Worth the Risk (St. James Book 3)
Page 7
Jackson heard the buzzing whir of a leaf blower start up. He glanced out his apartment window and saw Gabby blowing leaves from the driveway onto the lawn. Why would she do that?
He could help her but he hesitated, thinking it best to keep his distance. Ever since their conversation in the kitchen two nights ago, he’d been uneasy. Uneasy about what he’d divulged. Uneasy about his attraction to her. Uneasy about everything, including whatever the hell it was he thought he’d accomplish here in Vermont.
Aside from keeping his promise to play with Luc on the swings yesterday, he’d more or less kept his contact with Gabby to a minimum. Turning away from the window, he poured himself another cup of coffee and read through a lengthy update from Hank on two of their bigger renovation projects.
Growing increasingly antsy, he grabbed the old hiking boots he’d brought. A brisk climb up the nearby portion of the Appalachian Trail would be a healthy way to work off extra tension. At the very least, it would eat up another two or three hours of the day, which also meant that much less time to dwell on his troubles or to break down and chug a cold beer.
He was tying a double knot when he heard a loud clatter from outside. Rising from the kitchen chair, he strode to the window in time to see Gabby gingerly climbing up an extension ladder while carrying two buckets. For crissakes, a faint wind would blow her over. So much for my hike.
He dashed out the door and down the stairs. “Hey! Hold up.”
She stilled, brows raised, and looked down. “What’s wrong?”
Jackson grabbed hold of the ladder to steady it. “You shouldn’t climb up there. It’s dangerous.”
“I know what I’m doing.” She shot a patronizing smile his way before taking another step up. While he might otherwise like to stand there and admire this particular view of her rounded behind, he didn’t want her to climb any higher.
“Gabby.”
She huffed. “What?”
He scrubbed one hand over his face. “Maybe you do know what you’re doing, but it’s making me nervous.”
“Then don’t watch, but I’ve got to clean the gutters. Today’s a perfect day—barely any wind, sunny.”
“Okay.” He could see reason. “Then come down and finish the leaves. I’ll handle the gutters.”
Her mouth opened and closed, then she scowled. “Don’t tell me you’re a chauvinist.”
“I’m sure what you meant to say is ‘Thank you for being so chivalrous.’” He grinned, not wanting to continue to argue while she dangled on a ladder rung several feet above him.
At least she laughed. “You’re serious. I’m really making you nervous?”
“Yes, you really are. Please, I climb ladders and hang off rafters on a near-daily basis. Let me do this.”
“Fine.” She climbed down the ladder. Setting the buckets on the ground, she removed her gloves. “I doubt these will fit you, but you need something if you’re going to clean out the muck.”
“I’ve got work gloves in my car, thanks.”
“Looks like you’ve got it all covered, then.”
Gabby appeared miffed, which confused him. He scratched his head. “I sense that you’re mad, although my typical response when someone offers help is to say ‘thank you.’”
“Sorry.” She glanced away. “Obviously I’m out of practice.”
For some reason, that fact bothered him. And that reaction bothered him even more. He didn’t want to care that her life seemed difficult and lonely. He had his own shit to sort out. Yet, she seemed like a girl who deserved a whole lot more than she was getting out of life.
When he’d been her age, he’d been freshly out of college, collecting his paychecks, and living the carefree life of a single guy. He’d never lacked for friends or amusement. In the few days that he’d been around here, he’d seen no evidence of either of those things in her life. He wondered if she even remembered how to have fun. Then the devil on his shoulder whispered that he could show her a good time.
“Forgiven.” He excused himself to go grab his gloves before he did something stupid, then made his way up the ladder and started the unpleasant process of clearing the gutters.
While he worked, Gabby resumed leaf blowing. They didn’t speak for the next several minutes. When she disappeared, he wondered where she’d gone until he heard a lawn mower engine sputter to life.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw her pushing a mulching mower straight toward the house. He froze on the top of the ladder, praying she didn’t knock it out from under him.
