Jennica giggled, and the guy buying fishing poles looked over at them before turning his attention back to his kids. “If you wear a Donny-Osmond-in-His-Heyday tuxedo to the wedding, I will personally arrange for a spotlight solo in the middle of the dance floor,” she promised.
“Fine by me.” Jack grinned. “My disco moves could use a little more attention.”
Jennica laughed outright as the mental picture sprang to mind—Jack, his mountain man beard combed and oiled, doing the Saturday Night Fever pose at Collette’s wedding. Her mind jumped through the clothes in her grandmother’s closet, looking for something she could wear to match his seventies tuxedo. Jack and Jennica—two misfits taking over the dance floor. “Is this going to be more scary hermit than I can handle?” she asked.
“Nope. It’ll be just enough scary hermit.” He winked. “Trust me, baby.”
Baby. She knew he was joking, but the sound of Jack calling her baby sent a wave of tingles rushing through her. Her cheeks warmed and she knew she was blushing.
There was a pause, and Jack seemed to think he’d taken things too far. “I’m kidding about the tuxedo. How about a dark blue suit?” he finally said.
Jennica honestly hadn’t thought Jack owned a suit. She’d only ever seen him in jeans and flannels or when he’d stop by the store on his way home from a shift wearing heavy all-weather coveralls stained with dirt and oil, but smelling like sawdust. At best, she’d thought he would have a pair of chinos and a dress shirt, and she realized she’d been making assumptions about him that maybe weren’t true.
“Sounds perfect,” she said as the man with the children approached the counter, holding their fishing poles.
Jack’s long fingers drummed against the wooden countertop, and he nodded. “Sounds good. See you soon.”
After he left, she rang up the man with the fishing poles, then washed the front windows. The rest of the day was busy with customers and restocking, but Jack hovered in the back of her mind, always there, his eyes sparkling with a smile.
Jack threw himself onto his mattress and stretched out with a groan. He’d just finished a twelve-hour shift at the lumberyard, and he was bone-tired.
But his brain was spinning and he couldn’t stop a smile from springing to his lips. He’d been thinking about Jennica all day. She was sassy and funny, and he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d indulged in a little lighthearted flirting. Probably since …
He flipped his pillow over and jammed his head into the feathery softness, seeking a more comfortable position, wishing he were tired enough to sleep. He didn’t want to think about Valerie right now, or ever. She’d taken everything when she left—his optimism, his youth, and his heart. He’d vowed not to give her another minute, but that was easier said than done. Even now, all these years later, thoughts of her were never far away, hovering like specters in a haunted house, waiting to jump out and stun him back to heartbreak when he least expected it. Jennica might be fun in the beginning, but relationships always ended the same way.
He forced his thoughts to the hydraulic press, waiting for him in dust and cobwebs. Once he got it working, if he got it working, he could expand his knife-making business exponentially. The gleaming curves and intricate patterns of Damascus steel would no longer be a frustrating desire; it would be a dream come true, literally within his reach. And if he had to spend a day pretending to be Jennica’s boyfriend to get the press, he could do that.
Besides, pretending to be Jennica’s boyfriend didn’t seem like such a bad gig anymore, and not just because she was pretty—which she was, with her coppery hair and creamy skin. But a lot of girls were pretty. He liked her spirit, her style, the way she fired back sass and called him a scary hermit, even though that last bit cut a little close to the bone. He had become more withdrawn lately, and on purpose. Working long hours helped. And in between work, there were his horses to care for and knives to make and sell. Usually he was too tired for much of a social life, which was just the way he wanted it.
Or did he? It had been nice to look over and see Jennica in the passenger’s seat of his truck. To have someone to talk to. She’d said she liked traveling; what else did she like? Suddenly, he wanted to find out.
Chapter Six
Jennica was straightening a display of folded T-shirts when the door opened and a tall figure stepped in. She saw the bushy beard, and her heartbeat picked up. It had only been three days since she’d seen him, since they’d set up their fake date, but Jack Hale had been on her mind almost constantly.
“Hey.” Jack grinned as he came toward her.
“Hi.” It came out a little breathlessly, and she felt her cheeks warm as she turned her attention to the shirts. “Can I help you with something?”
“Just dropped my suit off at the cleaners,” he said.
She couldn’t help smiling. “The tux? White with sequins, right? And please tell me you have the white loafers to go with it.”
He laughed. “Now I feel like I need to start scouring the thrift stores or you’re going to be disappointed when I show up in a plain old suit.”
“Not even a thrift store would carry a seventies tuxedo anymore,” Jennica said. “You’re going to have find someone who specializes in vintage clothing.”
“Ouch.” He laughed again, then glanced at the clock hanging on the wall amid a selection of hunting trophies. “What time’s your lunch break? Wanna go to Fred’s?”
Her fingers stilled in the T-shirts. Was he asking her on an actual date?
“I figure we should probably get to know a little bit about each other,” Jack said into the silence. “I mean, if we’re going to be in a relationship, we should know boyfriend/girlfriend type things.”
