by Nicola Marsh
Sara had no idea how long they kissed, their soft moans the only sound in the still night. As their kisses deepened, Sara started to lose all sense of time and place. He devoured her and she matched him, a deep-seated desperation for pleasure rising from within.
Kissing Jake made Sara forget everything and for those interminable moments when their mouths fused, she allowed herself to just feel.
When they finally came up for air, they stared at each other in wonder, chests heaving, breathing raggedly in unison.
“That was . . .” Jake cursed softly under his breath and shook his head, lost for words.
“Wow,” she helpfully supplied, and the bewilderment in his gaze gave way to wonder.
“Wow is an understatement.” He ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “It’s been a while for me.”
“Bet it’s been longer for me,” she said, uncomfortable talking about this but figuring she owed him some kind of explanation for almost devouring him. “Greg, my ex, kept long hours at the office. I was too tired working full time and looking after Lucy after work to be interested in much else.”
Jake nodded, like he understood. “Work was my life too. I dated occasionally but I haven’t for a while.”
“Let me guess: a while for you is like three months?”
He laughed at her teasing. “More like nine.”
“Try eighteen,” she said, with a grimace. “Even then, it was less than spectacular.”
Jake’s smile faded as he cupped her cheek. “We’re not just talking about kissing here, right?”
“Right.” She found herself leaning her cheek into his hand. “And please don’t misconstrue what I said, and think because we shared a monumentally stupendous kiss that I’m going to sleep with you, but I feel like we should talk about this stuff, so there’s no false expectations, you know?”
“Long speech.” Jake caressed her cheek. “Just so you know, I don’t have expectations.”
“Good.”
“But if that make-out session was any indication, we’d burn up the sheets.”
She shoved him away playfully, laughing at his outrageousness. “Let’s head back.”
“Running scared?” he murmured, snagging her hand again as they turned for home.
“Maybe running toward those sheets?”
She snatched her hand out of his and sprinted away, feeling happier than she had in years.
If one all-consuming, all-powerful kiss could do this, she couldn’t help but wonder what a roll in those sheets could do.
26.
Jake gave Sara a twenty-minute head start before returning to the house. Twenty minutes where he strolled the garden perimeter ten times, pulled a few weeds and sat on a bench, contemplating that kiss.
She’d cited an urgent bathroom visit as her excuse to head back and he’d let her go. He could imagine her sitting at the kitchen table with Cilla, having coffee and trying to pretend that they hadn’t made out like a couple of randy teenagers.
Though calling what they’d done a make-out session was like saying Sara was pretty. Understatement of the year.
He could rationalize away his reaction to Sara as a case of neglected libido. But the way they’d gelled and melded and combusted? Like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
Dammit, he was hard again just thinking about it.
Sitting out here trying to get his head together wasn’t helping. Nothing would help. He’d be awake all night regardless of whether he did another lap or ten around the garden, remembering the way she’d felt in his arms, the faintest floral fragrance of her skin, the softness of her lips, the tiny moans . . .
Muttering a curse under his breath, he stalked toward the back of the house. They hadn’t had a chance to be uncomfortable with each other—she’d bolted that fast after the kiss—and the sooner they faced each other again the better. Maybe he could walk her home? Ask her out on a real date?
However, when he slipped through the back door, the house was silent and Cilla had left him a note on the table.
SARA HAD TO GO.
OLLY WAS TIRED SO I PUT HIM TO BED.
SEE YOU IN THE MORNING.
Well, guess that put paid to his grand plans to confront Sara and move past any potential awkwardness.
He paced the kitchen, as edgy as he’d been outside. It catapulted him back in time to the many floorboards he’d pounded in the kitchen back home, trying to work off tension caused by his father’s verbal abuse.
Back then Rose would calm him down. She’d make fresh lemonade, PB&J sandwiches and talk to him about the most mundane things. Stuff like her favorite boy band at the time, the latest trash talk from school, her most hated teacher. He’d listen to her rambling, not particularly interested in the useless information she’d share but appreciating her soothing tone and the calming effect it had.
He glanced at the phone. Rose was allowed weekly calls and it had been six days since their last chat. Surely a day wouldn’t make a difference?
Willing to risk the wrath of her supervisor, he dialed the number. Reception put him through to her supervisor, whose glowing endorsement of Rose’s progress made some of his tension drain away before he’d even spoken to his sister. She put him through to Rose’s room without a qualm.
As the phone rang, he almost hung up. What was he thinking, ringing his sister who was dealing with her own crap, in the hope she could talk him down off a ledge of his own imagining?
When she picked up, Jake vowed to make this a quick, stress-free call.
“Hey Sis, it’s me.”
“Jakey, so good to hear your voice. How’s my darling Olly? And you?”
“Olly’s fine. Missing you, but fine. And I’m great.” His standard response for any period in his life, even if it was the pits. “You’re sounding perky.”
“I’m feeling good. Really good.” Rose sighed. “Seriously, this is the best thing I could’ve done for Olly and me. I needed to get my shit together before I imploded.”
