Chapter Three
Jenny was on her knees in the dirt, pulling out the last of the dried flowers that had died weeks ago, when she spotted Ryan O’Connell pulling into his driveway in a ranger’s vehicle emblazoned with the logo of the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks.
From what she could see, he hadn’t changed one bit. He was still the same tall, broad-shouldered, arrogant asshole she fondly remembered, and she was reeling over the fact that he lived right next door to her! Like, what kind of sick joke was this?
He stepped out of his vehicle in his uniform, and the way he walked with his holstered gun, she couldn’t pull her gaze from him. She peered at him from between the rusty Hyundai she was still trying to sell and her newer used little Jeep, and she sat up straighter, remembering that her tank top barely covered her practical bra. She knew the gleaming white showed at the sides, and she pulled at the blue spaghetti strap of her cotton tank to cover herself. What could she say? Going braless wasn’t an option with her generous C cups.
“See you’re finally getting around to cleaning up that mess?” he said, looking right at her from over the tops of his mirrored shades. He walked across her driveway and onto her grass as if she’d invited him over.
Even the way he said it had her fighting her first instinct, which was to hit back at him with some cutting remark. Instead, she just fisted her hands as she rested them on her thighs and took in the pile of dead annuals in the dirt. She didn’t have a clue what they once had been, considering she didn’t have a green thumb on her.
“I guess it’s a matter of opinion, really,” she said. “Not sure why you’re offering yours to me.” Ooh, she wanted to pat herself on the back. She sensed that his smile and soft chuckle were not from humor, and he lifted his gaze, taking in everything about her aunt’s house.
“I knew the woman who lived here for years. She was a fantastic, generous, sweet lady who knew how to be a neighbor—you know, respectful, courteous. She really took pride in her place. It’s gone downhill. Likely a little too much for you to look after?”
Yup, she got the zinger. Apparently he had a cruel streak, too, considering he was commenting on her character. She had to fight the urge to roll her shoulders. This was the kind of judgy shit she hated, and it never got old with assholes who thought they knew her.
“Guess a privileged white boy like you would think that,” she snapped. “You see a woman and her daughter alone and they’re, what, not capable because neither has a penis?” She took in the shock on his face as he pulled off his shades and tucked them in his shirtfront.
“Uh, no,” he said in a low voice, though he didn’t have the decency to even look embarrassed at having been called out. In fact, he took a step closer, and she had to tilt her head to look up. “This privileged white boy, as you so aptly put it, lived next door to a single old woman who had one of the nicest yards and gardens in the area. She made everything about it look easy. And I was raised by a single mom of six who worked harder than three white men put together and never asked for help. Just stating what I see.”
Nothing like having him point out that she was the one who’d just jammed her foot in her mouth. She could feel her face heat, and she had to pull in a breath and try to regain what she could of her dignity before she came out looking like a bigger idiot. She pressed her tongue against her top teeth as she stared up at Ryan, whose eyes were bluer than she remembered. Perpetual tan, good looks. She had to pull it together.
“Well, this has been fun,” she said. “Are you done pointing out my shortcomings, or maybe you have a few more digs you’d like to add?”
He didn’t smile this time, but his gaze seemed intense, hard. “So you bought this and moved in a few weeks ago. Just you and your daughter live here? You didn’t say last night if there was a husband, boyfriend, significant other in the picture or any other kids.”
She hadn’t bought the house, but she wasn’t about to share that with Ryan. “As I said, it’s just me and my daughter.” Something about kneeling in front of a man didn’t work for her, so she brushed her hands together to wipe off some non-existent dirt, pressed them to the grass, scooted her feet around, and stood up.
Ryan didn’t even step back. Just the scent of him made her angry, because it was too appealing. She let her arms hang to her sides even when he allowed his gaze to skim over her. It was intimate and egotistical and indecent, as if he thought looking at her was his God-given right. His arms were crossed over that amazing chest, which she’d felt skin to skin just one time.
“Your daughter…” he started, and she knew he was waiting for her to step in.
“You mean Alison? Yes, my daughter.” She fisted her hands again and could feel her nails digging into her palms.
This time, he did smile, and he pulled his gaze over to the house. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was interrogating her. “Yeah, Alison. You have a talk with her about the noise? It’s been going on every night since you moved here. I’m assuming you’re not home at night? She’s like, what, sixteen, seventeen…”
Oh, here we go. The topic of Alison wasn’t open for discussion. “She’s almost fifteen, and I work afternoons, evenings. Again, I told you the noise won’t happen anymore. I know about it now, and I put my foot down.”
Actually, her daughter was fourteen and three months, nowhere close to being fifteen. Regarding the stereo, Jenny had yanked the audio connection from the speaker and hid it in her underwear drawer, because her daughter hadn’t been known for her compliance as of late, as illustrated by the nose ring two weeks earlier and the jet-black hair the previous week.
“Where do you work?” Ryan asked. Boy, she was really getting the sense of a full-out interrogation.
“Mini-mart,” she said. Counting cash in the back room and reconciling statements for the small grocery store was the only job she was qualified for, considering her late husband had been the sole breadwinner—his insistence and her mistake.
