Mine for a Day (Finding Love Book 8)

by Delaney Cameron

  Summer smiled widely. “Yes, I am. It’s been bugging me for weeks.”

  “That’s all that matters then.” Violet came up beside him. “I would apologize for that, but if you come around here often enough, it’ll happen again.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind being compared to Captain America.”

  “Thanks for your help with the boxes.”

  “No problem. Don’t forget to text me that address.”

  “I won’t. Have a nice day.”

  He waved to both of them and then made his way back to his office. Jetta pounced on him as soon as he came through the door.

  “I understand why you forgot to tell me about Myrna. You had other things on your mind.”

  “You’re adding two plus two and getting five.”

  She twirled a pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think so.”

  He was saved having to reply to this by the arrival of Austin. In a way, he was glad. He didn’t want to define his feelings for Violet. There was novelty and uniqueness in a relationship that wasn’t following the usual script. He didn’t want to clutter his mind with expectations. Looking ahead was looking for trouble.

  Chapter Nine

  Violet woke an hour before her alarm was set to go off. Nothing could dim the anticipation welling up inside her at the thought of spending time with Jackson. She felt as if she would burst with happiness. It didn’t matter that he didn’t share her feelings; that this day meant something different to him. For a short space of time, she could pretend that he belonged to her.

  As she sat up in bed, her two feline companions eyed her from their respective positions: one at her head, the other at her feet. “How is everyone this morning?” Bluebell jumped off the bed and walked to the door. Jeeves was content to wait for transport. She picked him up, and the three of them headed downstairs.

  In the kitchen, she got out the toaster and took a moment to look outside. The sky was clear except for a few puffy, white clouds. Perfect weather for cutting grass. The yard was her father’s pride and joy; the instructions she’d been given for its care were nearly as long as her mother’s list for the house. The only part Violet was somewhat concerned about was pruning the rose bushes. One errant cut could mean disaster.

  After breakfast, she put on some old clothes and went outside to the storage shed in the backyard. As she put gas in her father’s John Deere, she had to smile. He might be messy everywhere else, but there wasn’t a thing out of place in here.

  Violet had finished the yard and was in the middle of trimming the hedge when her phone vibrated.

  “Hey, Rachel.”

  “I hear birds singing. Are you outside?”

  “Yes. I’m pretending to be a landscape artist.”

  “I detest yardwork. That’s why I live in a townhouse.”

  “I don’t mind doing it, but it’s obvious my efforts aren’t up to my father’s standards.”

  “I’m calling because Pierre got tickets for that Neil Simon play at The Springer. It starts at five-thirty. Do you want to come with us?”

  “I’m sure Pierre would rather it just be the two of you.”

  Rachel laughed. “This isn’t going to be a romantic evening. A bunch of people from one of his classes will be there.”

  “I appreciate the invite, but Jackson offered to give me a tour of the house that overlooks the lake at River Road Park. He knows the owner.”

  “That’s convenient. Did this just happen? You didn’t say anything about it yesterday.”

  “If you’ll remember, we had our hands full yesterday. You weren’t in the mood for casual conversation.”

  “You’re right. It wasn’t one of Tasteful Affairs better days. As for Jackson, I thought you said he had a girlfriend.”

  “He did have one. They broke up recently. But that doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Doesn’t it? Violet, sometimes I could shake you.”

  “It’s not a date, Rachel.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you want to call it. What are you going to wear?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t put your hair in a ponytail. It makes you look like a teenager. And don’t wear those loose shirts buttoned up to your chin.”

  “You realize he’s already seen me several times. The damage is done.”

  “He won’t remember any of that if you play your cards right today. This is your chance to wow him; to show him that there’s another side to Violet Langston.”

  Violet chuckled. “I’ll do my best to effect this extreme makeover.”

  “Call me later, and tell me how it went.”

  “I will. Have fun at the play.”

  Later when she stood in front of the closet surveying the few items she’d brought with her, she remembered Rachel’s comments. She doubted there was anything here that would come close to ‘wowing’ Jackson, but it wouldn’t hurt to wear something nice. With that in mind, she chose a sleeveless dress she’d bought in the spring and paired it with wedge sandals.

  Judicious use of the flat iron Summer had given her for Christmas gave her usually flyaway hair a sleeker appearance. As for makeup, the dress deserved more than her usual routine of facial powder and lip gloss. When she finished, she turned to Jeeves and Bluebell, who’d been with her every step of the way.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Wish me luck, girls and guys.”

  With one last glance in the mirror, she shut off the light and went to the living room to wait. Fortunately for her tangled nerves, her wait wasn’t long. At the chime of the doorbell, her hand instinctively went to her stomach as if to quiet the butterflies clamoring inside. On legs that shook slightly, she walked over to open the door.

  “Hi, Jackson.”

  “Hey, Violet.” He smiled slowly, his glance moving from her hair to her feet. “If the owner of the house could see you right now, he’d wish he would’ve stayed home.”

  She dipped her head to hide the blush she couldn’t stop. “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure am. I just need to lock up.”

  Once they were on the way, he asked, “How was the wedding reception yesterday?”

