Hometown Girl: The Chesapeake Diaries

by Mariah Stewart

  “That’s because you haven’t been here all that long. I give you another year.” She touched his arm. “You’ll be as much at home here as anyone.”

  “Maybe,” he said, not wanting to tell her that the jury might still be out, as far as his grandfather was concerned. The year he’d been given was almost up, and he was hoping to make it through to the end of that year without anything going wrong.

  “Jesse?” Brooke waved her hand in front of his face.

  “Sorry. I was just thinking about something at the office.”

  “Oh.” She grinned. “That’s flattering.”

  “I didn’t mean …” Jesse shook his head. What a dolt. “You know how sometimes something just pops into your head for a moment.”

  “Something important?”

  “Not really.” He could feel her eyes on him, and he knew the moment of truth was almost upon him. Be strong, buddy, Clay had said.

  But Clay had no idea of just how strong the attraction was, or how badly Jesse wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. And how did he know whether or not Clay knew what he was talking about? Trust me. I know my sister.

  Jesse sighed and opened his car door. “I guess I’d better let you go. I’m sure you’re tired, what with all the baking you’ve been doing and the parade and everything …”

  He got out of the car as she opened her door and got out as well.

  “… and Logan mentioned when we were signing up for the parade that he’d had a birthday party yesterday.”

  “He did. Thank God, I’d had the presence of mind to book Scoop for the party. No way I’d have survived all that madness in the house.” She looped her hand through his arm as they went up the front steps. When they got to the porch, she looked up at him and said, “Did you want to come in for a few minutes?”

  Yes, damn it! Yes! his inner self shouted.

  Cool Jesse merely smiled. “Thanks, but it’s been a long day for me, too. Maybe another time.”

  “All right.” She sighed quietly.

  Had that sigh been one of disappointment?

  “Well, thanks again for bringing me home,” she continued. “But thanks most of all for everything you did for me today. I don’t know that I would have made it through if you hadn’t given me that little kick in the butt.”

  Her hand had taken his and she’d moved a little closer.

  Here is the big test, he told himself. This is the moment that could make or break you. Are you man enough to buck the trend, or are you going to cave?

  Could he really succeed where so many others had failed?

  “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” He gave her hand a little squeeze, and hesitated. Would one little kiss throw off his game completely, ruin his chances forever?

  Before he could decide, she’d turned just slightly, enough so that her upturned face was positioned just perfectly, and he couldn’t resist. He lowered his mouth and brushed his lips over hers. For a moment he was tempted to dive in, to sacrifice the long-term possibilities for this moment. Her lips were soft and warm, and tasted of the fruity punch they’d had at the Grange Hall. He wanted nothing more than to plunder that mouth and taste all of her.

  His hands on her shoulders, he slowly eased himself from her, put distance between them that he really didn’t want.

  The lawyer in him kicked in, even while his head was still buzzing. His lips still felt the pressure of the kiss, and he backed toward the steps.

  “ ’Night, Jess,” she said.

  “ ’Night, Brooke.” Then, “Oh,” he said as if just remembering. “I wrote to your brother-in-law. You’ll probably be hearing from him.”

  She walked to the porch railing. “I got the copy of the letter yesterday. Thank you.”

  “Oh. Right. Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you this week to finish that will we started last week.” He backed toward the car, tossing his keys from one hand to the other.

  “I’ll call Liz on Monday.”

  “Good idea. Well, good night.” He walked backward around the car, unable to take his eyes off her. The light of the moon surrounded her like a soft white halo, and for a moment she looked too ethereal to be real, and he was mesmerized. He somehow managed to get the car door open and slid behind the wheel before exhaling a very long breath.

  “Shoot me now,” he muttered as he turned on the ignition, made a quick K-turn, and waved out the window. He felt her eyes on him as he drove past.

  “I cannot believe I just did that,” he groaned, and for the next few blocks, he tried not to think about what could have been … what? A few hot kisses in the moonlight on the Madisons’ front porch? Would that have counted toward the one and done that Clay had warned about?

  Or would it have opened the door for something more?

  If Clay was right and Brooke was interested—and Jesse had to admit that he’d sensed back there that she was—then right now Brooke was back there wondering why he didn’t kiss her.

  If Clay is right—he may be the best friend I ever had.

  But if he was wrong … I just might have to kill him.

  Chapter 10

  BROOKE stood on the porch and watched Jesse’s taillights fade down the lane, and tried to figure out what had just happened. One minute Jesse’d been kissing her, and the next, gone. Just like that. As if he wasn’t really all that interested in kissing her. Thanks, Brooke, but no thanks.

  Could it be that she’d misread him?

  Unlikely. She’d felt that spark, and she knew damned well he’d felt it, too. There was moonlight, there’d been a day when she’d shared things about herself and he’d been supportive and had said all the right things. There’d been the way they moved together on the dance floor, and the light in his eyes when he looked at her. She went back over all the things he’d said and the things he’d done, the way he looked.

  The way he looked at her.

  No. She hadn’t been wrong about that. This certainly wasn’t the way she’d thought the night would end, nor was it the way she’d wanted it to.

