“That didn’t mean anything,” she said, and pushed past him into the dining room where her dad watched with amusement on his face. “I was just mad at Dennis.”
“Remind me to thank him sometime.” Marsh seemed totally unfazed as he took his seat at the table again.
Karissa wanted to scream, so she snatched up the nearly empty gravy boat. “This needs to be refilled.” She escaped into the kitchen.
When she was alone, she set down the crockery, planted both hands on the counter, and hung her head. Stupid. That was such a stupid move. Her heart still raced from the kiss, and she didn’t know if it was because she was angry at her jerk of an ex or something more.
The thought that it could be something more, that her reaction could be primarily all about the kiss, and more, about kissing Marsh, made her uneasy. The last thing she needed was to start imagining things between the two of them that he didn’t return.
She focused on the task at hand. It didn’t mean anything. He had acted smug but unaffected by the kiss. She could do the same.
When her family looked at her speculatively upon her return to the dining room, she did her best to pretend it didn’t bother her. No big deal; she could totally handle this.
She snuck a glance at Marsh out of the corner of her eye and wondered how many times she would have to tell herself that before she would believe it again.
Marsh ran his basketball players through another set of drills, watching their moves and correcting them, but his mind was half on the kiss Karissa had laid on him several days earlier. She had tried to act as if nothing had happened when she finally emerged from the kitchen, but energy crackled between them almost as strong as when they had been locked together in that embrace. He did his best to go along with her wishes to not make too much of it but couldn’t ignore the way being near her—never mind the vivid memory of her lips on his—affected him.
In the past several days, though he’d managed to pop by to help with evening chores twice and join them for dinner, she practically ignored him. He was a little sick of getting the cold shoulder but couldn’t stand the thought of pushing her too fast and ruining his chances.
Especially not now that he knew what she felt like in his arms, with her lips molded to his.
He pushed that away and focused again on the boys, happy with the progress they were making and the fact that they were actually working together as a team. His assistant coach, Rex, pulled Chris aside and corrected his form, demonstrating the way it should be done. Chris nodded and headed back into the group doing layups. Marsh was happy with Rex as the assistant coach. He was dedicated to the boys, had a great relationship with them, and was very focused on getting the team to the state championship this year.
It didn’t take long before Marsh’s thoughts drifted to Karissa again. No question about it, he needed to do something about this stalemate so he could get his mind back on his responsibilities.
He was glad when Rex signaled that it was time for practice to end. The boys had worked hard; this season was practically in the bag.
He just had to figure out what he was going to do about one feisty redhead.
The next Monday morning, Karissa thought back on her long and crazy night at work. There had been a medical emergency at the jail, two car accidents, a heart attack in town, and a gas skip where someone had taken off without paying after filling up their tank. As if that wasn’t enough, a domestic violence case had turned into a drug sting. They had to call in other Sheriff’s office staff from out of their beds to help deal with the meth house. Then the hazmat team had been called out to help dispose of the chemicals. The state would send hazardous materials experts to town to help deal with the mess as well.
Karissa had been on the radio all night, her back growing weary, her eyes blearing, and she had to take her mother to Denver for an appointment with her specialist that day. When she stepped out of the jail, she looked up into a solid wall of clouds that were already dumping snow. She’d heard on the radio that the snow plows were out, but they hadn’t reached this part of town yet.
Thank goodness she’d brought her dad’s truck to work instead of her car. Snow tires and four-wheel drive were a necessity on days like this.
In case she had begun thinking her day couldn’t get any worse, Karissa was only half a mile from work when she heard a popping noise and felt her steering wheel yank to the left, causing her to slide on the icy roads. She twisted the steering wheel and managed to get it back under control, maneuvering to the side of the road. “Fabulous. Just what I need.”
The back driver’s side tire was beyond flat, and she wished for the hundredth time she hadn’t quit cursing when Paul started learning to talk. It could come in handy at a time like this. She hopped into the back of the truck and unlocked the steel tool box, digging for the jack.
She had positioned the jack in the snow and begun lifting the truck when she heard another vehicle pull up behind her. Karissa felt her face flush and resolutely ignored it. She didn’t need any help and could wave away assistance without any difficulty.
“Hey, Kar, looks like you’ve got some trouble.”
Karissa didn’t need to turn around to know who that was—of course, the last person she wanted to face. She’d been doing her best to avoid meeting his gaze since their kiss, thoroughly embarrassed by her actions. “Hey, Marsh, I’ve got it under control. You can continue on your way. No doubt you’ve got some delinquent-in-training waiting to talk to you.”
“Nah, I only meet with the delinquents on Wednesdays.” Marsh leaned back against the end of the truck and looked down at her, earning a scowl.
“Come to watch the show?” Karissa asked, turning back to her work.
He crouched down, picked up the breaker bar, and started loosening nuts on the tire. “I thought maybe I’d let you sit back and watch a pro, but then I realized you’d probably pull a gun from a shoulder holster and shoot me if I suggested it.”
