by Susan Crosby
Shana felt Kincaid’s eyes following her every move, but never looked at him, still confused—and maybe something else—about his wanting her. When she was finished, she reached for her sleepy-eyed daughter.
Emma barely made a sound while she was tucked in, then Shana and Kincaid left the room, leaving the door ajar a little, the baby monitor turned on. When they got to the top of the stairs, he stopped her.
“About what Dylan said, Shana.”
Her heart plunged into her stomach. “How did you—”
“I saw you reflected in the bathroom mirror. Look, Dylan’s got it all wrong, okay? I don’t want you to tiptoe around me or think you’ve made a mistake. He’s eighteen. He thinks he knows everything.”
Disappointment blanketed her, even though she knew she should be glad. “Okay. Thanks.” She took the stairs with some speed, needing to break eye contact. “Are you hungry? Can I fix you—us—some lunch?”
“I called in a pizza order. Should be here any minute.”
Thoughtfulness was a trait Shana appreciated. And kindness. So far, he’d shown both, as well as a patience she’d never seen in him before—at least not with her.
It made her want to scream. Even though he’d said he didn’t want their relationship to change, she found herself behaving differently. Like an employee, she thought, not an acquaintance. It didn’t matter what he said, she knew if she didn’t do the job well, he’d let her go. He was paying her, after all, not taking care of her.
Shana sighed at her own hypocrisy. When it came down to it, she didn’t know what she wanted. She’d been living day-to-day for so long, she didn’t know how to look ahead.
She really needed to start seeing the big picture.
They sat at the kitchen counter to eat their pizza, the view out the window spectacular, which made up for the fact that neither of them seemed to have much to say. She focused on the yard. Most of the oaks had lost their leaves, but a lot of green remained in the form of pine and cedar trees, and some holly bushes. After a few minutes of silence, she picked up her second slice and wandered to the window, getting a closer look, then spotted a children’s play structure off to one side. It held two swings, a slide and a climbing ladder.
“Think Emma will like it?” Kincaid asked, coming up beside her.
“Did you put that in for her?”
He shrugged. “Kids need a place to play.”
It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. He’d gone way out of his way for her. For Emma.
“Thank you.” It was all she could manage to say. He kept surprising her.
He leaned a shoulder against the wall, studying her. “I set up an account for you at Angel’s Market. You’ll also have a Kincaid Construction credit card for business-related expenses, including gas. Card hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Okay. What kind of food do you like?”
“I’m pretty easy. Basic stuff, you know, meat and potatoes. Bacon and eggs. Sandwiches.”
“That’s good, because I’m kind of basic when it comes to cooking. Do you like salad? And soup?”
“Yes to both. Eventually you’ll be busy with other jobs, so I don’t expect a big meal every night. If you would just keep the refrigerator stocked and the household running as smoothly as possible, that’s enough for me.”
“I haven’t noticed any of the clutter you said you had.” In fact, the house was spotless. Knowing the way he worked—how he cleaned up his work site every day—she wondered if his house had ever been cluttered.
“Oh, um, yeah. Dylan and I picked up. I figured you should start with a clean slate.”
She didn’t believe him, which made her start to doubt other things he’d said.
“I think the weirdest thing for me,” he said, not seeming to notice her silence, “is having someone else do my laundry.”
“Do you wear boxers or briefs?” she asked.
He gave her a long look before he answered. “Briefs.”
“There. The worst of it is over.” She took another big bite of pizza. “So, who are you taking to the Stompin’ Grounds?” she asked, changing the subject entirely.
“Her name is Jessica.”
Jessica. Shana hated her already. Shocked at her reaction, she walked away, intent on cleaning up the kitchen, keeping busy. “Have you dated her a lot?”
“I’m not done with that,” Kincaid said, pointing to the pizza as she flipped the lid shut to put it in the refrigerator.
“Sorry.” She shoved the box toward him, then grabbed a pen and paper to make a grocery list, keeping herself busy.
She assumed the big bite he took instead of answering her question was a stall tactic. “Have you?” she asked. “Dated her a lot?”
He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable.
“What’s the etiquette going to be for us, Kincaid? What do I do when you bring a woman over for dinner or to spend the night?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, that’s not in my plans.”
“What about if I want to have a male friend overnight?” Like that was going to happen anytime soon.
“Is that something you do often?” he asked.
“I just want to know the rules.”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin then wadded it up and dropped it on top of his plate. “I don’t like rules much. Let’s not put up barricades before we need to.”
“What’s your gut reaction?” She was pushing him for answers she probably didn’t want to hear, but she was confused by his behavior. All they’d ever done was bicker—and he wasn’t bickering anymore. What did it mean?
“My gut reaction is to say you can’t bring someone home overnight.” He smiled grimly. “Aren’t you glad you asked?”
She crossed her arms. “Why would you say no?”
“I don’t think you’d be setting a good example for Emma.”
“Is that the only reason?” She really should shut up, she thought. Why was she forcing him?
