by Olivia Miles
Of course he could. No matter how much she tried, there was no getting rid of him.
She snorted to herself. Fancy that for a change. The last man in her life ran through the door the second she cut him loose.
“How’s the house coming along?” she inquired as she poured him a mug of fresh coffee.
He accepted it and motioned to a pumpkin scone. “Those look delicious.”
Anna would be pleased to hear that, Jane noted as she plated one for him. “Do you think you’ll be ready to list it soon?” Are you leaving town soon? She wasn’t sure why she still cared.
“It’s hard to say. The place needs more work than I thought. We want to make sure we get as much out of it as we can.” He handed over a ten-dollar bill and she reached for it, her fingers so close to his, they nearly touched. She hesitated, admiring the long, tanned fingers, and then all but yanked the money from his hands. That was about enough of that!
She rang up his order and slid his change along the counter, hoping to avoid another chance at physical contact, even though a part of her wanted nothing more than to feel the soft heat of his skin on hers. “Well, I hope it all works out for you. And Ivy,” she added, recalling that Ivy was depending on the proceeds from the sale of the house to grow her business.
Henry’s smile was warm. “Thanks. I hope everything works out for both of us, Jane.” His voice was low and insistent, and entirely too intimate. She pulled back from the counter. “I mean that, Jane.”
“Do you?” She couldn’t hide the hurt that crept into her tone. “Or are you just saying that because you feel sorry for me?”
Henry frowned. “I feel sorry for what you’re going through. I also know you’ve grown into a strong woman who will find a way to get through this. Look how many hurdles you’ve already crossed.”
When he put it like that… She shook off the kindness in his words. He didn’t want to get involved, and she shouldn’t be dragging him into this. “I’m working. I can’t get into this now.”
“I’m not finished with this conversation, Jane,” Henry said firmly.
She met his eye. “Well, I am.” The couple had reached the counter and she gave them her full attention. “We have some lovely chocolate croissants this morning.”
“Jane.”
She slid her gaze to Henry’s and waited.
“Come sit with me in a minute. Please.”
She glanced at the couple and let out a breath. “Fine.”
She watched as he retreated and settled at the last free table near the window. She took her time filling the next few orders and watched the door, willing someone to enter. It would seem the rush was now over. How convenient.
Henry’s hooded gaze pulled her attention back to his table. She sighed and decided to face the inevitable. Rosemary’s group stopped talking and watched as she swept by them.
“Let’s just forget I said anything,” she said, dropping into the chair opposite him, happy her back was to the book club. “I don’t have very much time, and I promised Grace I would help you with the article.”
“That’s all you have to say?” he asked, his expression incredulous.
“Well, thank you,” she managed. “For featuring the bookstore. It will certainly help business, and I appreciate that.”
“I’m not doing this to help you,” he replied. He ran a hand over his face. “That came out wrong. I care about you, Jane. And your welfare. ”
“My welfare?” she repeated, crossing her arms across her chest. Figures. “Pity, then.”
His brow knitted. “Jane, you’re one of the most capable women I know. You wrestle two jobs, you take care of a child, and you’ve created a beautiful home, all on your own. And you still make time for your sisters and mother. That’s more than most people could say. More than I could say.” Something in his eyes fell flat.
Jane studied his face, wondering what had gone wrong in his marriage. It was something they had in common, after all: divorce. Henry didn’t seem to want to talk about it, though, and she of all people could respect that.
“You know, I had a bit of a crush on you when we were younger,” Henry confessed, his mouth curving into a bashful smile.
Jane felt herself blush, and she laughed to cover her embarrassment. His grin slipped a bit, but his eyes were honest, and all at once her heart started doing jumping jacks. Henry, this man who had started consuming all of her waking fantasies, had at one point in time been attracted to her. Was it possible he still was? “I don’t believe you.” And she wouldn’t. Henry was lean and muscled and smooth and sincere. He was sweet and kind, and he… Oh, God.
