I Loved You First

by Suzanne Enoch

  “You think?” Doyle chuckled.

  Evan’s mood, already ruined by Ashley’s call, grew worse. “I’ve been had.”

  “‘Had’ is a strong word. I’d just say you were ‘put in your place.’” Doyle’s eyes twinkled. “That’s a tad more accurate.”

  Evan cut the old man a hard look. “You don’t need to sound so damn chipper about it.”

  “I hear some ‘tude in your tone, boy.” The handyman put his elbow on a ladder rung and leaned on it, still grinning from ear to ear. “I’m getting that cranky-before-coffee vibe from you.”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night. That bed—” Evan arched his lower back where a dull pinch had grown into a deep ache. “I feel like I’ve been kicked down ten flights of steps by a herd of angry cows.”

  Doyle winced in commiseration. “That bed’s not much younger than me.”

  “It’s probably older. If you don’t mind, I’m going to try and catch up on some sleep. Could you hammer somewhere far, far away for a few hours? Like maybe in South Carolina or Georgia? Hell, I’d be happy if you wanted to try the Florida Keys for a week or two. I hear they’re nice this time of the year.”

  “I’ve got to change out this light, but lucky for you I’m done with the hammer. At least for now.”

  That was something, Evan supposed grumpily. He wondered why Doyle would need a hammer to change a light bulb anyway, and then decided he didn’t care enough to ask. “Thanks,” he muttered and turned back to his room.

  “How was your date with Miss Jess?”

  Evan stopped and slowly turned back around. “How did you know about that?”

  “I saw the two of you getting into Miss Jess’s truck as I was leaving yesterday. I’ve never seen her so glammed up. That dress—” Doyle gave a silent whistle.

  “It wasn’t a date.” Evan couldn’t keep a sour note out of his voice. Jess had looked good last night. Better than good.

  “You soured up just now as if you’d swallowed a bad lemon,” Doyle said. “Or maybe it was a bad date.”

  “It wasn’t a date,” Evan repeated. At the old man’s curious gaze, Evan found himself admitting, “But I wish it had been.”

  “Can’t blame you for that.” From the bucket that rested at his feet, Doyle picked up a small box and removed a light bulb. “Judging from the reactions I’ve seen from various bachelors in this town, you aren’t alone wishing that.”

  Evan had just crossed his arms over his bare chest against the morning chill, but now he cut the old man a hard look. “What bachelors?”

  Doyle placed the bulb on the top of his ladder and dropped the empty box into the bucket. “There are quite a few single men in this town. More than there used to be, what with all the new businesses opening up because of Mayor Wheeler’s initiatives. She’s a sharp one, our mayor.”

  “Except for you, I haven’t seen any other men roaming around here.”

  “Not yet, but they’ll come. And trust me on this; they’ve already noticed Miss Jess. But you had to have expected that. I mean, you’ve seen her.”

  Evan scowled. “Before you say another word, you should know that Jess is my wife.”

  Not one iota of surprise appeared on the old man’s face. “You mean ex-wife, or soon-to-be ex-wife, don’t you?”

  What in the hell? It seemed like every person Evan spoke to this morning was determined to drag him down. “You already knew I was Jess’s husband.”

  “I might’ve suspected it,” Doyle admitted.

  Evan eyed Doyle sourly. “Yesterday you called me ‘a piece of work’ and ‘stupid.’”

  “I might have said the first one, but I only implied the second.” Doyle chuckled, unrepentant. “Lord, the things I say sometimes. No filter at all. I used to drive poor Barbara nuts.”

  “I can see why.” The morning breeze blew a piece of paper across the cracked parking lot. Evan rubbed his arms again. “It doesn’t feel like April.”

  “You’ve got thin blood. It’s cooler up here than it is down in Atlanta.”

  “It gets cold in Atlanta, too.”

  Doyle cocked his eyebrow. “I take it from your grumbly and acrid disposition that things didn’t go well last night.”

