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“You like the muffins?”
“More than like. I’m pretty sure I’m in love. If this muffin keeps it up, we might be engaged by the end of the day.”
She giggles at that and takes a sip from her glass. “It’s no wonder Tex was so tickled with you, Leah. You’re cute as a button.”
I blush a bit, shrugging my shoulders at the unexpected compliment.
“So, if you don’t mind me askin’, where were you before? I was worried you’d broken down somewhere.”
“I went to your son’s house to…uh…introduce myself.” Which went horribly wrong and I’m pretty sure I really pissed him off, but no big deal.
Her eyes stretch wide, and she shakes her head. “And I imagine that went really well, huh?” she asks, sarcasm laced heavily through her every word. Still, this is her son we’re talking about, and the last thing I want to do is get too comfortable bad-mouthing him to his mama.
“Meeting your adorable granddaughter Joey was the highlight of my week,” I say honestly, omitting the rest for the sake of us both.
Your son, on the other hand… Well, he wasn’t too thrilled. Or welcoming.
Jenny purses and smacks her lips together. Clearly, she’s read between the lines just fine. “My Rhett can be like that. Especially when it’s over something his daddy arranged without his permission. And something this big?” She laughs a little and shakes her head. “Probably went over like a hooker teaching Bible school.”
Her transparency takes me off guard, but also, it makes me feel as if I can tell her anything. Like, whatever I say right here at this kitchen table will stay between us.
Maybe that’s naïve, but her soft voice and friendly smile and gentle eyes make Jenny Jameson’s presence feel like a big comforting blanket on a cold winter day.
Her eyes hold no judgment and even less impatience.
And that’s when it occurs to me that this conversation with her is probably my one and only chance to turn this situation around. And if I don’t give it to her straight, I might as well just give it up now. The complete, mostly unfiltered truth is the only shot I have left to avoid crawling back to Salt Lake City with my tail between my legs. Somehow, I don’t think Frank Kaminsky would welcome me back to my job at the Slammers with open arms after I fucked up a favor—and job—for one of his oldest and dearest friends within twenty-four hours of my arrival.
“Honestly? Yeah.” A laugh jumps from my throat. “Rhett seemed about as excited to see me as I am to see my period while I’m wearing an all-white outfit. I mean, I think he was actually trying to keep in mind that I didn’t hire myself, but when he tried to call your husband to let off some of the steam in his pot, he didn’t answer. And then, well, the Jeep broke down and he had to fix it, so…”
She tsks her tongue. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, that’s some introduction.”
I nod. “Basically, it was just one big disaster after another.”
Jenny sighs and rolls her eyes. “I swear, sometimes, my husband—and son—could really use a boot up their stubborn asses.”
“I take it Rhett and his dad are kind of…at odds with each other occasionally?”
“Occasionally?” Her eyes go comically wide. “These days, it’s a rare occurrence to see them getting along. Like oil and water, the two of ’em. They’re always battling. But it shouldn’t be a surprise, really. They’re cut from the same obstinate cloth, too much pride and ego and likeness between them to mesh well together. It’s like watching two big bulls banging horns.”
She sighs and takes another sip of lemonade as a wave of realization washes over me. I glance down at my fingers and mindlessly run them along the well-worn, but obviously loved, dining table.
This is a long-standing, ongoing battle between father and son that, quite frankly, I don’t have any business thinking I have the tools to solve. Neither I, nor my older brother Sam, have spoken to either one of our parents in years. They’re both raging alcoholics and put the “hell” in unhealthy relationship. Once we were out of the house and on our own, keeping our distance from them, unfortunately, became a requirement to live normal lives.
Truthfully, I can’t even fathom what it’s like to have love and conflict mingled together like the Jameson men.
Rhett really doesn’t want my help—even though, by the looks of the reckless shit he was doing without crutches, he really fucking needs it—and although Tex was insistent that I stick out the two months, he didn’t exactly fill me in on the kind of resistance I’d be up against.
Trying to wrap my head around all this, navigate my way through it, feels like someone dropped me off in the middle of the woods without Wi-Fi or sustenance and told me to find my way back.