“I never said anything.” He stirred his coffee and set down his spoon. “What point was there? You were crazy about Adam.”
She pursed her lips at that. “I was.” Why, she couldn’t even remember anymore. She supposed it was better that way.
The door jangled and Jane looked up to see a group of women weaving through the book display tables. “I should go attend to them.” She stood, remembering. “The article. I’m tied up with class and the Nutcracker auditions later today.”
“I’ve got some contractors coming out to the house tomorrow and Friday. How about this weekend?”
The suggestion of a weekend meeting felt somehow personal. “I promised Sophie I’d take her to Old Country Orchard Saturday to pick apples. It’s sort of a family tradition.” She frowned on her words. Family still felt awkward; like it was meant for more than a pair. “Well, a tradition for us.”
“Old Country Orchard? Don’t they supply cider to the state?” When Jane nodded, he continued, “Might be good for my article. Mind if I join you?”
Jane fumbled for an excuse and came up blank. “Oh, um.”
Henry held up a hand. “It’s a family tradition. Sorry. It just sounded fun.”
Jane thought of the laughter and warmth she felt the night of the Harvest Fest, when the three of them had gathered around the kitchen table, eating pizza and commenting on the events of the day, focusing only on the positive ones. Sophie had lit up at his presence, or maybe by the way Jane’s energy responded to him and his easy smile, his gentle eyes, and that killer smile that made her insides tingle and her mind wander into places it hadn’t been in too long.
“Want to meet at the house and drive out together? Say, noon?”
Henry’s grin widened. “Noon’s perfect.”
Jane inhaled a shaky breath as she backed away from the table. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she almost just planned a date!
CHAPTER
20
Old Country Orchard was on the outskirts of Briar Creek, about five miles down a winding, tree-lined road, south of town. “Did you ever come here as a kid?” Jane asked Henry as they pulled into the gravel parking lot.
The set of his jaw made her want to snatch back her question. Of course he hadn’t.
“We took a school trip here, I think,” Henry replied after a pause. “How long have you been coming?”
“For as long as I can remember,” Jane said as they made their way up the dirt path to the red barn at the base of the apple trees. She helped Sophie take a small basket and took a larger one for herself. Motioning to a wagon, she said, “We’ll probably need one of those, too.”
Henry looked at her quizzically. “For Sophie?”
“For the apples,” Jane corrected, laughing softly.
Henry’s brow drew to a point. “How many do you plan on picking?”
“More than I can carry, that’s for sure.”
He stared at her. “You’re serious.”
“That’s not a problem, is it? We usually make a day of it and then go home and bake.”
His gaze was sharp and unnerving, and Jane held her breath as she waited for him to reply. In the afternoon sun, his eyes were lighter than usual, and his unruly locks glinted with copper highlights. But all she could stare at was that mouth. Those full lips, the dimple that quirked when he grinned. The slight cleft in hi
s chin. “On the contrary. This day is already showing a lot of promise.”
Jane felt her breath catch. That it was.
She blinked quickly and turned away before he could see her pleased smile, her stride purposeful as they approached the first row of trees. So he liked this type of thing. That didn’t mean she could fall for him. He was probably just gathering information for his article. There were endless reasons why he was the last person in the world she should have a crush on.
A crush—yes, that’s all it was. He was a good-looking guy and she was, well, depraved, as Grace would probably say. It had been more than a year since she’d been touched in… special places. But a crush was called a crush for a reason, and with Henry, it could only ever end in disappointment.
He used to have a crush on me, she thought with a sudden skip in her heart. She dismissed it just as quickly and yanked an apple from a branch. That was years ago. He’d moved on. They’d both moved on. Both gotten married.
Both gotten divorced.
“How’s the article coming along?” she asked, keeping an eye on Sophie as the little girl wandered down the path.
“Better than expected,” Henry said. There was a hint of surprise in his tone.
