Homecoming in November (The Calendar Girls Book 3) (11 page)

“Hello, Jayne,” he crooned in that silken voice I’d fallen for once, a long time ago.

My heart somersaulted. My flesh chilled, the fine hairs danced on my nape. My hands curled into fists, and I stiffened to keep from punching him in his perfectly made-up, chiseled, high-gloss face. The smile he added was as disarming as ever, but everything about Cole Abrams had lost its allure for me. He could be made of solid dark chocolate, carry a rope of flawless diamonds in one hand and a bottle of the world’s finest Champagne in the other, and I still wouldn’t be tempted to give him a second glance.

“It’s been a while,” he added. “How’ve you been?”

The retort, “Uprooted from my home, thanks to you and your black ilk,” bubbled up, but I kept a tight rein on my lips and dashed to my faithful Jeep without saying a word. Cole and Tanya raced after me, each calling out statements that melded together in a blend of accusation soup. Why wouldn’t I talk to them? Didn’t I want to clear my name? Had I come here to escape the rumors or to avoid prosecution? Every question struck me like a plied lash. By the time I neared my car, the tears shimmered in my eyes, and I was inches from breaking down and shouting at them to leave me alone and let me live in peace. Hadn’t I earned it?

Damn you, David! Damn you and your “noble sacrifice.” Look what it’s done for me.

I wasn’t surprised when Iggy stepped out of the woods with Lucky on a leash at his side and stood like a silent sentinel between me and the approaching horde. The addition of Dom, his partner Evan Rugerman with their two Dobermans in hand, and Sam Dillon with his greyhound, though, stunned me stupid.

“Thank you,” I huffed out to the makeshift security force, then I jerked open my door and slid into the driver’s seat.

My wall of heroes faced off against the reporters while I started the car and sped out of the parking lot. I only relaxed when I was a few blocks from home.

At the stop sign on Schooner Lane, a pair of headlights bounced in my rearview mirror. I stiffened in my driver’s seat, but chided myself for my sudden bout of paranoia. Probably one of my neighbors on his or her way home, too. No reason to assume the driver was following me.

Until I turned onto my street, and the car stayed with me. Still could be a neighbor, but I was beginning to doubt it. My heartbeat sped up again, and I floored the accelerator, tearing into my driveway. I slammed on the brakes, threw the Jeep in park, and turned off the engine. I grabbed my purse and hustled to the porch, fumbling in the dark for the house key among the metallic multitude on my ring. Midnight meowed from his window seat. Before I could assure him I was on my way in, the headlights pierced the dark, glinting off my keys, and I whirled to see which of the scavengers had dared to follow me home.

The strange car’s engine cut off and the headlights died, pitching the front yard into darkness. A silhouette stepped out of the vehicle. Tall. Male. Had to be that slick dimwit, Abrams. But no. This shadow was bigger, and moved with a familiar panther-like grace as he opened the passenger door to take hold of a leashed dog.

“Jayne? You okay?”

Iggy. While my pent-up breath escaped in a relieved sigh, I kept my back up, my spine rigid. Anger still held me in its iron grip, and Iggy was about to feel the brunt of it. “I thought I told you I didn’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m not here to babysit you. I’m here to protect you from the vultures. That hasn’t changed, no matter what you say. Dom asked me to do this; only he can tell me to pull back. Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me ‘til all this blows over and these guys crawl back under their rocks.” He came closer. “Go on inside. I’ll stay out here. You don’t have to be bothered by my being around.”

I wanted to stay angry, but how could I? Iggy and Dom were the only two people in the world who remained faithfully at my side. And now, I supposed I had to add Sam Dillon to that list. So far. Another sigh escaped, this one full of defeat. None of this was his fault, and I had no right to blame him or take out my frustration on him, no matter how big a target he was. “Come inside. I’m sorry for what I said. Thanks for looking out for me.”

He shook his head. “I’ll stay out here. Keep an eye on things. You don’t need us underfoot.”

Us? Oh, right. Him and Lucky. “It’s too cold to stay out here.” I shivered, not only from the frigid wind, but perhaps, also to convince him to come with me. “If you’re worried about how Midnight will react to Lucky, don’t be. He’s used to strange dogs in the house. I’ve been bringing pets home from the office—you know, the patients who need twenty-four-seven monitoring?—since he was a kitten. He’s grown cagey over the years. He has his own hidey-hole where Lucky won't be able to get to him. Heck, even I can’t get to him. He sometimes goes there when he’s in a snit with me, like if I buy the wrong food or something.”

I babbled, and worse, I shivered some more. And of course, he noticed.

“Jayne, you’re freezing. Stop talking and go inside.”

