What a Woman

by Judi Fennell

  “I have no idea. He never told me. All those years when he was showing me how to hold the bat, how to swing, how to catch . . . He never said a thing.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  “You need to talk to your parents.”

  “For what? I don’t know what I’d say to them. Hell, I don’t even know them. The pregnancy thing and then him not telling me he played ball . . . How would I even begin that conversation?” He reached for the iPad on the table beside the sofa and brought up the search engine, then typed in his dad’s name.

  Nothing came up no matter how many different search words they tried.

  “You’re going to have to ask them.”

  “What am I supposed to say: Why’d you lie to me my whole life?”

  “They didn’t lie; they just left a few things out.”

  “A few big things. Are you defending them?”

  “Well, no, but you don’t know the circumstances. You can’t get mad until you know. And to do that you’re going to have to ask them. Or you could always ask your grandmother.”

  “Grandma.” Jared shook his head. “She’s known all along. She never said anything.” Jared sat forward again, resting one hand on his knee, the other scrubbing his chin. “Why didn’t anyone say anything? What’s the big secret?”

  She rubbed his shoulder. The guy was hurting, and even though she ought to stay away from him in the emotional state they were both in, she had to give him some comfort. He looked so lost. “I think you were the secret. Remember, out of wedlock pregnancies still weren’t acceptable when we were born.”

  He turned to face her. “Are you kidding me? It was the age of sex and drugs and rock-n-roll. Free love and weed. No one looked twice at out-of-wedlock pregnancies.”

  “Obviously some people did or we wouldn’t be having this discussion. Didn’t you ever do that math with your birthday and your parents’ wedding day?”

  “I never thought about it.”

  “Because your parents would never do that, right?”

  “Uh . . . yeah. I guess. I mean, it’s not something that crosses a teenage boy’s mind when he’s trying to score both on the field and off.”

  Mac winced. “Yet you turned me down flat out.”

  His hand dropped to his lap.

  Crap. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  “I’m sorry, Mac.”

  “For what? Not using me? That’s not something you should be sorry for.”

  “No.” He put his hand on her knee. “I’m sorry for how little I regarded your feelings. I was selfish and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged, wanting to make it not seem like a big deal, but that seventeen-year-old inside of her wanted to shout for joy. He finally saw her. Finally recognized her feelings. That’s all she’d wanted back then, to know that he knew she cared. Well, no, actually she would’ve liked if he’d cared back, but the mocking and teasing that’d come along with him knowing about her crush and not realizing its significance to her . . . While it’d been a lot to ask of him, this was, finally, the validation she’d wanted.

  “It’s okay, Jared. It’s in the past.” She patted his hand and for the few seconds that he looked at her, she had to wonder if it was in the past.

  Thankfully, Jared cleared his throat and removed his hand from beneath hers. “Well, like I said, I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.” Mac leaned back into the cushion and focused on the rest of the film. There was a lot of hugging, a lot of kissing, smiles all around. Everyone had seemed so happy. If they’d only known . . .

  Thank God they’d been happy. Her memories of her childhood with her parents were vague, but she remembered laughter. Remembered hugs. Remembered smiles. Remembered snippets of getting tossed in the air by their dad, of loving hugs from her mom—who always smelled like chocolate chip cookies. No surprise that those were her favorites and why she liked to share them with the kids. That part of her childhood had been happy and those memories would be with her forever. Her parents’ love would be with her forever.

  Jared, on the other hand . . .

  What a shock. First, to see his father obviously in love with someone else, then to find out about his parentage . . .

  For all the money the Nolans had, she and her brothers had been far richer.

  She looked at Jared with new eyes. Saw him not as some god she could never hope to be worthy of, but as a man. With wants and needs and failings and triumphs like the rest of them.

  And in that moment, she took him off the pedestal and put him squarely on the sofa next to her.

  As a mere mortal, he wasn’t half bad. Question was, how did he see her?

  Chapter Eighteen

  MAC was itching to get back to Jared’s house Monday morning.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror as she pulled into his driveway, Bryan’s Maserati eating up the road a lot quicker than her old truck. Yes, being excited to be there sounded strange, and with the emotions she’d had tied up in Jared all these years with no reciprocity, it was foolish to want to go back to the scene of the crime, as it were. But after Saturday night’s movie fest, she had more insight into him. More insight into herself. She’d made him into Prince Charming and he wasn’t. He was a man with the same baggage and needs she had. While it sounded good in theory, no one really wanted to be worshipped as an ideal; they wanted to be loved for who they were.

  But that wasn’t why she wanted to go back. She wasn’t naïve enough to think one night of bonding over home movies would suddenly make him fall in love with her—and she needed to see the real Jared, not her idealized version, to know if she even wanted him to.

  But that, too, wasn’t why she wanted to get here. She’d been thinking about those movies all weekend, had even mentioned them to Bryan when she’d called him about his impromptu press conference on Saturday, and she remembered that the wicker chair her parents had been sitting in in the film was still on Mildred’s back porch. She’d been obsessing ever since. It made no sense, but she wanted that chair.