Oh—right. That would be smart. She could just imagine herself at the wedding, trying to come up with answers to what she knew would be dozens of questions from overeager relatives.
She’d brown-bagged it today, but a big juicy burger from Fred’s sounded way better than the tuna sandwich she’d stashed in the fridge in the back. She looked at the clock. “I can probably go now. Let me get someone to cover the floor.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait here.”
Fifteen minutes later, she sat across from Jack at one of the outdoor tables at Fred’s. The spring air was still chilly and she kept her jacket on, but there weren’t any tables inside Fred’s, so it was this or eat in the truck. Besides, the sunshine felt good on her face, even if it was weak.
“Okay.” Jack swallowed a bite of his burger. “Do you have any tattoos, scars, or weird birthmarks I should know about?”
Jennica’s cheeks flamed. “No one’s going to ask that!”
He laughed. “I’m only teasing.”
“Well, stop it. Besides, we’ve only supposed to have started dating, remember? So you wouldn’t know about those kinds of details anyway.”
“You’re right.” Jack nodded, then gave her a mischievous look. “So exactly when would I get to know those kinds of details?”
She choked on her raspberry milkshake. “Uh … that’s kind of personal, don’t you think?”
“But I like seeing you blush like a poppy.”
“Well, quit it. Red isn’t my best color.”
“I dunno, I’d say you probably look pretty good in any color,” he drawled, and her face warmed even more.
“So tell me something I might need to know, at a moment’s notice, that I don’t already,” Jack finally said after they’d both taken a moment to eat and defuse the mood.
“Okay.” She dunked a fry in sauce. “We need to figure out how we met.”
“Easy. You work at the store and I came in to buy fishing tackle.”
Jennica’s heart fell.
“What’s wrong with that?” Jack squinted at her. “It’s definitely plausible. In fact, that probably is how we met, isn’t it?”
“No.”
He raised one eyebrow. “You’re quite a few years younger than me, but you’ve lived here y
our whole life, right?”
“Yes. And I wouldn’t say quite a few years younger, only six.” She fiddled with a paper napkin. “We can say the store. That makes sense.”
“No, hold on a minute. There’s something I’m not getting.” Jack tugged on his beard, thinking back. “You’re six years younger?”
She nodded.
His amber eyes grew distant. “So we wouldn’t have met at a school dance?”
“No. Let’s just say the store.”
“Wait.” Jack reached across the table and caught her hand. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
Heat raced up her arm at the pressure of his fingers on hers. This was going too far, and now she felt stupid for making such a big deal out of it.
His gaze delved into hers, searching. “Tell me, please?”
She sighed. “Second grade … for me. I had Mrs. Turnbow, and she was really strict.” Mrs. Turnbow had struck fear into the heart of every seven-year-old in town. She was old by the time Jennica had gotten to her class, and she had a habit of rapping rowdy kids on the head with the stick she used to point at the chalkboard.
“She was my second-grade teacher too,” Jack said with a small chuckle. “Did she smack you around?”
“Mrs. Turnbow did not smack the girls,” Jennica replied. “But one day we were at recess and it had been a year with a lot of snow. We were playing King of the Hill or something, and I was climbing up behind Shellie White when she accidentally kicked me in the face.”
A spark lit in Jack’s eyes, and she gave him a minute to pull up the memory.
It was starting to come back to him.
The playground swarmed with kids and he was standing off to one side, trying to look cool, resenting the smallness of the school that allowed elementary-aged kids to have the same lunch recess as the eighth graders. There was the usual scuffling on the mountain of snow the custodian had plowed off the playground. Then he heard a wail, and it took him a minute to realize it was coming from a small, redheaded girl with both hands cupped to her face.
At that moment, the bell rang and the other kids scattered, leaving the little girl alone by the mountain of snow. Jack hesitated a moment, then jogged toward her. “Are you okay?”
Over the tops of her fingers, the girl’s brilliant blue eyes were full of tears, but she blinked hard, refusing to let them fall as she nodded.
“Did you get hurt?”
She let her hands drop, revealing a cut lip. Jack could tell it wasn’t deep, but the sight of blood on her fingers seemed to scare her. She took a sharp breath.
“It’s okay,” Jack said quickly. He bent down and scooped up a handful of clean snow. “Hold this on it and it’ll stop.” He pressed the snow into the girl’s hand.
“I’m going to be in trouble for missing the bell,” she said.
“No, you won’t. Not if you’re hurt,” Jack insisted.
“But I have Mrs. Turnbow.” The girl’s voice trembled.
Jack looked around at the empty playground. All the kids had gone in and there were no teachers or recess aides to be seen. “C’mon.” He jerked his head toward the second-grade doors. “I’ll walk you back and tell her what happened.”
“That was you?” Jack said. Now that Jennica had triggered the memory, he did remember being impressed by her bravery. She hadn’t cried, though she’d obviously wanted to. Her lip had stopped bleeding while they’d walked together to her classroom, Jack making sure to stay as far across the hall from her as he could. He hadn’t needed his friends teasing him about a mini-girlfriend.