“W-what ab-bout y-you?” I asked through chattering teeth.

“I’ll be fine. Go. After you’re comfortable, if you’re feeling benevolent, I could use something warm to drink to avoid hypothermia.”

My lips crept into a smile. “Soup okay?”

“I would settle for coffee. But if you’re offering more, I won’t say no.”

A flush of heat removed the tremors from my body. Ohmigod. Was he saying what I thought he was? If so, why was I more charmed than outraged at the innuendo? Under normal circumstances, Cara’s warning about his reputation as ladies’ man, his take-charge persona, and my own past experience with men would have repelled me far from Iggy Zemski. But there was something about this man that made me want to give him a second glance. Maybe it was the dog at his side and the way they’d come together. Maybe it was an undiagnosed brain tumor eating away at my sanity. Maybe I’d fallen into a black hole and discovered an alternate reality. All I knew was that Iggy had pierced the armor I’d constructed around my heart, no matter how hard I fought the attraction.

“Jayne,” he said, breaking my thought pattern. “Go. Inside.”

Flustered, all I could manage to say was, “Right,” before I fumbled for the key and stumbled into the house. Once in the safety of my rental home, I leaned against the door until I caught my breath while Midnight serpentined my legs, voicing his most pitiful meows. I ditched my coat and purse then headed to the kitchen where I flipped on the light. Midnight’s food bowl was empty, which explained his outrage.

“Okay,” I assured him. “I got this.”

I poured kibble into his empty dish and while my feline feasted, I took stock of my pantry’s contents for something to share with Iggy. He deserved more than coffee, but less than what I thought he wanted from me. Heat scorched my cheeks, and I stuck my head inside the fridge to cool me off.

Once again, I thought back to my life with David. Back in college, when I first met my late husband, I was open and outgoing, with lots of friends and a generally optimistic outlook on life. I never expected who I was would undergo such a dramatic change. All it took was one gunshot, one trial, and a ton of suspicion poured on me.

Closing the refrigerator door, I peered out my kitchen window to the front lawn where my private soldier and his trusty hound patrolled. A man like that deserved a fine meal with a companion who could be outgoing and open, with a generally optimistic outlook on life.

Okay, Jayne, how much are you willing to risk to get the old you back?

Terri

The next morning found me irritable and out-of-sorts. All the way home the previous night, Max acted as if everything was fine—which told me all I needed to know about what he thought of me. I was his “sober buddy,” sort of like an alcoholic’s guardian angel, someone to be around to knock the vodka out of his hand, but invisible and forgotten at all other times.

Really, what did I expect? That some world-famous television star would be so bowled over by my charm and fabulous good looks that he’d fall in love after one AA meeting? I spent the morning ruminating on my idiocy. What a dolt I was. Of course he only saw me as his alcoholic handmaiden. I mean, seriously. Why would he settle for dog food when he was so used to dining on filet mignon?

I managed to keep my foul mood to myself until Chelsea, one of our new employees, dropped a teacup while clearing a table and the shattered porcelain shredded my last nerve. While she bent to clean up the shards of china, I stood over her, arms folded over my chest, steam hissing from my ears and scalp like those cartoon animals from my childhood. “When you’re through here,” I said through a tight smile to avoid upsetting the customers seated nearby, “I’d like to see you in the kitchen please.”

She looked up, eyes wide with fear and embarrassment. “Oh, umm…okay.”

I shoved through the swinging doors, building up bitterness with every stomp of my feet. Even the sugary deliciousness wafting in the air couldn’t sweeten my mood. Chelsea barely made it into the prep area before I laced into her. “If you can’t handle a simple task like clearing a table without pulling a Godzilla and destroying the crockery, I can’t use you.”

Chelsea’s complexion paled. “I’m sorry. It slipped out of my hand. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

I wagged my finger at her. “One more incident like that, and you’re fired.”

Tears swam in her innocent brown eyes—crap, had I ever looked so naïve, so totally clueless about life? Probably not since I stole my first sip of rum from Uncle Larry’s liquor cabinet. Disgusted with both of us, I swept my hand at her. “Go. Go back to work.”

With a strangled sob, she fled out the door.

“Hey, sunshine!” Arms elbow-deep in the industrial mixer, Gary called to me over the hum of machinery and the clatter of baking pans. “C’mere a sec.”

My ire still unbanked, I relished sinking my teeth into someone tougher than teenage flaky pastry. I stomped to his station, my hands fisted at my sides. “What do
you
want?”

He straightened and, after stripping off his food-service gloves, grabbed my arm to pull me out the back door. I blinked at the wan sunlight, filtered through the pale blue sky, but the meager heat did nothing to warm my icy cockles. I shivered. “It’s cold. I need my jacket.”

