The phone trilled on her desk, and she scooped it up, hoping it wasn’t Jacob. What would she say? Apologize for her meltdown at the church? Thank him for the flowers? Too bad she couldn’t click her shiny red heels like one of the characters in Owen’s favorite movie and wish herself someplace far away. “Your Special Day, this is Marissa.”
To her relief, Liz’s perky voice filled the line. “Hey, girl. Busy day?”
Marissa glanced at the flowers on her desk, then at the stacks surrounding them. “No more than usual.”
“What’s the countdown for the festival now?”
Her gaze automatically drifted to the open calendar, not that she needed to double-check to know. “One week and four days.”
“We’ll be ready.” Liz’s statement sounded more like a question.
“We have to be.” Marissa chuckled, but like everything lately, it felt forced. She cleared her throat to try to hide the dismal tone. “What’s up?”
“I was calling to see if you and Owen would like to come over for dinner tomorrow night. I’m cooking up a big pot of gumbo and we need help eating it. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.” Marissa smiled and this time, felt the motion sincerely through and through. As hectic as her schedule was right now between the birthday party and the festival, the surprise of Liz’s friendship made it all worth it. She hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time—someone to chat with over the phone, stress with at work and trust with her tragic past. She’d ended up confiding in Liz at work the other day about Kevin having been a fireman, and Liz’s sympathy and understanding had helped heal a crack in Marissa’s fragile emotions, bonding them closer together. “What time?”
“Be here at six. I’ll be the one with the chef’s hat!”
“We’ll be there.” Marissa said goodbye and hung up, then made a notation in her daybook. Her pen caught the low-hanging leaves of the orchid arrangement in the vase and she quickly flicked the tip of the pen free, wishing it was as easy to untangle Jacob from her thoughts. I happen to think Owen is very special … I think you are, too.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she was coming.” Jacob tried to keep his voice down in Liz’s kitchen, his grip on the wooden spoon tighter than necessary as he stirred the gumbo in the stockpot. He’d been expecting a nice, homemade meal with his family, and instead walked into the house to find Marissa sitting on the ottoman with her son and his niece, playing one of Olivia’s handheld computer games and looking way too much like she belonged there.
Liz worked a red mitt over her hand and opened the oven door. “Well, I can’t believe you sent her flowers and didn’t tell me.” The steaming bread she pulled from the warm rack filled the kitchen with the tangy scent of garlic and butter. Jacob’s stomach growled, but he wouldn’t let his meddling sister-in-law off the hook that easily.
“That was different. This is flat-out matchmaking.” He jammed the lid on the pot and set the spoon on the counter with a clatter. The spicy aroma of sausage and shrimp wafted through the air. He wanted to lick the spoon but didn’t think that would help give his end of the argument much merit.
Liz shut the oven with a smirk as she deposited the bread onto the cooktop. “And sending flowers isn’t a sign of courting?”
“Courting!” Jacob forgot to lower his voice this time. He planted his hands on his hips. “First of all, this isn’t the eighteenth century, and secondly, that’s not the case.”
“Only because you’re both stubborn.” Liz handed him a stack of dishes. “Could you set the table?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Maybe, but you’re denying the inevitable.”
“Uh, guys?” Ryan popped his head into the open doorway of the kitchen, his voice barely above a whisper. “Marissa does have ears, you know. Owen and Olivia are only drowning out so much of this conversation with their debate on which color fruit snack tastes better. Red is winning, if anyone cares.”
“Sorry.” Jacob’s ears burned with as much frustration as embarrassment. He shouldn’t have sent the flowers, knew they’d give the wrong impression, but he wanted to do something to make Marissa smile again. Wanted to replace the hurt he’d put in her eyes with something warm and light. She deserved that much. He hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Listen, Liz, I appreciate your train of thought here, but it’s not going to happen with Marissa and me. It can’t.” She’s still grieving her ex. The fact that Jacob had realized that while holding her in his arms inside the church was a cruel twist of the knife.
