Home Sweet Home: A Sweet, Texas Novella (10 page)

Just this morning, he’d needed a moment of solitude and had gone into the barn to brush down Rocky, his favorite quarter horse. In two blinks, his mother rushed out to check on him. Jake had felt his throat tighten and a streak of panic grip his chest. While he appreciated the love and thoughtfulness, he was having a hard time adjusting to all the fuss.

He wasn’t broken, he just needed a break.

A moment to forget the bad and remember the good. To find his way back into the rhythm of life—one that had nothing to do with military routines, high-powered weapons, and the enemies of mankind. To find the joy and laughter that had once been the foundation of his life.

Minutes later, he rolled the truck to a stop in the gravel lot beside Bud’s Nothing Finer Diner. The exterior was little more than a yellow concrete box with a neon sign. But the interior overflowed with character and a patriotic red, white, and blue décor that shouted “Don’t Mess With Texas” from every corner. No question he’d be walking into a bird’s nest of gossip. Bud’s was the place the townsfolk gathered to mourn, celebrate, discuss local politics or who was sleeping with whom.

From his open window, the aroma of grilled burgers and fresh apple pie made his mouth water. When he opened the truck door, he realized that getting down from the damn thing might not be as easy as getting up. He hadn’t thought of that earlier when he’d climbed inside. His thigh muscles were healing in a way that made moving in one direction easy. The opposite direction, however, was like letting Freddy Krueger use him as a scratching post.

Thankful no one was in the parking lot to see him struggle, he maneuvered down to the ground, curled his fingers over the head of the cane, and controlled his uneven gait as he headed inside.

Bud’s might be Sweet’s breeding ground for chitchat, but he hadn’t come looking for gossip, sympathy, or acknowledgment.

He’d just come for a burger and a milk shake.

Before he could reach for the door handle, the door swung outward. Holding it open from the other side was Chester Banks, Sweet’s very own playboy octogenarian. The man had more nose than face these days, and his smile often displayed a set of false teeth that didn’t always stay put, but he gave Jake a respectful nod as Jake maneuvered into the diner with as little detection as possible.

“No need to thank me,” Chester said. “Been in about the same place as you. Got my scrawny ass shot up stormin’ that damn beach in World War II. Sure puts a hitch in yer giddyup, but it coulda been worse, I guess.”

“True that.” Jake had no idea the old guy had ever served in the military, let alone one of the toughest wars ever battled. Of course, as a soldier himself, he knew there were two kinds of veterans; those who loved to tell war stories, and those who wanted to bury the memories deep. As easy as it was to poke fun at Chester’s flirtatious ways, at least the old codger was still around to make it happen.

“Thanks just the same,” he said, as Chester gave him another nod and left the diner.

While Jake made his way to a booth, he got a two-finger salute from Bill McBride, a Vietnam vet, and a chin lift from Ray Calhoun, both of whom were sitting at a table, playing a game of checkers. At the big round table in the back, the Digging Divas Garden Club looked up in surprise. Instead of their usual exuberance, most just smiled as though they realized he might need some space. The tear sliding down Arlene Potter’s crinkly cheek could have been from allergies. Or it could have been because, even at her advanced age, Arlene loved a man in uniform. Not that he was wearing one. But that really didn’t matter to Arlene. She had a vivid imagination.

Jake tried to relax. He hadn’t known exactly what he’d be walking into here, but the silent acknowledgments worked just fine for him.

With his favorite booth vacant, he eased over to the middle of the red vinyl seat and stretched his leg. As he looked out the window at the passersby on their way through their daily routines, he took a breath to ease the ache slicing down his thigh. Moments later, a menu sailed onto the table in front of him, and a cup of ice water landed without a splash.

His head instantly came up.

Blue eyes focused, Annie Morgan stood there, weight balanced on one hip while she tapped the eraser of her pencil against the order pad.

In the past couple of years, the Wilder family had expanded with three of his brothers having said the I do’s. Thanks to his brother, Jackson, and her sister, Abby, he and Annie were now related by marriage. Before that, they’d been adversaries for as long as Jake could remember. Always outspoken and not a stranger to butting in where she didn’t belong, they’d gone head-to-head on many outlandish subjects. If he said the sky was blue, she’d argue it was turquoise. If he said a steak would take seven minutes to grill, she’d say five. If he said the Rangers would win by a home run, she’d bet they’d lose with a strikeout. It seemed like the girl just liked to argue. More often than not, he’d rise to the bait. Just as he always did with his brothers. One of these days, he’d learn to just sit back and smile.