She began mowing the leaves systematically, in neat rows, stopping occasionally to loosely rake a mowed area and remulch any remaining leaves. Then she attacked one large pile of leaves with that mower and shoveled the remains into a wheelbarrow, which she rolled over to her garden to spread.
Once again he had the chance to observe her industriousness. He could’ve sworn he saw her smiling at one point. He doubted Alison, or any woman he’d ever dated, would be smiling while mulching . . . if they’d ever mulched in the first place. The whole absurdity of the afternoon caused him to smile, and he realized he’d smiled more in the past couple of days than he had in longer than he could remember.
When he finished the gutters, he retracted the ladder and put everything away in the garage. Before he finished, she rolled the empty wheelbarrow into the garage.
“You don’t like bark mulch?” he asked as he removed his gloves.
“Leaves are free.” She shrugged. “Every penny counts.”
He nodded, although truthfully he hadn’t ever had financial worries. At least, he hadn’t until this damn lawsuit.
“Listen, Jackson, I’m sorry if I came across as ungrateful earlier. Your help made such a difference. Now I have time to call Trax Farms about delivering the hay bales I want for our little Halloween party later this month before I get Luc from preschool.”
He heard most of what she’d said, but his mind had stuck on, “Hay bales?”
Her eyes glinted with mischief. “I want to build a little maze for the kids over there. We’ll do the traditional apple bobbing and such. You should come! Costume required, though.”
“Sounds like a lot of work for you.”
“Payoff is worth it.” She smiled. “Anyhow, I’ve got to go start dinner and throw some laundry in the washer, so I’ll see you later.”
Work, work, work. Didn’t she ever get tired, or resentful?
“Like I said before, I’ve got lots of spare time. When you need an extra hand, just ask.”
“Thanks, but . . .” She fell silent, looking uncharacteristically shy.
“But?”
“I’m afraid accepting your help over and over will only make it harder when you go. You know, like how they say you don’t miss something you never had? Kind of like money, I suppose. I suspect it’s a lot easier to always be poor than it would be to suddenly lose money and go without what one used to take for granted.” Her voice drifted off, presumably to the same distant spot reflected in her pretty eyes.
It took him an extra second or two to follow her logic, but he did get her point, even if it bugged him. He didn’t want to make anything harder for her, so he relented. “Is that your polite way of asking me to keep my chivalry to myself?”
She smiled, and her cute little dimples popped into place. “Exactly.”
Screw that, actually. She needed someone to shake her up and remind her that there were things equally as important as her damn responsibilities.
He hesitated before saying, “This may be out of line, but I hate that you seem so willing to settle for being alone, with no one to help you.”
“I’m not alone.” She seemed so earnestly satisfied. “I have Luc, and my dad helps a ton by giving us a safe, free place to live.”
“You’re so young. What about spontaneity? What about flirting and dancing and going to the movies? What about friends who pitch in and lighten the load? Make Luc’s dad take more responsibility so you can enjoy life!”
/> He stopped, sensing that his tone had come out terser than he’d intended. He shook his head, unsettled. One look at her reddening face told him he’d gone too far.
“I don’t want Luc’s dad to be more involved, thank you. Besides, I thought you were here in Vermont to sort out your own stuff.” She cocked her eyebrow. “Or is this one of those ‘misery loves company’ things, where your crappy situation seems better if you focus on what you think are my problems?”
“Hey, I don’t deserve that.” Maybe he’d spoken out of turn, but he hadn’t meant to offend her.
“And I don’t need to be analyzed by you, a guy I barely know, who apparently let ‘fun’ overtake his life to the point that his family gave him an ultimatum.” As soon as she’d finished, her eyes widened as if she’d regretted the scolding. “Jackson, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Never mind.” He waved her off. “I think I’ll get on with the hike I’d been planning before I saw you hanging from the ladder.”
Before she could say more, he stalked out of the garage. Mad at her, but madder at himself. What the hell had possessed him to start that conversation anyway?
