A Fair to Remember

by Barbara Ankrum

  He could have stuck around, just to see her. God knew he’d wanted a glimpse of her. But that would have been a mistake. He’d come back for her and she was unavailable. Why torture himself?

  “Fair’s a big draw here in Marietta.”

  Brady was a chatterer. He talked as he wiped down the bar. Jake tried to ignore him.

  “Pretty much everyone goes,” the kid went on. “They’ve even got some country music star showing up this week, I hear, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

  He felt about as far from country music as he did from Olivia. A whole damned world apart.

  “Jake? Jake Lassen?”

  Jake looked up from his empty glass to see a tall, familiar-looking cowboy with a long-neck beer in his hand. It took him a second.

  Danny Krebs.

  He’d played second-string tackle on their football team in high school. Jake had been first-string running back. Danny had lost most of his hair, but made up for it with a handlebar mustache and a herd of cowboy-themed tattoos climbing up his arms and neck.

  Jake was in no mood to talk to anyone right now, but it looked like there was no escape.

  Jake stood and took his hand. “Danny. How are you, man? Been a long time.”

  “Great, great. Hell, you grew since high school. Almost didn’t recognize you, except for that photo of you a year ago in the local paper.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes. Photo?

  “Now that was something. It’s not every day one of our own makes the national news. Hey”—Danny summoned up the handful of friends who were mingling in the crowd nearby—“guys, look who I found. Jake Lassen. Remember him? Our own local hero!” He dragged Jake close for a manly, shoulder-to-shoulder hug.

  Oh, hell no.

  As Danny’s friends began to surge and surround him, Jake felt himself break out into a cold sweat. His skin began to itch. Snippets of congratulatory well-wishes swelled around him and people started slapping him on the back.

  “…it was all over the Copper Mountain Courier a year or so ago…”

  “…what you did for those men was really…”

  “…and a freaking rescue chopper pilot…”

  “…a medal from the President himself.”

  By now, half the bar was paying attention and Jake was desperately looking for an escape route. Hold it together, damn it. Just get out of here. He pulled money from his pocket and tossed it on the counter.

  Danny stuffed it back in Jake’s shirt pocket. “I got this, Jakey. Our own Marietta hero ain’t payin’ for his own drinks tonight!”

  There was no arguing with him about the money. “Look, thanks, but I-I gotta go.”

  “What? No.” He slapped the bar. “Brady, a round on me for our boy, here.”

  Brady had ten shots lined up before Danny could finish and expertly filled the line in one swoop of the bottle.

  Jake swiped a fist across the sweat on his upper lip as Danny thrust the shot glass at him. He counted backward, trying to slow his thudding pulse.

  “To Jake Lassen. Our own freakin’ hero.” He lifted the glass higher. “We thank you for your service, man. Your mom and pop—God rest their souls—would’ve been damned proud of you.”

  That nearly knocked the wind out of him. He lifted the drink, but left it untouched. His heart slammed irrationally against the wall of his chest as the crowd seconded Danny’s toast, then began firing questions at him about Afghanistan, the army, his job as a helicopter pilot.

  Their voices seemed to come from underwater. He couldn’t quite catch his breath.

  That’s when he saw her. Standing ten feet away, those haunting green eyes of hers watching him calmly, the way she might one of her horses in full blown panic.

  Olivia.

  A foul expletive escaped him, which, from her wince, she interpreted as meant for her.

  With another curse, he turned and pushed his way out of the noisy chaos of Grey’s Saloon.

  *

  He was already halfway down the block to his truck by the time Olivia had fought her way out of the bar and caught sight of him. “Jake! Wait!”

  He slowed, but didn’t turn. From here, she could see his dog poking its head from the passenger window of his truck, waiting for him.

  “I’m sorry,” she called. “Please, just stop.”