Mrs. Turnbow’s frown had still made his thirteen-year-old heart quake, but he’d held his ground and explained what happened. She’d given him a note to excuse his tardiness to his own teacher and ushered Jennica inside with a short word of thanks. Jack had gone back to class and mostly forgotten about it.
“You were the only one who made sure I was okay,” Jennica said.
Her eyes will still shining and clear, as blue as the sky on the warmest summer day. Only now they weren’t a child’s eyes, full of unshed tears. They were the eyes of a woman, holding a hint of something sensual.
He realized they were still holding hands, her fingers nestling in his in a perfect fit. His heart pounded, and he quickly withdrew his hand. “Okay, so we met in school. That works,” Jack said.
Jennica’s eyes clouded for a moment. Then she smiled. “What’s the matter? Did you get teased for being nice to a second grader?”
He really didn’t remember, but he brushed her words aside with a quick wave of his hand. “Nah.”
There was a pause while Jennica took another sip of her shake. “Um, what made us fall for each other?”
How about the way she ate fries three at a time? Or the way she tipped her head to the side and cocked one eyebrow when she was thinking? Or maybe the way she took such good care of her grandmother and so freely gave to those around her?
Jack shook the ice in his empty soda cup, acutely aware of the growing ache in his gut that didn’t come from Fred’s double cheeseburgers and animal-style fries. This wasn’t how a fake date thing was supposed to work. You weren’t actually supposed to fall for the person, right?
“Jack?” Jennica asked, doing that thing with her head and eyebrow that he suddenly found adorable.
“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he said quickly. “So how about I took one bite of your amazing double fudge brownies and fell head over heels?”
She laughed. “I am definitely not known for my baking skills.”
“Then what are you known for?”
“Nothing, really.” Jennica stirred her pink milkshake. “Failure to launch, maybe?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I live with family, I’ve had the same job since high school, I’ve ruined every serious relationship I’ve ever had.” She gave a small, self-conscious sigh. “That kind of thing.”
“That sounds like what someone else has told you, not what you actually believe,” Jack said.
“It’s no big deal. It used to bother me, but I’m over it.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re over it,” he said, noticing her fingers clenched around the milkshake.
“Can we talk about something else?” she asked. “We can use the fudge brownie story, and if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I used a mix and passed it off as my own. They’d believe that.”
“I’ll go along with it, but I’d really like to know why doing things your way a bad thing.”
“I don’t know. I guess … that’s not how you’re supposed to do things.”
“There’s a rule book?” Jack sat back, feigning surprise. “I haven’t seen one.”
Jennica rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get it. But in my family, yes, there is. You graduate from high school, go to college, get married, have a family. That’s how it’s supposed to be done. That’s how you find happiness.”
“Seems like a pretty narrow definition of happiness to me.”
“Well, what about you? What makes you happy?”
“Not working in the lumberyard, despite my glowing progress report.” He grinned as he stirred a French fry into the sauce, thinking. “Testing a completed blade and having it slice through paper as easily as if it were smoke. Rubbing the final polish into a handle and seeing the patterns in the wood, or the bone, or the antler appear.”
“So, making knives?”
Jack nodded. “There’s something deeply satisfying about creating something that wasn’t there before.”
“So you don’t get any happiness from a relationship?” Jennica pressed.
Jack grimaced. “I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to women.”
“Why? What’s happened?” Her eyes were intent, but then she seemed to realize she was pushing too hard. “I mean, I should probably know some details about your past, in case anyone asks,” she said hurriedly.
The old pain flared. “I’m not relationship material,
” Jack said shortly.
“You were pretty serious with Valerie,” Jennica replied. “What happened?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. “How did you know about that?”
“It’s a small town; everyone knows everything,” she said. “But you obviously don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, not really,” he admitted.
She brushed a few spare crumbs into her hand and shook them into the box their food had come in. “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook since it’s none of my business. Besides, I’d better get back to work.”
He gave her a small smile and began gathering their trash. “I let you off the hook about your life, you let me off the hook about mine. Deal?”
“Deal,” she said. But her smile looked forced.
Jennica took the last sip of her milkshake and added the cup to the stack of trash Jack was gathering. She took a careful breath and brushed a few stray hairs away from her face with trembling fingers. She was blowing her cover without even meaning to. The truth was, after the day on the playground, she’d kind of kept track of Jack Hale. Not in a “girl with a crush” kind of way, just more as the way you would take an interest in a celebrity.
Jack seemed to have accepted the excuse of living in a small town. And it was partly true; she could probably dredge up details from most of the lives of the people around here. But there was something different with Jack. And it wasn’t as if she’d been waiting her whole life for this chance or harbored a secret crush for years. It was just … he’d been nice to her once, that’s all. It wasn’t something she’d ever forgotten.
He threw the trash away and held the door of the truck for her. The ride back to TR’s was silent, but when they pulled into the parking lot, he hesitated, then scratched at his cheek. “You’re right. I was pretty serious with Valerie. But that didn’t last.”
“Why not?” Jennica tried to remember what she’d heard, but nothing came to mind.
Taming the Mountain Man (Tamarack Ridge Romances Book 3) Page 5