by Robin Kaye
Her gaze went back to her almost untouched plate and she bit her lip. “I’m done, and there’s plenty more—feel free to finish it up. I’m happy to have an excuse to cook. It’s therapeutic, especially cooking for someone who appreciates it as much as you do.”
He refilled his plate, forcing himself to take a few scoops of green salad just for show. If he’d been alone, he would have eaten right out of the casserole dish and wouldn’t have wasted stomach space on salad. “Since I fully support your quest for inner peace and clarity, feel free to do as much therapeutic cooking as you can stand. I’ll even pay for the ingredients. I know it’s selfless of me, so don’t embarrass me with your gratitude. Really, it’s the least I can do.”
Her laugh rang out clear and strong, and for the moment, at least, he felt whole. The dull throb of his headache and the fact that the vintage of the wine was still a mystery to him didn’t seem to matter so much. Kendall’s laugh somehow filled that empty space within him he hadn’t even known existed.
*
Jax left the cabin at first light and hightailed it to Jaime’s place. He was pounding on the door with a heavy hand before the sun cleared the ridge.
Jaime answered the door, wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. He sniffed the air, scratched his bare chest, and then looked in the direction from which Jax had come. “Did you finally burn down the cabin?”
“No, it’s worse.”
Apparently the lack of smoke satisfied his curiosity about the cabin, because he nodded and stepped back, wordlessly inviting Jax to enter. “How can it be worse than turning the cabin into a bonfire?” Jaime headed toward the kitchen—hopefully to make coffee.
Jax followed, tugged off his coat, and threw it over the back of a barstool before sitting. “Kendall showed up yesterday evening just before dark.”
Jaime looked up from counting out scoops of coffee. “Kendall Watkins?”
“Do you know any other Kendalls?”
“No. Now that you mention it, I don’t think I do. But, shit, man, I haven’t had my first cup of coffee yet, so give a guy a break, would you?”
“Sorry.” Jax could relate. He hadn’t successfully made coffee since his accident. Between the unfamiliar coffeemaker and his inability to count, he’d been eyeballing everything and still hadn’t hit the correct ratio of coffee grounds to water. The coffee, if you could call it that, either tasted weak as dishwater or resembled the sludge you found in the bottom of an oil pan after not changing said oil for thirty-thousand-plus miles.
Jaime pressed the button to brew and turned back to him. The scent of fresh ground beans—Jaime was a coffee snob, thank God—wafted over to Jax, and he took a slow, appreciative sniff. God, he’d missed good coffee.
“So, I guess your secret is out now.” It wasn’t a question.
“What secret?”
“You have more than one?”
He did—at least from Jaime. Shit.
“Kendall and Addie are best friends, so as soon as she tells Addie who’s staying at the cabin, everyone in town will know where you’re holed up.”
“Oh, that. No, it turns out Kendall’s in hiding mode too. I’ve offered her the second bedroom in the hopes that her need for privacy will ensure mine.”
“And what does her asshole of a fiancé think about the two of you shacking up together?”
“David, right? Well, I doubt he cares. He dumped Kendall the day before yesterday. I’ve never met the man, but he sounds like a dickhead.”
Jaime nodded. “That’s an apt description. His folks bought the Browns’ old place after you went away to school. You know, the one on the ridge overlooking the lake.”
“From what I could make out through her tears, Kendall said he took a job in San Francisco without telling her, and started packing after she left for work. If she hadn’t lost her job, she’d have come home to an empty apartment and a Dear Jane e-mail. The cowardly bastard.”
“She lost her job?”
“Yeah, downsized due to budget cuts.”
Jaime’s eyebrows rose. “Sounds like she had the mother of all bad days.”
“You’re not kidding, and the future isn’t looking too bright either. She said she’s going to lose her apartment in a month. She can’t make the rent without Dickhead and a job.”
“Most people can’t. I guess you’re seeing layoffs from the other side of the desk now, aren’t you?”