Damn, he needed a drink.
Gabby sat near the living room window, watching Jackson’s Jeep pull into the driveway. She wished she hadn’t been taking so much notice of his comings and goings since their confrontation last week. After she’d thrown his drinking in his face, she’d wished she could’ve bitten off her tongue. Had her ugly words set him back? Had she somehow jeopardized his recovery?
The ever-present tendrils of uneasiness she’d known as a teen—those long hours spent studying her mom’s moods and behavior to predict when she’d be high or pass out—had returned with a vengeance.
Resentment toward Jackson festered for bringing that burden back into her life, although perhaps that was unfair of her, given that he’d neither asked for her concern nor owed her anything. Still, she worried that he’d been drinking, and she prayed he had not. Most troubling, and despite having no business involving herself in his drama, she wanted to help him avoid temptation.
Her mind wandered back to that pleasant day Jackson had played with Luc on the swing set. Gabby had watched him from afar, listening to her son’s delighted squeals. She’d remained in her garden, harvesting some pumpkins and attending her fall vegetable crop, although her thoughts had been tangled up with a dose of hopeless attraction and some serious curiosity about whether Jackson could conquer his addiction.
Watching Luc come alive under Jackson’s undivided attention had planted a bittersweet knot of emotion inside Gabby’s chest.
Naturally she’d loved hearing laughter mixing with birdsong. Luc had vibrated with joy beneath a brilliant October sun. Jackson had even raked a pile of leaves around the bottom of the slide, which Luc had then cheerily slid into over and over and over, screaming “Try again,” as if each time had been a wholly new experience.
Even the memory of her son’s giddy, windburned face still made Gabby smile.
Yet the fact that it had been Jackson instead of Noah playing with Luc picked at the scabs of her own wounds. Forced her to acknowledge that, despite her abundant love, Luc would grow up like her, able to rely only on one parent. That nothing she could do would ever completely fill the little hole in his heart that would always wonder why his father never loved him enough.
Worse, it made her realize that, despite the many and persuasive lies she’d used to convince herself otherwise, Luc needed a father. A devoted man, as opposed to a biological dad who sometimes stopped by to take his son for ice cream.
And abundant good looks and hints of humor aside, Jackson would never be that man. He didn’t live here, he had a drinking problem, and—oh yeah—he’d never indicated any interest in the role.
Since that argument, he’d restricted their encounters to discussions about the best hiking trails or local restaurants. Occasionally Luc would rope him into a brief game of chase, but then Jackson would excuse himself before any discussion turned more personal.
Perhaps she’d scared him off, or perhaps he merely regretted sharing his personal struggle with her. Either way, he’d left her with a chaotic blend of anxiety and yearning.
“Whatcha doing?” Her dad’s quizzical gaze flooded her with embarrassment.
“Nothing. Jackson’s car pulling in caught my attention, that’s all.”
Her dad grunted knowingly, so she avoided meeting his gaze. “He stopped me yesterday and offered to fix the patches of rotted wood on the house.”
“Oh?” Gabby sat up straighter and fought to keep her brows from gathering. “Can we afford it? I thought we’d earmarked his rent to offset Luc’s preschool.”
Her dad waved his hands. “He said he’d do the work for free. I’d only have to pay for the supplies, which he can buy wholesale.”
“He did?” She pushed some Lincoln Logs aside with her toe, frowning. Could he honestly be that generous, or did he pity them and their blue-collar budget? Pity her and her sad little life?
“He says he likes to keep busy.” Her dad picked up the remote and turned on the television. “Seems to me he’s got a lot on his mind. Some men like to sit and think through their troubles, others need to keep moving.”
Gabby hadn’t told her father about Jackson’s confession, mostly because she could tell Jackson needed privacy. He posed no threat to her dad, so there’d been no reason to share the revelation.
“Should we take advantage like that?” She clicked her fingernails while thinking.
