She was here.
He twisted the key off. His fingers tightened and started to crank it the other way. That’s when he noticed her shapely legs dangling from the willow branches.
When Drew brought him here, they’d climbed that tree. They tossed rocks out into the pond, Drew coaching him on how to get more distance. Thunder had rumbled, and the sky opened, drenching them in seconds. They’d whooped and laughed, and Bailey felt free from his curse of doing whatever it took to prove his value.
What happened to that freedom? At what point had he picked up the manacles again?
His hand slipped away from the keys. He slouched into the seat and wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel.
Lord, I screwed up. I don’t know how to make it right.
A gentle prodding tugged inside him. It was the first stirring he’d experienced in any conversation with God since he’d sent Jaz away.
After a few deep breaths, he yanked the door handle. The door squealed, announcing his arrival. As if she hadn’t heard the engine when he came up the road.
He shoved his fingers into his pockets and slithered between the two automobiles. Her muscular calves had stilled. As he crept closer, he glanced up, tilting his head to see between the yellowing leaves. “I was headed to your house.” Well, he should have been.
“I’m not there.” She sounded tired.
His stomach twisted. She’d been taking care of her mother who had been bound to a bed and wheelchair for six weeks.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. What was he going to say? I’m a jerk.
True enough but admitting it didn’t solve anything.
The branch above him dipped. He looked up to see Jaz shifting toward the trunk.
“Wait.” He held his hand toward her.
The rustling stopped. “We need to look each other in the eye for this conversation.”
He gulped. “I need to apologize.”
“Got that right.”
The branch wobbled again. Bailey rose to his tip toes and grasped it. The bark scratched against the thinning callouses on his palms.
“It’d be easier if I didn’t have to face you.”
The branch bowed, nearly knocking his hat off. He let go of the tree and squatted down.
“I’m not making it easier for you.”
He deserved the heat in her tone. And he certainly didn’t merit any concessions.
Lord, give me words.
The limb shifted. Leaves shivered, and a handful floated around him. Then the gorgeous woman who owned him stood a foot away.
His heart lurched toward her, but his fingers scrabbled for pebbles. His mind whirled, repeating his four-word petition for help, while his arm tossed the first stone into the pond. Divots set the water in motion.
After straightening, he threw another one, harder this time. His stomach clenched.
Plop. No apology would earn her forgiveness. Why should she forgive him? He’d been wrong and cruel.
After he’d emptied his hands, his palms slid down the back of his britches before pocketing his fingers. With a huge sigh, he made a quarter turn and studied Jaz.
Crossed arms molded a gauzy blouse to her shapely form. Her toned, bronze biceps bulged where the short sleeves cut into them.
Cowboy up, Bailey. Time to admit the truth.
“I’m sorry for saying you betrayed me.” You would never do that. He gulped. “That was my own insecurity talking.”
“Why wouldn’t you let me explain?” The betrayal he saw in her eyes gouged him. “You wouldn’t listen. It was too much like my dad.”
The comparison stung. “Ouch.” But he deserved it. “I betrayed you like you would never betray me. I’m a jerk.”
She sighed, dropped her arms, and shifted closer to him. A breeze whispered through the trees and carried her citrus scent to him. He curled his fingers against the bottom of his pockets.
“You’re going through a lot of family stuff.” He ground his teeth together. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen. That I wasn’t there for you.”
Her fingers brushed down his arm, stopping on his forearm. Hairs stood at attention, and he stiffened his knees, so he wouldn’t give in to the compulsion to lean against her.
“I forgive you.”
Her husky whisper sent awareness slithering through him. He turned his face toward her, and she gazed up at him. Her kissable berry lips twitched.
“How’s your mom?” His voice sounded too husky for such a serious question. “And everything else? It’s like we haven’t talked for months.
Something flashed in her pale eyes before they narrowed. She gazed at his chest.
“Great. Her pelvis is healed.” Her dusty black sneaker slid next to his boot. “She’s using crutches even though her right leg is in a cast for at least one more week.”
“That’s great.” His fingers twitched again, and he dropped his hands to his sides. Are we okay? But he couldn’t bear it if she gave him the answer he deserved.
“I’ll be heading back to Austin soon.”
Bailey’s stomach leapt at the announcement. She’d be back where he could see her every day.
Her lips parted and then pursed. Why didn’t she sound more excited?
A bird chirped nearby. A plop from the water announced a fish jumping. Silence stretched between them, reminding him of when he pushed her away.
He lifted one hand to her shoulder. Her heat zinged through him.
She tipped her head back. Those green eyes snared him.
“I missed you.” The words struggled through his tightening throat.
She arched an eyebrow. “Really?” She licked her lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
She scuttled backwards. “I mean it, Bailey. I need you to be sure. I can’t take another break up.”
His other hand reached for her waist. Bailey gazed deep in her eyes, opening his heart so everything he felt flooded his eyes. She blinked, and her eyes widened. Were those tears in her eyes?
“I messed up. I never want to hurt you again.” He choked back the wave of panic that welled at the thought. “I’m not alive without you.”
“What can I do so you believe that I’m yours?”
