Focus. She pushed the cart to the next aisle. Window cleaner. Sure, why not? Paper towels. Check. Light bulbs? She frowned. Had she tried to turn on the lamp in the living room?
She glanced at Jack. He stared back at her, eyes dancing.
“What?” she snapped.
“Jumper cables?”
Ah, jeez. How could she have forgotten about the jumper cables? “Right.” She followed him around the corner and down the center aisle, stifling another urge to look over her shoulder. She had never in her life felt so exposed.
They rounded another corner, where a woman stood studying a small box she had pulled from the shelves, and Maren stopped dead in her tracks. She clamped down on a moan.
The woman in front of them looked up, and her face broke into a smile. “Jack?”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Brenda Mayfield.
Maren forced her face to remain impassive. Jack’s beautiful, confident, and popular prom date held the dubious honor of being second on the list of people in Shepherdsville Maren most wanted to avoid. Brenda hadn’t changed much. The same curly, ginger hair fell to a spot above her shoulders. She still had the same slender shape. The same dazzling smile. And Maren shoved aside the same desire to leave the two and run for cover.
“Brenda.” Jack grinned.
Brenda hugged him. Maren gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t think about prom night.
Her brain dredged up the memory anyway. She had almost skipped the dance. If she couldn’t go with Jack, she hadn’t wanted to go at all. Everyone would know why she didn’t show up, though, and she’d convinced herself she couldn’t take the humiliation.
The whispering had started the moment she walked in the door. When Jack and Brenda arrived fifteen minutes later, she felt like everyone in the room was watching her. She had grabbed her date’s hand and turned her back, but nothing could stop the pain in her chest when she caught sight of Jack holding Brenda close during the night’s first slow dance. Maren had been forced to accept that their relationship was over. She had told her date she had a headache and asked him to take her home a bare ten minutes later.
She hadn’t let herself think about that night for a long time, and she refused to brood over it while they stood next to her and made small talk. She pushed the memory aside and returned her attention to their conversation.
“How are the kids?” Jack asked.
“They’re a handful, but that’s how children are. I still adore them.” Her lips curved into a gentle smile that would have made Maren like her in any other situation.
Brenda turned to her. “And Maren. I haven’t seen you since high school.”
Maren pasted on a strained smile. “It’s been a long time.”
“How have you been?”
“Fine. You?”
“Wonderful,” Brenda said. “Married a saint of a man and have two beautiful children. How about you? Husband? Kids?”
“No, not me.” Oh, boy. Time to change the subject.
She wracked her brain for a way to steer the conversation anywhere but her personal life. Brenda’s gaze switched back to Jack then to Maren again. Her eyes widened. “Ohhhhh. You’re together.”
Heat crept up Maren’s cheeks. “What? No!” she yelped. She composed herself and tried again. “Er, no. Car trouble. He’s helping me out.”
“I see.” Brenda laughed. “That’s our Jack. Always the gentleman.”
Maren glanced at “our” Jack. His green eyes twinkled and his teeth flashed in a wide grin. No help there. Some gentleman. “Sure. That’s our Jack.”
“So you’ve come back to clean out the house?” Brenda asked.
The heat drained from Maren’s face. “No.”
Brenda studied them both for a moment. “Hm. It’s complicated, then.” She nodded and flashed them another smile. “Which means I need to butt out.” She held her arms out to Jack. “Great to see you.” She wrapped him in a quick hug. She took Maren’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “And you, too. Take care, y’all.”
Brenda walked away, and Maren stared after her. What just happened? Did Brenda know what Jack and her brother were doing?
It’s complicated.
So, yes. Yet, Brenda’s charm hadn’t seemed forced or vindictive. Weird.
She frowned up at Jack. “She’s…nice.”
“Yes, she is,” Jack agreed.
She glanced sideways at him. Maren opened her mouth to say more and immediately shut it again. Like things aren’t awkward enough. Let’s talk about the woman he left me for.
She turned and grabbed a set of jumper cables from the shelf. “Let’s go.”
He grabbed her elbow and took them from her hand. “Not those.” He picked up another set and held them out to her. “These.”
Whatever. She’d buy every one on the shelf if it meant she could get out of here before anyone else saw them.
Jack grabbed the bags from the cashier a few minutes later and started for the truck before she could slip her wallet back in her purse. She frowned at his retreating back, picked up her pace, and caught up with him. “I’ll take those.”
He looked at her outstretched hands as though she had spoken another language. “You’re joking, right? You’ve met my father.”
She glared at him as he walked away. Yes, she had. John Mason would have grounded his son for a week if he let her carry her own bags. Didn’t he get a pass for an ex-girlfriend, though? And what if she didn’t want him to carry her bags?
He set them down in the bed of the truck, then opened the passenger door and waited for her to climb in before closing it behind her. Brenda had been right about that part. He really was a gentleman, even considering everything that had gone wrong between them—and everything that was about to go wrong.
She had missed that.
She stared out the passenger window. That “gentleman” had moved on to Brenda two weeks after a chilling break up. He had sent her away without so much as a goodbye. He hadn’t cared.