Karissa didn’t mention the fact that she didn’t carry one as a dispatcher. She missed her long-ago days as a street cop as she considered the advantages of being armed. “I might. What, do you think I’m some mamby pamby woman who can’t change a tire? I can take care of myself.” She wasn’t sure if she was more irritated that he started helping without so much as a by-your-leave or that he had started on the lug nuts when it should have been her first step before lifting that side of the truck. Obviously she was more tired than she thought.
“Yeah, I know you can. I saw you clean Jason Hardman’s clock in high school, remember?” As the tire lifted from the asphalt, he pulled it from the bolts and set it aside, removed the spare from under the bed of the truck, and slid it into place.
She remembered; Jason had gotten more than a little fresh in the hallways, and they hadn’t even been dating. He never bothered her again. “So what’s the deal?” She stopped and glared at him this time, her hand doubled up on her hip.
“Just because you’re capable of doing things on your own doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a little help once in a while. Besides, one of my kids might drive by, and they could use a few lessons in being a Good Samaritan.” He didn’t look at her but continued twisting the nuts back onto the bolts.
“You have students driving around town at this time in the morning?” She knew she shouldn’t be so churlish—he was being helpful. She couldn’t seem to help herself.
He shrugged. “A few.”
“Being a Boy Scout, huh? Your good turn for the day?”
“Something like that.” He twisted to look at her again, studying her face for a moment. “You know your eyes glint when you’re mad. It’s pretty, but I bet it scares criminals. You’re an intimidating woman.” He grinned and released the jack to finish tightening the lug nuts.
“You sure act intimidated.” She put the jack away and slid the flat tire into the truck bed.
“Why do you think I never asked you out in high school? You scared me.”
“And all
this time I thought it was because you didn’t know I existed except as someone to tease.”
“Were you pining away for me?” he asked, then stood and placed the breaker bar back in the tool box.
“Not a chance. I’ll leave that honor to Mary Ellen Kesler.”
Marsh winced. “That was a low blow, Kar.” Mary Ellen had boldly chased him all through high school, throwing a glass of soda in his face at senior prom after he brought a girl from a rival school instead. He turned to Karissa, his eyes level. “You know you have a smudge on your face, right there.” His dirty finger reached out and rubbed along her cheek. “It’s kind of cute.”
“Yeah, now I have a smudge.” She rubbed the back of her hand across the cheek and wondered if she managed to do anything besides smear it.
“I’ll be happy to take a kiss as payment,” he teased her.
If her face hadn’t already been red from the cold, she would have flushed in embarrassment at his reminder. She didn’t need him taunting her. “Drop dead.” She turned back to her cab door, wrenching it open again and climbing in, her irritation piqued.
“You’re welcome. See you around.”
She slammed her door shut and watched him amble back to his faded, blue SUV, unfazed by her annoyance. She twisted the key in the ignition ruthlessly and peeled away from the parking spot, less calm than when she had stopped.
When Karissa was halfway back to the farm, she started to calm down. She wondered why she still let Marsh get under her skin. Despite the way she reacted to him, she wasn’t easily offended. Not usually anyway. And he’d been unusually nice lately, despite reminding her about their kiss. She vowed to try to get along better, to be less abrasive in the future. Trying wouldn’t hurt. Much.
The next morning when Karissa got off work, she came home to find her father and son sitting at the table with bowls of cereal and toast. “Is Mom okay?” Karissa’s mother usually made sure that her husband had something hot in his stomach before he went back out to do farm chores.
Lines bracketed his mouth, growing deeper with worry. “She’s having a rough morning. Her arthritis is kicking up, and she has a fever.”
Karissa nodded, not wanting to worry Paul by asking more specific questions. She knew these were signs of an acute flare up of her mom’s lupus. “Good thing I have a few days off then. Should I see if Mary can watch Paul today, or do you want to take him with you?”
“I’ll take him out. If he gets too bored, I’ll take him over to Mary’s. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, I’ll check on Mom before I head to bed.” Karissa gave her son a hug and kiss, then turned toward the hall.
She found her mom still lying in bed, the curtains drawn over the window. “Hey, Mom. Can I get you anything?”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Beth said, curled under her blankets.
Karissa sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re not a bother. Just let me know; I’m here to help.”
Beth hesitated for a moment. “I was going to ask your father for a glass of water, but I forgot.”
“No problem.” Karissa picked up the glass beside the bed and refilled it, placing it back on the nightstand. “Anything else you’ll need before lunch? Books, a movie?”
“No, honey. Thanks for asking. You get some sleep. I’m not an invalid.”
Karissa put her hand on her mother’s forehead and lifted a brow at how hot she was. “Right. You’re perfectly fine. Not ill at all.” She didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “I’ll sleep for a few hours and make lunch. You take it easy and keep an eye on that fever. Feel free to holler if you need anything.”
Beth smiled wanly. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s so good to have you here.”
“It’s good to be home.” Karissa pressed her lips to her mother’s forehead, realizing that she really was home, where she belonged.
November was in full swing and Marsh was deep in preparation for the basketball season. The first game was next weekend and he knew his team could win.