“I think it can.” Liz turned the burner off on the stove and shoved a pile of napkins on top of the plates Jacob still held.
“That’s not your decision.” Or even his, unfortunately. These matchmaking ways of Liz’s only made the facts hurt that much more. He never would have predicted Marissa would tell Liz about the orchids and he’d spend the rest of the evening justifying his reasons for sending them.
Reasons he still couldn’t fully justify even to himself.
“I’m going to set the table.” Jacob turned his back on Liz’s knowing grin and strode toward the dining room. He was grateful he had a family that cared enough to meddle, but wouldn’t it be enough to feed him from time to time and leave him to his bachelor ways? He knew Liz and Marissa becoming friends would be trouble, but he had no idea exactly how much—until now.
“This is going to be the longest dinner ever.” He set the plates on the table, a little louder than necessary, and hastily crammed a napkin under each one. Too bad he’d have to eat and run. Staying in Marissa’s presence longer than necessary would hurt worse than an upset stomach. He inhaled deeply. Man, that gumbo smelled better than anything he’d had in days—not that that was shocking, since Steve had been on kitchen duty again. He set the silverware on the table. As soon as they wolfed down dinner, he’d head out.
“The bread pudding’s ready!” Liz called from the kitchen.
Jacob’s stomach flipped in protest. Okay, so maybe he’d stay for dessert. But no longer.
“Mom, Ms. Liz’s gumbo is better than yours. Can you get the recipe?” Owen’s spoon clattered into his empty bowl and Marissa looked up with a start.
Ryan snorted from across the table, then coughed loudly to cover it up. Beside Marissa, Jacob ducked his head, probably in an attempt to hide his own smile. At least they were trying to be polite. A twinge of embarrassment plucked at her, but she couldn’t berate Owen for his honesty. Liz’s gumbo was amazing. “Sure, Owen, that can be arranged.” She wouldn’t take it personally. At least he was eating well.
Marissa turned to Liz, who sat at the end of the table by Olivia. “You probably didn’t expect a seven-year-old to eat half the pot.”
“It’s a compliment. I’m honored.” Liz dabbed her mouth with a napkin as she stood. “And I’ll get that recipe for you before you leave. Ryan, would you help me get the dessert, please?” Together they cleared the table, leaving Jacob and Marissa alone with the kids.
Owen and Olivia were now discussing their Sunday school class and what Bible story they might be learning next, jabbering excitedly and leaving Marissa no room for participation. She couldn’t dodge talking directly to Jacob any longer. She’d avoided him most of the evening, which hadn’t been hard since he’d hidden out in the kitchen with Liz before dinner. She could have sworn she heard her name come up in conversation several times, but figured she was being paranoid. Why would they be discussing her?
Although, Liz had forgotten to tell Marissa that Jacob would be at dinner when she invited her and Owen. Had she done so on purpose?
Marissa glanced Jacob’s way, their elbows nearly touching on the worn tabletop, and quickly lowered her arm to her lap. Dinner had been nice, but borderline awkward. It almost seemed as if Jacob didn’t want her there. But he’d sent the flowers, so that couldn’t be the case. Still, something was a little off. Maybe he felt embarrassed about her slipup at church last Sunday. She knew she did.
“He’s quite the character.” Jacob’s warm voice broke into her thoughts, and Marissa followed his gaze toward Owen. “I’m sure your gumbo is good, too.”
“It’s really not. But thanks.” She smiled, wishing they could find the camaraderie they’d had before her blunder the other day. Her smile faded, and she met Jacob’s eyes, forcing herself not to look away. “I never said thanks for the flowers. So, thanks. They were beautiful.”
Jacob leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “You’re welcome. And it’s my fault. I never really gave you the chance to say anything.” At the end of the table, Olivia giggled at the shadow puppet Owen was making against the dining room wall. He watched them with a slight smile. “I didn’t mean to be so distant this evening. I’m a little frustrated with my sister-in-law, but that’s not your fault.”
Marissa frowned. “What did Liz do?”
“Did she tell you I would be here tonight?”