Yet she missed the man who opened her door for her. That was a sweet gesture that no one since had bothered with. Not even Bill. And she had been set to marry him.
She didn’t want to think about Bill, either. Not now. Jack had broken her heart, but Bill had nearly landed her in prison.
You’re not out of the woods yet, sister.
She closed her eyes and pushed that thought away, too.
“Maren?”
His deep voice in the silence startled her, and she flinched and opened her eyes. She frowned out the window at the sand and grass covered driveway. How had they made it back to the farm? She straightened and blinked up at him. “Hm?”
He stared out the front window, his expression grim. “I didn’t pick the site.”
Sure you didn’t. Still, his attempt at sincerity made her heart contract in her chest. The deep rumble of his voice sent a pulse of heat coursing through her veins. His strong, tanned arm, draped across the armrest bare inches from hers, raised goose bumps on her skin.
So. Not. Fair.
She couldn’t believe him. She reached for the door handle. “Does it matter? Whether it was your idea or not, you’ll be the one to tear my house down.”
“It’s better, you know. If the house had been left alone much longer, it would have needed to be torn down.”
How could he be so callous? He knew better than anyone what her grandparents meant to her. That made his betrayal cut even deeper.
A sting of tears misted her eyes, and she glared down at the door handle. She didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. A clear head would solve more problems than tears. She blinked them away.
“You don’t understand.” She paused to steady her voice. “No one does. My grandparents were everything. They were always here for me.”
“I know.”
“This farm…” She dropped off, now very much in danger of losing her composure. She took a deep breath and tried again. “It’s always been my anchor. It was the one th
ing I could count on to be here when I needed it.” She gave her head a fierce shake and opened the door. The lump in her throat threatened to take over, and she intended to be away from him before that happened. She stepped onto the running board and grabbed for the bags in the back.
Jack made his way around the truck and intercepted the bags before she could lift them out of the bed. She hung on for a moment, raising her gaze to his, and the force of those deep green eyes sapped her determination. She let go and led him into the house.
“Maren, what’s going on?” She could feel his eyes on her, and she refused to turn around.
“Nothing.” She tossed her purse on the mantle next to the door and walked on through the den.
The plastic bags rustled on the hearth behind her. Moments later, his hand gripped her elbow and turned her towards him. Warmth spread along her arm and brought the tears she had been fighting even closer to the surface. She closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” he said. She opened her eyes again. He stood so close that her skin prickled. She gritted her teeth. “I know better than that. You abandoned this house after your grandparents died. Why did you come back?”
“I wanted to be as close to my grandparents as I could get.” Her voice caught, and she raised her eyes to a spot over his shoulder.
His thumb absently massaged her elbow. Please stop. Did he even realize he was doing that? Why couldn’t he get mad at her? Anger made her stronger. This gentle concern eroded her control. “I know,” he said. “But why?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about this.” She laid her hand on his chest and pressed, hoping to put some space between them. She hadn’t been this close to him in a decade, and her senses weren’t prepared for the onslaught. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her breath caught in her throat. The heat of his skin baked through the fabric of his shirt. She met his gaze, her eyes wide, and his eyes glinted back at her.
He dropped his lips onto hers and cupped the back of her neck in one warm palm. She shivered, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth in a gasp of surprise and pleasure. He slid his tongue along her lips, grazing hers as he did. He tasted like coffee and peppermint. She shifted forward to press against him and her fist curled around the fabric of his shirt.
Jack let out a muffled groan against her lips, followed by a whispered epithet. She opened her eyes as he tore himself away and took two deliberate steps backwards.
Holy Moses. Breathe, Maren. She resisted the urge to touch her lips with dazed fingers. Instead, she clenched her fists and forced herself to look him in the eye. He stared back at her with an odd expression that sent a trickle of unease down her spine.
After a moment, his jaw tightened, and he turned away. “Whatever drove you here won’t keep you here, you know. Having a place to run away from your problems isn’t going to solve them.”
She flinched. How could he be so gentle one moment and so harsh the next? Could she bring that light back into his eyes? If she stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm…
What is wrong with you? She cleared her throat. “Who said I’m running away?”
Except I am. Bill had betrayed her, and she had tucked her tail and took off like a scalded dog. She dropped her gaze. Jack didn’t need to know that.
“You have to decide what you want,” he said. “For everyone’s sake.”
Maren stood rooted to the floor and watched him go. What else could she do? She had decided what she wanted. As long as he remained determined to take it away, she had only two choices. She could give him her farm and let him tear it down, or she could fight.
Which meant she had no choice at all.
Chapter Three
Maren took a sip of her tea and smiled to hide her grimace. “Thanks, Alva. I don’t get a lot of sweet tea in Seattle.”
“Good to be home, huh?” Alva smiled and set the pitcher on the table in front of her. “Don’t be shy, now. There’s plenty more.”
“Thank you.” Her teeth couldn’t take much more. Still, Maren took another polite sip, then turned back to Hank. He sat across from her dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a steel grey work shirt over a dilapidated white T-shirt. Just like Grandpa.
A pang of nostalgia twisted through her chest. She missed her grandfather so much. He would’ve known what to do.
“You doing okay?” Hank asked.