Jane glanced up at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Briar Creek is growing on you.”
“It has its charms,” he said, somewhat reluctantly.
Jane reached up for an apple at the exact time as Henry. She blushed as his hand touched hers, but he just grinned as he snatched it from the branch and handed it to her. “Thanks,” she said, falling into step beside him. He grew quiet, and she decided to keep going with their conversation, see if he’d open up a bit more. “Small-town life has its challenges. There were times last year where it seemed I couldn’t enter a room without it going silent.”
Henry’s mouth firmed into a thin line. “Why’d you stick around, then? It couldn’t have been easy living in the same town as your ex, not with the way people talk around here.”
She chose not to remind him—or herself—that Adam wasn’t going to be living in Briar Creek much longer; there was plenty of time to worry about that later. Today was an annual tradition, and she wanted to make the most of it.
“It’s been hard at times,” Jane admitted with a sigh. She thought of telling him about her pajama days and decided against it. Nothing glamorous about a shut-in. Nothing attractive about flannels and bunny slippers. Besides, there was still the possibility that he would mention it to Adam, and oh, wouldn’t that just make her mother of the year? “I’ve kept to myself more since Adam moved out.”
“Sometimes it’s easier that way,” Henry agreed. “But then, I guess that comes with its own set of sacrifices.”
Jane knew about the way people talked about Mrs. Birch, right up until the day the poor woman died last summer. That couldn’t have been easy to deal with, but was it enough to run from?
She glanced at Henry. “It must be nice spending time with your sister.”
Henry nodded. “It is. We haven’t seen enough of each other in recent years. I hope to change that.”
Hope fluttered in her chest. She reached for another apple, waiting for her pulse to settle before speaking again. “You thinking of moving back?”
“No, but it might be easier for her to get away and visit me now.”
Jane did her best to push back the heaviness in her heart. It was time to get back to business, the whole reason for him being here at all. “So, Main Street Books. I owe you some information on it.”
“Hold on. Let me get out my notebook.” Henry sat down in the red metal wagon and grinned up at her, pen poised above the spiral pad. “Hit me with it.”
“Well, some of this you probably already know, and really Grace would be the better person to help here.” She frowned at that, wondering again why Grace hadn’t just handled this herself. Her sister loved to brag about Main Street Books. The store was her life; it had been her favorite hangout growing up, just as the dance studio had been Jane’s. “My father left his teaching job to take over the store when I was just a kid. I couldn’t have been much older than Sophie at the time.”
“And Grace took it over last year?”
Jane nodded. “After my father died…” She swallowed hard. It still hurt to say those words, even now, more than a year and a half later. “She came home to visit last Christmas. The shop was scheduled to be closed, actually. Anna had her own business, and I was, well, dealing with my own mess.” She narrowed her gaze, thinking of how fraught she’d been a year ago at this time.
She felt tired thinking back on it. Almost as tired as she felt now, nearly a year later.
“I asked Grace to come home for the holidays,” she continued. “When she learned about the store, she found a way to reinvent it, with Anna’s help.”
“So, it’s become a family effort, then?”
Jane gave a smile. “It has. Grace had been gone for five years. We weren’t sure she’d ever come home.” She shrugged. “Sometimes tragedy has a way of bringing people together.”
“I guess so.” Henry’s brow furrowed, and Jane realized she’d hit a nerve.
She set a hand on his arm, her stomach tightening at the forwardness of her gesture, but he didn’t pull back. If anything, it felt strangely natural. “I’m sorry. You must still be struggling, with your mom. I know it’s still painful for me to think about my dad.” She felt her frown deepen.
She dropped her arm and resumed picking apples from a low-hanging branch.
“I was hard on my sister,” Henry said, catching her off guard. “I wanted her to leave Briar Creek years ago. I couldn’t understand why she’d choose to stay.”
Jane considered his words. “You have a lot of hard feelings about this town.”
