by Maisey Yates
Because she was with someone else and she had to be. She had to be.
It was that had to be that had echoed inside of her yesterday. Because why? Why had she built for herself a series of had tos? Why was she so hamstrung by rules that she had created for herself?
She touched that photo, briefly, Laz and Gladys, and then went down the hall.
“Good morning,” she mumbled.
She hated this feeling. When she did sleep, this was how it was. A brief few hours and in the wrong space of time.
“Oh good,” he said. “You’re up.”
“Is it early?”
“No,” he said. “Very late. But, this is about when I get up anyway, and this is when you should be getting up.”
“You have another bedroom?”
“No. The spare room is an office now.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“The couch. It’s a nice couch.”
“That’s not fair. You didn’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“Where was I going to sleep, Jordan?”
Those dark brown eyes met hers and she faltered. Because there was no real answer for that that didn’t make her skin feel like it was too tight.
“Well. I will take that bacon.”
“I have bacon. Because I always deliver on my promises.”
“I know you do,” she said.
It was one of the things about him. He was just always there for people. For everyone. She’d heard stories over the years... He had single-handedly solved more romance crises in the town of Gold Valley than she could have ever imagined one small community could have had. He was good. At listening, and consequently, sometimes good at hearing things that other people didn’t even realize they were saying. And yet... Well, and yet. Here she was. He hadn’t fixed her issues.
She felt a little bit salty about that.
“Have a seat.”
She did, careful to tuck the blanket underneath her legs so that not too much of her thigh made contact with the cold wood on the chair. The dining table was nice. Solid wood.
“This is...” She looked around. In fact, for all the place was small everything in it was solid. Well made. She could feel the history of the house, and the quality of everything inside. There was a heaviness to it. Not like the new, neighborhood tract house that she and Dylan shared.
“I made it,” he said.
“Get out. You made this?”
“Yeah. I have a wood shop. In my spare time I...”
“Your spare time?”
“I don’t have a family, Jordan. I don’t have anyone to answer to. My time is my own. I come home from the bar, I make sure that things on the ranch are running smoothly when I get up in the morning, handle the payroll for all the staff. For the bar and the ranch. I go to the shop and I wood work. Sometimes I go for a ride. One or the other.”
“How did I not know that about you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t talk about it much.”
“Right. I guess people tend to not ask about you.”
He shrugged. “That’s not really my job.”
“Well, you know about everybody else. You know all about me and all about my issues.”
“You’ve seen some of my issues, Jordan,” he said, his eyes suddenly getting serious. And it made her feel warm.
“Yeah. I guess. But it’s still not the same. People drink, and they tell you everything.”
“You don’t drink. Not really.”
“Fine. I just tell you things because I like you.”
“Great,” he said.
There was a tension in his shoulders as he moved around the kitchen. He went over to the coffeepot and poured a generous mug. “Coffee?”
She laughed. “Well, technically I have a hard time drinking coffee that I don’t make. Because I make it so well.”
“You know, making drinks is kind of my thing too,” he said.
“But not coffee.”
He held the mug out toward her, and she took it, their fingertips brushing. It made her stomach go tight. “I drink coffee. And I don’t like drinking anything that doesn’t taste good.”
“All right, so you’re trying to make sure I know you’re not a disgusting bachelor?”
“Oh, I’m a disgusting bachelor. But also discerning. That’s just how I am. So.”
“Right. So discerning.”
Silence stretched between them. “Why didn’t you tell me not to marry him, Laz?”
She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Not at all. She hadn’t meant to... She felt stupid. Her face got hot.
His eyes went sharp. “You would have welcomed that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that you... You give advice to everybody. I know you do. You tell them what they really want. You tell them what’s good for them. But you didn’t tell me not to marry Dylan.”
“Look, Jordan, did I know that you weren’t in love with him? Yes. But was there any way to say that? Come on. Be honest with me. If I had said that to you...”
“Fine. But I just wish...”
“Sorry, little girl. You gotta take responsibility for that all on your own. And I know that’s not fun. But the fact of the matter is, it’s nobody’s fault but yours that you let it get up to the wedding day and then let it dissolve.”
“Teller of hard truths,” she muttered.
“Right. So, how do you want to get your clothes?”
“I think Dylan is gone,” she said. “So it should be pretty easy for you to go back and get them. If you don’t mind. There’s a spare key to the house under the flowerpot by the front door.”
“Wow. Very secure. Why don’t you just not lock your doors?”
“That wouldn’t be safe,” she said, deadpan.
“At least give the burglars a scavenger hunt.”
“Well, I didn’t. But it should be pretty easy for you to get in. My... I have a packed suitcase.”
“Great. I’ll grab it.”