Marissa shook her head.
“She’s matchmaking.”
“Oh.” Marissa swallowed. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Like I said, not your fault.” Jacob’s gaze collided with hers, and he reached over and squeezed her hand. “I just wish …” His voice trailed off and he abruptly shoved his chair back from the table. “Hey, guys, do you know how to do the goose puppet?” He moved to the end of the table by the kids and arranged Owen’s hands into the proper form for the bird shadow.
Marissa watched with a lump in her throat. Why hadn’t he finished his thought? Maybe he was as intimidated by the truth as she was. Because it didn’t matter what he wished, or even what she wished. Jacob obviously didn’t feel comfortable starting a relationship with her while under her father. And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—feel safe starting one with him as long as he was a fireman.
Jacob laughed then, the rich sound filling the dining room with warmth and a sweetness that settled in Marissa’s heart like the brown sugar and cinnamon on top of Liz’s bread pudding dessert. Who was she kidding? She and Jacob already had a relationship. It just remained locked in a box, starving for air and desperate to grow—but dying a slow death of denial.
Reality stung even more watching Jacob interact with her son. He was good with Owen, listening to his requests, taking his comments seriously, making him feel grown-up and important. Marissa cupped her hands under her chin and watched as Jacob taught both of the kids how to make various animals with their hands, complete with sound effects. He’d be a great father one day. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing away the thought. Even though Jacob showed amazing potential at being a dad, he was still a negative influence on Owen in regard to the one thing Marissa feared most. Owen already looked up to Jacob with near hero worship. Because of the lack of solid male role models in Owen’s life, she wouldn’t forbid their time together. But neither could she encourage it further by pursuing Jacob.
Liz and Ryan returned with the bread pudding and plates, their easy banter with each other carving a hole in Marissa’s heart as they set the dessert on the table and passed out clean forks. Would she ever have that kind of teasing, fun love relationship? She and Kevin hadn’t even had it for a long time after they married, but she could easily imagine it with Jacob. Memories of their easy interaction the first day they met in the parking lot at Your Special Day played in her mind like a movie as she spooned a bite of bread pudding into her mouth. Jacob’s muscles under his shirt as he worked on her SUV’s tire. The kindness in his eyes as he talked about his family and Olivia’s party. The dimples that flashed every time he smiled—at her.
The sticky mixture in her dessert coated Marissa’s tongue with a bittersweet flavor. She looked up as Jacob ruffled Owen’s hair, his dimples in full bloom again as he chuckled at her son’s attempt to do a dog puppet. That was Jacob. Mr. Considerate. Mr. Patient. Mr. Perfect. Marissa pushed her dessert dish away from her, suddenly full.
How could someone so perfect be so perfectly wrong for her?
Chapter Eleven
Jacob would say he couldn’t eat or sleep, but he had, and did. He just didn’t want to—because thoughts of Marissa on a full stomach sent him reaching for the antacids, and every time he laid down, he dreamed of her smile. To say he had it bad, as Liz would put it, was somewhat of an understatement. The more he tried to push Marissa out of his mind and heart, the more she burrowed in.
He rolled the push mower he used for maintaining smaller yards into the trailer, then slammed the minigate shut with a loud clank of metal. The hot noon sun burned his forearms and warmed the top of his baseball cap as he made his way to the truck cab, glad his employee had called in sick. Jacob could use the time alone to work and think.
And pray.
God, this is crazy. Are these thoughts from You? Am I supposed to be feeling this way about Marissa? It figured the one woman who finally managed to win him over was the one woman who needed to remain offlimits. The image of the chief, dripping wet while Jacob held the telltale water hose in his hand, danced in his vision and he squeezed his eyes shut. Way off-limits. Jacob had real feelings for Marissa, unlike the jerk that Chief had shipped off to Baton Rouge, but in the chief’s mind, they were all the same. And now knowing how strained Marissa’s relationship was with her father, the chief’s overprotective streak made sense. It was a matter of control. And with Marissa, the chief clearly had very little.
