“At first, I mostly saw how much Ashley looks like you. But she’s got Eric in her, too.”
Jennifer stiffened. “I know you have issues with your brother.” He lifted one eyebrow as if to say, And you don’t? She ignored that. “But I will not have you playing out any sibling rivalry on my daughter.”
“Whoa, retract those claws, Mama.”
In silence, she continued to glare at him.
“I wasn’t saying she’s a bad kid, Jennifer.” He raised his hands in pantomimed surrender. “I swear not to take out any sibling rivalry on your daughter.”
“Don’t look at Ashley and think of Eric,” she warned him. “She’s not Eric. No mother could ask for a better daughter.”
“Okay,” he said with enough skepticism to let her know he didn’t believe it, but not enough for her to make an issue of it.
Still, she had two satisfactions.
First, he looked positively pained as she handed over the bank papers. Second, she snagged the biggest chocolate doughnut before he could.
The sky boiled with clouds. Not a drop of rain had fallen, but wind shook the trees, bending them before its will and shaking loose clusters of green leaves and small branches.
Jennifer stood in the second service bay’s open doorway, head lifted, arms at her side. She didn’t look frightened. But she didn’t move.
The rain wouldn’t hold off much longer. They were lucky this front hadn’t moved through earlier and prevented their balcony breakfast.
“Hey, you awake?”
“Watching the storm come.” She didn’t take her eyes off the sky.
“I can see that. Are you planning on moving when the storm arrives?”
“Probably.”
He stifled a chuckle. She sounded awfully dreamy for a woman talking about getting drenched when they had a meeting at the bank soon.
Wind came tearing in with a prolonged rush that shook the trees so they bent and swayed and shimmied like souls possessed. The blast, still hot, still dry, pushed against them, flagging their clothes behind them, swirling the scents of old oil, metal and men from the area behind them.
“It’s like standing in front of a huge blow-dryer,” he said.
Her only reply was an eyes-closed “Mmm.”
He’d forgotten about midsummer storms in the Midwest. How big they felt. How raw. How awesome. In California they’d been an inconvenience delivered from a realm disconnected from him.
But here, now, he remembered how he’d felt a part of them as a kid. As if he were another element, along with the wind, the lightning, the thunder, the rain. As if he, too, roared and blustered.
“I used to love storms as a kid,” she said quietly. “I wanted to stand out in it and drink it all in.”
Surprised, and something more he didn’t examine, he said, “Me, too.”
“You didn’t have much choice, did you?”
“Huh? You’re going to have to explain that one, Jennifer.”
“Didn’t you have to walk places in the rain as a kid?”
“Doesn’t every kid?”
“You more than most.”
“Just come out with it. What are you getting at?”
“I saw you running home from practice. In the rain.”
“What? When?”
“Your freshman year. Your father had come to pick Eric up because of the rain, and he was giving me a ride, too. I saw you head across the field, going toward your house. I could have pointed you out to your father, so you’d get a ride, too. But I didn’t. I didn’t say a word.”
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t have thanked you for sentencing me to ten minutes in the car with my father,” he said easily. “Besides, me dripping all over his car? No thank you. Believe me, I much preferred the run in the rain. You did the right thing.”
“Not for the right reasons.”
“Afraid of my outcast cooties, huh?” he asked cheerfully.
Her mouth twisted. “More like I was afraid that being around you might reveal my own case of them. At some level I’d recognized you were the equivalent in your family to me in my family. Not consciously. I wasn’t that deliberate about it. But I’d developed skills, including never calling attention to my status. Pointing you out to your father might have made him or Eric see me as I really was. Unworthy. Or worthy only by association with Eric.”
For the first time, she shifted her gaze from the sky, aiming it full at him. The sight was even more stunning than at the fireworks. The entire sky seemed to be reflected in her eyes. Roiling clouds of trouble, flashes of sharp lightning, rumbles of pained thunder and even glimpses of clear blue.
“I’m sorry, Trent. I’m sorry I let you run home in the rain without making any effort. I’m sorry I shunned you.”
He shook his head, but not enough to dislodge the connection between their gazes.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Jennifer. Nothing.”
In that long look he felt something fundamental shifting. Like the earth he stood on. A subtle earthquake, if such a thing were possible. As if the earth’s crust had developed a fine trembling that communicated itself to his feet, into his legs, pausing to rattle his knees, before continuing on to his chest, where it lodged.
“It was never that big a deal to me, Jennifer. I suppose I’m a loner. And I never have cared about most people’s opinions. It never got to me.”
“You’re lucky— No,” she corrected herself. “Not lucky. You’re strong. It’s a shame you had to be so strong. But it’s a good thing you were.”
He shrugged. “I figured out a long time ago that some parents get their mind set on a certain sort of kid. If the DNA dice come up with a different kind, they don’t know how to react, how to understand that kid or connect.”
“That’s awful.”