“I don’t know where I’m going to go. I’m going to have to get a place. But I don’t make enough money at Sugar Cup to just magically have a deposit for an apartment.”
She wasn’t just an employee at Sugar Cup, she was a part owner. She had bought a stake in it a few years ago, and she had never been more proud of herself. In hindsight, it was a telling thing, really, that Dylan had been worried about how much time it would take away from their relationship, and Laz had been extremely proud of her.
That should have been clarifying all on its own. Why should her friend be happier for her than her fiancé?
“I’ll tell you what. You were supposed to be on vacation the next couple weeks anyway. Why don’t you work for me instead. Hide up here and earn some money.”
“Laz... There’s no...”
“I can pay you whatever the hell I want.”
“I’m not taking charity from you.” She couldn’t do charity. Because she’d done it. Too many times. There were always fake grins and an expectation of gratitude. She’d often thought people were waiting for her to put on a Cockney accent and do a dance number with a chimney sweep when they’d given her canned food as a child. And then of course there was Dylan’s family.
“You’re my best friend,” he said. “If you don’t take charity from me, who are you going to take it from? Anyway. I will give you jobs to do. Don’t you worry about that.”
She wouldn’t point out that she had in fact taken charity many times. When she was a kid and it was that or go hungry.
“Why are you doing all this for me?” she asked.
“Jordan, I think that you have been under the delusion that the only people that were going to ever do anything for you were Dylan and his family. I get that your parents did a hell of a number on you. And I don’t blame you for being skeptical ab
out the fact that there are more than just four good people in this world. I get that his mother and father and brother have been there for you. And I get that in some capacity he has been. But that’s not a good enough reason to marry somebody. And it doesn’t mean that nobody else wants to be there for you. I want to be there for you. So let me.”
There was really no other option. What he was giving her was the best chance at getting her life together that she could have ever thought of. He was giving her an opportunity to hide. To earn money.
“Well, where are you going to sleep?”
“You’re very concerned about me, as if I’m not a grown man who hasn’t spent a hell of a long time taking care of himself.”
“Well, then what do you want me to do?”
“I miss my grandmother’s cooking. I miss having the house a little bit tidier. If you could be my housekeeper for the next couple of weeks...”
“I’m not going to be able to cook like your grandma.”
She recalled Laz bringing in some of the things his grandmother had made to the bar. Gladys Jenkins’s cooking had Southern roots, and while Jordan was handy—especially when it came to baking—she didn’t know anything about food from Louisiana.
“That’s fine. I eat all kinds of food. Just know that I’ll appreciate it.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it. Thank you. Because I just don’t know what else I would’ve done.”
“That’s what I do. I take care of people.”
And she couldn’t deny that, but there was something about that assurance that rang hollow to her, and she didn’t know quite what to do with it.
CHAPTER THREE
WELL, HELL. LAZ hadn’t meant to go and get himself a roommate. But, here he was. Engaging in a high level of torture that he hadn’t intended to fling himself down at the mercy of.
And as he drove down through the main street of Gold Valley, looking at the familiar redbrick buildings and pondering his life choices, he realized that there had never been a choice. Not really. He could be as irritated with himself as he wanted, but that didn’t make it... Well, any less than it was. He was going to be there for Jordan. Whatever she needed.
He just would. Because there were certain things that he... There were certain things he could give her. And certain things he couldn’t. And all of that was a tangle around what he wished.
Why hadn’t he asked her not to marry Dylan?
Because it would have been a self-interested demand. He wanted her. It was plain as that. He wanted her in his bed, but he didn’t know how to have someone else in his life.
And he wondered if he was like Gladys. Too stubborn and too solitary to ever really settle down. He had often wondered that about his own dad.
His dad was a faithful husband. He would never leave his mother. He had been dedicated to them, always. But he’d also flung himself into his work as a doctor. His practice had taken precedence over everything else. And it had caused endless issues between his parents, because his mother’s work as a lawyer had been extremely demanding and she had felt like his dad didn’t give enough at home. They had never fought. No. At least, not shouting and screaming.
It had been death by a thousand cuts.
Pinpricks of passive aggressiveness that marred every single day. And Laz himself felt like he was walking on eggshells constantly. Just trying to avoid all of that. But he knew firsthand how parents could be there for you physically, and yet hold everything back emotionally. How people could be in a marriage, and simultaneously not be in it. Technically doing all the right things, but emotionally not managing it. And he just... He had no interest in failing somebody that profoundly. And at the end of the day, that was his concern. That he would profoundly fail the person that he tried to enmesh in his life.
When he pulled up to the little house that Jordan shared with Dylan, he felt a strange turn of envy.
Well, she didn’t share it with him anymore. Now she shared his house with him. So what about that?
