, cringing inwardly at the thought of telling him about the arrest, but she needed to get out in front of the gossip. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was become the daughter they worried about.

  “Let’s eat.” Her mother lifted the chicken dish from the oven, resting it on the empty stovetop burners. “Oh my. I’m not sure it’s ready.”

  Her father closed the china cabinet with an overly firm push. Darlene had that effect on people. Jo watched him brace himself with a hand on the cabinet before he straightened his shoulders and moved to the stove. “Let me see, June bug. I’m always up for taste testing.”

  “It doesn’t feel warm.” She turned her face up to her husband of thirty-eight years, and Jo couldn’t tear her gaze away from her mother’s eyes, tears welling even as she tried to blink them away. “I forgot to turn the oven on again, didn’t I?’

  “Nonsense, Junie. You know I was supposed to look at the oven last weekend. You told me it wasn’t heating up correctly. I promise I’ll pull it apart tomorrow and fix it.”