  She let herself in, not sure if Jared was awake or not, and made her way past the kitten enclosure, through the kitchen and mudroom, then out to the porch.

  It was there. With the same cushion. The weather had worn a lot of the stitching away and mice had cannibalized the stuffing, but it was still recognizable.

  “Mac?” Jared poked his head out the back door, his hair mussed and his T-shirt clinging to some damp skin. “You okay?” He looked behind her. “That’s the chair.”

  She nodded, trying not to notice that he’d been working out. “Can I have it? I’ll buy it from your grandmother.”

  “She’s not going to take money from you. Matter of fact, she was pretty adamant that she’s going to pay you for cleaning the house anyway, so how about we let the chair be part of your payment?”

  “Not part. All. I’m not taking your grandmother’s money. This chair is more than enough.”

  He limped out onto the porch without his crutches. “Good luck getting her to agree to that. And you know, you’re never going to get ahead in business if you keep taking garbage for payment.”

  “One woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure.”

  “Good point.” Jared walked around her and lifted the chair from the debris that had collected around it. Tarps, old beach towels, a couple of folded lawn chairs. “I think this was my grandmother’s to-be-tossed pile. What do you say about us cleaning this corner up for good?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Mac dragged a couple of trash cans around for Jared to dump the debris into, her walking skills at the moment being better than his. “So did you find the ring over the weekend?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been through two-thirds of that attic and haven’t found it. I�
��m really worried we won’t. Grandma will be heartbroken.”

  “We’ll find it. It’s not like it grew legs and walked out on its own.”

  They both stopped what they were doing and looked at each other.

  “You don’t think—”

  “She wouldn’t really—”

  “No. Of course not. What would be the point?”

  “Right. She wouldn’t be that devious. Not about something so important to her.”

  Mac wasn’t so sure about that. Jared was that important to her and Mildred was friends with Gran. She wouldn’t put it past the two of them to have concocted this scenario just to force her and Jared together.

  And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  “Want some help refinishing the chair?” Jared lifted the cushion. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to save this, but the rattan looks salvageable. A couple weaves in spots and some paint will make it look as good as new.”

  “You know how to refinish a chair?”

  “Hey, just because I throw knuckleballs doesn’t mean I’m a knucklehead. I’ve done some home repair in my time. I know my way around a hammer.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Hammer usage impresses you, but million-dollar contracts don’t?”

  She shrugged and took the cushion from him to toss into the can. “One directly affects my life, the other doesn’t. So wield your hammer this way, Mr. Nolan, and let’s get the nails out of this railing. They may have held up strands of lights for years, but now they’re just tetanus fodder.”

  They made it through all the stuff on the porch and into the mudroom, a well-oiled machine of tossing, organizing, and cleaning, with Jared getting the high parts and Mac tackling the stuff low to the floor, crossing off another item from the To-Do list and bringing their daily interaction closer to an end.

  Mac wasn’t as gung ho for it to end as she’d been when she’d started.

  “You still owe me another game of gin rummy,” Jared said, rubbing the towel in his hair from the shower he’d taken while she’d made lunch.

  She set the sandwich plates on the table. “Isn’t Dave coming today?”

  “Are you chicken?” He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and headed to the fridge for some juice.

  “Chicken? Me? I’m the one who took on three Manley men and beat them at their own game. I’m not afraid of anything.”

  He opened the fridge door. “You’re going to have to show me how you did that, Mac. It couldn’t have been luck.”

  “What about skill? Why can’t I play poker as well as they do?”

  He grabbed the bottle of grapefruit juice. “You can; I just don’t think you did.”

  “Are you calling me a cheater?”

  “No.” He poured their drinks. “You’re too honorable for that. I’m calling you an opportunist. I think you found an advantage and used it.”

  “You’re giving me a lot of credit, Jared.”

  He handed her a glass, tipping it—if she wasn’t mistaken—in salute. “Actually, Mac, I don’t think I’ve ever given you enough.”

  * * *

  GIN.” Mac laid down her hand. “That’s two for me and how many for you?”

  “None.” Jared gathered their discarded hands and tapped them on the table. “You are one lucky woman.”

  “I prefer to think of it as talented.” She handed him the rest of the deck, then picked up their plates. “After all, it’s not as if I—”

  A face appeared at the window above the kitchen sink.

  A female face.

  Who perked up the minute Jared looked over.

  Then the woman waved.

  Mac arched an eyebrow at Jared. “Friend of yours?”

  He kept his smile on, but said out of the corner of his mouth, “I was hoping she was one of yours.”

  “Nope. My friends don’t go skulking around people’s homes in the middle of the day. My friends actually use the front door. Good thing you took a shower before lunch. From the looks of that perfect hair and all that makeup, this one probably wouldn’t appreciate you all grungy.”