Rex, Marsh’s assistant coach, had his own ideas about which students should start and which plays to run. Though his ideas were often good, Marsh and Rex occasionally bumped heads, which was one more frustration Marsh didn’t need. His increasingly hectic schedule made seeing Karissa difficult, stalling his relationship with her. It didn’t help that she had gone out of her way to keep her distance since their kiss.
He fixed a cup of hot chocolate and took it out onto the porch to watch the stars. His house had passed the century mark, one of the oldest in town, and was badly in need of repair. He had bought it only a few months earlier and began work in the living room. It now sported a fresh coat of paint, new moldings, and the ceiling had fresh sheetrock to replace the water-damaged stuff that had been there when he bought the place. It was not textured and painted, but progress was still progress. Replacing the carpet was also on his to-do list.
Marsh figured it would take the rest of his life to fix the place right, especially since the minute basketball season was over, he had to start up with softball. Then again, if things didn’t eventually turn around with Karissa, it may not matter if progress on the house was slow.
Though he loved his job, the teaching, the coaching, interacting with students, he looked forward to the long summer months when his time was his own. He was already thinking of the projects he would work on the next summer.
Hank’s white pickup pulled up beside Marsh’s beat up double-cab and Marsh stood, waving a greeting. “I could use some company,” he said when Hank got close enough to hear.
Hank looked at the sagging front porch and faded paint on the house. “You could use more than company.”
“Just wait until the Ledbetters decide to move and you get stuck with their heap.” Marsh indicated the house next door, the one Hank had salivated over since high school. It was in worse shape than his own.
Hank smiled and looked at the snow-covered, overgrown yard; the fence was in desperate need of a new paint job, much like the house itself. “I’m looking forward to it. You haven’t heard anything lately?”
“Nope. For all I know, they could stay another decade. Sure you don’t want to buy something else, something that’s actually for sale?” He had to razz Hank a little; the fixation on that house was too funny not to.
“Nope. That’s it. I’m in no hurry, and my down payment gets bigger every month.” He looked pleased about that.
Marsh led Hank inside and pulled out an extra mug, setting it on the table beside the open tin of cocoa. “It’s getting cold out there.”
“Yeah, seems to be. Snow is making a mess of the dirt roads.” Hank stirred the powder into his hot water. “I got an e-mail from Bo today. He’s doing great, having a terrific time—burning up in the day, biting flies, scads of rats everywhere. He sent over some pictures of a desert sand storm. You know that scene in Stargate when the storm blows in like a big tidal wave? That’s what it looks like.”
“Yeah? That sounds wicked.”
“You’re telling me. I’ll forward them on to you.”
“Good.” Marsh finished his drink and got up to rinse his cup. “How’s Karissa doing?”
“She’s good. Been managing everything, somehow.” Hank rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The strain of trying to keep Mom from overdoing it is getting to her. It’s getting to Mom too; she’s going crazy. She’s not been doing great this week, but Karissa has stepped up and taken over everything in the house.”
Marsh stared out the window and smiled. He could see it when he was over there. Karissa was by turns sweet and bossy. She ended up with kitchen duty most nights. Paul was thriving on the farm, with all of the love from Grandma and Grandpa, and uncles Hank and Marsh.
Of course, "uncle" wasn’t what Marsh had as his ultimate goal for their relationship, but he could afford to be patient. It had taken this many years for him to get a shot with Karissa, and though progress was slow, he was starting to think maybe he was seeing it. When
she’d told him to drop dead a few mornings earlier, there had hardly been any heat in the words, though there had been plenty in her cheeks. He shouldn’t have teased her about the kiss but couldn’t help angling for another one.
“You don’t seem to be getting anywhere fast,” Hank said.
“She’s not ready for it. She’s struggling. But she’s softening toward me.” A package of Oreos sat open on the table, and he helped himself to a couple, then offered it to Hank, who took a few as well. “What’s your take?”
“I can’t figure it out. She seems to have settled into her routine, but the tension isn’t going away, the desperate need to prove herself.”
“She was always like that,” Marsh said, though he knew what Hank meant. This was something more.
Hank shook his head. “Not like she is now. I don’t get it. Sure Dennis was a jerk, of the grade-A variety, but I expected her to recover faster.”
“Everyone does things at their own speed.” Marsh considered their recent encounter. “Maybe I’m waiting too long.” He’d always had a thing for Karissa Carver, for as long as he could remember—way before liking girls was okay. In high school he had dated here and there, had a girlfriend or two, but he had wanted to date the underage Karissa. Her daddy’s shotgun was no longer an obstacle, but now he was pussyfooting his way around her, trying to move her from defensive to friendly. Was he moving too slow? Giving her too much time to grow hard and bitter instead of recovering?
“Too long?” Hank asked. “I’d think she needs more time. That was a pretty big blow she had with Dennis.”
“Too big. Too powerful. I’m afraid she’s shutting herself off, blocking people out. I’m going to have to make a move soon. I just have to get her to start thinking of me as more than your friend.”
“How are you going to do that?” Hank looked amused.
Marsh smiled as an idea formed. “Leave that to me.”
Second Chances: Love in Juniper Ridge (Carver Ranch Book 1) Page 5
