by Jo Barrett
He placed the new board he’d retrieved from the barn on the ground, then sat down beside the small tray on the step and ate the lunch she’d prepared for him. It was gone within moments.
“Thank you for the lunch, ma’am. That was mighty fine chicken salad,” he said, then went back to work, whistling a merry tune.
She almost laughed. His cheerful attitude was almost contagious. But she still had to be careful. She couldn’t let another man get inside her head or her heart again. It wasn’t worth the risk, she thought, fingering her scar.
By the day’s end her porch was like new. It would be nice to sit and rock in the evenings again and listen to the sounds of night falling. She and Granny had done that often with a plate of cookies and some iced tea. Her heart squeezed at the thought.
Jackson crossed to his truck after putting away the tools, pulling her from the tearful memory.
Looking back to the house, he called, “Thank you again for the lunch, Mrs. Hampton. I’ll be back in the morning to fix that hole in the roof of the barn.”
“I don’t want it fixed!” She bit her lip, hating how harsh she sounded. He’d done what he said he would and should be thanked, not yelled at, but old fears weren’t so easily discarded. And yet, her shout had no effect on the man, other than to broaden his grin as he climbed into his truck with a backward wave and drove away.
Now there is a man she should be afraid of, afraid of how he was making her feel inside.
****
Just as he said he would, Jackson arrived in the morning with extra supplies and a few other tools. Clare didn’t bother to threaten him this time but watched him closely.
As he worked, he shed his shirt, gifting her with a full view of his near perfect physique.
“He’s just a man,” she fussed at herself, angry for liking what she saw.
Turning from the window, she busied herself with some light cleaning but couldn’t keep away from the window, no matter how hard she tried.
At least he had a small cooler with him this time, she thought. She wouldn’t have to worry about him getting dehydrated. But it did look to be a precarious position up there on the roof. She hoped he wouldn’t fall.
“This is ridiculous,” she said with a low growl. “I don’t care what he does or doesn’t do. He is not my business.” She paused, the duster in her hand hovering over the coffee table. “What if he does fall? What if…stop it. You’re just borrowing trouble. He knows what he’s doing.”
She proceeded to dust the coffee table for the fourth time.
****
Jackson paused to wipe his brow and looked out over the ranch. He had the perfect view atop the barn. He could even see the little watering hole where his father and Mr. Hampton would take him and his brother swimming when they were kids.
A movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention back to the farmhouse. A woman, definitely not Mrs. Hampton, eased out onto the porch with a small tray. She looked to be about his age, had a sweet little body packed in form fitting denim and a tight knit sweater, and had a head of short, bright blonde hair. But he never got a good look at her face, as she hurried back into the house.
He pondered that for a moment, appreciating the tingling of attraction. It had been some time since he had any interest in women and was relieved to know he was finally back to his old self. But who was this mystery woman and where was Mrs. Hampton?
Deciding it was time to take a break and eat his lunch, he climbed down from the roof and made his way over to the porch. Maybe he could coax the girl out of the house and get some answers. Namely, who the heck was she?
He sat down in the chair beside the small table, which had appeared overnight. It hadn’t been there when he fixed the porch, nor had the two rockers, but he was glad to see them.
“It’s a shame I don’t have someone to share my lunch with on a day like today,” Jackson said.
Clare had to choke back her chuckle. She wasn’t about to join him, but she couldn’t help smiling at his silly attempts to coax her out like some frightened child. Although even she had to admit she was acting like one. Jackson Chase wasn’t going to hurt her.
Why then was she hiding behind the curtains?
“Yes, it would be awfully nice,” he said. “Got a warm breeze blowing, early spring flowers starting to scent the air, can’t really ask for a better day than a day like this.”
She shook her head with a grin and decided to at least try and be civil to the man. So far, he’d done exactly what he said he would do. If she was ever going to get over her trust issues with men, Jackson was probably the best place to start.
“Why are you doing all this?” she asked.
He jerked just the tinniest bit, and that made her grin wider. She liked knowing that she’d caught him off guard, that he didn’t know how close she was.
“Well, ma’am, I just thought I’d help out. May I ask where Mrs. Hampton is, and who you are?”
“How do you know I’m not Mrs. Hampton?”
He grinned. “I had a nice view from atop the barn.”
“Oh.” She felt her face heat but did her best to ignore it. “My, um, my grandmother passed at Christmas.”
He nodded, took a swig of the lemonade she’d made that morning, then turned his head so she could see his profile. But he never turned all the way around, and somehow she knew he wanted to. There was no mistaking where she was, if he wanted, he could turn and face her and likely see her to some degree, but he didn’t, and that disturbed her more than if he had turned.
“I’m sorry for your loss. And I’m ashamed I didn’t know she’d died or even had a granddaughter.” He let out a long sigh. “I should’ve visited her more.”
“Thank you.”
“You know, she used to make these little cookies with jam in the middle,” he said, his voice carrying a wistful tone.
“Thumbprint cookies,” she murmured.