  “It was bad. I mean, really bad. The catering truck had a flat tire on the way to the hotel. That delayed us almost thirty minutes. When we got there, the bride’s mother told us that instead of the hundred guests we planned for, we were going to have about twenty more. We nearly ran out of silverware and food. And last but not least, one of the teenagers thought it would be a good idea to see if he could pull one of the tablecloths out from under the place settings. Turns out he couldn’t.”

  “Poor Violet. I’m sorry I asked.”

  “Like every business, we have good days and bad days. How was your Saturday? Did you have to work?”

  “Yes. I showed four houses to a couple from Atlanta. They want to retire here to be closer to their grandchildren.”

  About a block from the entrance to River Road Park, he turned onto a street Violet had always assumed was part of an apartment complex. Just past the last building, there were several homes in a row and then the road ended in a cul-de-sac. A single paved driveway lined on both sides with trees curved up a slight incline and disappeared from view.

  “I bet this is pretty when all these dogwoods are blooming,” she said, looking out the window.

  “It is,” he confirmed. “The trees alternate between pink and white flowers.”

  The driveway widened on the last curve and then the house came into view. Perched on a sloping hill, the two-story structure was a mixture of stonework, masonry, and cream stucco. A wrought-iron balcony ran across the front of the house. The vast yard was landscaped with a mixture of azaleas and hydrangeas.

  “I never imagined it would be so big.”

  He parked in front of the attached garages and turned off the engine. “That’s because you were seeing it through the trees.” They proceeded along a
flagstone walkway and through the front door with its decorative fan light. Inside the foyer, soft-white walls soared upward into what seemed like endless space. Hardwood floors in warm tones led the way to the kitchen. “The inside of the house is French provincial. You don’t see a lot of that in Georgia.”

  Violet’s eyes swept over the ornately carved cabinets with their glass-fronts, gleaming granite countertops and black appliances. “It’s a nice blending of beauty and functionality. I love the oversized island.”

  “Me, too. It’s convenient for entertaining.”

  “Or if you have a catering business. Rachel would love this kitchen.” She pointed to the wide arched window over the deep-set sinks. “I wouldn’t mind doing dishes if I had that view.”

  Jackson laughed. “I’m not sure anything can make me want to do dishes.”

  He didn’t hurry her along, but allowed her to set the pace as they explored the remainder of the main floor. The palette of creams, whites and taupe was offset by wood accents. Each room was elegantly furnished reflecting someone with good taste and an eye for comfort. When they came out of the formal living room, he indicated a door across the hall.

  “This is my favorite room in the house.”

  “Then I definitely want to see it.”

  He reached behind her to open the door. Standing in the center of the bay window was a baby grand. Violet was drawn to it like a magnet. She trailed her fingers along the curve of the body, loving the feel of the smooth wood. This was her dream piano; the one item she would buy if she had unlimited resources.

  “Play something for me,” Jackson said.

  She turned to look at him. “The owner was nice enough to let me tour his house. I can’t make myself at home on his Steinway.”

  “He won’t mind. This is the perfect opportunity for me to hear you play.”

  “I’d rather not. You’ll only be disappointed.”

  “I’ll only be disappointed if you refuse.” He pulled out the bench. “It would mean a lot to me, Violet.”

  She wasn’t proof against that. In silence, she sat down on the padded seat and lifted the lid. To her relief, he moved away to sit in one of the chairs lining the wall. What should she play? Her mind searched through the possibilities. Then she remembered their conversation in the music store. The first few bars were tentative, her nervous fingers fumbling to find their way, but ever so gradually she began to relax as the thrill of playing on such an instrument weaved its way through her. She might never get this opportunity again. She wanted to make the most of it.

  * * * * *

  Jackson knew the moment when Violet forgot about him. He didn’t need to see the dreamy expression on her face; he could hear it in the way she played. Music was a language all its own. It could express emotions for which there were no words and could offer a temporary escape for a restless soul.

  As he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, he remembered something she said in one of their conversations. Most things in life are better when they’re shared with someone else. He’d tried to share his love of music with his family, but his father was consumed with his students, his mother with her tennis club, and his siblings with their teenage friends. Not even Carmen had fully understood what it meant to him, how it was so much more than a hobby.

  Maybe that’s why this moment had such a profound effect on him. In Violet, he sensed someone who felt about music as he did. Someone who recognized the hidden beauty in a skillfully composed string of notes and appreciated the ability of a simple melody to enrich the lives of its audience.

  As the last notes rang out, he opened his eyes and sat up. “You play beautifully.”

  She turned her head to look at him, the effect of her experience still evident in the faraway look in her eyes. “That’s kind of you to say.”

  “It’s not just kind; it’s the truth.” He walked over to stand next to her. “I haven’t heard ‘Believe in Me’ in a long time.”

  “It’s my second favorite Dan Fogelberg song.”

  “I’ve been working my way through movie theme composers.”

  “Whose music are you playing at the moment?”

  “Ennio Morricone. I discovered him watching an old Clint Eastwood western. There’s an iconic scene at the end of the movie where these three guys have a standoff. The music that goes with it is called ‘Ecstasy of Gold’. I just started on it.”

