by Tara Randel
He glanced at Jenna, noting her eyes shiny with tears. Instead of pity, like he normally saw, and hated, he glimpsed understanding there. She’d experienced loss in her life. Losing her best friend and taking in her children had changed her forever, just as Jamie’s death had forever impacted him.
“Sounds like an accident.”
“I should have been more attentive. It’s my fault he drowned.”
“I can’t change how you feel, even though I disagree. But still, cut yourself some slack, Wyatt. Terrible things can happen to our loved ones. We can’t control everything, but in time, the pain will get easier to carry.”
Jenna did indeed have a clue about the state of his heart and mind. Because of the recent loss of her friend? He didn’t have to explain the deep, painful ache that never eased. She got it.
“Thanks.” He waited a beat. “For everything.”
She swiped her fingers over her eyes then chuckled. “It wasn’t my finest cooking hour, but we made due.”
“No, I mean, thanks for not being afraid to talk about Jamie. So many people want to shy away from the subject, act like nothing happened. I don’t know if they feel awkward or don’t want to stir up any sadness by mentioning my son.” Maybe that’s why he was drawn to Jenna and the girls. Their shared grief. “To be honest, I like talking about Jamie. It brings me comfort.”
Jenna turned in the chair, pulling her knees up to tuck them beneath her. “I agree. Those first awkward moments are the worst. I just want to cringe when I have to explain that Abby and Bridget’s mother is gone.” She glanced over at the girls, sitting under the tree, paying attention to Cruiser lying between them. “It’s worse for the girls.”
He went quiet for a moment, lost in his thoughts. “It’s weird, how the emotions ebb and flow. Do you notice it with them?”
“Yes. Carrie hasn’t been gone as long as your son, so we’re still trying to navigate the emotions.”
Wyatt sipped his coffee, the rich roast mixed with a bit of cinnamon sweet on his tongue. The shouts from the playing children lifted his heart. A neighbor’s sprinkler system kicked on with a whoosh, followed by the tick-tick-tick of the sprinkler head. Instead of shutting out the normalcy, he decided to let go and simply enjoy.
“You are doing a good job,” he told Jenna.
This time when she looked at him, he saw humor sparkling in her eyes. “Really? You can say that with a straight face after the fiasco tonight?”
“I will admit, I never know what to expect when I spend time you.”
“I promise you, we are not usually this accident prone.”
A thought flashed through his mind and he laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“We should call you Calamity Jenna.”
She tilted her head. “I could see why you’d think that, but honestly, I do have it together.”
“And I’ve seen the good times as well.”
As the sun descended, Wyatt noticed Jenna’s hair changed color, from the almost white blond to a honey gold. Since she’d been spending time in the sun, her freckles had darkened. She had that girl-next-door attractiveness he’d never sought in a woman before, but as he covertly studied her, he found the look growing on him.
So yeah, he was interested in the total package. Not only the beautiful woman who caught his eye, but the new mother handling a steep learning curve. Every time they were together, he discovered something else that was intriguing about her. He wanted to find out more. Problem was, his interest in her didn’t fit the not-wanting-to-get-involved policy he’d instituted since Jamie’s death.
At the time, it had been easy to place aspects of his life into nice, neat boxes to help him deal with his emotions. An available excuse to disengage from his life and keep people at arm’s length. Until Jenna. Now he found himself rethinking this attitude, deciding how Jenna could be part of his life. Because one thing he knew for sure. He was interested in the woman.
Cruiser barked, drawing his thoughts back to the present. The dog bounded about the girls, stopping to sniff the box holding the contents of the swing set.
He decided to take a chance and voiced an idea that had crossed his mind. “So I was thinking. What do you say I come by and give you a hand with assembling the swing set?”
When she flashed him an annoyed look, he held up his hand. “I’m not suggesting you can’t do it alone. With the two of us working together, the girls might actually get to use it sometime this century.”
“Funny.”
“I’m serious. I’d like to help you.”
Jenna set her mug on the table between the chairs. She hesitated. He found himself holding his breath as he waited for her answer. Maybe she didn’t want him around? Maybe he’d overstayed his welcome?
“I suppose I could use some help. You’re right, with our hectic schedules, I haven’t even opened the box.”
He let out a relieved breath. “I’ll check my charter schedule and let you know what day we can get started.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Wyatt.”
“On that note, we should head home.” He stood, whistling for Cruiser.
Jenna untangled her legs and rose from the chair. “It’s time for the girls to settle down for the night.”
Cruiser came to him, his expectant brown eyes waiting for Wyatt’s next command. The girls ran over too, flanking the animal.
“Thanks for bringing Cruiser,” Bridget said.
“Yeah. He was our first new friend.”
“I’m sure that’ll change when you start school,” Wyatt assured them.
Jenna clapped her hands. “Hey, you two. March inside. I’m going to walk Mr. Wyatt to the door then I’ll be back to start your bath.”