He cocked his head. “What do you want me to say, Shana? That I would be jealous? Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Would you be jealous if I had a woman stay overnight?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
He’d moved close to her, was only inches away, looking into her eyes as if he could read all her secret desires. And desire him, she did, suddenly, intensely. She wanted to grab him by the shirt, pull him close and kiss the daylights out of him.
Instead she spun around and turned on the faucet full force. “I don’t know. I apologize. Goading you is a habit.”
“Well, break it. We need to get along.”
“You told me to be honest.”
“Honesty is one thing. Provoking an argument is another.”
She nodded, feeling like an idiot. It was exactly what she’d been doing. I’m scared, she wanted to say. I don’t know what to do about you. You confuse me. But that was too honest.
“I need to run a few errands,” he said. “Here’s your house key. I’ll see you later.”
She didn’t tell him goodbye, couldn’t say a word. They hadn’t gotten off to a good start, but that was entirely her fault.
Shana heard the front door shut. She finished cleaning up the kitchen then went upstairs to check on Emma, who slept soundly, even when Shana brushed her hair from her face and ran her fingers down her soft cheeks. She’d probably sleep for another hour, which gave Shana time to unpack her own clothes and put out her few knickknacks.
She looked around her new bedroom. The furniture was maple and much finer than she was used to. With some different art on the walls, she could make it her own and feminize it some. She didn’t want to do too much, since she wouldn’t be there forever. She’d never put down roots for long. Why would this time be any different?
When she was done putting away her possessions, she went back downstairs to finish up the grocery list. After Emma woke up and was fed, they could go t
o the store. She would make Kincaid a chocolate cake as an apology—
No, she couldn’t. He was going out tonight. Because she’d insisted.
Which meant she and Emma would be alone. As usual.
Wasn’t it funny how circumstances could change, and still be the same?
Chapter Five
The Stompin’ Grounds was an old-time bar and grill that had survived a couple generations of pool-playing, dance-loving, beer-drinking residents of Chance City. It was dark, even during the day, kind of run-down, offered great bar food, and music, of course—a jukebox most of the time and live music on Saturday nights.
Kincaid wasn’t a regular. Although he’d spent his junior and senior years of high school in town and been friends with a lot of people from his graduating class, he didn’t socialize much. It had taken him a long time to recover from his life prior to moving here, which was pretty much a living hell. He hadn’t wanted to explain his past to anyone, so he hadn’t gotten close.
That had changed through the years. People invited him to barbecues and holiday dinners. He had friends, just not intimate friends. He confided in no one, but he was respected because of the way he ran his businesses, honestly and competently.
Until recently it was all he’d wanted. Now he hungered for more. Intimacy, in particular. A friend he could really talk to. Oh, he could hang out with one of the McCoy or Falcon brothers—they were all friends on some level, but they had each other, a brother bond that he didn’t have. Or family of any kind, actually.
In a parking lot filled with pickup trucks, Kincaid was waiting in his own for Jessica to arrive. She’d insisted on driving up from Sacramento rather than his picking her up, which made sense, but he was kind of a throwback when it came to things like that. The man was supposed to pick up the woman for a date.
Not that this was a date, exactly. She was helping him out, that was all, but it still felt wrong to have her drive up on her own.
He spotted her baby blue Mercedes pulling into the lot and got out to meet her. Her car might be out of place at the Stompin’ Grounds, but she’d dressed perfectly in skin-tight blue jeans, boots and a pink western shirt. Her hair was dark, short and stylish, her eyes deep blue, and her body well toned. She was one of the most successful Realtors in northern California, and when he’d branched off from his contracting work into real estate, she’d mentored him. He owed her a lot, yet here she was, doing him a favor.
“Hello there, gorgeous,” she said, giving him a hug.
“Hello, yourself, beautiful.” They’d almost slept together once, a few years back. She’d just ended a longterm relationship and needed to know she was still attractive. He’d never regretted talking her out of it.
“So, I’m supposed to hang all over you, hmm?” she asked as they headed toward the building.
He smiled. “Not exactly. Just look interested.”
“Are you going to lay hands on me?”
“I plan to dance with you.”
She slipped her arm through his. “Dancing can be incredible foreplay, darlin’.”
“So I’ve heard.” He’d forgotten what she was like when she turned on the charm. He usually saw her in business mode.
“I don’t suppose they serve veggie burgers in this joint,” she said as they reached the door.
“Probably not. Their hamburgers are amazing, however.”
“Guess you’ll have to dance off the calories with me. I’m finding it a lot harder these days to keep my girlish figure.”
“Fishing for compliments, Jess?” He didn’t know how old she was. Maybe forty. “We both know you’re going to turn a lot of heads tonight.”
She grinned over her shoulder at him as they went inside. “Will you get jealous and fight over me?”
The sudden rush of noise prevented him from answering, but her words took him back to his earlier conversation with Shana about jealousy. No, he wouldn’t be jealous of Jess turning heads or even of her dancing with someone else. He’d never fought over a woman before. He’d seen enough fighting when he was growing up and preferred to use his wits to get him out of tight situations. But when it came to Shana? He felt differently, and he didn’t like that.
“Table or bar?” he shouted to Jessica.