  And wasn’t that, right there, the main reason she felt so damned confused? She’d wanted something from Jesse that she hadn’t been used to wanting lately, and he’d walked away.

  Perhaps Jesse was just a little bit confused himself. Hadn’t he said “That’s what friends are for” right before he kissed her? So who was he trying hardest to convince that they were just friends?

  The night was turning cooler and she turned the collar up on her jacket, but she wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. When her mind started to clear, she realized there was more than one issue here. One was why didn’t Jesse want to kiss her when she knew he was attracted to her. The other was why she’d wanted to kiss him in the first place.

  Brooke had always known when a guy was attracted to her. She’d had plenty of practice. Guys had been falling over her since she was in junior high. It wasn’t that she’d expected it to be that way—she’d just always known that it was. Things hadn’t changed since she’d returned to St. Dennis. There was still any number of men who were ready, willing, and able to jump through any hoops she might ask them to, if only she’d give them a chance. Though she’d denied it to Clay, she really hadn’t been interested in giving anyone the chance.

  There were a lot of reasons why. Some she knew were valid, and some she admitted were a little weak. But it all came down to the fact that she’d loved her husband with all her heart and had believed they’d be together for a very long time. That whole till-death-do-us-part thing had been only words at the time they’d exchanged their vows. Neither she nor Eric really believed that either of them would die young … not even given the fact that Eric was a soldier who’d gone back into combat again and again, that he’d had friends and comrades who didn’t make it home. Does anyone ever really think it would happen to them? Doesn’t everyone secretly believe that the worst can only happen to someone else?

  What woman planned on being a widow before she turned thirty-five?


  And yet Eric had died, and she had become a widow, and replacing him with another man had seemed obscene to her. Clay had been right when he’d said that she never went out with a guy more than one time. One date was enough to know whether or not the man she was with understood that she wasn’t coming off a breakup or a love affair that had turned bad, but that she’d buried the man she loved. Even some of the nicest guys she knew expected her to be “over it.”

  Jesse was the first man who hadn’t made her feel like she was foolish for not being over it. Like when she was in his office last week and said that she knew she should have listened to Jason when he wanted to talk about the business after Eric died but she’d felt like she wasn’t ready for that conversation. Jesse had understood that she’d been distraught and hadn’t made her feel like an idiot for not following up with Jace sooner. He’d seemed to understand how she felt about a lot of things besides Eric—her need to start her own business, her insecurities, the way she felt about the person she used to be.

  No, she definitely hadn’t misread him. It seemed more likely that he was misreading her. She’d obviously sent him the message that she wasn’t interested. And since she was just realizing herself how she felt, she couldn’t blame him for not recognizing the signs. There hadn’t been any.

  It was a curious place to find herself, she had to admit. Respect for Eric’s memory was only part of the reason she had no interest in finding someone else. When he died, the pain had been intense and unending and unlike anything she’d ever experienced. There was no way she was going to set herself up ever again to feel that kind of pain, that soul-shattering loss. Over the past few years, she’d learned to shield herself from any relationships that might eventually bring her to grief, and she could count the number of people she truly loved on one hand. For a long time, she’d believed there wasn’t room in her heart for anyone else. Now she was wondering why she was spending so much time out here in the cold second-guessing herself about why Jesse had pulled away from her—and why it mattered so much.

  It took a few more moments before she could admit, even to herself, that it mattered because she really liked him. There was something about Jesse that drew her to him. She’d poured her heart out to him earlier that day and he’d listened, heard every word without judging or patronizing her. He’d understood and he’d helped her to believe that the person she used to be didn’t matter anymore. He’d put his arms around her and drawn her in and held her close when they danced and she’d felt as if she belonged there. He’d kissed her one time and she’d wanted him to kiss her again—and friendship was the least of what she wanted from him.

  There, she’d said it, if only to herself.

  A star fell suddenly, a brief shining trail of light streaking across the late October sky. When she and Clay were kids, they used to sit outside and watch for shooting stars. The rule had been that you had to call the star and make your wish before the star disappeared or your wish wouldn’t come true.

  “Well, too late for that one,” she murmured as she watched the star’s light fade away. Too confused to even know what she would have wished for, Brooke went inside, turned off the porch light, and slowly climbed the stairs to bed.

  Halloween fell on the Monday night after the Halloween ball, and since her mother and Clay were at the farmhouse handing out treats to the few trick-or-treaters who ventured so far out of town, Brooke took Logan into St. Dennis for an hour of knocking on doors and collecting treats. In the past, when they’d lived in Kentucky and South Carolina, she’d only permitted him to ring doorbells of those people they knew, which greatly limited Logan’s haul. But in St. Dennis, where she knew just about everyone, choices had to be made or they’d be out all night. They’d mapped out their route over a quick dinner of pizza and headed out for some Halloween fun.

  The first stop was at Dallas’s aunt’s home, the stately Victorian mansion on River Road. Logan had been disappointed to find that Cody had left a half hour before Logan arrived, which to him meant only that Cody had thirty minutes head start on him. The two dogs—Cody’s Fleur and Berry’s Ally—danced around the visitors in the foyer.