“So you work for Joel.”
What was it about the way Ryan spoke? She wondered what he was holding back. She had to fight the urge to lean in or yell and ask him what the fuck he wanted with her, to stop toying with her.
“Yes, so if that’s all…” she started before those blue eyes zeroed in on her again.
“Can’t figure out where we met. I’m pretty good with faces, and you didn’t answer me last night.”
She didn’t want to answer him now, either, but he showed no intention of leaving. Maybe his stubborn streak had been what attracted her, the idea of a strong-minded male. She had to force the image of him and that night she’d never forget, being underneath him, from her mind.
“Well, this is kind of embarrassing,” she said. “You picked me up at the Lighthouse Bar, took me home with you, and screwed my brains out. Apparently, I wasn’t that memorable. Not sure how to take that.”
There it was: the first time she’d seen him rattled. She would’ve taken some enjoyment from it if her ego hadn’t taken such a shit-kicking at the thought of being so forgettable.
Then she heard a beep. The smoke alarm—hers. Dammit, Alison! What the hell had she gone and done now?
Chapter Four
Very few people had the ability to shock Ryan anymore, as he would’ve sworn he’d seen and heard just about everything. Except now, as Jenny raced into the house, all he could do was stand there and stare, trying to picture her and place her face from his memory of a night so long ago.
She had basically called him out as a despicable bad boy. Jenny was slim and curvy, with long legs, a generous bust under her faded tank top, and a great ass, from what he could see by the sway of it under her short shorts. She was not someone he’d easily forget, and he was stuck on the Lighthouse Bar.
Like, what the fuck? It wasn’t as if Ryan was a boy scout, but at the same time… It was in that second that the familiarity about his new neighbor, which he hadn’t been able to put his finger on, hit home—the where, when, and ho
w.
It had been a long time ago, before he was a ranger.
He pulled his hand over his jaw, barely hearing the scrape of whiskers over the constant sharp beeping of the smoke detector from inside the house.
He could hear voices, shouting, and something of the discord between mother and daughter as he found himself walking up the steps and taking in the open screen door, assessing everything. Through the smoke, he could see the girl. What the hell was her name? Right, Alison. And then there was Jenny, who was standing now on a stool that appeared to have seen better days, reaching for the smoke detector.
“Is there a fire?” he called out, his cell phone already in his hand, just as the beeping stopped.
“Just my daughter,” Jenny snapped, holding the detector battery.
He automatically held out his hand to take the battery and help her down, and she hesitated only a second before accepting it. The teen who seemed to be the source of every problem was swatting the smoke that billowed from the stove. There was just something about her that he recognized. She was badass, looking for trouble, with a major chip on her shoulder.
“I told you to dump that pan in the sink! Why weren’t you watching it…?” Jenny yelled as she strode back into the kitchen.
With a better view now, Ryan didn’t miss the fact that Alison’s jet-black hair was spiked and suddenly short. What had she done, hacked it off with scissors? It appeared that way, considering the mess it was in. As he moved closer, he could see through the smoke that she wore a nose ring and heavy eye makeup, and her shorts were absolutely indecent. The tank she wore was loose and backless. She wasn’t saying anything as Jenny took the fry pan, flames still flickering inside, and dumped it in the sink. Smoke billowed again, but the smoke detector was now disabled.
He rested the battery on the island, which was covered in cans, boxes, and packaging, and then walked over to the back door to pull it open to let some of the smoke out.
“Seriously, Alison, what is this now, the silent treatment?” Jenny said. “You’re not two years old. You could have burned the house down. How many times have I told you that you don’t put something on the stove and walk away and leave it unattended? You know better. You’re supposed to be responsible, yet all you’ve done since we’ve moved here is cause trouble. Whenever something happens, all I can think is ‘What have you gone and done now?’”
Of course, what did Alison do but roll her eyes? He sensed that she was about to dish out some attitude, but she didn’t have to say a word. She crossed her arms over her chest, her body too much like a grown woman’s for a girl who was all about trouble.
“You’re the one who insisted on moving here without giving me a choice,” Alison said. “I had a life in Atlanta. My friends were there. You completely destroyed my life, so I’d say you’re getting exactly what you deserve. You screwed with my social life and basically said to hell with me. It was all about what you wanted…”
“Oh, stop it, already,” Jenny said. “You know we had to leave. I had no choices, Alison. We had no choice, so instead of causing problems, how about you be part of the solution and try to make the best of it?”
“Blah blah blah, same old—”
“Hey, don’t talk to your mother like that,” Ryan snapped, cutting off the teenage attitude and the back-and-forth between mom and daughter, which seemed to be spiralling downward into a battle of wills that wouldn’t go anywhere.
Both Jenny and Alison stared at him in that minute, maybe from shock or surprise or something. He walked back into the center of the kitchen and stood there, feeling very much like a referee.
“What the fuck is he doing in here?” Alison jabbed her finger his way.
The smoke wasn’t as thick now with the doors open, front and back, but his eyes were still burning. He gave everything to the kid. How old was she, fifteen going on trouble? She had a smart mouth on her, and he didn’t miss the annoyance in Jenny’s tone when she replied.