  Mac, however, did. Jared looked good all hot and sweaty. Too good. It’d sent her right back down the what-if road and if Miss Perfect At The Window hadn’t shown up, she might have travelled down it again. Nothing like a dose of reality to put her what-ifs in perspective. She was letting Saturday night’s movies take on too much significance.

  As evidenced by the fact that Jared got to his feet to go speak with the woman. “Guess I should see what she wants.”

  As if they all didn’t know . . .

  Jared headed out back and Mac made quick work of their dishes. So much for the whole “future” speculation. Her future consisted of finishing this job, getting out of here, and moving on with her life. If Jared had even been the remotest bit interested he wouldn’t have jumped up to check out their latest visitor.

  The front door rang. Geez, it was Grand Central around here. How was she supposed to get anything accomplished if she had to keep playing butler?

  She yanked open the front door all set to give a piece of her mind to—“Dave. Hi.”

  Dave cocked his head. “You were expecting someone else?”

  Mac pointed to the table by the door. A few more offerings at the altar this morning, and she’d left them right where they were. Maybe if women saw that Jared wasn’t taking them—and how many others were offering—it might deter them. “You might say that.”

  “Ah. Anyone camped out yet?”

  “No tents yet, but he’s out back talking to one who bypassed the front door. I don’t get it. How women can be so brazen. It’s not as if they even know him. Just because he’s an athlete.”

  “You don’t see him that way, do you?”

  “Jared? I’ve known him my whole life. He and my brothers are friends. I know every one of his bad habits, so no, to me he’s just Jared. Annoying boy from the block.” She was crossing her fingers behind her back.

  “That’s good to know.” Dave put his hand on her arm. “Because I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me.”

  Her first thought was No. So was her second. Her third was What would Jared think?

  Which made her answer be, “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  * * *

  YOU trying to kill me, Dave?” Jared asked with a grin as he put down the exercise band and mopped the sweat off his face with a hand towel. Dave knew how to push him and Jared needed the push. Playing ball with the kids the other day only reinforced his need to get back to the game, and the quicker he rehabbed himself, the sooner that’d be. He’d let himself get sidetracked by Mac and the ring and the kittens. But he was back to fighting form and he wanted to put his entire workout regimen back together to get him where he needed to be.

  “Wimp.”

  “Sadist.”

  Dave tossed a ball at his face.

  Jared caught it before it could do some damage.

  “Good. Your reflexes are fine. Good eye-hand coordination and motor skills. You keep this up, you’ll be back before the season ends.”

  Jared tossed the ball and the band into the laundry basket with the other instruments of torture. “I plan on it.”

  Mac appeared in the doorway then. “I’m leaving for the day. See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to put the chair in the car?”

  “Bryan’s Maserati? I doubt it’s going to fit and if I scuff up his interior, he’ll have my head. No, I’ll just leave it here until I can get the van from Liam.”

  She looked at Dave and smiled.

  Jared wanted to punch him. That smile was his—

  Whoa. What the hell was that? Dave was his friend.

  “What time tomorrow, Dave? I can be ready by six.”

  “Si
x it is. I’ll pick you up then.”

  Pick her up? What?

  Then Mac gave Dave her address.

  Oh.

  Oh hell.

  Oh shit.

  Oh no.

  Dave apparently wasn’t his friend.

  Jared waited until the front door closed behind Mac and she’d walked off the porch before he let the smile slide off his face. “What the fuck, Dave? You’re taking Mac on a date?”

  “Whoa, Jare.” Dave held up his hands. “Chill out. I thought you said you weren’t interested?”

  “I’m not.”

  Much.

  Liar.

  “So then what’s the big deal? I think she’s pretty, she has a great personality, and she’s single. Why can’t I go out with her?”

  “Because . . .” Jared’s reason sputtered out. Yeah, why couldn’t Dave take her out? It wasn’t as if Jared had any proprietary hold on her. Just because he’d suddenly opened his eyes to Mac the woman didn’t mean she’d necessarily wanted him to. Not after how he’d treated her all those years. And then kissing her like that . . .

  God, he never should have done that. They’d made baby steps with the movies and with the attic, but she no longer showed any signs of the puppy love she’d once had. Maybe it was over. Maybe they’d moved beyond her crush and could just be friends.

  He didn’t want to be just friends.

  “Jare? You okay?” Dave stood and grabbed his gym bag. “If you really don’t want me to go out with her, I can cancel I guess.”

  He really didn’t want Dave to go out with her. But it wasn’t his call to make. Until he actually made a move—and Mac accepted it—he had no claim on her whatsoever.

  And maybe Mac was into Dave. She had, after all, said yes.

  “No.” He shook his head more to clear the . . . sadness that’d invaded it. “No. Go ahead. Have a nice time.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “You don’t need my permission. If Mac said yes, then she’s interested, so go. Have a good time. Just not too good.”

  “Not too good? What are you, her father? What’s next? Going to ask me my intentions?”