“You need some fresh air to cool off,” he retorted. “You’ll forgive me for saying this, but you’re on a dry drunk right now.”

“I am not!” And no, I wouldn’t forgive him for saying it.

“Okay, then you tell me what’s going on. You’ve been shifting from too high to too low for the last few days. Chelsea dropped a cup. Big deal. That’s a common occurrence in this business. If you’re gonna fire every employee who breaks something, we may as well put in a revolving door.” His deep sigh relaxed his posture. “What’s up, Terri? You okay? Talk to me.”

I would’ve liked to lie, tell him my cranky disposition was due to opening jitters or that time of the month, but Gary was my business partner. I owed him the truth. My skin crawled. How often was I going to have to lay myself bare to him, to friends, to strangers? “The other day, I saw this flyer with a full-color photo of me headfirst in the O’Reillys’ privet hedge—”

Gary swore under his breath. “You saw that?”

“You
know
about that?”

Another sigh pulsed from his lips. “They started floating around here when we applied for the permits to build the kitchen. I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you about them, but they died down fairly quickly—at least, I thought they had. Judging by our success so far, I felt it was safe to assume whoever was behind the maliciousness had given up. After all, most of the residents understand you made some mistakes and were brave enough to not only take control of your life, but to come back here and face your past head-on. That takes a lot of guts, and most of our customers admire you for it.”

I kicked a bottle cap across the asphalt, the skittery sound like a scratch for my uneasy itchies. “Yeah, well, there’s at least one resident who isn’t rolling out the welcome mat for me.”

“To hell with whoever that is. Frickin’ coward, if you ask me, hiding behind flyers and old photos.”

“Not that old,” I muttered. “That graceful moment came courtesy of a tequila-tasting-fest this past Memorial Day weekend.”

He waved a hand. “Pffft! Ancient history. Nobody cares.”

Was he kidding? “Yeah, well, at least one somebody cares. The somebody who slipped the flyer under the shop door after you left that afternoon.”

“Did you see who it was?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. I don’t even know how long that paper was lying on the floor. And I sure as heck didn’t go racing out front to look for someone skulking away.” I released a discomforted laugh. “To be honest, my first reaction was to head to the pantry for the nearest liquid with alcoholic content.” His face paled, and I added a quick, “But I regrouped and took off before my demons could grab hold. I went to a meeting. You know. AA?”

The color returned to his complexion, and he smiled. “Good for you.”

A chunk of the chip on my shoulder fell off at his congratulatory attitude. “Yeah, I thought so too. I was pretty proud of myself for going. Which, reminds me. I was thinking. Do you mind if I use the tea shop on Thanksgiving? I want to host a dinner here for some of the local AA members who have no place else to go that day. Kinda my way of giving something back to the community.”

His smile broadened. “I think that’s a terrific idea. Chris and I will join you.”

I shook my head. “Oh, God, no. You don’t want to be here with a bunch of loser boozers. You and your son must have somewhere else to be. With family, I bet. If you’re worried I’ll set fire to your precious kitchen, don’t. My aunt and uncle will be happy to help, I’m sure. The only reason I want to do it here is because you’ve got enough ovens to roast several turkeys at once and we’ve got lots of table space. Otherwise, I’d ask Aunt Andrea to host it at our house.”

“I’d still like to be here. Chris and I would be home alone anyway. This would be good for us.”

“Well…” I shrugged. “If you want. But you don’t have to, so if you get a better offer, I won’t be offended.”

“I doubt I’ll get a better offer.”

Did I imagine the heat that flared up in his eyes? I must have. “Well, okay. Thanks.”

“Was that all that was bothering you? The flyer and Thanksgiving?”

“Huh?” I couldn’t remember why I’d started this conversation. Oh, wait.
Now
, I remembered. “Umm…not quite. You see, I met somebody at that meeting that day. Don’t ask for particulars, ‘cuz I can’t give ‘em to you. Anonymous and all that. But this…
person
and I struck up a friendship. At least, I thought we did.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. God, he smelled delicious! Like sugar and citrus. “Aw, Terri, you
know
those pools are full of sharks. There are always one or two predators at those meetings, looking to take advantage of the weak or vulnerable.”

“No, Max isn’t like that. He’s a—” I stopped short, embarrassed at how close I’d come to betraying a program confidence in my rush to defend the man who’d virtually ignored me all night. Maybe it was Gary’s proximity and those heavenly aromas that surrounded him like a flavorful cloud. I stepped away to breathe in the crisp November air and clear my nostrils. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Uh-huh. And this ‘nice guy’ is somehow responsible for your lousy mood the last few days? That says a lot about how nice he really is, doesn’t it?”