  He did and turned, then stole her breath all over again. Twelve years had only trebled how handsome he’d been at eighteen. And she hadn’t forgotten the color of his eyes. Even under the street lights, their color, the stark blue-lavender of the Absarokas at sunset, stood out against his tanned skin. He looked every bit the warrior he’d become, from his posture to the expression on his face that suggested meeting on a half-lit street at night might be an ill-conceived impulse.

  His gaze dragged down her from the top of her head to the tips of her turquoise boots and back up again. His look skimmed the pale blue cotton dress that clung to her now and suddenly made her self-conscious.

  His perusal of her, a look loaded with raw, male intensity, bore little resemblance to the boy she remembered. The boy from the river, who’d stopped at one kiss, was gone. This man would know exactly what to do with a woman.

  An uncharacteristic shiver of hunger ruffled across her skin and curled deep inside her as his eyes rose to meet hers again.

  Lord.

  Imagine that. Olivia Canaday—divorcee, escapee from paths wrongly taken, the girl who’d officially sworn of men of all ilk, wanted her best friend.

  But that was wrong. Wasn’t it?

  With fifteen feet still separating them, she dropped her gaze deliberately to his mouth. Because if she remembered anything about him, it was his easy smile. The one that had always encouraged her to laugh at herself. The one she’d relied on, the way others counted on the sun coming up or the grass to grow.

  He wasn’t smiling, now, though. Instead, his jaw was set and something closer to a scowl crossed his expression.

  Since she’d last seen him, he’d grown four inches and added at least thirty pounds of lean muscle to his tall frame. The plain, black T-shirt he wore, tucked into his low-slung faded denims, wasn’t skin tight or, she decided, even a calculated attempt to emphasize his transformation into the man he’d spent the last twelve years becoming. But concealing his swoon-worthy physique was impossible, and—she fought the urge to fan her face—unwarranted.

  “Back there, at the fair,” she explained, “I never expected you to come.”

  “Yeah. I figured that out all on my own.”

  Even his voice had deepened. There was a rasp to it she didn’t remember, like it scraped up from deep inside him.

  “No,” she said, taking another few steps closer. “I don’t know what Peter told you, but the truth is, my sisters set me up with him on a blind date. Without my permission, I might add. For my birthday. I am not dating him.” She shuddered.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  She began again. “If I’d thought for a minute you’d show—and I-I still can’t believe you did—I would have been there waiting under the Ferris wheel. But I really never imagined… it’s so good to see you, Jake. I’m so sorry.”

  From his expression, she couldn’t begin to tell if the feeling was mutual.

  “No apologies necessary. Tonight was always contingent on… our situations.”

  “Well, my situation is contingent free. I mean it. I am free of contingencies. So can we… can we start over?”

  He narrowed a look at her. “I take it you’re not married anymore.”

  She shook her head. “You?”

  “Never was.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “Really, Jakey? ‘Cause you are… hot.”

  A grin tipped the corner of his mouth for the first time and he extended a hand toward her. “C’mere, Canaday.”

  Naturally, she went. It felt good to hear him call her that. She’d dropped her married name after the divorce, but this was the first time someone she gave a damn about had actually us
ed it.

  His strong arms curled around her and he pulled her against him. Her hands splayed against the corded strength of his back. It surprised her how small she felt here. Small and… safe.

  No. The opposite was true. Because every female part of her—as if from awakening from a long, deep sleep—had just zinged to life in his arms, and down lower… well, she didn’t even want to think about how long it had been since she’d felt anything at all there.

  Maybe it was just the scent of him—soap, fresh Montana air, and a little whiskey.

  Or being held like she was something precious. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel that way. She frowned at the thought.

  He dipped his face against his hair and said, “I’m sorry you had to see that, back in the bar.”

  So he was embarrassed, not angry? “Saw what? A man needing space? Personally, crowds give me hives. I avoid them whenever possible. Tonight?” She gestured with a jerk of her chin toward the fair grounds. “It took three beers.”

  His shoulders relaxed fractionally and he grinned. “Isn’t that over your limit?”

