“And you didn’t know this Brooks Smith before you left Thunder Canyon?”
“Oh, no! I never would have dated another man behind your back.”
“I didn’t think so, but I had to have that question answered, too. So you love him?”
“More each day.”
Griff gazed into her eyes for a moment, squeezed her hand, then leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “I wish you well, Jasmine Cates Smith, I really do. Once I get over some hurt pride, maybe when you come back to Thunder Canyon, we can stay friends, and I can meet your guy.”
Leaning away, she responded, “I’d like that.”
Griff gave her a little salute and then he walked away. She watched after him, knowing he was a good man, knowing he’d make someone a wonderful husband.
She jumped when Brooks’s voice startled her. “So...who is he?”
Jazzy glanced around at the people who had started to trickle out of the town hall. Nina Crawford stopped and said to the two of them, “Congratulations on your wedding.” She whispered to Brooks, “Even if you don’t think you’re going to vote for Nate.” She’d moved away when another burly gentleman waved to Brooks.
“Can we talk about this when we get home?” Jazzy asked. “A little privacy would be good.”
“We can talk in the truck. I don’t think I want to wait until we get home.”
He was right about that. Or maybe he just didn’t want to have to look at her while they were having the talk. He’d have to keep his eyes on the road.
They had parked some ways down the street and they walked that way on what Jazzy knew could be a romantic evening, with that big, full moon and all the stars.
Brooks waited until they were in his truck, buckled up, and then out on the road toward Kalispell. “So spill it,” he said in a brook-no-argument voice.
She figured the best way to tell it was just to tell it. “Griff and I dated back in Thunder Canyon.”
“Dated, or were dating when you left?”
“Past tense. Laila saw him looking at engagement rings and she told me. He and I had been going out for a few months and I just didn’t feel— I just knew he wasn’t the one. So I broke off our relationship.” She could see Brooks’s mouth tighten, his hands wrap more securely around the steering wheel.
“So he thought you were serious enough to get married, and then you broke up with him.”
She knew what he was comparing this to. “It’s nothing like your relationship with Lynnette.”
“Isn’t it? And even if it isn’t, you didn’t tell me about it. I thought you were an honest woman, Jazzy.”
That hurt. It hurt terribly. “I am honest. I was honest. Did you want me to tell you about everyone I dated in the last five years?”
“I told you about Lynnette.”
Yes, he had confided in her about his fiancée, and why hadn’t she told him about Griff?
“Brooks, I didn’t intentionally keep it from you. It just never came up. It didn’t seem important.” Not after she’d met him. Not after she’d realized the difference in being around Brooks. It had been nothing like being around Griff.
But she could see he wasn’t buying it. She could see he still thought she’d been dishonest with him. There was really no way to change his mind.
When they arrived back at Brooks’s place—Jazzy couldn’t quite think of it as home yet—he took off his jacket and went to the kitchen. There he pulled a bottle of beer from the refrigerator.
Jazzy followed. “We can talk about this more if you want.”
“There’s nothing to say, Jazzy. You lied by omission. I don’t know if I can forget that.”
“Maybe I did it because I didn’t want you comparing our friendship or relationship or whatever it is, to yours and Lynnette’s.”
He gave her a hard stare and unscrewed the cap of the bottle. “That’s an excuse but I don’t know if it’s a good one.”
If he understood she’d been falling in love with him, it might be, but she certainly couldn’t tell him that now.
“I didn’t tell you about Griff because it was over, because I had started a new life here in Rust Creek Falls. You’re acting so self-righteous, telling me I’m not an honest woman. Yet you’re lying to your father. We’re lying to your father. How do you account for that? Are you a dishonest man?”
He looked totally taken aback as if he’d never put those things in the same category. “That’s not the same at all, Jazzy, and you know it. My dad’s health was at stake.”
“And your relationship with him, and my relationship with my family and friends, too. Maybe my relationship with you is at stake here. Think about it, Brooks, then tell me if we’re so different.”
His attitude rankled. He was as stubborn as his father. But she loved him, anyway. That, most of all, was what made her turn away. That, most of all, was what made her hightail it out of the kitchen and head for the guest room.
Chapter Twelve
Jazzy stood in the exam room beside Brooks, their bodies not touching if they could help it. She was there because she was more aid to Maggie Bradshaw and her son Timmy who’d brought a rescued kitten in than she was to the vet who had only monosyllabic replies to anything she said. Well, two could play that game. There wouldn’t be any conversation. There wouldn’t be any closeness. There might not even be a marriage of convenience for much longer.
The little boy, who was about five, was crying. “Momma says if she’s sick, we can’t keep her!”
Brooks knelt down beside Timmy, making eye contact. “When you first brought her in, I took a blood sample to do testing. I’ll find out in a few minutes whether she’s sick or not. So how about if you wipe those tears until we find out if we have something to worry about? I’m giving her a flea treatment, but I have a little comb here, and I’d like to show you how to use it. Do you think you could do that?”
Timmy looked at Brooks as if he’d given him the biggest job in the world. “I can do that.”