This was an old argument. Jaime didn’t always approve of Jax’s business dealings, but, then, Jaime didn’t have stockholders and a board of directors to answer to either. And now neither did Jax, which, surprisingly, came as a relief. But he didn’t have the time or inclination to jump on the well-worn path of their usual heated discussions. “Look, I didn’t come here to debate corporate policy. The reason I hiked all the way out here was to ask for a favor.”
Jaime’s brows rose in apparent suspicion and he poured them coffee, handing over a big mug. “What kind of favor? And why do I get the feeling that I’m going to end up on the wrong side of either Kendall or her father—maybe both?”
Jax didn’t bother hiding his smile. He and Jaime had been covering each other’s asses since they were in Pull-Ups. “Because you’re exceptionally perceptive?”
He took a sip of coffee and stared at Jax over the edge of his mug. “Well, get on with it.”
“Fine. Kendall didn’t recognize me. She thinks I rented the cabin at a reduced rate in exchange for fixing up the place.”
Jaime’s eyebrows rose higher. “And just who does Kendall think you are?”
“I introduced myself as Jack.”
He laughed. “Well, that certainly was a stretch. And you think she’s not going to figure it out on her own? Jack, Jackson . . .”
“She hasn’t yet.”
“So, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to back up my story.”
“I see.”
“If you don’t, then she’ll tell Addie—”
“And your cover will be blown.”
“Exactly.”
“Remind me again why you’re in hiding?”
“I don’t want to get into it right now. I promise I’ll explain later.” Telling Kendall about his—what the hell was it anyway? A disability? Maybe. God, that certainly wasn’t a comforting thought. . . . Still, telling her, a stranger for all intents and purposes, was one thing; telling a man he’d known all his life, a man who knew the old him better than anyone else, was a whole different animal. Kendall hadn’t known him; she’d known of him, which reminded him . . . “How come you never told me that people call me the Grand Pooh-Bah of Harmony?”
Jaime choked on his coffee. After catching his breath, Jaime turned his wry grin on Jax. “Kendall mentioned that, did she?”
“Answer the question.”
“What good would my telling you have done?”
“It would have kept me from being blindsided by it.”
Jaime shrugged. “You’d have been blindsided regardless, and let’s face it, Jax, no one would have the guts to say it to your face. Jealousy is an ugly thing, and that’s why people call you the Grand Pooh-Bah in the first place.”
“Kendall wasn’t jealous, but she’s not one of my biggest fans—although I think it has more to do with the similarity between her perception of my career and the career goals of her ex than anything else.”
“And if she doesn’t know who you are, she can’t hold her preconceived notions against you.”
“Exactly.” Kendall just needed a little time to get to know him and learn that he wasn’t the uptight asshole she thought he was. It was as if she’d confused him with one of his uncles. Yeah, he just needed a little time—that was all. He smiled at the simplicity of his plan.
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”
Jax was all about preventing Jaime from thinking anything further about his reasons for keeping his identity, such that it was, under wraps and searched for a change of subject. It took him a sec
ond, but then he remembered. “Kendall broke the axle on her Jeep on the trail to the cabin, so she’s pretty much stuck. I was thinking maybe you could tow it here and fix it for her. I’ll pay for everything, and, well, if you could take your time with the repairs. You know, tell her you’re having trouble getting your hands on the parts or something.”
“Oh, man. You’d better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
So much for his attempt to change the subject. “I’m not thinking anything of the sort. I’m just trying to protect my privacy—”
“And the fact that Kendall is the hottest thing to come out of Harmony in the past fifty years never crossed your recently concussed mind?”
“I took a blow to the head, Jaim, I’m not brain-dead or blind.”
“Shit, Jax. She and David the Douche Bag have been dating since she was in a training bra. I remember. They were about twelve. And in case you haven’t noticed, Kendall’s not fling material. She’s on the rebound, and the youngest daughter of Grace and Teddy. They might not appreciate you messin’ with their little girl.”