Maren swallowed the melancholy that had swept over her and nodded. “Sure.”
“You’re staying at the farm?” he asked.
“Yes.” She manufactured her warmest smile, determined not to let her concern show on her face. Had he looked this old the last time she’d seen him? He seemed to have aged twenty years. “Thank you for everything. The house looks great.”
Hank gave her a slow nod. “Good. After I had my knee surgery, I couldn’t take care of my cows anymore. I sold them all, and the weeds took over that pasture something quick. And then the house got away from me, too. I was afraid I wasn’t doing right by your grandpa.”
Knee surgery? A wave of guilt washed over her. Jack hadn’t mentioned surgery. He hadn’t been forthcoming about anything else, either. The thought of Jack dredged up the memory of the kiss he’d startled her with yesterday, and with that, warmth puddled in her stomach and goosebumps spread up her arms.
Stop it.
He’d chosen her farm on purpose. She shouldn’t have let him get that close.
He’d been right about Hank, though. The man didn’t have the stamina he’d had five years ago. And he was clearly ashamed he hadn’t done more. “Of course you were. It looks great,” she said.
“Good,” he nodded. “Jack promised me he’d do a good job, or I wouldn’t have trusted him to take it over.”
Here we go. Hank had never been a chatterbox, but she had never met a more honest man. He would tell her what had happened, and he wouldn’t hold anything back. He couldn’t handle the farm anymore. He needed help.
But why Jack?
“What’s going on over there, Hank?”
He grimaced. “There’s been talk about that plant for a while, even before the big meeting. Jack said he was going to help them build it. He wanted permission to have a look around.” He shrugged. “I didn’t have any way to call you and ask, but it had been so long since you came home, I figured you were ready to be shut of the place. It didn’t have the same meaning to you as it did to your folks. I told him to go ahead. I figured he knew his way around over there.”
Maren plastered a smile on her face. Even Hank wanted her to give up the farm. No one understood.
But if Bill hadn’t wrecked her life, would she feel the same?
She pushed that thought aside. Yes, she would. Maren hadn’t wanted to stay in Shepherdsville, but she loved her grandparents. She still wouldn’t have wanted a wrecking ball to turn her grandparents’ life into a parking lot.
“He does. He used to help me with my chores sometimes when we were in high school.”
“He came back a few weeks later and offered to keep it up for me,” Hank continued. “He said he needed to do some kind of survey, and he could take care of things while he was there.”
Survey? Jack had offered to keep up the house to gain access to the property? Anger flared in her gut. Not only had he chosen her farm, he’d used Hank to get to it. He had acted like he only wanted to protect the old man. Instead, he’d seen an opportunity and taken advantage of it.
“I figured that would be a good idea,” Hank said. “I can hardly do more than cut the grass now. I figured they’d end up tearing the house down eventually, but in case they didn’t, I wanted to be sure your property looked like it did when your grandpa was still around.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “And I figured I owed Morris better than to let it fall apart.”
She nodded, but guilt dug in deeper. Dang it. Jack may have had the wrong motive, but he had still managed to do the right thing.
Yeah, he’s a real saint. At least Hank had made him work for the right to
be there.
“Grandpa wouldn’t have wanted you to wear yourself out for the sake of an empty house,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, I agreed to take care of things so I could use your pasture. I owed you and your grandpa, and I meant to look after your place.” His faded grey eyes held hers in a steady gaze. “I didn’t know what you meant to do about that plant, but I made sure Jack knew where I stood. I told him I wouldn’t let him on the property unless he swore to take care of it like it belonged to his daddy.”
“That’s no small promise,” Maren said.
“Nope. He might be grown, but John’d still skin him if he broke a promise to an old man.” He tipped his head in a nod. “He raised Jack to be a fine man.”
Sure. Except for the part where he conspired to take my farm. How could Hank ignore that?
In all fairness, Jack had been good to Hank. She couldn’t be mad at the old man for being grateful. She gave him her warmest smile. “Thank you for everything, Hank. You know I didn’t mean for you to do so much.”
Alva sat down next to her husband and gave him a smile that made Maren a little jealous. Would she ever be able to look at a man that way? Probably not. Her luck with men had gone from bad to worse, and that was before she’d come back to town. “Don’t let him fool you, honey. Hank will work himself into the ground until his dying day, even with a bad knee.” She patted Maren on the hand. “And we’re happy to look after the place for you. I’d have gone over and cleaned up if I’d known you were coming.”
“It looked like you already had.” Without thinking, she took a sip of her tea. The sugar coated the back of her tongue with another layer of sweet fuzz, and she set it back down.
“I go over there every few months, in case you decide to come back and pay us a visit.” Alva’s steady gaze bored through Maren, and she tried not to shift in her seat. “I wish you’d come home more often.”
She swallowed hard, then nodded. Hank and Alva were the closest thing to family Maren had left. They cared enough about her to keep an old house from falling in on itself, and she had turned her back on them five years ago with barely a second thought. She picked up her glass again to hide the sting of tears in her eyes, then let the shock of sweetness wash them away.
Home Again (The Shepherdsville Series Book 2) Page 4