He nodded. “Yeah, thumbprints. My brother and I would gobble those down by the dozen.” He chuckled. “Paid dearly for it with a stomach ache later, but it was worth it.”
Clare shook off the pleasant heat gliding up her spine from the sound of his voice. “So, now that you know she isn’t here anymore, you don’t have to feel obligated to do any more repairs. Although I do appreciate them.”
He turned a bit more, and she could feel his gaze when it found her in the dim light. “Obligated? Is that what you think?” He shook his head. “No, I just wanted to help. That’s what neighbors do for one another.”
“No, they don’t. Morgan is a case in point,” she snapped, not liking the rapid fire of sensations this man triggered deep inside her. She was still mending from what she’d gone through with Mark. This crazy mixed-up feeling was the last thing she needed messing with her mind.
“Well, I do,” he said. “And Morgan is an ass.”
She pulled back on her anger. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault that she’d made bad choices in the past where men were concerned, and it wasn’t his fault that Morgan was trying to take her land. “Yes, he is that,” she said with a sigh.
“Well, thanks again for the lunch,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
With a nod, he went back to work atop the barn, not knowing how much his simple sincerity affected her.
Maybe she’d been alone too long. Maybe it was making her a little crazy, letting her dwell on her past and all the awful things lurking there. Maybe it was time to come out of the shadows and live again. Otherwise she was just letting Mark continue to rule her life.
Close to dinner time, Jackson stepped back on to the porch and knocked. “Ma’am, I’ll be back in the morning to finish up the job. And if after that, if you’d rather I not come back, then I’ll respect your wishes.”
She moved to open the door, then stopped herself, but she couldn’t stop her mouth. “Clare,” she said through the closed door. “My name is Clare.”
For a moment she didn’t think he’d heard her, but af
ter a few powerful heartbeats, he said, “It’s nice to meet you, Clare.”
“Um, you—you can come back but don’t do it because you feel you have to or anything. I can manage fine on my own.”
“I’m sure you can. But I’ve never been one to leave a job half done, so I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good evening, Clare.” He walked back to his truck then drove away.
She pressed a hand to her throat, wondering why it felt so tight, like she was going to cry. And she did, once she laid her head down for the night. The darkness let all the memories in, replaying them like an old movie, leaving her empty inside, and lonelier than she’d ever felt before.
When the sun finally rose after a long and painful night, she made up her mind. She couldn’t live like this anymore, like a recluse. Her ex-boyfriend wasn’t out hunting for her. She’d just used that as an excuse since Granny died to hide from the world. She’d somehow got it into her head that with no one left in the world that cared about her, why bother taking take part?
Granny would give her a swift kick in the butt for feeling sorry for herself, she thought. With a small smile, she climbed out of bed to face the day from a new perspective.
Chapter Three
Jackson returned the following morning and found a piece of paper stuck under a jar filled with seashells on the small porch table. He slipped it free and smiled at what Clare had written.
Taking up the pen lying beside the note, he marked what he’d like for his lunch from the offerings she’d listed and added a thank you at the bottom.
Once he was on top of the barn, he grinned as she eased out of the house. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to make her so uneasy. Could be Morgan had put some pressure on her, or maybe she was just the shy type, but none of that mattered when she snatched up the note then lifted her gaze.
The distance between them shrank to nothing. He could see her clear as day, and what he saw set his heart racing. She was more than your average pretty, damn near beautiful, but there was something about how she looked at him and the memory of her voice that had his blood pumping fast through his veins.
She jerked her gaze away and hurried back into the house. He marveled at the fact that for the first time since Brittany dumped him, he was more than passingly attracted to a woman. Being neighborly might just turn out to be something more.
Rain snuck in around lunch time, but he’d gotten the job done. Running with his shirt in his hand toward the porch as the deluge began in earnest, he enjoyed the rush of being alive gave him. This is what he wanted, to find a reason to be happy again. And he knew it had to do with the mysterious woman in the neglected farmhouse.
He pulled on his shirt, with a chuckle rising in his throat, but it lodged there as he heard the door to the house open. Slowly, he pulled his shirt down from his head and looked at the woman standing in the doorway. She really was beautiful and shapely, and had a pixyish nose and big blue eyes, and he had the strangest feeling she was everything Brittany wasn’t.
“I, um, thought maybe you’d like to eat inside today,” she said. “What with the rain coming down sideways, the porch isn’t going to be dry for much longer, and it’s getting colder. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned into snow before dark,” she said.
“I’d like that very much. Spring can be a bit fickle around here,” he said.
With a nod, she backed away and allowed him room to enter. After shutting the door, she motioned to the small table by the window, already set. She jerked when he reached behind her to pull out her chair but sank down into it with a small exhale.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.” He took his seat then put his napkin in his lap. He didn’t miss her watching his every move from beneath long dark lashes. Out of fear or just plain old curiosity, he didn’t know, but he figured he’d best leave that mystery alone…for now.