Marry me. But it wasn’t the right time. He had to prove she could trust him again.
“Knock me upside the hard head?” His lips slid upward.
She sucked in her breath and tilted her chin up, inviting him closer. He angled his face and tasted her lips. Sweet and salty, and so much Jazlyn. He breathed her in, and when her tongue tapped his bottom lip, he opened to her, losing himself in the rush of sensations.
Surely, she could taste the loneliness and regret he’d suffered during the past week.
She gasped and dropped her forehead to his chest. He rested his cheek against her hair. The curly strands rasped against his whiskers. Shudders of longing coursed through him.
“I need you to know I would never betray you.”
“I know.” He’d let the sight of her in another man’s arms remind him of everything he’d already lost. He’d chosen doubt over faith, but she hadn’t done anything but stand by him.
She sidled back and stared into his face. “You made me trust you. Love you.” Her frame trembled, and his fingers tightened on her waist. “I’ve never loved anyone this way.”
He endured her scrutiny, pouring the emotions she made him feel into his eyes.
“I love you. But I don’t deserve you.” He would never deserve love, but if his mom was right, that’s not how love worked.
She blinked. “Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”
His heart and stomach twisted together. She doubted a man could love her because of her own childhood traumas. Were they doomed to let the past bar them from having a future?
Something his father had told him years ago flashed into his mind. He let that wisdom flow from his lips. “Since God loves us, I’m sure He wants us to love each other.”
Her lips quirked. “I t
hink you’re right.”
He skimmed his hands down her sides. She shivered and threaded her fingers through his, leaning against his arm.
“My dad practically said he was proud of me.” A tremor shook her words.
Bailey stepped closer and touched her cheek. “’Bout time.”
“He admitted he can’t verbalize his feelings.” She choked to a stop. “I realized he never told Drew he was proud of him, either.”
Bailey’s heart pounded, and he pulled her against his chest. He drew circles on her lower back with the hand that she wasn’t squeezing in a vise.
“But the way he looked a Drew.” She turned her face upward, and their gazes locked. “I saw the pride in his eyes.”
The eyes. Love flared in her pale green orbs, and fire heated Bailey’s chest.
Jaz swallowed. “I may not be the daughter he expected, but I think he’s proud of me.”
Her breath warmed his collarbone. Hairs prickled along his back, and his lips made a case for kissing away the hurt in her tone.
She sagged against him. Bailey drew back enough so he could meet her gaze. An uneasy expectation swirled in her soulful eyes.
“You’re an amazing woman. I’m proud to be with you.”
Her lips trembled into a smile, and she dropped her chin in a small nod. “And I’m proud to be with you. Don’t ever doubt it again.”
His chest ached from the thrumming of his heart. “I’m an idiot.”
Her hand slithered out of his and up to his chin, where it rasped over his whiskery cheek. “I think I need to do a better job showing you how I feel.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth an instant before she pushed up and kissed him. His pulse skittered as his tongue tasted her. Her fingers tangled in his hair and tugged him closer, and a whimper rose from her throat.
Bailey pulled back, his forehead on hers. “I love you, Jazlyn. I promise no more breakups.” He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip.
She tapped the brim of his hat, pushing it further back on his head. One corner of her lush lips curled upward. “Those lips are pretty convincing.”
The ache eased from his chest. He kissed her again, slow and sweet until her passion deepened the embrace. Giddiness exploded through him.
Hope flamed in his chest, burning away the mocking defeat. Jaz pressed into him, warm and real.
Another gust showered willow leaves around them. He imagined the wind carrying away his past, and his arms tightened around the waist of his future.
Before the seasons changed again, he would ask Jaz to marry him and seal their hopes and dreams together once and for all.
The End
What’s Next?
Read the first chapter of LOVE’S LUCKY STAR, book 16 of the FIRST STREET CHURCH expanded world…
Vivyane Scott lay still, listening to the sounds drifting up from the kitchen on the floor below. She recognized the familiar notes from one of Hollywood’s greatest musicals, An American in Paris. Closing her eyes, she envisioned Gene Kelly leaping onto the fountain and dancing with the beautiful, Leslie Caron, as they made their way through the sights and sounds of Paris then into the hearts of post World War II America. The music faded leaving in its wake the tranquil warmth of waking up in a place she called home. While she’d loved to stay cocooned beneath the covers, the smell of her mother’s baking prompted her to toss back the covers of the quilt her grandmother stitched by hand and face the day.
“No use frittering away daylight.”
She stretched, sat up, and then pulled her legs over the side of the bed. It had been dark when she arrived last night. Pulling one bag from her stuffed car, she did her best to enter the two story Queen Anne revival without making a lot of noise. She hadn’t cut on a light as she made her way upstairs. Now, in the bright light of the morning, she was surprised to see her room seemed unchanged at all. The trim painted white. The yellow rose wallpaper still swirled on vines headed toward the ceiling.
“One day soon, I need to change that wallpaper. I’m not seventeen anymore,” she mused.