Today probably wasn’t that day.

“Forget something?” Her eyes narrowed just slightly, and the silky blond ponytail hanging down her back swung to the side as she tilted her head in a way that suggested she was primed for a challenge.

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Uh-huh.” She tucked the stub of a standard yellow pencil behind her ear. “Guess you’ve been away too long to remember that most folks walk in here wearing a smile. Looks like you left yours at home.”

“Guess I’m just not much in the mood.”

“Seriously?” Her eyes narrowed a bit more, yet somehow a shower of silver sparks still managed to flash. “Why?”

He hated to use the word Duh, but it seemed so apropos.

“So …” Her shoulders lifted and dropped. “What? You’re going to let that walking cane snuff out the eternally grinning smart-ass that lives inside you?”

Her comment hit its mark with stinging success.

Jake clenched his teeth and lowered his gaze to the laminated menu he’d been able to recite by heart since he’d been twelve. “Annabelle, how about you go away and give me a minute to look over the menu?”

“Because that would be a total waste of time, Jacob.”

His gaze jerked up again just as she shifted her weight to a position she probably intended as a show of obstinacy. Yet all it really managed to do was push her full breasts against that snug white Bud’s Diner T-shirt. Instinctively, his gaze dropped lower to the little black skirt hugging nicely rounded hips and the pair of tanned, shapely legs that ended with the sparkly blue sneakers on her feet. Liking what he saw, his gaze took that same slow ride back up her body.

When the hell had little Annie Morgan grown up and gotten so curvy?

“You can stare at that menu all day long,” she said through lips that were pink, plump, and glossy. Lips that looked like they needed to be kissed.

The unexpected and unwanted thought was like a splash of ice water in his face. Annie had been a pain in his backside for as long as he could remember. The last thing he should be doing was thinking about her damned mouth. Or her curvy body. To his dismay and against his commands, awareness tightened his body below the belt.

“In the end,” Annie continued, “you’re going to choose a double Diablo burger with extra peppers, a side of sweet-potato fries—extra crispy, and a chocolate-banana shake.”

Challenged, he leaned forward and met her glare. “How do you know what I want?”

“Because.” She planted her palm down on the table and leaned in till they were nearly nose to nose. “While you and your football buddies parked your cocky behinds in the booth by the door so all your minions could see you and come in to fawn all over you, some of us were slinging hash and cleaning up your mess after you left.”

He leaned back. “I don’t remember your working here.”

“Why would you?” She shifted her weight again, and he’d have to be dead not to notice that somewhere between his last visit home and now, Annie had become quite a knockout. “In those days, you could barely see beyond Jessica Holt’s big brown eyes and bodacious ta-tas. I, Annie of the flat-as-a-surfboard chest and metal mouth, deterred your hormonal-teenage-boy scrutiny.”

She certainly wasn’t flat-chested anymore.

He could argue about the hormonal part, but why bother. In high school, he’d been interested in three things; having fun, getting laid, and getting laid.

Some things were important enough to be counted twice.

“You make me sound like such a jackass.”

One corner of her luscious pink lips kicked upward. “You were.”

Yeah. He probably had been. And he wasn’t really sure he appreciated the reminder.

“So why are you working here now?” he asked, deftly changing the subject. “Didn’t you get enough slinging hash the first time around?”

“A girl’s got to earn a living somehow. Slinging hash is all I’ve ever really done. My hand-dipped chocolates haven’t exactly taken off like wildfire. And since Sweet’s street corners are already occupied with whiskey barrels and petunias, there isn’t any room for me to hang around waiting for customers.”

“Always the smart-ass,” he said.

“Takes one to know one.”

Before he could protest, she lifted her hand off the table and stepped back with a serious look.

“When you’re a single mom with a baby, you have to earn a living somewhere that will understand your child is your first priority. And that if they’re sick, you might not be able to make it to work that day. Bud’s a dad and a grandfather, so he understands. He also knows I’d never take his generosity for granted.”