“Know the feeling,” he said, mentally cursing that he’d let slip so much without intending to.
“You’re not so great after all, huh?”
That was his Rose, astute as ever. She wouldn’t be satisfied with a brush-off, either. He’d tried that many times growing up and she’d never let him get away with anything.
“Being here in Redemption has helped. Caring for Olly, re-bonding with Cilla, hanging out with Sara—”
“Who’s Sara?”
“Our neighbor. I mentioned her last week?”
“Yeah, but not in that tone.” Rose snickered. “Your voice went all soft. Did something happen? Are you sweet on her?”
What could Jake say? That he wasn’t just sweet on Sara, he was ga-ga for her in a way he hadn’t been for any woman for as long as he could remember.
Sara challenged his previous status as Jilting Jake. Some of the ladies at work had dubbed him with the nickname after hearing some of his dating exploits on the airport grapevine, and it had stuck. Not that he’d cared. He’d never wanted a family, never wanted a long-term relationship or the risk that, when he came home from work at the end of the day, he might turn on the people he should love the most.
He’d tolerated enough of that from his dad growing up and he’d never wanted to risk finding out if he was like his old man. So he had dated frequently, never went beyond a few dates, and never grew emotionally attached.
What was it about Sara that challenged his preconceptions and carefully constructed plan?
“Your silence speaks volumes, Jakey. You not wanting to talk about her tells me more than if you were waxing lyrical.”
There was no judgment in Rose’s voice, only teasing, and he found himself relaxing.
“I like her, Rosey-Posey. She’s amazing. And I think you’d like her too.” Which brought him around to broaching the subject he’d tried to bring up last week. “Redemption has been good for me. And Olly. I really think you should consider staying here for a while once
you get out of rehab.”
“You can’t be serious?” Rose snorted. “What about finding a job? I need a steady income to support Olly and make rent. You know that.”
“The restaurant fired you without references. It’ll be tough.”
Jake heard Rose’s muffled curse and felt like a bastard for bringing her down with a healthy dose of reality when she’d been so upbeat.
“It’ll be easier to find another chef’s job in New York City than that backwater place.”
“There are a lot of restaurants here. And in the nearby towns. I reckon you could find a job here easily.”
“A temporary one?” Her derision saddened him. “Olly’s been uprooted enough. I don’t want him to think we’re moving to Redemption, only to find we’re back in the city when it doesn’t work out. I won’t do that to him. I can’t.”
“Fair enough.” He gave it one last shot. “But there’s something about this place that has helped heal me. And I’m hoping it can bring you peace in the same way.”
Very Dalai Lama of him, but it was true.
He’d been an emotional wreck when he arrived, operating like an automaton, getting through each day by sheer luck. Now, the nightmares had lessened and he didn’t wear a permanent scowl as a badge of his guilt. Sure, Cilla probably had more to do with that than the town itself, but being in a new environment had certainly helped.
Then there was Sara . . . He knew she was more than a distraction, something to focus on other than the guilt. She was much more, but damned if he could figure out what to do about it.
“I’ll think about it,” Rose said. “But I’m not a country girl. Never have been.”
“But maybe it’s a good environment for Olly? He likes it out here. He’s thriving.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath and cursed himself for being so insensitive. He’d made it sound like Olly hadn’t been doing so well before.
“We do okay, Jake. And I’ve pretty much been doing it on my own the last six months when you weren’t around.”
“Ouch.” He deserved that. “You know I think you’re an amazing mom, but Olly’s life has been uprooted a fair bit lately. I just thought it’d be good for him to stay here for stability.”
Rose blew out a long breath. “I said I’d think about it, okay? Don’t push me.”
“Would I do that?”
She chuckled, as he expected her to. “You’ve always been a bossy-boots.”
“Just looking out for you, kid.” And he always would. Their father had done a lousy job and Rose said Jake was the only guy she could count on in this world. He intended to keep it that way, until some intelligent guy figured out how great his sister was and captured her heart. Until that day, and an extensive vetting process, he was all she had.
“Thanks. Love you.” She made a smoochy sound. “Tell my baby I’ll call him tomorrow, okay?”
“Will do. Chat soon.”
Jake hung up, feeling lighter. Rose had sounded like her old self and he was incredibly proud of how far she’d come in her rehab. Chatting with her had calmed him, had made him see things far more rationally.
Ironic, that in encouraging her to spend some time in Redemption recovering, he’d had a light-bulb moment.
What did he have waiting for him back in New York City?
An apartment he could easily sublet. That was it.
Redemption had been good for him temporarily. What if he made it more permanent? Hung around even when Olly reunited with his mom?
Not that he’d impose on Cilla any longer than he had to, but he could find his own place. Rent for the rest of the summer. Spend more time with Olly and Rose if she decided to move out here for a while.
The fact that it would give him more time to get to know Sara and see what could potentially develop between them . . . Well, that was an added bonus.
27.
Cilla had a killer headache that wouldn’t quit.
She’d had it ever since she’d shrieked at Bryce like a banshee and run out on him.