  She laughed, glad he remembered. “Some things don’t change. I’m just a little smidgen”—the word took two tries—“tipsy.”

  “I see that. How’d you find me here?” he asked, stepping back from her.

  “Orca.” She gestured with a tip of her head down the street to where his blue truck sat like a blinking headlight in the row of ordinary parked cars on Main Street. His father, Bill, had lovingly restored it to pristine Orca-ness fifteen years ago. His hobby had led to the weekly Friday night gathering of vintage car enthusiasts in front of the Main Street Diner, which he and Jake’s mom, Kelly, owned and ran.

  All that had ended two years ago.

  “My dog,” Jake said, and they started walking that way.

  “They take dogs in the army now?”

  “Actually, I found her in Afghanistan. Managed to bring her back here two years ago after I left the army.”

  She stopped. “You quit?”

  He nodded.

  She felt like some wire in her brain had just jolted loose. How could she not have known he was out? For two years? But, of course, he’d stopped writing back to her years ago. How could she know? “But… you loved flying helicopters.”

  Remnants of whatever had happened back in the bar still shadowed his expression. “Still do. I just… don’t fly for the army anymore. Long story for another time.”

  She wanted to push for more, but they reached his truck and Jake let the dog out. Her entire body wagged fiercely at Olivia while she attempted to follow Jake’s instruction to ‘sit’.

  Olivia bent down to pet her. “Hello, there. What’s your name, you pretty thing?”

  “This is Monday,” Jake said, then added, “Don’t ask.”

  “Hi, Monday-Don’t-Ask.” Olivia flicked a teasing smile up at Jake, who rewarded her with a grin of his own. She scrubbed her fingers into the dog’s fur behind her ears. “Oh, you’re adorable. Has anyone ever said that you look like a—”

  “Cat?” He finished. “Don’t say that too loud. She’s a little sensitive about it.”

  Monday yawned and ducked the crown of her head under Jake’s hand for a pat. Her tail thumped against the sidewalk and Olivia was a goner. Animals. They were her downfall. “I love that you still have Orca. She’s still… perfect.”

  He nodded. “Ben Tyler—you remember him—two years ahead of us in school? He’s an orthopedic surgeon now—he’s been watching over Orca for me and caretaking my parents’ old place.”

  “Of course I remember Ben. He worked with you at the diner. But a surgeon?” Her brows went up. “I didn’t know that. It’s so nice you can help each other that way.”

  “Yeah. I owe him.” He ran his hand over the shiny blue door, the way a man might the curve of a woman’s hip. “Anyway, I’ll never sell this old broad; too many memories.”

  She understood only too well.

  Before she could get in, he pulled a small white box wrapped in a purple bow out from under the seat.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “It is your birthday, isn’t it? Happy Birthday, Liv.”

  Her eyes prickled unexpectedly with moisture. Of course, he’d remembered. Their promise to meet on her birthday had been the reason he’d shown up at the Ferris wheel tonight, after all. Still, it touched her more than she could say.

  “Thanks, Jake.”

  Jake rested a forearm on top of the open door, watching her, and Monday sniffed the ribbon as Olivia untied it. The box weighed next to nothing and her heart beat a little faster. Naturally, it skidded in the direction of rings, considering he’d actually shown up to keep their promise tonight. She opened the box.

  Inside, she lifted a piece of batting and inhaled.

  It was a small, quarter-sized, flat stone elephant, made of pink quartz. Where a key ring had once been attached, only a small hole in the stone remained.

  Surprised, she lifted her gaze to his. “I-is… is this the one I gave you?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “I kept it with me, in my pocket, every day. It was my good luck charm. I thought it should come back to you, now that I’m done over there.”

  She had a thing for elephants. She always had. So it had been their tradition, starting back God knew how many years ago, for him to win a stuffed elephant for her before they were allowed to leave the Big Marietta Fair for the night. Winning had never really been a problem, since tossing a football and even shooting a gun came to him almost preternaturally. But as they’d gotten older, he’d begun missing his targets and taking forever to win one, she suspected intentionally, so they could stay out past their curfews.

