Tears pricked her eyes. Derek knew how much she liked The White Orchid. She and Ayana came here every few weeks for their girl dates. And besides, hadn’t he dumped her last night? She cleared her throat, chasing down the lump, and blinked rapidly.
“This isn’t a good time for me, Derek. Goodbye.” He was still talking when she pushed End. Inhaling, she turned around, the phone clenched in her palm. Will stood, not five feet away, arms over his chest and feet braced like trunks of twin oak trees. He had heard everything. She blinked again, not able to meet his face. “I’m sorry.” She felt the urge to bolt. Will gave a slow nod and stepped toward her. She watched his Adam’s apple move up and down as he inhaled, nostrils flaring.
“Bye,” she murmured, turning on her heel and going to her car as fast as possible without breaking into a full out run. Once inside, she curled her fingers around the wheel, watching her knuckles turn white. In her rearview, she caught Will’s indecisive frown. Heart hammering, she turned the key and stepped on the gas.
Jordan poured steaming water from the kettle and let the tea bags steep, waving her hand to encourage the hibiscus and sweet mango to rise and curl into the air. “I’m so glad you stopped by. I’m beginning to think I’m making more out of this than necessary.”
“Probably not.” Ayana took a shortbread cookie off the tray and bit off the raspberry jam corner.
Jordan squeezed the tea bags and handed one cup over. It wasn’t the same quality as they got at The White Orchid, but her favorite store brand was acceptable.
Will. Just thinking about the café, and the handsome soldier, caused a wave of heat to push through her. Though their meetings had been awkward, she’d also felt a sense of peace with Will. And heady excitement. Until she almost peeled out of the parking lot yesterday. If she had climbed out of her car, would he have taken her into his arms? Would he be content with just a comforting hug? Would she claim a kiss?
“It’s not that warm.”
“Huh?” Jordan blinked, aware of Ayana’s thoughtful stare.
“The tea isn’t hot enough to cause your skin to flush like it is. What else is making you so warm, girlfriend?”
More heat tinged her skin, and she fumbled for an answer. How could she explain how thoughts of Will affected her? She was spared further embarrassment when her doorbell sounded.
She swung the door open, stunned to see Derek. “What are you doing here?”
He pushed himself into the room, spotted Ayana, and stopped, arms folded over his chest. “I need to talk to Jordan. Alone,” he said to Ayana, ignoring Jordan’s question.
Ayana’s lips thinned and she took her time finishing her tea. “Umm, hum.” She set the cup aside and patted Jordan on the shoulder on her way out. “Later, girlfriend. You know my number.”
Derek watched her go, then finally addressed Jordan. “She’s no good for you.”
His words held a callous sting and Jordan balled her fists tight. “She’s my friend.”
Derek smiled, it not quite reaching his eyes. “I thought I was your friend.”
“I don’t quite know what or who you are lately.” Jordan crossed her own arms over her chest, regarding him pensively.
Derek ran a hand through his hair in a clear sign of frustration. “Since when have you become so high maintenance?”
Jordan recoiled, his words slapping like a physical blow across her cheek. “What do you mean?”
“Needy. You never needed so much attention before.”
She felt her own eyes narrowing. “Don’t you think I’m worth some time and attention? And some explanations.”
“Of course.”
Silence dropped between them. Stifling under the heaviness, Jordan poured out her tea and repackaged the cookies, not bothering to offer him refreshments. “Feel free to explain.”
He remained silent, crossing the room a couple of times, avoiding any chance to meet her waiting gaze. He worked his cell phone a few times, and put it away twice, only to get it back out again. When it was in his pocket, his gaze was out the window.
Finally, Jordan propped herself on the counter. “Derek, I think we’ve both reached a point this relationship isn’t beneficial for either one of us. Clearly, we are both looking for different things. Let’s just agree to call it quits now.”
He was at her side in a breath, riveting her arm in an iron-tight grip. “No one ends relationships with a Copeland, except a Copeland. We end the associations, got it? And I am not ready to finish ours.”