He started the truck and welcomed the blast of air-conditioning that cooled his neck. He leaned against the seat with a sigh, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and staring unseeing at the driveway in front of him. It’d been two days since dinner at his brother’s house, and Jacob kicked himself every night for not telling Marissa what had been on the tip of his tongue before he started playing with the kids. I wish … was all he’d gotten out, and probably that was already too much. What did he wish? He wished he could sweep Marissa off her feet, treat her the way the princess inside her deserved to be treated. Wished he could pursue her without fear of offending the chief and losing his job, and therefore letting down his brother. Wished he could have Marissa’s blessing to not only get to know her better, but Owen, too.
Wished she was over her late husband and ready to pursue love again.
Jacob shifted the truck into Drive. His wishes were irrelevant, because reality was reality. As much as Marissa deserved to be a princess, he wasn’t cut out to be her shining knight. If it was meant to be, the path would be easier.
Says who? his conscience fairly barked at him as Jacob flipped on his blinker to turn left at the stop sign. What if that wasn’t true? What if some things were worth fighting for?
What if the path was somehow cleared?
Jacob accelerated around the curve, unable to dodge the fact that Your Special Day—and Marissa—sat only about six blocks to his right. A new series of what-ifs played out in his mind. What if he told Marissa exactly what he thought and felt? What if she could somehow talk to her father and get his blessing on their relationship so it wasn’t an issue?
Without further thought, Jacob yanked the wheel to the right, barely remembering the trailer attached to the truck, and gunned it toward Your Special Day. One thing was certain, even if this entire spontaneous plan blew up in his face. He couldn’t spend another night—or meal, for that matter—imagining what could have been.
The truck bounced over the curb into the parking lot of Your Special Day and he double-parked before hurrying out of the cab. He shut the door, then glanced down at the old fire department T-shirt he wore and almost climbed back inside. But he had to do this. Marissa would feel the way she felt about his wardrobe, and this was the time to find out.
Jacob strode purposefully up the walkway, his stomach gnawing with anticipation. Good thing he hadn’t had lunch yet. He neared the door and his mouth went dry. Come on, man. This is Marissa. You can do this. But he couldn’t get the imagery out of his mind of Marissa as a princess, waiting in her castle for a prince. He shook his head in disgust. He’d definitely spent too much tim
e listening to Olivia talk about her party, if these were the thoughts that clamored for his attention.
But he couldn’t forget the look in Marissa’s eyes at the party supply store when he’d made that princess for a day comment. The truth of her desire to be just that lurked beneath the paper-thin guard of her neutral expression.
Jacob straightened his shoulders and placed his hand on the doorknob, determined to slay any dragons Marissa needed—regardless of the cost.
“Festival food supplies, check,” Marissa muttered from her spot on the floor in her office, nestled between a giant box of red, white and blue paper plates, cups and napkins, and a slightly smaller box of yet-to-be-inflated pink and silver balloons. She made a notation on her legal pad. “Olivia’s party balloons, check.”
She’d given up on not talking to herself hours ago, when Liz had to leave at noon to take Olivia to an appointment. On her way out, Liz had casually mentioned Ryan was at a job interview, but Marissa could tell from the light in her eyes she hoped it would bring good news. Marissa couldn’t imagine losing her entire career and living off savings. It had to be terrifying, especially with a child to support. She knew that feeling. Hopefully this festival would help not only the Greenes, but the other families affected as well.
The shop door opened and Marissa jumped, clutching her legal pad to her chest. Jacob strolled inside, and she did a double take at his rumpled appearance as she tried to stand. Her ankle rolled and she grappled for the side of the nearest box to catch herself, just as Jacob cleared the space between them and steadied her with a firm hand on her arm.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make such a dramatic entrance.” Jacob smiled down at her, the scent of sweat, grass and spicy aftershave filling her senses. Marissa drew a shaky breath at their proximity. His hand remained on her arm even now that she stood steadily on both feet, and the contact sent sparks all the way up to her shoulder.
Fireman Dad Page 10