Brooks nodded to Jazzy. “Can you help him with that?”
It was the first, since last night, that his voice had held a little bit of tenderness...that gentleness she knew so well.
“Sure, I can. I have a stepstool over here, Timmy. You can climb up on that and you’ll be right in line with the table.”
Timmy glanced over his shoulder at his mom. “I want to keep her.”
His mom looked pained as if she wanted to say yes, but yet didn’t know if she could take care of a sick cat. The fuzzy, yellow tabby hadn’t shown any symptoms yet, but she was only about a month old, and had somehow survived the outdoors. Maybe she was sturdier than she appeared.
“We think she’s been sleeping under our porch,” Mrs. Bradshaw said. “Timmy came in and got me as soon as he saw her so we could feed her, and she was hungry. If we keep her, is there anything we should know about food?”
“Food in small portions with water in between. Always make sure she has plenty of water, and make sure it’s kitten food,” Jazzy instructed, then she checked with Brooks. “Right?”
“Right on,” he admitted. “I’ll go check on the test.”
Jazzy showed Timmy how to lift the comb through the fine fur, looking deep at its roots for dirt and any fleas they might find. In about twelve hours, the treatment would take care of the pests, but it would be good to get the dirt out.
Jazzy explained, “In three days, you should give her a bath in no-tears baby shampoo with tepid water, a warm room, and a nice fluffy towel for drying afterward. Some cats don’t mind a bath as much as you think. You might want to have a pitcher of water there to pour over her to rinse her. It would be better to start in the morning so she could dry off in a patch of sunlight.”
A short while later Brooks was back and he was smiling. “She tested negative
for feline leukemia and FIV.”
“I told her about the bath,” Jazzy said.
He glanced at her. “Right. I understand you don’t have any other animals?” he asked Mrs. Bradshaw.
“No, we don’t. With food costs the way they are, it just seemed better not to. But this little one found us.”
“Do you have a room you can keep her in for the next couple of days? One that you’ll be able to clean up fairly well, just in case a flea or two escape.”
“We have a sunroom. Would that be all right?”
“In October, that should be perfect. Keeping her there will serve two purposes. It will make sure the fleas are gone. You can also give her a small space to explore a little at a time. In a few days, she’ll learn every aspect of that room, then she’ll be ready to go exploring elsewhere. She’s scared, dehydrated and malnourished, so she’s going to need a few days to perk up and feel like her real kitten self again. You’re sure there weren’t any other kittens close by?”
“Not that we could find. And we did look.”
Brooks plucked the kitten from the table and knelt down again in front of the boy. The kitten had curled in Brooks’s arm looking up at him with little golden eyes that were trusting and innocent. “Want to hold her?” Brooks asked.
It was obvious Timmy did, but hadn’t known if he should. Now, however, Brooks helped him and showed him the best way to hold the kitten so she wouldn’t slip away.
“This is good when she’s sleepy,” he said. “If she gets squirmy, just forget holding her and let her down. She won’t want anyone to hold her then and she’ll be able to get away, no matter what you do. But when she’s sleepy, she’ll probably want to cuddle with you.”
Timmy looked at his mom. “Can she sleep on my bed, Mommy? Please...please?”
“Maybe it will be a good idea if she does,” Mrs. Bradshaw answered. “You won’t be so lonely. Ever since his dad left, he’s had bad dreams.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your husband leaving Rust Creek Falls,” Brooks empathized. “You’re certain he’s not coming back?”
“This place was just too small for him to begin with. He never stayed in one place long before I met him. We came from New Mexico.”
“That’s a long way,” Jazzy said.
“Oh, we stayed in a few states in between, but when we got here, I settled in. I joined a quilting club and a knitting club. Jay wasn’t enamored with the place before the flood. After the flood, he said there was simply no reason to stay. But I disagreed. Now more than ever, this is a real community. We have to stick together. But he didn’t see that. He just wanted to go his own way and said it was time.”
“I’m sorry,” Jazzy said.
“Being a single mom isn’t so bad,” she said to Jazzy. “I don’t have to consult anyone else about my decisions. But Timmy misses him, and maybe this kitty is the answer to a prayer.”
“What are you going to name her?” Jazzy asked.
“Porch,” Timmy answered quickly, as if he’d already thought about it. “That’s where we found her. Wouldn’t that be a good name?”
Brooks laughed. “I think that’s a great name. You’ll never forget how she came into your life. You’ve got to promise me you’ll help take good care of her, that you’ll help to feed her and give her water. A kitten like this has to eat even more often than you do. Do you think you can be that responsible?”
“I can feed her.”
“I’m sure your mom will help and show you at first. But then we’ll see how much of a big boy you can be.”
It was obvious to Jazzy that Brooks would make a wonderful father. When he looked up, their gazes met, and she wondered if he guessed what she was thinking. They’d never talked about children because they never expected their marriage to be a real one. She wanted children, but she wanted to do it right.
Brooks was helping the kitty back into her box. “I’ll take her out to the desk for you. Jazzy will give you an itemized bill.”