  Evan didn’t reply. After they’d left the rocky conversation topic of their relationship, he’d gotten to talk to Jess, really talk to her, and in a way they hadn’t done in years. Although that too-brief, but wonderful part of the evening didn’t erase the part where she’d made it clear—very clear—that she still wanted this divorce.

  Which was the real reason he’d spent last night tossing and turning in the ditch-like bed. He had to find a way forward. He had to. When he thought about it, he’d learned a lot about Jess over dinner, things he used to know but had somehow let drift out of his daily consciousness. He’d learned that Jess’s hazel eyes, which were beyond beautiful, glowed when she was excited about something. He’d learned that her business acumen was as sharp now as it was when, freshly married, they’d worked together at his new company. He’d learned that her laugh still made him feel as if he’d just struck gold.

  But more than anything else, he’d learned that despite all of the barriers she’d thrown up, all of the hard truths she’d thrown at him, he still wasn’t ready to walk away from this marriage, not by a long shot.

  He suddenly realized Doyle was watching, and the understanding on the old man’s face softened Evan’s temper. “I’ll be honest; I’m worried. I came here to get Jess back. I had a plan—gifts, a romantic getaway, everything.”

  “She wasn’t interested, eh?”

  “Not even a flicker. I’ve messed things up badly and now I’m at a loss on how to proceed.”

  “Wives are complicated beings, aren’t they?” Doyle climbed the ladder, pulled his screwdriver from his tool belt, and reached over his head for the light cover. “There were times I thought Barbara and I spoke different languages.”

  “I get what Jess is saying. I’ve been too tied up with work, which is my fault, and something we’ve fought about before.”

  Doyle glanced down at Evan. “She warned you, did she?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t listen. I’m the head of my own company so I’m busy, maybe too much so, but—” Evan winced. “She’s right. I let things go that I shouldn’t have. And now I don’t know how to convince her to give us another shot.”

  Doyle replaced the bulb and put the cover back in place. “Can-Do people like Miss Jess aren’t about pretty gifts and vacations and such. Can-Do people like other Can-Do people.”

  “So?”

  “So you have to be a Can-Do person and not an annoying, whiny Can’t-Do person.”

  “What makes you think I’m a Can’t-Do person?” Evan asked stiffly.

  “Can’t-Do people are about words and not deeds. They’re the sort of people who, when you tell them it’s cold because they’re in the mountains at around 3600 feet above sea level, will reply that it gets cold in Atlanta too, thankyouverymuch, and will then stand where they are, shivering in the cold, instead of putting on a shirt.”

  Evan’s face grew warm. He had done that, hadn’t he? “Sorry.”

  “It’s nothing to me. But to Miss Jess? She’s a mite pickier than me, as she should be.” Doyle eyed Evan closely. “My advice is this: Don’t give Miss Jess something. Any fool with a credit card can do that. Do something for her. Let her see you for what you will be, a man of action instead of empty promises.”

  Evan considered this. “That’s decent advice.” He looked at the old man standing on the ladder. “But it’s not just up to me. Jess has to want us to work, too.”

  “Then convince her of that. You’re a salesman or something like it, aren’t you? You have the air.”

  Evan often had to convince a room full of skeptical board members to take big chances, and it was a rare day he didn’t get his way. “I guess I am a salesman of sorts.”

  Doyle shrugged. “So sell yourself. And do it like it’s the day before Mother’s
Day and you’re one of a thousand boxes of chocolate sitting on the shelf.” Doyle tightened the final screw. “But first, before all that, you gotta fix whatever it was Miss Jess decided was unfixable.”

  “It? There was more than one thing.” Truth be told, there were so many that Evan was at a loss where to begin.

  “I daresay she’s willing to put up with some of your faults. Women will do that if you do the dishes and such. But it sounds as if there was a sticking point she wasn’t willing to let slide by. Fix that, and you’re home free.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It’s never easy, not when women are involved.” Doyle replaced the screwdriver in his tool belt and then climbed back down the ladder. “It’s pretty obvious you’ve dug yourself a hole. Miss Jess gets pretty het up when she hears your name.”

  “Great. Just great.”

