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“No, I…”I what, you dummy?I lick my suddenly dry lips as I try to come up with an answer that doesn’t involve explaining my past or lying. “I want to help. I really do.”
“But?”
“I never said there was a but.”
“Nope,” he concedes, now leaning his own shoulder on the other pillar. It’s annoying how good he looks in his medium-wash jeans, cowboy boots, and grayBryant Bros. ConstructionT-shirt. If not for the fact that I’m very aware he’s a cop, I think I’d be easily convinced he came straight from the set of an HGTV show. “You didn’t say it. Your body language, however, did. I’m not sure what’s going on, but if this is going to be too hard for you for whatever reason that might be, just tell me.”
Oh, how I wish it was that simple.
“I want to do this,” I say, willing all the confidence I possess into my voice. I even straighten my shoulders like it’ll help the fact that he’s so much taller than me. Basically, my mind tells me we’re eye level even though he’s a mighty oak and I’m a nubby stump. I’m telling you, it’s all in the power of the brain. “Please trust me when I say I’ll be fine. It’s just some old memories this project brought about. That’s all. Seriously.”
I know he doesn’t believe me, but I’m not about to open up to him right now. Not on a saggy porch while it rains and Alessia’s waiting for him in his truck. Maybe I should’ve told the girl to drive off if it would’ve prevented this whole conversation between Seth and me. Is telepathy real? Can I send her SOS vibes without having to communicate verbally? Does anyone know the answer to these incredibly important questions?
If so, please tell me right now because Seth straightens and takes a couple steps towards me until we’re barely a foot apart and I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. I suck in a sharp breath at his nearness get a lungful of his yummy scent. If my mind didn’t go into a frenzy with him this close to me, I might enjoy it.
NO.I change my mind before I can let myself enjoy it even the tiniest bit. Allen’s out there waiting for me, and I’m waiting for him, and Seth is not Allen. Not even a little bit.
“I do trust you, Jen.” Seth’s voice is a quiet, low rumble as he speaks, and I think I almost shiver. Is it cold out here or is it just me? “But do you trust yourself?”
The question—or his nearness, I’m not really sure—makes me swallow again. I want to come back with some flippant response, but my brain won’t allow it. In fact, I can’t figure out how to say any words at all right now. I don’t know how to speak. I’m like a newborn infant who opens and closes her mouth but can just gurgle sounds, only I don’t think I’m as cute as they are.
Seth’s holding my gaze captive with those impossibly blue eyes of his, and without my permission, my eyes wander down south for the briefest of moments. If I raised up on my tiptoes and he took one more step towards me, our lips would meet. What would a kiss from Seth Johnson be like? I’m willing to bet he’d be fully in control, his movements carefully calculated and assured. I know what a hug from him was like, and that might as well have been a kiss with the way my heart raced during and after it.
Then thunder claps across the sky and I jump, my startled gaze flying back up his eyes as he takes a step back. The moment, whatever it was, is over. I should be happy about that, but the rebellious side of me boos with disappointment. I’m pretty sure it’s throwing tomatoes and squash at the sky for interrupting us.
“My sister told me to invite you and the kids over for supper with us.” He says this as if we didn’t just have a moment I’m not about to try and define. I’m annoyed his voice sounds so normal, because I know mine would come out like in a squeak if I tried to talk. “I guarantee she made plenty of food, and it’s too late for you to have to figure out something of your own. I’ve got to drop Alessia off, and either you can drive or I can pick you up. Your choice.”
I would rather go home, spend the evening with my kids, and then destress from my rollercoaster emotions by painting for a little while, but I don’t think he’ll takenofor an answer, so I simply nod.
What’s another couple hours in Seth’s presence, anyway?
Chapter Nine
Seth
Ilied.
My sister did not, in fact, invite Jenna and the kids over for supper. That was all me, because I don’t want Jen to have to figure out what to make for supper at six on a Thursday. I guess that part was true. But considering my sister agreed to act like she was the one who told me to invite them, well, I’m going to owe Jess big time. I’m also going to have to endure a little too much teasing from her, but I’ve dealt with it for three years now. At this point I’ve learned to tune her out.
Of course, I used to be able to tease her back about Marshall, but now I don’t have that kind of ammo. They’ve been happily married for a few months shy of a year, and sometimes I wonder how it’s possible for them to getmorein love than before. It might be because my outlook on love is jaded from my own experiences and I do my best not to let that show around the happy couple, but sometimes it rubs salt in a wound I wish would just callous over.
Jess has told me Marshall sends her flowers every Wednesday as a mid-week surprise just like his father does for Jackie (which, I guess, isn’t really a surprise), she makes a batch of some kind of goodie for him to take to the office or a build site every week, and they do their best to go on a date every Saturday. I knew instinctively that Marshall’s feelings for my sister shifted from friends to more after she left for Paris a couple years ago, but I decided not to bring it up at that point. And then, when Jess was hellbent on locating our father last year, Marshall finally confided in me about his feelings. If it would’ve been anyone else, I might’ve put the guy through a vigorous bootcamp to just go on a date with Jess, but I know Marshall. I knew his intentions were nothing but honorable. I also know his family. John Bryant, Marshall’s father, used to be the chief of police in town, and I don’t think there’s anyone on this planet who I respect more. The fact that Jess has him for a father-in-law gives me an odd sense of assurance that I’ll never lose that role model in my own life.
Now we’re sitting at the table in Marshall and Jess’s two-bedroom cottage, finishing up supper as the rain continues to fall beyond the sliding glass doors, and I couldn’t regret my choice to invite Jenna, Ella, and Eli if I wanted to. Ella has chattered nonstop about the fort they built at Nana Alice’s today, and Eli even piped up to say it was “fun.” Even though he’s three now, the boy doesn’t talk a whole lot. Possibly because his sister does enough talking for the both of them, but my instincts tell me it has more to do with the fact that his father is absent. I was eleven when my world got upended, but kids remember things.
Sometimes a little too keenly.
It’s why I do my best to give Eli my undivided attention if he ever does say anything or wants me to play with him. I might not have a desire to get married and have a family, but I do care about Jenna and the kids. Being some kind of a role model for a three-year-old boy is the least I can do.
I push my plate back slightly once it’s clean and glance at Jess. “You know, sometimes I wonder why I even cook at all when I could just invite myself over here every night.”
“Uh, you basically already do.” Jess grins as she leans back in her chair, one hand resting on her baby bump. She has that pregnant mama glow, and I can’t help but admit that she’s looked happier in the past year than she did for a long time. “Okay, now it’s time for dishes before we have dessert. I made an extra batch of cinnamon rolls today, but there’s also cookies if the kids want those.”
“I can help with the dishes,” Jenna says, wiping a smear of ketchup from Eli’s cheek. “I don’t mind cooking, but I’d actually rather do dishes.”
“We have pretend dishes at home,” Ella says, climbing to her knees on her chair. Her dark curls are pulled into twin pigtails and she’s sporting a pink shirt with princesses on it with a pair of denim shorts. It’s an outfit she told me she chose all on her own this morning when I picked them up before coming over here. “Sometimes Eli splashes water too much and then it goesall overthe kitchen!”
“Ella, please sit down, okay?” Though her voice is firm, Jenna still speaks calmly. “And yes, that does happen sometimes, but for the most part he keeps the water in the sink. Don’t you, buddy?”