I stared at the cracked sidewalk at my feet. “It’s not his fault. It’s me. I always dream too big. I mean, this guy’s way out of my league. And deep down, I know that, but I still kept thinking there could be something between us anyway. I’m such an idiot. I make things way too complicated; I always—”

“For the love of God, stop! Stop making excuses for someone else’s behavior, stop putting yourself down, and stop accepting less than you deserve in life. What happened with your parents doesn’t mean you need to do penance forever. You’ve punished yourself enough. Give yourself a break.”

I jerked my head up to glare at him with accusing, narrowed eyes. “What do you know about my parents?”

“The truth. Your aunt told me.”

The chip on my shoulder built into a mountain. “She shouldn’t have. My past is none of your business. My
parents
are none of your business. My meetings are none of your business. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is the tea shop business.”

Shifting his weight, Gary folded his arms over his chest. “Are you finished?”

The question steamed me, but I nodded and braced for his comeback.

“Okay, then. First of all, anything that concerns you affects me. You’re an alcoholic with two months sober under your belt. I’ve got no guarantees you won’t hit the sauce the minute your life gets hard.” I gasped, but he pointed a finger at me. “Don’t play ‘poor little victim’ with me. You’re not some delicate piece of china that’ll shatter like that cup in the front room. You were a nasty drunk, and you’re still trying to find out who you are sober. You’re gonna make mistakes, but because we’re in business together, those mistakes could have a direct bearing on me and my son. I don’t forget that, and I’m not about to let you forget it, either.”

“You knew who and what I was when you signed on for this, pal.”

“Yeah, I did,” he retorted. “And I ‘signed on’ anyway. You know why? Because I believe in second chances. More important, I believe in
you
.”

I blinked. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. You’re smart and tough and you had your share of tragedy at a time when most of us thought Mommy forgetting to put our favorite snack in with our lunch was a disaster of epic proportions. So I’m not surprised you sought solace in a bottle of booze or two. And maybe that worked for you when you were twelve, but it definitely wore thin by the time you were twenty-eight. Now, though, you’ve got a shiny new slate in front of you. A bright future just waiting. But first you have to realize what happened in the past doesn’t have to define you. Do you understand that? This tea shop is your opportunity to finally get your life right, to finally create something unique and all yours—not shadowed by your father’s mistakes or how you wound up here. A project you can be proud you built from the ground up. Don’t you want that? ‘Cuz I sure as hell do. I want it for me and for Christian, but I want it for you, too. Because you deserve it.”

Words fled, along with my anger. No one had ever spoken to me with so much passion. And the last person I expected to give me this speech was Gary the Scary Bartender. Touched by his caring, I flung my arms around him and hugged him. “Thank you!” I breathed out through pursed lips.

I’m still not a hundred percent sure how we went from an innocent hug to an all-out, love-of-a-lifetime kiss. One second, I was staring at his mouth coming closer to mine; the next, I was closing the gap between us before he could.

His lips were warm and firm, dusted with a sheen of sugar. Sweet. And tender. And ohmigod, delicious. Now, I’ve kissed a lot of guys in my time—usually when I was too blotto to feel anything but dizzy. No amount of alcohol ever got me so high so fast. His body heat enfolded me, but the shivers remained. Only now, they came from delight. He wholly claimed me, deepening the kiss, and I pretty much devoured him in response.

“Ahem!” Aunt Andrea’s sudden intrusion tore us apart.

I jerked back, shot a glare at him, then mumbled at my aunt, “I should get back.”

“Yes, you should,” she replied. “And Gary should be finishing up the fresh batch of eclairs. We’re down to the last two.”

She turned and headed back inside, leaving us alone again.

I immediately clutched my medallion in my fist before confronting Gary and his luscious lips. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know what. Why’d you kiss me like that?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to.” As he strode past me to return to the kitchen, he added, “And I’ll want to do it again soon. That’s a promise.”  

♥♥♥♥

Jayne
 

I opted to defrost some black bean soup and cornbread muffins I had in the freezer. With a quick salad tossed together, I created a perfect autumn dinner for two in twenty minutes flat. I even found some dry dog food in a zippered plastic bag in the back of the pantry for my four-legged guest. When everything was ready and the table was set, I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. “Iggy. Come inside, please. Bring Lucky. I think I’m safe enough for the night.”

He glanced around the front yard, eyes never stopping their motion, as if a bunch of sniper reporters hid in my bushes. To be honest, it wouldn’t be the first time. “You sure?”