“It’s not like I asked him for help. He offered. He wants to do it.” He pulled the lever on the old recliner, picked up the remote, and leaned back. “Patriots versus Giants in forty minutes.”
Normally she’d settle in with him and watch the game. Maybe make some popcorn and crack a beer. Now restlessness stole through her. Jackson’s rant came rushing back, causing her to think about the socializing she rarely enjoyed. Maybe he had a point. She did spend entirely too much time in this living room for someone her age. While she wouldn’t trade Luc for a party life, she did miss the spontaneity of her life before motherhood.
“If I can get Luc down for a nap, would you mind if I went to Mulligan’s to watch the first half of the game with Tess?” She stood, sending her dad a hopeful look. “I’ll be back by the time Luc wakes up.”
“Could you make me a sandwich first?” His sly smile always made her chuckle. Her dad was her rock, and she never took for granted how his love and acceptance enabled her to keep a roof over Luc’s head and food in his stomach.
“Deal.” She touched his forearm when she passed him on her way to the kitchen. “Thanks, Dad.”
Gabby arrived at the sports bar right before kickoff, decked out in her favorite Pats sweatshirt and faded jeans. A surge of energy pulsed through her from the prospect of watching the game with a crowd. Plus, her friend Tess always offered to bartend on game days because of the big tips. Drunk people also tended to talk a lot, and loudly, so Tess usually had the most colorful gossip. That meant today Gabby would learn the latest scoops, too.
When she entered the bar, the blaring sound of sports broadcasters talking over the background din of a crowded stadium roared in her ears. Picking her way through the decent-size crowd already gathered, she waved at Tess as she approached the bar.
Mulligan’s interior sort of mimicked the Applebee’s chain, with its big windows, tables skirting the outside of a square bar in the center of the room, and multiple TVs playing at once. Clean, friendly, consistent; pretty much all you needed in a local pub.
“Didn’t expect to see you today.” Tess smiled at her while filling a mug of beer from the tap. “What can I get you?”
The customers’ sudden uproar about a bad ref call startled both women.
“Bud Light, loaded potato skins, and the best juicy tidbit you’ve got.” Gabby set a precious fifteen dollars on the bar and slid into one of the last stools. They both watched the Pats gain five yards.
“Why does he stay with her?”
Tess shrugged. “Some guys love those bitchy girls.”
“Tim’s sweet. He deserves better.”
“Maybe I should make a play for him.” Tess wiped up the bar in front of Gabby. “It’s been a while, if you get my drift.”
“You and Tim? I can’t see that. He’s too laid-back for you.”
“Look around, Gabs. Not really a lot of other options. Better to accept what’s available than wish for what will never be.” She chuckled. “Let me put your order in.”
Gabby rejected the idea of settling for the status quo, even as she sat in the middle of a bar filled with the same people she’d known her whole life. This town might not be bustling with options, but men like Jackson were out there. Maybe she should sign up for an online dating service and expand her dating pool by thirty miles. Of course, what guy her age would want to date a single mom who still lived with her dad?
Sighing, she gazed at the closest TV screen. Giants had the ball now, having prevented a Pats first down.
While she waited for her food, she scanned the bar looking for suitable company, but no one in particular made her want to move from her seat. Most were huddled around pitchers of beer at the tables. Some old men were scattered around the bar, and one group of couples hugged a prime corner, beneath one of the bigger TVs.
In her peripheral vision, she noticed a dark-haired man in a New York Giants cap enter the bar. Holy moly, that guy was asking for trouble. Then he glanced up and froze in his tracks. Amazingly, she didn’t fall off the stool when Jackson’s caramel-colored eyes widened upon recognition.
He’d come to a bar!
CHAPTER SIX
Darkness settled around her like midnight under a new moon.
Jackson halted, his gaze darting around as if he might miraculously see someone else he knew to sit with. Once resigned, he grinned and sidled up to the stool on her left.
“Looks like you got a hall pass,” he said. He must’ve noticed her eyes glance at the Giants logo. “Can I count on you to defend me here in enemy territory?”