Shit. How could he have gotten so tangled up in his own troubles that he’d forgotten Annie was a single mom now after having been abandoned by her baby’s slimeball father?

“How’s Max doing?”

“Growing like the cutest weed in the garden of life.” Pride burst across her pretty face. “He’s walking now. Gets into everything. Izzy’s trying to teach him to talk in sentences. But his favorite word is still Mamamamamama.”

He chuckled, and the sensation that pushed through his chest felt as warm as sunshine. Then just as quick, regret that he’d missed so much kicked in. “It seems like I was gone for an eternity. I can’t believe Max is walking. Reno and Charli have a baby. Jackson and Abby have one on the way. And Izzy’s already started kindergarten.”

“Your brother can’t believe it either. I think it’s hard for Jackson not seeing Izzy all the time because of the shared custody with Fiona. Even though Fiona’s an amazing mom and they have such a wonderful relationship. Mostly he complains that Izzy’s growing up so fast makes him feel old.”

Jake got that. He felt ancient, and he’d just barely turned thirty-one. “So I guess you’ll be at this get-together my mom is planning?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I don’t suppose you could talk her out of it.”

Eyes wide, she exhaled a little puff of exasperation. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“Pardon me for being blunt, but why would you want to take that away from her?” She sighed, then glanced away when a customer called her name. With a nod in their direction, she brought her eyes back around to him, sharp and focused. “I know I can’t imagine what you went through over there. And I know when you guys come back you don’t always like to talk about it. But I was here with your mom when she got the call about what happened. I saw the absolute devastation and the fear on her face when she realized that not only had she lost her firstborn son and the husband she loved with all her heart, but that she’d also come very close to losing her baby boy. She’s so damned happy you made it home, there’s no way I’d try to talk her out of celebrating the fact that you’re alive.”

Rendered speechless for maybe the first time in his life, Jake lifted the glass of water to his mouth and sipped.

“You should be happy too, Jake.”

With a thud, he set his glass down on the table. For a long, awkward, silent moment, he watched the condensation slide down the side of the glass pitted by many trips through the dishwasher. When he composed himself, he looked up and pushed the menu in her direction.

He wasn’t happy.

And the constant ache in his chest made him realize he might never be happy again.

“So …” Annie tossed him a know-it-all glare. “Double Diablo burger with extra peppers, a side of sweet-potato fries—extra crispy, and a chocolate-banana shake?”

“Sure.” Dammit. He hated to let her win.

One purple-polished fingernail dragged the menu across the table. Jake held his breath and willed her to leave. But, of course, this was Annie, and God knew the girl did things in her own damned way and in her own damned time.

“Well, even if you aren’t happy …” She snatched up the menu. “I’m really glad you made it back.”

SEEKING A MUCH-NEEDED break, Annie tossed Jake’s menu on the stack of others near the cash register, gave Bud a finger-across-the-throat indication that she was momentarily frazzled, and headed toward the back door. The screen door slammed with a shotgun bang behind her as she leaned against the old yellow building and sucked in a calming lungful of warm air.

The relief of seeing Jake alive and back on home turf filled her heart with so much joy, it was hard to breathe. The moment he’d walked through the door, she’d wanted to reach out and touch him to make sure he was real and not just another one of her highly imaginative dreams. But touching Jake had never been a part of her reality. And that’s just one of the many things that sucked about worshipping from afar.

If she’d been a smoker, now would be the time she’d light one up to calm her nerves. Instead, she reached into the pocket of her apron, took out a watermelon-flavored Jolly Rancher, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. The sugary tartness rolled over her tongue, and she closed her eyes to ward off the memories that nipped at her heels.

Closing her eyes only made those memories more powerful.

Why men had a habit of either rewriting history or dismissing it altogether, Annie didn’t know. But it seemed Jake had fallen down the rabbit hole and forgotten how, once upon a time, they’d spent hours together having heart-to-heart discussions about everything from why girls spent so many hours in front of the mirror trying to perfect what God had given them to why guys had such a crazy need to be so rough-and-tumble. They’d discussed how difficult it had often been for him to keep up with his brothers when sometimes all he really wanted to do was go out and dig a garden or move some rocks to form a nice landscape. They’d talked about how she felt every time her parents left her and her sister alone to go party for days on end.