“My husband would have had a fit if he had seen what this was going to cost. But I figure, I’ll just use the money he would have spent on beer this month.”
Jazzy typed a few things into the computer and printed out the bill. Maggie wrote a check and handed it over.
Just as Timmy and his mom were leaving, Paige Dalton came into the office, surprising Jazzy. Paige was a fifth-grade teacher who was holding classes in her home. But she couldn’t be holding classes if she was out and about. Jazzy had seen her over at the school several times and had liked her, though she really didn’t know too much about her.
“Paige, it’s good to see you. What brings you here? Do you have a small animal in your purse?”
Paige laughed and pushed her dark brown hair away from her cheek. “No, I don’t. Not this time, anyway. I have a question for Brooks.”
Brooks was watching mother and son leave, and Jazzy wished she could read his mind. Was he wondering what it would be like to be a father someday? Did he want to be a dad?
At the sound of his name, he turned toward Paige. “Hi, Paige. How can I help you?”
“The children have off today to work on special projects at their own homes. We’re doing holiday customs around the world. Some of them are making baked goods. Some of the guys are building structures like the Eiffel Tower. Some of them are writing reports or recipes. Anyway, I gave them the day to work on them at home. And tomorrow is their presentation to the rest of the class. It should be fun. I’m taking our curriculum as is and trying to make it suit to what’s happened around here. Teaching from my home is different from being in a classroom. Actually, they seem to be learning well in a relaxed atmosphere, but they do miss the socialization with their friends.”
“I imagine they would,” Jazzy said.
“So what do you need?” Brooks asked.
“Would you come talk to the class about being a veterinarian? I’m sure they’d love to hear. We’re trying to do a different career each week, and I want to broaden their outlooks.” She took a step closer to him. “I understand how busy you are, helping out with your dad’s practice as well as this one. I’d only need about an hour of your time, and I think it would mean a lot to the children.”
“I can’t say no to the children now, can I?” Brooks asked with a smile. “Sure, I can spare an hour. What day next week would be good for you?”
“How about next Friday? Late morning...around eleven?”
“Jazzy will pencil it in.” He motioned to the exam room. “I’m going to clean up in there.”
Paige and Jazzy were left alone in the reception area. As Brooks disappeared, Paige put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my gosh, I didn’t even congratulate the two of you on your wedding. Best wishes!”
Jazzy didn’t know what to say, so she just said, “Thank you.”
“You got married really fast. It must have been a whirlwind romance.”
Jazzy wasn’t a mind reader, but she could see Paige seemed a little wistful. Was it because she wanted a whirlwind romance of her own? Or because her own heart had been broken?
Jazzy just hoped this marriage of convenience wouldn’t break her heart.
* * *
The following evening, Jazzy made supper—soup again, so she could take some to Barrett—wondering how she could break the tension between her and Brooks. Clamping the lid on the soup, she turned it down to simmer, hoping Brooks wouldn’t be too late.
As soon as she thought it, the garage door opened. She realized she was nervous and anxious as he came from the garage into the kitchen and strode into the mudroom.
She called a “hello” but he must not have heard her over the water running because he didn’t call back. When he appeared in the kitchen, he’d discarded his jacket. There wasn’t a welcoming expression on his face. He looked so serious, she wa
s afraid of what might come out of his mouth next.
However, all he said was, “Do I have time to take a shower before dinner?”
“Sure. The soup can keep. The longer it cooks, the better it tastes.”
Usually he bantered back. But after their argument last night, he obviously wasn’t bantering. Had that been their first fight? Was he going to forgive her for not telling him about Griff, or for the things she’d said about what they were doing concerning his dad?
Chopping vegetables for a salad, she heard the shower running. She imagined him standing naked under that shower. She imagined tan lines from his working outdoors, let alone the muscles that would ripple when he moved. She imagined his wet hair, brown and slick, his smile as he beckoned her into the shower with him...
Abruptly, she cut off the fantasies. From what was going on between them right now, that kind of envisioning belonged on another planet.
She’d finished making the salad and was slicing a loaf of crusty bread that she’d picked up at the bakery when she realized the shower had gone off a long while before. Was Brooks staying in his room to avoid her? Maybe he was making phone calls.
Leaving the kitchen, she walked down the hall to his bedroom. His door was partially open, and when she peeked inside, she saw him standing at the window, sweatpants riding low on his hips as he stared out into the black night. Something was off. Something was wrong.
She simply couldn’t stay away. She had to know what was going on in his head. He didn’t seem to hear the door when it creaked open because he didn’t turn toward her.
“Brooks?” she called softly.
He still didn’t turn toward her.
Crossing to the window, she touched his arm. “Is something wrong?”
His face still had the strained expression she’d seen when he walked in. His eyes bore a look of turmoil as he finally turned to look at her. “I’m a veterinarian and I’m supposed to stay detached from the animals I treat.”
She had a bad feeling and dreaded what was coming. “It’s hard to stay detached.”
Marrying Dr. Maverick Page 16