  “When you’re ready for an audience, I’d like to hear it.” She looked around the room. “Whoever owns this place must be a serious musician if he can play all these instruments. There’s a trumpet near the fireplace, a violin on the side table, and at least six guitars.”

  Jackson shrugged, wondering how much longer he could keep up this pretense. If she hadn’t been so absorbed in his piano, she might have noticed the picture of him and Willow sitting on the mantle. “He likes to think so.”

  “Is he a close friend of yours?”

  “I’ve known him for a long time. Why do you ask? Do you want me to introduce you to him?”

  Violet laughed. “No, I don’t want you to introduce me to him. I asked because you and he seem to have a lot of interests in common. In any case, he must be a very nice person. After all, he let us into his home.”

  “That was entirely due to you.”

  “He doesn’t even know me.”

  “When he found out about your interest in his house, he said to throw out the red carpet.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m starting to get a funny feeling about this.”

  Jackson laughed as he walked to the door. “That means it’s time to continue the tour.” He led the way into the next room. “As you can see, this is the library.”

  To his surprise, she didn’t just look inside. She walked over to the shelves. “It’s always interesting to see what kinds of books people read. It can tell you a lot about them.”

  “Most of these books were here when the owner bought the house.”

  “So he got an instant library. That’s nice.” She inspected some of the spines. “It’s a mixture of history, literature, and travel.” Moving further to her left, she bent her head to read the titles. “Here’s some newer ones. Music history mostly and what appears to be a book of love poems. Very interesting.”

  “Why is it interesting?”

  “These don’t fit in with the others. I think this shelf belongs to the current owner. Music history makes sense based on his obvious love of music. As for the book of love poems, it would appear he’s got a romantic side.”

  “Or he used to,” he said under his breath. “Is it a good thing for a man to have a romantic side?”

  She laughed as she walked toward the French doors. “Always. You can never have enough romance. It can turn the most mundane things into something magical.”

  “Does this mean you’d like to revise your decision to meet him?”

  “I better not. He might be very different from the picture I’ve got in my head. Do all the rooms open up to the deck?”

  Jackson hid a smile at her change of subject. “Yes, they do. It’s one of the nicer features of the house. Would you like to check out the view before we go upstairs?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Her delight in everything she saw was evident. The reserve she wore like a shield of protection was slowly receding. She reminded him of a bird with a broken wing, resigned to sitting in the nest and watching everyone else take flight. What would it take to mend her wing and watch her fly? Her laughter broke into his thoughts.

  “It’s like being in a tree house,” she said as he joined her at the railing. “If I lived here, this is where I’d be most of the time.” She laid her hand lightly on his arm. Tingles of awareness sprung up under his skin. “Look over there, Jackson. See that little patch of gray in the distance.” He followed the direction of her pointing finger. “That’s the roof of the gazebo that sits between the two lakes. I go there and read sometimes.”

  He squinted his eyes. “Are you sur
e?”

  “I’m almost positive.”

  “Hold on a sec. I’ll be right back.” Jackson retrieved his binoculars from the kitchen and handed them to her. “Look through those and see if you’re right.” He had to bite his lips to keep from laughing when she put the wrong end up to her eyes. He flipped them over. “Try doing it this way. It works better.”

  She dug her elbow into his side. “You don’t have to be so uppity about it. I’ve never used binoculars before.” She raised them to her face again. “It’s a little fuzzy.”

  Jackson guided her hand to the focus knob. “Turn that to the left until the picture clears.”

  “That’s much better. I can now confirm that the gray roof does belong to the gazebo. These things are powerful. I see a little boy and his mother standing on the steps.” She turned her head to the right. “And there’s the guy who’s always fishing. I’ve never seen him catch anything.” After a few more minutes of looking, she lowered her hands. “I wonder if this is what the owner does. He can spy on quite a few people from up here.”

  “Or on birds. I happen to know he’s into bird watching.”

  She rolled her eyes comically. “Yeah, like those guys you see standing on the boardwalk at the beach. I guess they’re looking for seagulls.”

  He laughed. “I can’t comment on that. I’ve never taken binoculars to the beach. Let’s see what you think of the rest of the house.” They retraced their steps to the foyer and started up the stairs. The silence was broken by the ringing of his phone. He glanced at the screen. “I need to take this, Violet. Go ahead and start without me. I shouldn’t be too long.”

  * * * * *

  Violet heard Jackson’s, “Hey, Austin,” as she continued up the stairs. From something he said, she knew Austin was his partner. She hoped this interruption didn’t mean they’d have to cut the tour short. Just as she reached the top she heard his voice again. “Don’t worry about it. They’ve eaten worse things than that.” Was he talking about his dogs?

  That question occupied her mind as she peered into several furnished bedrooms each with their own bathroom. The last room was larger than the others and faced the lake. Violet didn’t need the few masculine items on display to know she was standing in the owner’s room. For some reason, the thought made her uncomfortable. With more haste than strictly necessary, she made her way to the other side of the staircase.