  She stared down at the small circle of pink quartz in the box.

  It had been the last day, at the fair twelve years ago, when Old Tom Braemer, a local gemstone miner and trader, had sold it to her from his Exhibit Hall display booth. It wasn’t expensive. But it was precious to her. On this small, quartz elephant, they’d made their pinky swear promise about tonight.

  So long ago. So much water under the bridge.

  The fact Jake had kept it stunned her. All those years… and every day, when he touched it, did he think of her?

  She picked it up and rubbed the cool stone between her fingers. Instantly, it began taking on her heat. At the center, she could feel a dip, as if he’d worn the stone down with his thumb.

  Like the whir of a slide projector, her mind conjured up pictures of all the places he’d been since he’d left her, all the heartbreak and danger he’d faced. She’d glimpsed the specters of war in Jake’s eyes, back at the bar, and was reminded of the haunted shadows she’d seen in the eyes of the handful of the wounded veterans who’d attended a friend’s equine therapy groups back east.

  She gave him a teary smile. “Shouldn’t you keep this? It’s your good luck charm, after all. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any reversals of fortune.”

  He shook his head. “It did its job. It got me home.”

  She stood and wrapped her arms around him again. He felt as sturdy and warm as the quartz rock. “It means so much to me that you kept it, Jake. Thank you. It’s come full circle.”

  He didn’t let her go. He held on as if the hug could encompass all the ones they’d missed over the last twelve years. And it felt good.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” she suggested on impulse.

  “Like…?”

  “You choose. I trust you.”

  A smile actually curved his mouth. “Good to know.”

  Chapter Two

  ‘The Rocks’, as the place was known to the locals, was comprised of a huge granite outcrop hanging over a deep curve in the Marietta River, just outside of town. Here, a slow moving current made it the ideal swimming spot. Except for the fact that the Big Marietta Fair was on, this place would be crowded with teenagers, even at this late hour, on an August night. But tonight, the place was deserted
and belonged to her and Jake alone.

  The moon shone over the water like an arrow pointing north. The river was glassy and slow, reflecting the crazy configurations of stars overhead. It was an unusually warm night, even for late summer. The breeze blew through the valley between the Absarokas and the Gallatin mountains and carried the full sweetness of the Montana summer.

  They parked Orca on the road above the Rocks and walked down to the river with Monday. Jake seemed so much taller than she remembered… six foot three if he was an inch and, by the looks of him, all kinds of strong.

  His eyes were the same, but his face had taken on a craggy, masculine beauty, scruffy nine o’clock shadow and all. In the intervening years, his nose must have been broken. It cocked slightly left then straightened back out again, but the flaw did absolutely nothing to detract from the way the whole, sexy package fit together. His jaw was strong and firm, and intensity carved hollows in his cheeks where smiles used to sit so easily. And… was that a tattoo peeking out from under his collar?

  Somewhere, across the river, an owl hooted.

  “Good choice,” Olivia murmured as they sat down on the granite boulders.

  The stones still held the heat from the day.

  “I’ve thought about this place so many times over the years,” he said as they stared up into the inky darkness at the swarms of stars swimming there.

  She bumped her shoulder against his. “Hey. Remember the meteor we saw from right here in the middle of the day?”

  He inhaled suddenly and laughed. “The one we were all sure was a UFO crashing? Whatever it was supposedly fell into Craig Nicholas’s cousin’s hayfield up near Livingston.”

  “Personally, I’m still not convinced that reporter got it right,” she said, smiling. “I mean, since when do meteors sparkle all shiny silver? And where’s all their supposed evidence?” She made air quotes with her fingers. “We only have their word for it that it was a meteor.”

  They laughed and leaned against one another as Monday returned with a large stick to chew on. Across the water somewhere, another owl answered the first one.