“I’m not planning to mess with anyone, especially not Kendall. Now is not a good time for me to get involved. And, like you said, she’s not fling material.” She was fantasy material, centerfold material, marriage material, but definitely not fling material. “And for your information, I don’t mess with women. Every woman I’ve ever dated knew the score.”
“They might know the score, but there isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t think she can turn the game around and come out the victor.”
“That’s true enough, but, like you said, Kendall isn’t the type.” She was nothing like the worldly women he dated—not that she wasn’t worldly, per se, just not jaded and greedy. “Besides, Teddy would kill me.”
Jaime seemed to contemplate that. “Maybe not. Teddy and Grace love you like a son. But if you and Kendall did start”—he made a lewd hand gesture that had Jax contemplating using Jaime’s head as a doorstop—“they’d expect you to marry her.”
“Who said anything about marriage? Are you nuts? Teddy and Grace might be like parents to me, but that goes only so far. I have a feeling that in Teddy’s eyes, no man would ever be good enough for his little girl—not even me. Besides, I don’t take advantage of women. Kendall’s far from over her shit of an ex. Hell, I found her sitting in her broken-down Jeep, crying her eyes out.”
“And you didn’t run in the other direction? Brave man.”
“I thought about it, and, believe me, it was tempting, but I had to make sure she wasn’t hurt.”
“And you’re sure she wasn’t crying over the car? A broken axle is tear-worthy, much more so than David Slane. In my opinion, he’s no great loss.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but she doesn’t see it that way. She spelled it all out for me, and the busted axle was the last in a long list of woes.”
He gave a what’cha-gonna-do shrug and dismissed it. “Right, then. Back to your dilemma. You said you need to keep Kendall in the dark to protect your privacy. Tell me: how does being stuck in an eight-hundred-square-foot cabin with Kendall Watkins accomplish this?”
“Kendall’s here to wallow in self-pity, and she brought enough ice cream to fill the freezer to support her claim. I’ll be on the roof, working during the daylight hours, giving her plenty of time to wallow to her broken heart’s content. She also mentioned that she finds cooking therapeutic. I need to eat.”
“She cooks like her mama?”
Jax couldn’t help but smile when he remembered the masterpiece that was Kendall’s shepherd’s pie. “Maybe better.”
Jaime’s eyes widened at that. “Hell, maybe I’ll marry her myself.”
Jax opened his mouth to tell Jaime to leave Kendall the hell alone, but stopped before he’d formed the words. No matter how much he disliked the thought of Kendall and Jaime together—shit, he hated the thought of Kendall with any man, actually—he had no right and, without question, no reason to feel that way.
Jaime didn’t bother hiding his irritating grin. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say.”
“I didn’t say anything.” At least he thought he hadn’t. Had his injury messed him up more than he realized?
“You didn’t speak the words, but, brother, you didn’t need to. The death glare you gave me made words unnecessary.”
“I didn’t—”
Jaime waved away his rebuttal. “Now that I know how you feel, I’ll keep your little secret, and I’ll fix Kendall’s Jeep. Slowly. I just have to remember to call you Jack. I think even I can handle that.”
“Thanks.” Jax didn’t bother arguing over what Jaime saw as interest in Kendall. He wasn’t interested in her at all, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone else to be either. He took the last swig of his coffee and stood. “I’d better get back before Kendall wakes up.”
CHAPTER THREE
Kendall awoke with the morning sun shining in her eyes. She rolled over to wrap around David’s bigger, warmer, and usually welcoming body, only to encounter a cold sheet. That second, it all came back. She remembered everything that had happened in the past two days, and her swollen eyes burned with fresh, industrial-strength tears. The echo of residual pain from a battered and badly bruised heart made itself known. It was like whiplash; the seriousness of the injury didn’t reach its peak for a few days.
All she wanted was to draw the shades, pull the covers over her head, and allow sleep to envelop her like anesthesia overtaking a surgical patient. Oh, to be happily oblivious, to float painlessly on the calm, warm sea of dreamless sleep. But instead of sleeping, her mind spun like a whirling dervish.