He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. Sometimes sympathy from a particular person could open a wound so long healed that the scar seemed to have always been there. Sometimes those wounds were better left scarred over.
“I’ve seen what happens when the parents try to make a kid over, and I know I was real lucky to be left on my own.”
He looked into her wide eyes, still clouded with the storm of concern.
“I was lucky, Jen. I’m still lucky. It took some hard knocks, but I learned important lessons being on my own—on my own in a lot of ways even before I left home. I’ve got a good life. And no regrets.”
In that moment, he knew that’s what he wanted for her. A good life and no regrets. And that was damned crazy.
Him, wanting things for Jennifer Truesdale. Especially those kind of soul-deep things. Wanting to make sure she and his niece had the necessities? That made sense. But this?
A single large drop struck him on the cheek and slid down. Five more hit hard and fast, like a flourish on a drum.
She gave a small gasp that morphed into a laugh.
It was the laugh that did it.
He took her hand, long and slim, and sprinted with her across the pavement toward the showroom door, all the while knowing he should be letting her go and running the opposite direction.
After two long weeks, the heat broke. This night was one of those midsummer coolings-off where everything smelled like crisp, line-dried sheets.
As they walked to their cars, the last two to leave the dealership as usual, Jennifer told Trent about a program through the dealers’ association that would let them have contact with other dealers of about the same size.
“Not dealers from our area, because they’re competitors, and who wants to give away their secrets? But from other areas. Think about it, people facing the same issues we do, exchanging ideas, telling each other what works and what doesn’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
She stopped. After another stride, he stopped, too, and looked back.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s what I want to know. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think—”
“You don’t want
to be doing this, Trent. I know you don’t.”
“Talking about the dealers’ association? It’s not my favorite—”
“This—you don’t want to be doing this.” Her wide-flung arm took in all of Stenner Autos. “Any of this.”
“I…” He’d started to lie, she could see it. Then he shook his head, muttered a curse, and looked her in the eyes. “I never had any interest in the dealership growing up. I thought it was because it was so important to my father. Turns out, I just don’t have much interest in selling cars.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. You think I’m going to turn tail and run. I don’t do that, Jennifer. C’mon. Let’s sit.”
She didn’t resist as he took her arm and led her to his car. With her in the passenger seat, he went around and got in the driver’s side.
“Want to go somewhere?”
She shook her head. She wanted to get this out. “It’s not even opened yet and you hate the dealership.”
“Hate’s strong. I—” he rubbed his neck and along his shoulder “—I don’t get excited about the details. I don’t come in with ideas like you do. When I’m away from here I don’t think about it.”
“You work so hard… But it’s driving you nuts, isn’t it?”
He made a sound between a snort and a laugh. “Yeah, it is.”
“Why haven’t you told me how you feel?” Although she had seen how he felt, she realized now. When she would let herself.
“What could you do? I’m not going anywhere, Jennifer. I don’t want you to worry about your job or Ashley’s fund. I’ll stick with it. And I’ll keep working hard to make it a success. Hell, if it gets to be big enough we can hire a general manager, like I planned—or make you general manager—then I can do something I like. So that’s good incentive.”
She didn’t return his grin. Something he liked… “What would you do if you could do anything?”
“Coach,” he said immediately.
“Then why aren’t you coaching? Couldn’t you get a job with your old team after you retired?”
His mouth quirked. “I’m not sure I’d really accepted that I’d retired until you put me to work here. Besides, I’d rather stick with the real kids.”
“Why am I not surprised?” she said dryly.
“What?” He grinned wryly at her. “You see me fitting in with kids?”
“Absolutely. I’ve seen you out throwing that football every opportunity you get with Barry. Or Bobby or anyone else who comes by.”
“Barry’s afraid of the mean, big boss lady, so don’t tell her.”
“Right. She can be vicious.”
“Well, she is driven, and unfortunately she drives other people half as much as she drives herself, so everyone else is exhausted.”
“Very funny.”
“Very true. But back to Barry. He’s a good kid. He’s trying to get on the team and I’m helping him out a little.”
She made a decision in that moment. She didn’t think it through or examine it. She just knew it was right. She couldn’t see him miserable.
“You should help him all the time. You should coach.”
Trent’s eyes narrowed. “This damned town. I don’t know how the gossip got back to you, but they forgot one thing, I turned him down.”
“Turned who down, Trent?”
He stared at her in the minimal light here under the trees. “You didn’t know? I thought you must have heard. Damn.”
“Well, now you have to tell me,” she said calmly.
He swore again, more vociferously. Then heaved a sigh.
“Josh asked if I’d consider assisting Coach Brookenheimer with the team. He’s getting older, and it takes a lot out of him. He doesn’t have any assistants who can take on the responsibilities. Or who can ride the kids’ butts. A few think pretty damn well of themselves and Coach doesn’t have the energy to knock their heads together like they need. Josh thought I… But I told him no. Told him my first responsibility is here.”
Her mind was going a hundred miles an hour. So fast that only one word came out. But it was an emphatic command.