“Bar.” Her eyes gleamed, taking it all in. The band was setting up. For the moment, the jukebox was at full volume and the conversation elevated to compensate for the noise.
He already wanted to go home.
Except he didn’t want to get home until Shana was in bed, didn’t want to answer any questions she might ask. She’d sent him off with a tensely cheerful goodbye. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to face her.
Creating the job for her was coming back to haunt him already. He couldn’t come and go at his own house anymore without Shana knowing the details of his life.
He and Jess made their way to the bar, found two seats then ordered a couple of beers and a menu.
“Do you know people here?” she asked.
His gaze swept the room. “Quite a few, yes.” He also noted a great deal of interest in him—and his date, he assumed. He’d expected talk. That was the point of this whole exercise, after all, to get people talking about him and the woman he was with, not about Shana moving in.
Tom, the bartender/owner, set their mugs in front of them. Kincaid lifted his then stopped before it reached his mouth as he saw who’d just arrived.
“This should be entertaining,” he muttered.
“What?” Jess asked.
“See the older couple that just came in? That’s Aggie McCoy, one of the town’s matriarchs. She’s the one we’ll have to put on a show for.”
“Who’s the attractive man with her?”
“Doc Saxon. He used to be the only doctor in the community, but he recently retired.” In fact, Shana’s brother, Gavin, had taken over his practice. Small town, Kincaid thought. Small world. He and Gavin had gone to high school together. “My guess is that Aggie found out I was bringing a date here tonight, so she made Doc come with her.”
“I don’t know. She’s flirting. I think she likes him.”
Kincaid studied the couple. Aggie’s husband had died years ago. Doc Saxon had been a widower for a while. They seemed like polar opposites, but when did that stop people?
Aggie headed straight to where Kincaid sat. “Heard you were gonna be here,” she said, then stuck her hand out to Jess. “Hi. I’m Aggie McCoy, and this is Jim Saxon.”
“Jessica Donnell.”
“I never realized you had a first name,” Kincaid said to Aggie’s date with a wink. “Do we call you Jim now instead of Doc?”
The lean, fit, seventy-four-year-old, with only slightly graying hair and kind eyes, smiled. “I’ll answer to either. I hear Shana and Emma have moved in with you.”
“Shana’s working for me. Emma came as part of the package.”
“I see. Well, we’ll leave you to your evening. Come on, Aggie. Let’s find a table.”
Aggie wasn’t done socializing. They greeted everyone in the room before finally sitting near the jukebox.
“They give me hope,” Jess said as her hamburger was set in front of her.
“Who?” Kincaid reached for the ketchup.
“Aggie and her doctor. They’re smitten. Isn’t that nice at their age?”
Kincaid still didn’t buy it. Doc and Aggie had known each other forever. Why would their relationship suddenly change?
“Oh, man!” Jess said after taking a bite of her burger. “This is really good.”
“Maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve eaten one.”
“Who cares? This was worth the drive.”
“And I wasn’t?”
She laid a hand on his cheek, looking to all the world like a tender gesture. “Since you won’t sleep with me, the answer is no.”
He laughed. He was enjoying himself, being out, listening to music, having dinner with a comfortable companion. The band started to play just about the t
ime Kincaid and Jess finished eating, and they made their way to the small dance floor. Although the music was fast, they might as well be slow dancing, the space was so crowded.
He noticed Jess eyeing the pool table. More specifically, eyeing Big Dave Gunderson, a lumberjack of a man who owned a successful towing business and cleaned up well after hours. He and Jess were about as opposite as Aggie and Doc, Kincaid thought, yet they were flirting with their eyes.
“Shall we shoot some pool?” Jess shouted in Kincaid’s direction.
Who was he to get in the way of true love—or lust, probably, in this case? “Sure.”
An hour later the band played a slow dance. Big Dave and Jess danced together as Kincaid continued to play pool. He didn’t mind them dancing, but it was thwarting the goal of his evening out, so it irritated him. They could at least tone it down a little.
When it was his turn to shoot, he scratched, not hitting any ball on the table with his, which was humiliating.
Aggie came up beside him. “You upset about something, Kincaid?”
“My clumsiness,” he answered as his opponent took over the table.
“Your date and Big Dave seem kind of cozy,” Aggie said.
“It’s a free country.”
Aggie’s hearty laugh broke the sound barriers of the band. People turned and stared.
So much for keeping a low profile, Kincaid thought as Doc tugged Aggie away. Kincaid’s efforts to do Dixie a favor were having results he hadn’t anticipated, particularly public humiliation.
He plunked the end of his cue on the floor and leaned against it, ignoring the interest of the crowd.
Then he wondered for the twentieth time what Shana was doing on her first night in his house.
Shana debated whether to be in bed when Kincaid got home, as if she didn’t care what time he got in, or to be up watching television, which was what she wanted to do. She didn’t have a television of her own. The one at the apartment belonged to Dixie, and Shana had left it for Dylan.
Deciding she was too wound up to go to bed, she popped popcorn and chose a movie from Kincaid’s library of DVDs. She didn’t know how to start a fire, so she didn’t try, but she cozied into the living room sofa with her bowl and a blanket.