The girls waved goodbye and hustled inside. Jenna collected the coffee mugs, depositing them on the counter as she led Wyatt to the front door. He stepped onto the porch and turned to face her.
“Thanks again for dinner.”
“I really should thank you. You saved the day by ordering pizza.”
He shrugged. “I do what I can.”
Jenna laughed. “Mr. Helper, I’ll see you when we build the swing set.”
He winked at her. “It’s a date.”
Just before he pivoted on his heel to walk away, he caught the surprised look on Jenna’s face. Maybe date hadn’t been the right word choice, but her shocked reaction had him humming all the way to the truck.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWO WEEKS. THE TWINS had only been in school two weeks and already Jenna was going out of her mind. There was only so much laundry, housecleaning and reading a person could do. On top of that, she kept thinking about her show. Or going into business with Nealy. And in between it all, thoughts of Wyatt kept popping into her mind. What was she going to do with herself?
It’s a date.
Right. A date. With Wyatt. In thirty minutes.
So much for keeping her distance.
Actually, she wasn’t quite sure they had a date. Did assembling a playground set constitute a date? Really, it was about as far from romantic as she could imagine. Still, when he’d said date before leaving the other night, her heart thumped in her chest and her mind went into overdrive.
Did he mean a real date, date? Like one-on-one romance? Or did he mean it as a figure of speech? The man continually managed to tie her up in knots. Even the girls picked up on her disquiet. For ten-year-olds, they managed to figure out her moods quickly.
“Just chill,” she muttered to herself.
After dropping the girls off at school, she headed to the temporary location Nealy had set up for Cuppa Joe, the coffee shop she co-owned with her grandmother, since a fire had damaged the place. Between her event planning business and the shop, Nealy was working overtime to get the space cleaned u
p, restored and back to normal. The regulars had rallied to the cause, insisting she somehow keep the business going. The landlord of a vacant store on Main had offered to let Nealy run the business from there until Cuppa Joe reopened.
As much as she would have liked to talk to Nealy about her conflicted feelings for Wyatt, her friend was much too busy for a break. As the only event planner in Cypress Pointe, Nealy had multiple appointments scheduled for later that day. She promised Jenna they’d catch up later.
Fighting nervous jitters, Jenna took her coffee to go, not convinced ordering decaf would make a difference, and wandered down Main Street. Taking advantage of this alone time, she walked at a leisurely pace, passing brightly decorated shop windows inviting shoppers to explore the treasures inside. She stopped more than once, basking in the quiet morning, enjoying the sights around her.
The more time she spent in Cypress Pointe, the more she was beginning to love it here. The easy camaraderie of the town’s people and the slower pace of life appealed to her after years spent in the hustle and bustle of LA. Here she breathed more easily, without the constant fear of a reporter popping up out of nowhere, hunting down a story.
While she was glad Rod had decided to leave her alone, doubts still came to mind from time to time. She guessed she’d always be wary of reporters.
Last time she checked with her agent, Rod was busy stirring up stories in LA, latching on to new celebrities. She felt sorry for those people, but was glad she was out of his spotlight.
Now, she and the girls were free to come and go as they pleased. The number one reason for staying here in Cypress Pointe. No reason to worry about Rod any longer or burden her new friends with that problem.
The wonderful people she’d come to know had busy lives of their own. As long as Rod kept his distance, she and the girls would be okay. Soon, Jenna reached the far end of the main thoroughfare. She paused before a building sporting a For Sale sign. With one hand shading her eyes, she peered through the grimy window of what appeared to be a restaurant.
She’d thought of nothing besides Nealy’s offer to work together since her return from LA. She loved her cable show, but there was always someone telling her what to do and when to do it. Although she came up with all original recipes, the producers wanted to tweak her creations to make them more appetizing, in their opinion. The show had been great for exposure. Readers sent her emails and letters raving about how much they liked her style. She loved sharing her cooking ideas with others, but she missed the one-on-one she’d had in culinary school. Maybe at this point in her life Nealy’s idea had merit.
In a short span of time, her priorities had changed. If she’d been by herself, the show would probably still satisfy her. Now, however, her decisions affected the girls. Could the next logical step be to start a catering business? Sure, she’d have to begin from scratch, but the challenge stirred the creative side of her. And the best part? She’d be available for the girls, not traveling and worrying about them. A major plus.
If she did decide to do this, it would mean not renewing her contract with the network. Barbara would definitely have an opinion and be sure to give Jenna an earful about leaving the limelight.
A car door slammed behind her, jerking her from her thoughts. She squinted through the layers of dust to get a read on the inside. Tables were scattered about, chairs stacked in a corner. In her mind, she imagined the existing dining area transformed into an attractive reception space to meet with prospective clients, as well as adding an office. Closer to the kitchen, she could put out a few tables and chairs to accommodate clients sampling items from her menu.