“Coach.”
“What? But—”
“Coach, Trent. It’s what you want to do. You can help those boys, and Coach Brookenheimer. You’ll be good at it.” And he’d be happy.
“But—”
“We can handle it here without you. I can handle it. You said yourself, I could be general manager eventually. Why not now? Because I do like it. And I’m good at it,” she said with pride.
“You’re damned good at it. Seeing how good at it you are has helped me see I’m not cut out for it. But how could it work?”
“Just the way it has been working,” she said with a wicked grin. “When there’s a problem I set out the options, we discuss which one’s best, and I implement it. You’d still have to work—might need to be here every day, but you can’t coach until after classes end anyway, so—”
“Well, there’s planning and preparation and—”
“Don’t push your luck, Stenner.”
“Okay, okay. So, I’d be here daily to go over things, pick up the slack. But you’d be in charge day-to-day.”
“Right. And you’d be here for the big things. If you’re not here for the Grand Reopening weekend, I will personally slash every football in town.”
He laughed, still sounding stunned. “I swear. I’ll be here for the entire weekend. Practice doesn’t start until the following week.”
“Okay. Say, we try this a month. Or two. Then we reassess.”
“You’re serious?”
He looked at her with such light in his eyes that she couldn’t help but smile. “I’m absolutely serious.”
“Hot damn!”
He took her face between his hands and kissed her.
It wasn’t much in the way of a kiss.
It reminded her of films of soldiers and sailors celebrating the end of war by grabbing the closest available female and planting one on them. More a celebration of the moment than anything to do with the individuals.
He lifted his mouth, still holding her face. He was so close that his grin was almost out of focus.
Then it was gone. She looked up, right into those dangerous eyes. Hot and intent.
So hot that they seared the air she drew in with a quick breath.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and the heat she’d drawn in as oxygen became a lit fuse racing through her body.
“Jen.”
And then he kissed her again.
Chapter Nine
Trent would drown in this trouble, and be happy to go to the bottom.
Drowning in Jen. The scent and sensations of her. The touch and taste of her.
Her mouth welcomed his tongue. Her hair enveloped his fingers in sliding silk. Her hands brushed and stroked his neck, his jaw, his head.
The heat rose as if kindling, gasoline and wind all hit it at once. A blast of heat so fast and hot it burned right through something in him that had held hard and solid as long as he could remember.
Her skin—revealed to his touch in greedy swaths as he opened her blouse, then her bra—started cool, but in not even a second burned with the same heat. A heat that could only be consumed by the fire that had given birth to it.
She’d opened his shirt, trailed the burn down his chest with her hands and her lips, lower to where his stomach muscles contracted and jumped. Then she came up, back to his mouth. Kissing, and kissing. Each a blaze in itself.
He stroked her breasts, deserted her mouth only to explore her nipples.
Abruptly, Jennifer slid down his body. He felt the graze of her breasts against his chest like charges that set off larger explosions throughout his body and instantly primed the main fuse.
Those reactions were so strong that it took a couple extra beats to realize several things.
She wasn’t headed where his libido had hoped she was heading. Instead, she was curling into him while trying to refasten h
er bra.
Also, a bobbing light grew brighter and larger as it approached.
As much as he’d been lauded for quick thinking on the football field, it still took him a second to put it all together.
If he’d been turned on like this on the football field, he would have been crushed to smithereens. Then again, he didn’t remember being quite this turned on off the football field, either.
“What’s going on here?” came Darcie’s in-charge cop voice.
Trent grabbed the sides of his open shirt and held them to shield Jennifer as best he could from light pouring in through her open window.
“Uh, Darcie—Officer Barrett. It’s okay. It’s me, Trent.”
“Trent? What are you—?” Darcie swallowed the last word.
Clearly she knew what he was doing. The question was whether she realized who he was doing it with.
“This is not a good spot for this, Trent.” Her voice was strained.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“I don’t suppose you were.” And now he could tell the strain came from efforts not to laugh. “I’d tell you to get a room, but I happen to know you have one over in Pepton. That wouldn’t do, though, huh?”
“Not really. And this was rather spur of the moment.”
He thought he heard a groan from Jennifer, who still had her head down, so that hot, faintly damp puffs of her breath played across his chest. That was not helping to get his brain back in charge of this production.
“I can’t encourage this sort of thing in public under any circumstances, but I do hear there’s a spot overlooking that S-bend in the river where people aren’t likely to get disturbed.”
“Uh, thanks, Darcie.”
“You’re welcome.” That came out a little garbled because she was working so hard at not laughing. “But you cannot do this here. Another officer might have thought you were burglars or something. And if they called for backup…”
He got the picture. Lights, sirens, a whole lot of excitement. Not good.
“I understand, Darcie. Thank you.”
“No problem.” She backed up a few steps and clicked off the light. “I’ll be back in, say, a half hour. I expect everything to be peaceful by then.”
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