He’d called her cell a few times and left messages. She’d deleted them without listening. What was the point, when nothing he could say would change facts?
She couldn’t give him what he wanted and he deserved a woman who could.
“Were you playing matchmaker last night?” Jake strolled into the kitchen and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl.
“Good morning to you too,” Cilla muttered, stirring the porridge with particular viciousness.
“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Jake took a bite out of the apple and leaned against the island bench, his intense scrutiny making her uncomfortable.
“Heard you on the phone last night. Were you talking to Rose?”
He bought her deflection or decided to let her off the hook. “Yeah, she’s improving daily. Sounded really upbeat.”
“When can Olly see her?”
It broke Cilla’s heart, seeing the way that boy pined after his mother. Olly hid it well but she heard his tears some nights, saw the way he stared out of the window in the hope his mother would drive up to the house. Jake was doing the best he could, and their relationship had improved, but a caring uncle was no substitute for a mother.
“Not yet. But he can call her later.”
“He’ll like that.” She took the porridge off the stove. “And to answer your original question, no, I’m not matchmaking. I just thought it was a nice night for a stroll.”
Jake faked a sneeze that sounded surprisingly like “bullshit.”
Cilla turned to face him. “Listen, want to know why I sent you two away? Because Olly dotes on Sara. I saw the way he hung on her every word, the way he lit up when she even glanced his way, and I don’t want him getting too attached to her.”
“What?” Jake’s mouth hung open. “Olly’s good for Sara and vice versa.”
Cilla didn’t condone naivety. Not when she’d had her own ripped away as a teen married to a monster. “I already warned you about this right at the start. Sure, Sara looks years younger compared to when she first came here, I’ll grant you that. But what do you think will happen to her when Olly leaves and she feels like she’s lost another child all over again?”
Jake frowned. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? You can’t compare her grief at losing a child with missing Olly once he moves away.”
“How do you know?” Cilla yelled, startled by her own vehemence. “I’ve never had a child die but I grieved every single day for years when Tam left. And even you . . .” She trailed off, horrified she’d given away so much. “When your father wouldn’t let me see you and Rose anymore, I missed you so much it hurt. You kids had no idea how much you brightened my life when you stayed here. You helped me forget my own miserable life. You gave me purpose.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Jake crossed the kitchen to hug her. “We missed you too.”
Cilla allowed Jake to comfort her for a brief time before shrugging out of his embrace. The last thing she needed today was sympathy. She’d been treading a fine line since leaving Bryce, standing on an emotional precipice doing her best not to tumble off. If Jake was any nicer, she’d start blubbering and not stop for a week.
“I don’t want to see Olly get hurt,” she said, clearing her throat when her voice came out husky. “As far as he knows, his mom abandoned him, he’s living with an old aunt he’s never met, his uncle is his new guardian and the lady next door seems like an angel.” She shook her head. “It’s too much for a kid his age to handle.”
“Olly’s doing okay,” Jake said, his expression closed off. “I have to head into town for half an hour and when I get back I’ll take him fishing. Do you need anything?”
“No thanks.”
Jake nodded and made for the back door, like he couldn’t escape fast enough. What was it about men running at the slightest hint of anything to do with deeper emotional needs? Though considering she’d bailed on Bryce, she guessed the escape artist genes favored both sexes.<
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Shaking her head, she walked to the foot of the stairs, before calling out, “Olly, breakfast is ready.”
Usually, he would scamper downstairs at breakneck speed, declaring how starving he was, and have a double helping of her porridge sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon.
Today, silence greeted her, so she called out again.
Nothing.
With an increasing sense of foreboding, Cilla climbed the stairs. Knocked on the door of Olly’s room. And opened it when there was no response.
The bed had been slept in. But Olly’s favorite ripped jeans, red T-shirt and holey sneakers were gone. Nothing unusual with that; he always came down to breakfast dressed. But the silence in the house made her edgy.
After a quick check of the upstairs bathroom and all the bedrooms, she padded downstairs.
“Olly, where are you?” she called out repeatedly, flinging doors open to check every room. He wasn’t in the den, the living room or the downstairs bathroom, and in the kitchen, her porridge congealed on the sideboard with no little boy in sight.
Panic made her hands shake as she wrenched open the back door and scanned the garden. No flash of red. She ran outside and scoured her property, front and back. No Olly.
With her pulse pounding so loud in her ears she could hardly think straight, she ran inside and grabbed her keys. Maybe she could drive around, see if she spotted him walking in a nearby field.
Her first instinct, to call Jake, made her grab her cell. But she stopped, her thumb hovering over the call button. He’d freak out. He already carried around enough guilt over that plane crash and she saw it every day, no matter how much he tried to hide it from her. If he thought for one second Olly had run away . . . No, she was probably being overdramatic.
Perhaps Olly had gone for a morning walk without telling them. Or had popped over to Sara’s house. However, a quick visit next door showed that Sara wasn’t home and a scour of her garden proved Olly wasn’t there either.