They began to eat, not a word passing between them, and somehow the silence was okay. It was soothing to share time and space with someone with only the sound of the rain filling the air. Nothing like dinner at his place. Not that his brother and his sister-in-law were chatty, but they had a hard time keeping their noses out of his business. So he relished this quiet moment in which he wasn’t alone.
The lunch was light, just a small salad with a roast beef sandwich on the side, so it didn’t take long to clean his plate. But with the last bite, his spirits fell, knowing that he would have to leave soon. No more food to eat, no more roof to fix, nothing to keep him there, and yet he didn’t move from his place at the table.
He sipped his tea and watched the rain splash off the porch steps. “Thank you for lunch.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence fell between them again. He knew his stalling wouldn’t last much longer and turned to face her. It startled him to realize that he could sit and stare at her for hours. So unlike Brittany, whose looks had never left him with a feeling of awe and wonder. It was as if he were seeing the sunrise for the first time. He was more than attracted to Clare, and he wasn’t leaving until he knew more about her.
“It’s kind of funny we never met,” he said. “I mean with Mrs. Hampton being your grandmother and all, and my brother and I coming over for those cookies so often when we were kids.”
She lifted her gaze from her barely touched plate and pinned those deep blue eyes on him. “I didn’t get to visit much. I um, that is I—”
Jackson watched a dozen emotions flash across her face. She had a lot of baggage, but then so did he. Maybe they’d find a way to share the load a bit and become more than just neighbors, more than just friends…a lot more.
“Go on,” he said.
“Granny wasn’t really my grandmother,” she said, dropping her gaze back to her plate with a sigh.
“That explains why we never met. But your name is Clare Hampton, right?”
Her head snapped up, and he saw a blue flame light her eyes. “Of course it’s Hampton.” Her gaze lost some of its heat. “But it wasn’t always.”
She looked out the window at the rain, a softness falling over her features. “Grandpa found me on the road on a day much like this. I was thumbing my way to California. I was smart enough to be careful with whomever stopped to give me a lift, so I was naturally hesitant when he pulled up beside me. He asked if I had enough sense to get in out of the rain,” she said with a soft laugh.
“I figured he was safe enough, so I nodded. Then his mouth turned up in a crooked grin and he said, well then do it little gal. We ain’t got all day,” she said in a low blustery voice.
They both laughed at her sad impersonation.
She looked back at Jackson with a lingering smile. “So he brought me here, and after a few days, they asked me to stay.”
“And they adopted you?”
She shook her head. “No. There really didn’t seem to be a need. I was almost seventeen, and it would’ve cost them to go through all the lawyers and stuff. Just seemed a waste of money.”
“But what about your family, your parents? Weren’t they looking for you?”
A muscle in her jaw tensed as she cast her gaze back to the window.
“Clare, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Your past is none of my business.”
“No, it’s okay. I guess I just haven’t had anyone who wanted to know about me for a long time. It’s kind of hard to dig it all out.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “My parents died in a car accident when I was fifteen. Not that they were any good at being parents, but that left me on my own. I had trouble fitting in at the foster home, and no one wants to adopt a fifteen-year-old, so I ran away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault I had a crappy childhood. At least it was crappy until I met the Hamptons. They proved me wrong. There were people out there who wanted to adopt teenagers.”
“But we still never met.”
“Once I hit eighteen, I didn’t want to s
tick around and be a burden to them financially, and well, they kept trying to figure out a way to send me to college.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t let them do that, and I guess I still had a few stars in my eyes about California. So I convinced them that college wasn’t for me, and I left. I sent them money whenever I could and came back to visit from time to time. Last fall I came home for good.”
A thought popped into Jackson’s head. An unpleasant one. Was she really the legal owner of the Hampton ranch? Or had she taken advantage of a lonely old couple and just moved in? With that sort of background, anything was possible.
“Clare, I have to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I have to know,” he said, bracing himself. “Are you the legal owner of the ranch? You say your name is Hampton, but if they didn’t adopt you…”
She sat back in her chair, her brow creased. “What?”
Jackson fidgeted with the edge of his napkin, not wanting to put a voice to his concerns, but he had no choice.
“You have to see it from my side of things,” he said. “I ride over here thinking of helping out my neighbor, whom I didn’t know had died, and find you here. Someone whom I didn’t even know existed. Then you tell me that the Hamptons had taken you in when you were a teenager and apparently left you their ranch.”
“You think I’m lying?” With a growl, she jumped to her feet and stomped toward the desk in the living room. He sure has hell hoped she wasn’t going for that rifle.
Rising from the table, he glanced to the door to make sure he had a clean escape route. “Look, all I’m saying is, it doesn’t look good. And now with Morgan trying to take over, well, I’m a bit concerned. You could really be in over your head here.”
She yanked open a drawer and rifled through some things, but he eased toward the door anyway. He didn’t want to test the theory of whether or not she’d shoot him.
She slammed the drawer shut then stomped back toward him, a stack of papers in her hand.
“Here,” she said, shoving them in his face. “Read it.”