Jordan jerked, trying to escape his grip. Hard blue eyes bored into hers, stealing her breath. She swallowed and worked to drag in a breath. “Too bad, because I want out. You will leave me alone. And right now, you will release me.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll scream. Loud enough to get every neighbor and policeman around to come running.”
He smiled at her threat. The Copelands owned the local police and no one would interfere once they saw who was involved. Jordan hated to admit it, but he had a good point. Here, the Copelands did call all the shots. In that moment, she felt a dislike for Derek like she’d never felt for another person before.
“I don’t like you very much.” The admission tumbled from her mouth before she could think over the wisdom of her confession.
Derek shrugged. “You’re my girl, Jordan. Liking me is optional right now. And for now, I think you should stay away from Ayana, the café, and the grandson.”
She jerked against his iron hold. “And if you decide to become too busy to maintain me,” she spat out, “what do you suggest I do when I feel needy?”
He grinned at her sass. “I’m confident you’ll think of something. In the meantime, you should do better to think of ways to avoid becoming too hard to please.”
She drew back, her jaw going slack at his veiled threat. Her eyes went once more to his fingers curled around her arm. “You’re hurting me.”
Slowly, he released her, his warm breath fanning her face. “And you’re walking on some thin ice, Jordan.” He stepped to the door and paused to fish his sunglasses from his coat pocket. “I’ll be in touch later. We can do dinner or something.”
Once he was gone, Jordan stumbled to the door and secured the lock, her fingers shaking. She never dreamed her perfect boyfriend would morph into this monster. Stunned, trembling, she staggered to the sofa and collapsed, dragging a cushion to her chest. Her hand reached for her phone to call Ayana, but she thought better of it. Would Derek harm her friend if he felt she was ignoring his order to stay away? What would Ayana say if she learned what just happened?
Chapter Seven
Will
Furious. Will whacked the nail hard, feeling nothing from the reverberating clack, so he smacked it again, driving it further into the new board. Teeth grit, he positioned another shiny nail and pounded it deep. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he shook it away with a toss of his head. Furious. He wanted to hurt something far larger than some nails and boards. Jordan’s hurt expression when her creep of a boyfriend called had stayed with him all night, keeping him unwelcome company as he tried to sleep. When she bit her lip and said good-bye, sprinting to her car like a marathon runner, he ached to chase her down and take her into his arms. He wanted to kiss those lips and the bruises left by her worried teeth, and wipe away those tears she was gamely trying to hide. Instead, he stood there like a stupid tree, hands in his pockets, and watched her leave.
Now he was furious with himself for not stopping her. For not throwing her phone aside when the Copeland creep called her, and for not kissing her when he should have. He was royally pissed off at Copeland because no man should treat a lady like he treated Jordan. Second class. From what he’d seen since his return to town, the guy did not deserve a sweet girl like her. So why did she stay with him and remain his personal doormat? Well, it wasn’t like he could offer her anything better. He’d be gone soon, once those orders came through. Maybe he should call his CO and see what the delay was.
He
pounded another board, testing its strength and position. He couldn’t leave as long as there were repairs that needed to be done to the old house. But at the way he was tearing through projects, he’d have the whole place ready for inspection before the end of the week. Once he finished these last worn boards, he wanted to replace some shingles and adjust the tracking on the upstairs windows that stuck.
For now, he could pound nails. It was a super outlet for his pent-up, pissed-off anger. The tiny sparks flying under the hammer’s head gave him a small bit of satisfaction.
“Larkin, I want a word with you.”
Will exhaled his breath in a measured hiss, not looking up to see who the voice belonged to. He just loved how people assumed, because the place was a business, every square inch was free for them to traipse around. It was also a home. He needed to install some barriers to show people where the business ended and the home began. Grams had already made a few comments about not knowing how to control certain groups of people, like when they had busloads arrive. He pounded one more nail, getting a satisfying echo as steel met steel. Adrenaline coursed through him, just like when he was preparing to go on a new mission.
“Did you hear me?”