He walked up to the front door, and lifted the little pot with the geranium in it, grabbing hold of the key that was indeed there, and then he fit it into the lock. But just as he did, the door jerked open. And there was Dylan, looking enraged. Laz was no stranger to a bar fight—at least breaking one up. But it wouldn’t even be fair to engage in a scuffle with Dylan, who was about half his muscle mass and at least three inches shorter. Basically, Laz could kick his ass by breathing on him too hard.
“She didn’t think you’d be here.”
“Oh,” Dylan said. “She’s with you. I should have known.”
Laz had briefly met Dylan a couple of times over the years. On the odd occasion that they’d come into the bar to eat a meal. He’d never been hostile toward Laz, but Laz had always gotten the feeling that he didn’t particularly like him.
It was fine. He was used to that. Often men found him intimidating. Because Laz was the kind of guy who could absolutely steal your girl if he felt like it. It was just that he didn’t want drama, so he didn’t often feel like it. And when it came to Jordan... He cared too much. He had always cared too much. To just seduce her. To ask her for a fling to scratch the itch that echoed through his whole soul.
“Yes,” Laz said. “She’s with me. Because she came to me, and she needed a place to go. And I’m her friend.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re her friend. Your reputation precedes you,” Dylan said, stepping forward, and to his credit, Laz had a feeling he pretty much would challenge Laz to a fight at this point. So he had to give the guy at least a little bit of props for that. Apparently he’d go all in in a fight for Jordan. It was just too bad he would lose.
“Look, her coming to me has nothing to do with that. Her not marrying you has nothing to do with me.” He wished it did. Even if it wasn’t fair.
“I don’t believe that.”
“Feel free to go on not believing it. But it’s true. I’m here to get her things.”
“Where is she staying?”
“None of your damn business. She’ll talk to you when she’s ready. But she needs to sort herself out.”
“I’m her fiancé. You’re nothing to her. You’re some guy she moons over in the bar. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. She practically drools when you walk by.”
“Then I guess that’s your fault for not giving her something to moon over. If I’m irresistible to her, that’s your damn fault. You should have been more irresistible, I guess. And before you say anything, that’s got nothing to do with looks. I listened to her. How long’s it been since you’ve done that.”
He pushed past Dylan. “I just want her suitcase.”
“This is my house.”
“I have a key. Because Jordan told me where it was. It’s her house too. You all are going to have to sort that out, but I am here to sort this out. Because she asked me to. Because I’m her friend. I don’t care if you don’t understand that.”
He saw the suitcase, sitting there by the sofa. And he grabbed it. He didn’t have to ask if it was Jordan’s, because it had flowers on it. Which was funny, he hadn’t taken her for the kind who would have a flowered suitcase. And somehow he knew it had been a gift. A gift she’d been given that just didn’t fit her at all. He would buy Jordan a black suitcase, and sure, it would be harder to find on the luggage carousel, but it would at least suit her demeanor.
Jordan didn’t like to draw attention to herself. You had to dig deep to get to her humor. You had to dig deep to get her loyalty. But it was worth it. And he had to wonder if any of these people who had cared for her had ever dug for the parts of Jordan that made her... Her.
He took the suitcase and hefted it into his truck. He had just enough time to get back to his place, deposit all this and get back to the bar. He didn’t have to be there every day. He had a good staff that handled things for him, but mostly he was just used
to it. It was his life. Just the way he was fundamentally put together, he imagined. His grandmother had made the ranch her life. His father had made his medical practice his life. And Laz might not be a doctor, but he loved what he did. And he cared about it. It earned him a living, and gave him a sense of accomplishment.
He drove back up to the house, and was greeted by the smell of baking bread.
Yeah. This was a good idea. “Here are your things,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I’m hungry.”
“Well. Good. The bread is almost done. And there’s soup. Do you eat when you get home from the bar usually?”
“Usually. You don’t have to...”
“I don’t sleep, remember?”
“Right. Well. If you don’t mind...”
“I don’t. I’m going to earn my keep. I’m not just going to let you give money to me because you feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t just feel sorry for you.” He sighed. “Dylan is not gone.”
“Dylan’s not gone?”
“No. He was at the house when I went there.”
“Oh... Shit.”
“Yeah. So, he knows that I know where you are. But he doesn’t know where you are.”
“I’m just not ready. But that’s the problem. I wasn’t ready when I needed to be. Because you are right. I shouldn’t have let it get to the day.”
“I understand what you did. It’s complicated.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Extremely complicated.”
They had lunch after that, and it felt disturbingly domestic from Laz’s point of view. But then he had to get down to the bar to open, and he welcomed the distraction. There had been some pretty heavy drama down at the bar recently anyway. The Daniels family had provided him with enough entertainment to last him a good while. And he told himself that he didn’t want to miss anything.