“Wouldn’t you? I’m sure you know how people talked about us around here. My mother had quite a reputation. Half the time I wondered if it was the reason she drank so much. It’s not easy living with that kind of talk.”
No, it wasn’t. Jane set her basket on the ground. “I’m sorry, Henry.”
He shrugged, then stood and slid his notebook back into his pocket. “Nothing to be sorry about. It is what it is. You can dwell or you can move on.”
And he’d chosen the latter.
She opened her mouth to say something, but from the set of his jaw and the determination in her eyes, it was clear the conversation was over. Henry was stubborn and proud, and he didn’t want anyone’s pity. He just wanted to live a quiet life where he didn’t have to be reminded of the past.
She could relate.
“Mommy, can I have an apple?”
“Are you still hungry?” Jane remarked. She shared a smile with Henry. They’d just indulged in cider and donuts and split an enormous slice of warm pie. “Wait until we get home, honey. We’ll have dinner soon, and you know how I feel about food in the car.”
“It’s an apple,” Henry chided, low enough to ensure Sophie couldn’t hear.
Jane pinched her lips and slid her eyes back to the road. “I know, but rules are rules. It’s easiest to stick to them.”
She considered her own rules, the ones that pertained to dating and romance. The ones that Henry broke. He hardly had long-term potential.
“When I go to school on Monday, I’m going to tell all the kids that I have a loose tooth,” Sophie announced from the backseat.
“Oh, really?” Jane smiled. Sophie was already trying to reach new milestones, trying to grow up too quickly. She glanced at Henry. “I want to tell her to just enjoy her youth, you know?”
“I wouldn’t know, actually. I felt like I was born an old man.” He chuckled, but there was an edge of hurt in his voice.
“You’re a good brother. And son,” Jane added after a hesitation.
“I always adored Ivy,” Henry remarked, ignoring the rest of her comment.
“I’m going to tell everyone I lost a tooth. Look, Mommy, my tooth came out.”
Jane glanced u
p in the mirror to see Sophie munching an apple, grinning happily. “Sophie! I told you, no eating in the car!”
“Sorry,” Sophie mumbled, even though she didn’t appear the least bit repentant. She bit into her apple and chewed.
Jane rolled her eyes. The sun was quickly fading, and she hated driving in the dark, especially on these winding back roads with no lighting. She turned on her brights and gripped the steering wheel, trying to tune out Sophie’s endless chatter. It was hard to believe there was a time she had waited for Sophie to start talking, wondering if it would ever happen. Now, the chatter filled every silence, and when Sophie was gone, at school or with her dad, the quiet was almost unbearable.
“Are we going to have pizza again for dinner?” Sophie asked now.
“I made a lasagna, honey.”
“Oh! Yuck.”
Jane squinted into the distance, searching for the next turn. “What do you mean by that? You love my lasagna!”
“Well, I like pizza better,” Sophie said grouchily. “And so does Henry.”
Henry flashed her a look of chagrin. “Actually, lasagna is one of my favorite meals.”
Jane’s heart sped up. Was that a hint? She gripped the steering wheel tighter as she considered how to respond. She suddenly wished Grace were here, or even Anna. They’d know how to smoothly reply, how to casually respond in a way that didn’t seem too eager, or too uninterested.
Oh, what was she saying? There was nothing to read into at all. So he’d had a crush on her. That was ages ago. He was obviously over it by now. He’d more or less told her so in no uncertain terms. Still… She glanced at him sidelong, catching a hint of those deep-set eyes.
“Well, you’re always welcome to join us,” she said lightly.
She braced herself, waiting for him to brush off her invitation, to tell her to just bring him back to the inn, but Sophie cut in first: “Yeah! We can have a lasagna party!”
“Is everything a party in your house?” Henry asked, but there was an undercurrent of amusement in his tone.
“We like to, um, celebrate the little things,” Jane said. No more pajamas before seven. Never again.