  “You boys make such dashing pirates,” Berry had said, one hand over her heart. “I can’t remember when I feared walking the plank more.”

  “Miz Berry, we would never make you walk the plank,” Logan had said with all sincerity, causing Berry to plant a kiss on the top of his head and earning him extra candy.

  “Thanks, Miz Berry.” Logan watched her drop a few more candy bars into his trick-or-treat bag, hugged each of the dogs, then took off across the porch and down the steps.

  “Thanks, Berry.” Brooke hastened to catch up with her son as a crowd of seven or eight children made their way to the front door.

  “Now, who do we have here …” Berry’s voice drifted across the drive.

  Logan waited for his mother at the entrance to Berry’s driveway. “Where do we go next?”

  “We’re going to get in the car and drive up to the center of town and park there. We know a lot of people who live in the neighborhood behind the shops. But remember, just one hour, and then we have to go home. You have school in the morning.”

  “I know, but this is special, right? I heard you tell Gramma that.”

  “Being ‘special’ doesn’t mean we throw out all the rules. You know that this is usually the time we set aside for homework. The only reason you’re getting out tonight is because you have no homework.” Using the remote, Brooke unlocked the car as they approached.

  “Uh-uh, we do.” Logan opened the back door and climbed in. “We’re supposed to write a story about the best part of trick or treat and it can’t be about candy.”

  “You have to do that tonight?” Brooke frowned as she started the car and, careful to watch for other trick-or-treaters, proceeded toward the stop sign at the end of River Road.

  “No, tomorrow morning in school. We’re just supposed to think about it tonight.”

  “So what’s the best part of trick-or-treating if it isn’t the treats?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. We only went to one house so far.”

  Brooke watched in the rearview mirror as Logan folded his arms across his chest the same way both she and Clay did when they were thinking about something, and the gesture made her smile.

  “Mom, aren’t Fleur and Ally the best dogs ever?” he asked.

  “They are both pretty terrific dogs,” she agreed, no doubt in her mind where this would lead.

  “Mom, did you ask Uncle Clay if I could have a dog?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “How come?”

  “I haven’t gotten around to it.” Actually, Brooke had thought about it, and had decided that they’d take a look at the dogs in Grant Wyler’s shelter after they moved into the tenant house. She hadn’t wanted to tell Logan until they got the report back from the contractor, in case there was something terribly wrong that would prevent them from moving in. She didn’t expect that to be the case, but better to wait on good news rather than have to take it back.

  “Could you get around to it sometime?”

  “Sometime I will.”

  “Sometime soon?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I wish you’d just say yes.”

  At the corner of Charles and Cherry streets, Brooke made a left and parked the car halfway up the block. The sidewalks here were jammed with kids in costumes accompanied by parents—mostly fathers—who called for their offspring to “slow down and wait up.” Brooke recalled her mother shouting the same orders when she and Clay were of the age. Some things never change, she mused as she and Logan got out of the car. He saw a friend from school and took off, but not before she called out to him to wait right where he was. She let him blend in with a small group to ring doorbells while she and the other parents remained on the sidewalk making small talk.

  Every once in a while, Brooke would get a flashback from her own trick-or-treat days when she and Clay ha
d run up the same sidewalks and rung the same doorbells of the houses Logan and his friends were approaching. Different families lived in them back then, she reminded herself. The house the children now converged on had once been owned by the Clintons. Their daughter, Patti, had been two years ahead of Brooke in school. She’d died in an auto accident her junior year of high school, and the family had moved away shortly after. Brooke wondered if anyone knew where they’d gone. She’d never heard.

  She wondered, too, if any of her companions who’d grown up here were thinking about Patti as their children ran back down the sidewalk toward the next house.

  Eventually they made their way to the end of the block, where the children waited to be crossed. Logan and his group of friends crossed the street with someone’s dad serving as crossing guard and started up the other side. When they reached Vanessa’s and she appeared in the doorway to give out her treats, there was a whoop from the pack of kids, and Logan ran back to his mother waving a card.

  “Hey, Mom, look what Vanessa gave us!”

  “What have you got?” Brooke asked.

  “A card that says I can take it to Scoop for an ice-cream cone anytime I want!” Logan handed the card to his mother. “You hold it so it doesn’t get lost, okay?”

  “I’ll put it right in here and you can have it when we get home.” She tucked it into her shoulder bag and followed the group, which was starting to thin out, to the corner. The cross street was Hudson, and three houses down on the left was Jesse’s house. She stood on the corner, her hand on Logan’s shoulder, and wondered if Jesse was doing the trick-or-treat thing. A lot of single guys she knew didn’t bother.

  Logan and his friends went up the walk to the first house on Hudson. By the time they reached the second, Brooke saw that a large group of older kids was parading up the walk at number 429, just one house away. The front door opened and Jesse stepped out onto the porch. He must have been handing out something because the kids all converged on him momentarily before they turned back to the sidewalk, their calls of “thank you” drifting through the night.