Arrogant SOB. He slowly set his tools aside and stood up, taking the time to stretch before coming to study his unwelcome guest. Copeland stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, cheeks billowing like a fat bulldog. What did Jordan see in this creep? She probably thought a Copeland was the best she could do in this town. The thought sickened him. Hadn’t Grams dated a Copeland before marrying Gramps? Thank heaven she’d kept looking and found his grandpa.
“Yes. I hear you. I’m also busy.” Two could play the busy card.
“Stay away from Jordan Kelly.”
The request came out as a snarl. It was clear he did not expect to be challenged. Will waited until Copeland turned to go before speaking.
“Jordan can make up her own mind who she wants to be with.” The words fell hard, like hammer blows on a nail. Copeland turned, a momentary flash of disbelief crossing his chubby face before he worked up a smile. Sinister. Will hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, staying light on his feet. And ready.
Copeland raised one foot to the railing, looking like a dog about to pee to mark his spot. “Jordan gets confused,” he said, his tone soft and dripping faux concern. “She might get misguided.”
Lying sack of BS. “She seems capable enough to me. In fact, if anyone misguided her, it would be you. We’re both men, so let’s not insult one another with lies or blame.”
Copeland turned red as he exhaled sharply. Shock stole over his face. When was the last time someone spoke to him like this? Seeing his pseudo charm was failing to work, he backtracked and resurfaced with malice. Fists tight at his sides, teeth showing like a terrier, he held Will’s eye and snarled, “Maybe you didn’t understand me, Larkin. Jordan’s off limits to you.”
Will shrugged, biting back a smile at how the simple gesture pushed Copeland’s buttons. “This is a public place. She can come here anytime she wants. Cimarron Shores is public. She can go about as she pleases.” He stepped closer to Copeland, invading his space. “She’s always welcome where I am.”
Copeland held his ground, but a muscle in his jaw ticked. “Aren’t you due to ship out soon? Real soon.” He emphasized the word real. “That would be a good plan.”
“Threatening a U.S. soldier is a serious offense, Copeland. You might want to reconsider some of this conversation. Not even your family or your name can help you if Uncle Sam finds out you’ve not been playing nice with one of his soldiers.”
That muscle tic thumped rapidly and Copeland’s skin flushed. He bared his teeth in one more growl. “Stay away from Jordan. I won’t repeat that.” Finished, he whirled and retreated, his body stiff.
Chapter Eight
Jordan
Jordan crossed and re-crossed her living room carpet, her steps short and heavy. She needed to get out and do something. Anything. With the exception of work, she’d not been out of the house in days. Even Ayana failed her. They’d gone out to hear a local band and Derek mysteriously showed up and ruined the evening. He had not threatened Ayana outright, but he made his displeasure and thoughts known to both her and Jordan. Jordan called Ayana the next day to apologize for Derek’s Neanderthal behavior and suggest another outing.
Ayana explained she worked at one of the Copeland’s restaurants and had a loan at their bank. She couldn’t afford to upset a Copeland, even if he was acting like a stalker and class-A jerk. Almost in tears, she ended the call with a string of angry curse words for Derek and apologies to Jordan. Her weeping laments acted like a slap across Jordan’s cheek.
Damn that Derek Copeland. Just who did he think he was?
He didn’t treat Jordan like a girlfriend should be treated. He treated her like some object he owned. Something to take down from a shelf when it was convenient. Like everything else he and the Copeland family owned. Businesses, land, cars, and apparently people.
Well, he didn’t own her. Jordan paused in her pacing and dusted herself off. He would not commit to being a real boyfriend and he wouldn’t let her end their sham of a relationship. So she needed to make some changes, whether he liked it or not. And first, she was going out—right now—just to prove she could without his consent. She’d start with the grocery store and get a few things for a nice dinner for herself. Steak and lobster might be on her menu tonight. Let word of that get back to him!
She grabbed her purse and keys, her shoulders straight back with resolve. Sooner or later, Derek Copeland would get the picture.