From this vantage point, she couldn’t see the kitchen at all. Really, the idea hinged on whether the kitchen was suitable for her plans. To find out she would have to call the Realtor.
A laugh escaped her. Was she serious about this? “Yes,” she whispered. She hadn’t been this jazzed since the day she’d been offered her own television show.
Glancing at her watch, she realized she had to get moving or she’d be late meeting Wyatt. She placed her to-go cup on the wide windowsill and searched her purse for a pad and pen. Once she found them, she jotted down the Realtor’s number.
Fifteen minutes later she pulled into her driveway, noticing Wyatt had already backed his truck in. She angled the rearview mirror in her direction to fluff her short hair, check her teeth and run bright berry lipstick over her lips. Satisfied she’d passed her own last-minute check, she went around his truck, following the path along the side of the house. The fence gate gapped wide open. One last smoothing of her sleeveless blouse and she entered the backyard to find Wyatt opening the swing set box.
“Hey, what about teamwork?” she called out.
He spun around, smiling when he saw her. “Just getting the preliminaries out of the way.”
She shaded her eyes, the midmorning sun exceptionally bright today. The temperature had risen steadily and she knew her blouse and denim capris wouldn’t be the best outfit for spending the day working outside, but she had dressed carefully because they had a date.
“I thought if we got started right away, we’d make some serious progress by lunchtime.”
And the date? she questioned silently.
Stop it. He might have used the word date, but Wyatt had made it more than clear that dating was not going to be a part of this relationship.
He nodded to the pile of supplies. “Ready?”
Right. Date in Wyatt language obviously meant an appointment to accomplish an activity. A decidedly unromantic activity.
Silently chiding herself for letting her imagination, and her hopes, go wild, she said, “Let me go in and change. I’ll be right back.”
He returned to the job at hand while she hurried inside to change into a tank top and shorts. She slathered on SPF 50 and grabbed her small tool chest from the garage, all the time pushing her disappointment down deep. When she joined Wyatt again, with a sunny smile on her face, he had his nose buried in the instruction manual, a frown wrinkling his brow.
“Please tell me you understand the directions.”
“I do. I’m going over the list of parts.” He glanced up. Went still for a moment when he caught a glimpse of her more work-suitable clothes. She wished he had removed his sunglasses so she could see the expression in his eyes. Even not knowing what he was thinking, she felt her heart trip.
“You sure know how to pick a project,” he told her.
“I do.” She held up the pink, camouflage-colored tool chest. “And I have my own tools.”
He removed his sunglasses. Blinked at the box. “Pink camo?”
“Who says tools have to be blah.”
He shook his head and put his glasses back in place. “Okay.”
As she moved beside him, she noticed his tangy cologne. It filled her senses, along with the heady mixture of excitement and jitters. And once again, she wondered about the date remark. Yes, he’d made it clear he wasn’t available emotionally, but c’mon, she was human. Yes, he interested her. Yes, it was probably a bad idea to hope for more, considering the girls. But she so wanted to ask him what he meant when he uttered those words. Why couldn’t she get her mind straight when it came to this man?
Focus on the job at hand. “So, what have we got here?”
“A full day and more of work.”
She opened the toolbox and pulled out a hammer. “Lead on.”
“First step, let’s get all the pieces out and separated in order of use. I brought a couple of containers to store the hardware so we don’t misplace anything.”
“Good thinking.”
“This isn’t my first project,” he said, grinning at her in a way that made her squirm.
“Don’t get all cocky. No plan is foolproof.”
“Says the woman who can’t start the grill,” he said with a s
traight face.
“Hey, it’s defective.”
“Right. You keep believing that.”
Jenna enjoyed the companionable silence as they pulled the lumber and parts from the box. Once everything was laid out, Wyatt asked her where she wanted the location of the swings.
“A little left of the center of the yard is good. We get shade from the bordering trees in the late afternoon.”
Wyatt carried some of the lumber to the spot and they began to work.
“So how did you get so handy with tools?” he asked as he checked the power level on his cordless drill.
“It’s one of the things I learned in foster care.”
He looked up at her. “Foster care?”
“Yes. Spent most of my life moving from one home to another.”
“Must have been tough.”
She shrugged. “I missed my mom, but it’s where I met Carrie.”
“Do you ever see her? Your mother?”
“No. Once we were separated that was it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She brushed off the underlying hurt of her mother’s abandonment. “My life turned out fine.”
His voice was gentle when he said, “She’s the one who missed out.”
Maybe. Jenna didn’t usually think of it that way.
Wyatt focused on the drill again. “So, tools?”
The brokenness she usually experienced when she thought about her mom eased. More than anyone she knew, Wyatt understood that certain topics were not pleasant to discuss.
“In so many of the homes, the foster moms didn’t have a clue how to fix stuff, so I kinda learned along the way.”
“They didn’t mind?”
“Nope. In fact the better with tools I became, the more they asked for my help. And the dads were happy because it cut down on their honey-do lists.”