“Ryan was outside,” she said. “We were talking when you set the smoke detector off. And watch your mouth, Alison—and, while we’re at it, clean up this mess you made. We need to talk about a few things, establish some ground rules.”
He understood the way Jenny snapped at her daughter, but at the same time, he could see it wasn’t accomplishing anything. The girl just wasn’t reasonable.
Ryan sensed a lot of unresolved issues between the two of them, but now he had an answer to at least one of his questions. So she had moved from Atlanta. He took in the mess of the kitchen, the dirty dishes, the packaging and open cans and boxes stacked on the table and floor. Still moving in, it appeared.
Jenny was walking his way, pulling at the spaghetti strap of her tank, which didn’t cover her wide bra strap. There was something about the motion that made him unable to pull his eyes from her bust. He dragged his gaze up to her face, round, cute, with eyes the color of taffy. Her body too was unforgettable, and she tried to wrap her arms around herself as if she was uncomfortable, but all it did was accentuate the size of her breasts. He realized he was staring, and he had to force himself to look at her face again. Was that how he had acted the night he’d met her?
“See anything you like?” she said, and he didn’t think she was happy.
He didn’t say anything. He knew he should be embarrassed, but there was something about her. He wasn’t sure what to make of her demeanor, her sass, her attitude. His memories of her didn’t seem to fit the woman who was standing before him now, unsmiling.
“I told you I was good with faces,” he said. “So, the Lighthouse Bar… How many years ago was it, Jenny, or Jennifer, or Jenn? I suppose this should make things awkward. So you came from Atlanta, just you and your daughter, why?” He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at her, and he wasn’t sure what to make of her expression.
She made a rude noise and stepped closer to him before glancing over her shoulder to Alison, who appeared to be listening to everything. Then she rested her hand on his arm. Her touch was soft, her fingers slender. “It’s Jenny, just Jenny. Can I talk to you outside, please?” she said, her voice low.
He suspected her pissed-off tone was from the round with her daughter, but at least now he knew what he’d done to set her on edge. He found himself following her outside after taking a last look at Alison in the kitchen. She was the kind of kid he’d come across one too many times, looking for trouble and landing in it.
Jenny made a point of closing the door and rested her hand on her hip, looking down at the gray porch. He could see she was thinking of something to say, and from how on edge she was, he didn’t think it was polite conversation she had in mind.
She lifted her gaze to him again. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not have my daughter knowing about us and what happened. It was years ago, and as you can see, it’s the kind of thing she’d hold over me. Besides, it was a long time ago, so how about we skip going down memory lane? I’d say it’s great to see you, but it isn’t, really, because apparently I’m so unmemorable that you didn’t even remember me. And you know what? It’s fine. I don’t need you to remember me. Actually, I’d prefer it, and you have my permission to ignore me completely over here. Don’t be neighborly, don’t come over, don’t even say hi. You mind your business, and I’ll mind mine…” She gestured to him with the flat of her hand, a motion to leave. When he didn’t move, she strode down the steps ahead of him, making another rude noise.
Ryan took his time on the stairs, walking down, trying to figure out why she was so angry. “You don’t know what I’m thinking or what I remember, so don’t put words in my mouth,” he said. “You said you just moved back here from Atlanta? Guess that would explain a lot, but at the same time, I’m having trouble understanding your attitude toward me.” He was wondering what was different about her, too.
She stood for a second in shock, and her entire body seemed to still. “You don’t understand my attitude toward a man who’s the love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy?
You picked me up, slept with me, and…”
“Get your story straight.” He cut her off. “Seems there were two of us involved, and you’re the one who walked over to me in that bar. You were offering, and you bet I took you up on it. At the same time, where were you when I woke up?”
Her eyes widened. It was always the same when he called someone out. Her breath squeaked, her face flushed, and she said nothing.
“Gone is where you were,” he said. “I reached over in my bed, expecting warm skin, a warm body, but instead I touched cool sheets. If you really want to do the finger-pointing thing, it was you, Jenny, who ran out on me.”
Chapter Five
“I’ve left several messages for you, and you haven’t called back. As I said in every one of my messages, this can’t wait. This is a matter of urgency. The situation is becoming untenable with your daughter, and I must speak with you and your husband.”
Jenny had her cell phone pressed to her ear, still feeling the knot in her stomach after seeing the name of Alison’s school on her cell phone and knowing they wouldn’t call unless there was a problem.
She pulled open the bottom drawer of her steel desk and lifted out her purse. She was in a jean skirt, and her legs were bare, her shoes flat and practical. “I’m sorry. You said this is…”
“Mrs. Kramer, the principal at the high school.”
Right. She pressed her hand to her forehead. Just on the other side of the door, her boss was talking with some customers. She hoped he’d stay out there and leave her in the now empty office, as it made it easier to talk.
“I see,” she said. “I didn’t get a message, I’m sorry. You called my cell phone, not my home?”
“I called your home, several times. Left messages for both you and your husband.”
#1-3--The O’Connells Page 3