Fifteen minutes later, Jordan stood in the produce section of Cimarron Shores’ grocery store, studying tomatoes. A salad sounded good with her dinner. Beefsteak or cherry? Selecting two ripe beefsteaks, she moved on to lettuce. Romaine or iceberg? A movement two rows over caught her eye, then a smile crossed her face as her heart skipped a couple of beats and warmth pulsed through her.
Will pushed a cart slowly along the apple and pear aisle, a confused look on his face. She had to admit, it looked cute on him. So did the tight, gray ARMY t-shirt under his untucked flannel shirt and painted-on blue jeans. Umm-umm. If they used him in their recruitment posters, ladies would be flocking to enlist in the Army.
“Hey, Will,” she greeted as their carts almost bumped. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Please don’t let him be scared off by Derek too. She found she was holding her breath.
A blush touched his stubble-roughened cheeks and he waved a long list clutched in his hand. “Hi. I’m trying to help Grams and Mom with their weekly shopping. Grams gave me a detailed list.” He shook the paper again. “But she left a lot of the details out.”
Jordan couldn’t help but smile at his clear confusion. Poor guy probably didn’t shop much—at least not for a café like The White Orchid. She liked his sheepish grin, enjoying how it made her toes curl and butterflies to take off in her stomach. She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself and gripped the cart handle. Then she moved around the cart so they stood hip to hip. She breathed in his woodsy aftershave. He smelled so masculine. And sexy.
“Maybe I can help. I’m pretty good at shopping.” She eyed his cart. He didn’t have anything in there but a loaf of bread. He extended the list, relief on his face.
“Granny Smith apples. Six pounds,” she read. “What detail did she leave out for that?”
Will shook his head. “Grams isn’t a Smith. She was a Mead before she married Gramps and became a Larkin. So who is Granny Smith and what does she have to do with apples?”
Jordan swallowed her giggle, hiding behind brushing her knuckles over her chin. “That’s a type of apple, usually used for baking because they have a tart flavor.” She waved her hand to the signs over the apple bins. The light flickered above Will’s head as he scanned the names.
“I’ll be,” he said slowly, more color flushing his cheeks. He turned back to Jordan, that sexy boyish grin pl
aying over his lips. “You must think I’m a real dunce.”
She thought he was really cute, and a strong desire to kiss him stole over her. She wagged her head at his comment. “Not at all.” To distract herself, she selected large, firm apples and bagged them. She handed the bag over to Will, heat pouring over her as their hands brushed. She was surprised the plastic bag didn’t melt. “I’m sure you have other great skills more important than identifying fruit.” Her breath caught at his slow nod. God, he was sensual! “Umm, can I help you with anything else on the list?”
Grinning, he handed the paper over.
In the end, she ditched her cart to better help him load up his. He insisted on paying for her groceries as a proper thank you for helping him shop. She tried to decline, but he insisted his mom and Grams would skin him alive if they found out he didn’t. Once the cart was heavily laden with her few selections and everything on Grams’ list, Will pushed it toward the checkout lane. Jordan was sad to see their shopping excursion come to an end. She hadn’t laughed so much in weeks and never considered grocery shopping particularly funny, but Will had a way to make even crackers and bouillon sound amusing. Maybe they could do this again…before he left town.
“I kind of like your idea,” Will said, breaking into her trance of watching the cashier scan their items. The endless beep—beep—beep droned as her mind took wings of ways to spend more time with Will and laugh with him. Mercy, he was sex on a stick, and he made her feel good. And being with him stirred up murky—muddy—not exactly dirty, but close—thoughts in her mind.
She jerked and blushed at his penetrating gaze. He’d caught her wondering if he was ticklish. Surely he hadn’t read her mind and was referring to that? “Umm, idea. What idea?”
“About steak and lobster.”
“Oh yeah.” She mentally shifted gears from tickling with a feather to surf and turf menus. “Too bad the store doesn’t have any lobster on hand.” She shifted her gaze to the cashier still beep-beeping the groceries, apparently lost in her own world.
Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8) Page 9