Pushing off the bed, she padded over to where her suitcase sat waiting and lifted it onto the stool in front of her dresser. The zipper sang as she pulled it along the track and exposed the familiar tanks, cotton blouses, and jeans that lay beneath. Reaching in, she pulled out her favorite pair of faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and plaid madras blouse.
“I’ll grab a quick shower before I head downstairs.”
Opening the door a bit wider, she hurried to the full bath that separated her room and the guest room on the front of the house. Once in the bath, she deposited her clothes on the hamper, and turned on the hot water tap. Before she could even get her hair piled on top of her head, the dense cloud of steam had already obscured the mirror. Vivyane reached up and took a swipe with the hand towel from the hook. Moisture removed, she snagged a couple of bobby pins and pinned her long blond hair to the top of her head. Shucking out of her make shift p.j.’s, she pushed back the curtain and stepped into the pelting spray of warm water to evaporate the fatigue of the long drive from Dallas to Sweet Grove.
“I am so glad to be home,” she groaned, and turned so the water hit her back.
Reaching for the soap, she lathered the washcloth and brought it down her arms. Five years of study, a Masters degree in Theater Arts, she’d spent the past two years trying to make a dream come true. Turning, she stuck her face under the spray.
“You gave it your best shot,” she murmured. “No shame in trying.”
Yet even her brave words didn’t dispel the lump that formed in her throat.
“Remember, nothing in life is guaranteed.”
Those were her grandfather’s favorite words. A pain pierced her heart. It was hard to believe he had been gone for six months. She pressed her palms against the rose colored tiles and hung her head.
“But I let you down, Grandpa. I’m so very sorry.”
For a brief second, Vivyane allowed her heart to give into the bitterness of defeat. Beyond the curtain, the door creaked open. She lifted her head as a dark nose pushed back the plastic and a pair of earnest eyes gazed adoringly up at her.
Vivyane’s heart melted. She reached down and gently rubbed the Australian heeler’s head.
“Hello, Dolly. Momma sent you up to get me, huh?”
The dog’s tongue rolled from its mouth as she basked in the attention from her favorite human. With a bark, Dolly placed her front paws on the edge of the tub.
“No. No, you get down. I’m getting out.”
* * *
Bo Walker pushed through the door of the Stockyard Café on the interstate on the northwest side of Sweet Grove and, as folks were fond of saying – bellied up to the bar. Or, in this case, he slid onto the stool at the counter of the local Mom and Pop eatery that many early risers called home.
“Morning, Bo.” Irene Odom called out as she dropped a laminated menu in front of him and continued on her way toward a customer at the other end of the bar. He watched her fill the construction worker’s plain stoneware mug.
“Now, you remember, Steve, to bring your cell phone the next time. Harvey has spent a lot of time setting up one of those newfangled aps. You want to earn points for free cups of coffee or donuts right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Humph.” She gave a nod of her head. “Only way to do that is to get that phone in here and scan. You’ll remember won’t you?”
“I’ll remember.” The worker agreed.
Irene Odom was a formidable woman. Bo couldn’t help but smile. From the time he was out of high school starting his first job with his brother. Irene had been like his second mother. Her husband of forty-two years, Earl, was an ex-army man, who used to be the cook at the café until a heart attack took him away. She’d found him behind the counter one morning. The paramedics said it was a heart attack, but folks around Sweet Grove knew that it had been the lost of their only child Reese in a car accident overseas with the military. He was
still holding the note, clutched between his fingers, when she found him.
The smile on his face slipped away. Bo understood a broken heart. He missed his own father at the oddest times.
“Having cancer sucks,” he murmured, then swallowed back the pain and turned his attention to the menu. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Irene approach.
“Since when did you become the ap police?”
Her spectacles slid down her nose and she gave him a no-nonsense glare that most of the patrons were accustomed to. “Since Harvey told me every time I get someone to scan the ap, he’ll give me a cup of ice coffee. You know that’s my weakness.” She leaned closer. “If they had a CA, I’d be a charter member.”
His brow furrowed. “CA?”
She pursed her lips and gave him the female equivalent of a snake eye.
“Coffee Anonymous.”
Bo laughed. “Miss Irene, you won’t do.”
She glared at him, but Bo could see the laughter in her eyes. She gave a nod toward the menu. “You figure out what you want yet?” she asked, brushing off his amusement.
He gazed at the items listed under breakfast. Nothing much had changed in the past twenty years. He scrubbed his hands over his features and handed her the menu back.
“Give me the usual, scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and a biscuit on the side.”
Irene made notes, then picked up the menu before giving him an intense once-over.
“Tough night?”
“Going over some plans took me longer than I thought,” he admitted.
“What’s your next job?”
Bo picked up his mug. “I’m doing a renovation for my brother and his wife.”
Irene scrunched up her face. “You never learned the first rule of business.”
“What’s that?”
“Never work for family.” She replied and slid a mug in his direction.
Bo stuck out a hand and grabbed the cup. He took a sip of the rich black liquid before looking up at her. “I promised to help before their baby comes.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Ansley only has about four more months left. I don’t think I can put it off any longer.”
Love's Returning Hope (Love's Texas Homecoming Book 2; First Street Church #15) Page 9