She remembered the expression on her boss’s puffy, pale face when he’d broken the bad news. The man had looked over her left shoulder the entire time, never once meeting her gaze. He’d known they’d done the same job, but that she’d done the job far better than he ever had. He’d also known that the only reason he hadn’t lost his position and bloated salary was because of his seniority.
Returning home to find David packing all of his belongings had hit her like a hard punch to an existing bruise. She remembered so clearly the second David’s words broke through the fog of utter disbelief.
“I’ve been transferred to the San Francisco office. I’m moving,” he’d said in his oh-so-superior tone. David hadn’t even bothered to turn to look her in the eye. She’d never noticed it before but now had to admit that David was a coward. Jack had been right about that.
“You’re moving?” Her fight-or-flight response had been effectively triggered, and she was a fighter. “I suppose the fact that you never mentioned it to me answers any other question I might have.” Except maybe what happened in their relationship that brought them to that point, and how she, a psychotherapist, could have been so blind.
Things had been strained between them for the past few months, but she’d attributed that to David’s stress at work, their inability to reach the monetary goal he’d set before they would marry and return to Harmony to begin the life they’d planned, and the ebb and flow of any long-term relationship.
She’d taken a deep breath, cemented her resolve, and raised her chin before confronting him. “Since you failed to mention the transfer, I gather you don’t want me to go with you.” It wasn’t a question.
David had turned away from his side of the closet, and his look of derision knocked the wind out of her. Even in memory, it brought a fine sweat to her chilled brow. “As if you would. I’m a smart man, Kendall. I attained a perfect score on my SATs, remember?”
As if he hadn’t reminded her at every opportunity. For the first time, she hadn’t hidden her eye roll.
He’d stabbed a finger in her direction. “You are so dead set on going back to our backwater hometown, you refuse to see any other way.” His voice had risen. Pent-up vitriol spewed from his mouth, contorting his features. She almost didn’t recognize him.
She’d curled against herself and wondered what sh
e’d done wrong, but the cloak of timidity had not rested easy on her shoulders. It had scratched like a rough wool sweater on bare skin. The fact that he’d made her feel timid, even for a second, only increased her anger. How was this her fault? “You never asked me to even consider a move. How dare you assume anything—not to mention be angry for something I’ve never said or done.”
“I didn’t need to ask. I know you better than you know yourself. San Francisco does not fit into your plan of a fairy-tale life.”
Some Prince Charming he’d turned out to be. She lay in the cabin in the woods, remembering, and laughed through her tears.
She wished she’d laughed in his face. At least she’d have stood up for herself. The scene came into focus like a movie on the big screen of her mind. “First of all, I never wanted the fairy tale—I wanted something real, whole, loving, and meaningful. And it was never my plan—it was ours. I didn’t make it alone, David. We shared dreams, goals, expectations.”
“I’ve outgrown you. I’ve outgrown this . . .” He’d held out his hands to encompass their home, their relationship, their shared life. “The rent’s paid through the end of next month. I’ve already had my name removed from the lease. I’ve taken half our savings, most of which I put in. You can keep the furniture and everything we bought together—I don’t want it. I thought that was only fair.”
“Fair? You think this is fair? And just when were you going to tell me you were leaving?”
“I’ve made up my mind on the matter. Discussing it is a waste of time, and you know how I hate wasting time. I planned to e-mail you.”
She remembered feeling as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. The wind had been knocked out of her. She hadn’t known until that day that words could cause physical pain. “We’ve been together twelve years, and all you were going to give me was a Dear Jane letter?” Her words had come across as breathless, and now she hated herself for sounding so damn weak.
“No, it was a Dear Kendall e-mail. And this is exactly what I was trying to avoid. This drama. It’s as if you can’t get enough in your own small life, so you have to delve into everyone else’s to get your fill. I suppose being a therapist pays better than watching soap operas, although when you consider what you made at the hospital, it doesn’t beat it by much, does it?”