  “Which is why you shouldn’t be wasting time standing here.” Doyle folded the ladder, leaned it against the wall, and placed the bucket of light bulbs and empty boxes beside it. “I’d run for that breakfast buffet if I were you. Flora Fellows just brought in another flower arrangement and when it comes to bacon, Flora’s never been known to be shy. I once saw her gobble down a pound of it at the Baptist Church Barbeque without blinking.”

  Evan looked toward the office and realized that just past it, he could see the back of a dented white van with the words “Flora’s Fauna” written on the side. Through the lobby window, he could make out Jess’s dark hair as she spoke to a short, round woman holding a huge vase of flowers. Who in the hell sent Jess flowers?

  He took a step toward the office, and then realized that he was only wearing pants, and nothing more. Muttering to himself, he turned. “I’d better get dressed before—”

  Doyle was gone. Evan looked around the parking lot, but the handyman was nowhere to be seen, although he’d left his ladder and bucket behind. He should clean up his stuff.

  No matter. Evan had bigger fish to fry. He returned to his room and threw on his clothes. Within minutes, he was hurrying down the sidewalk, his hair hastily combed, his mouth now minty fresh. As he reached the lobby door, the delivery van was just pulling out of the parking lot.

  Evan tucked his shirt into his suit pants, wishing he had something else to wear. His first order of the day, after sleuthing out who’d sent Jess flowers, would be to get some clothes—something more comfortable than his suit, which was getting too wrinkled to wear.

  He pushed open the door and found Jess standing beside a table in the lobby’s entryway, studying the flower arrangement on display. She was dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and a red T-shirt with the words Dove Pond Spring Fling written in script over a picture of a pie. She nodded coolly, her reading glasses perched on her head. “Good morning.”

  Her voice was as impersonal as the words, so he decided to go the other direction. “Good morning, Sunshine.”

  Her polite smile sank into a chilly frown. “Don’t.”

  Damn it. He took a steadying breath and turned to the flowers. “Nice. Who sent them?”

  “Someone.” Her hazel gaze pinned him in place. “That’s all you need to know.”

  It wasn’t all he needed to know. He needed to know who’d sent them, what she thought about the guy, and how many punches Evan might have to deliver to convince the idiot to never again send a bouquet to another man’s wife.

  “Breakfast is on the table by the fireplace.” Jess dropped her glasses into place on her nose and headed for her desk behind the check-in counter.

  “Jess, wait. I—” His phone rang, but he ignored it. “Can we talk? Last night, we left things—”

  She stopped and turned toward him. “Answer your phone.”

  “I’m not going to answer any calls while we’re talking—”

  “Evan!”

  “What?”

  She pointed to his pocket where his phone was ringing. “That’s probably Travis.”

  “Who?”

  “The mechanic. The one who has your car. He’s supposed to call this morning, remember?”

  “Right, right,” Evan muttered, feeling like a fool. He grabbed his phone. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Graham? Trav Parker from the garage.”

  “Yes?” Realizing that Jess was close enough to hear the mechanic talking, Evan moved away, walking a dozen or so steps into the lobby. “What’s the news?”

  “I got the part in this morning as I’d hoped and the Jag is good to go.”

  Damn it. Evan looked at Jess and shook his head. “That’s too bad.”

  “Too bad?” The mechanic sounded annoyed. “It’s done. Runs like a top. My shop manager is here, so we could bring it to you around noon, if you don’t have a way to—”

  “How long will it take to get the part?”

  “The one I already got and is in your car?” The man muttered something under his breath that sounded like “bad connection.”

  Across the room, Evan met Jess’s gaze, and he noticed how her reading glasses framed her eyes. God, those eyes. He felt as if he were sinking into the silky warmth of a hot bath.

  Doyle was right. If Evan wanted to win Jess back, he’d have to work at it. Which meant he needed far more than one day, or even two. He faked a frown and said to the mechanic, “Not until Friday? You can’t get it done sooner than that?”

  “Are you drunk?” Trav’s voice couldn’t have been more bewildered. “I said today, not Friday.”

  “I understand. I guess I’ll just have to wait until Friday, then.”

  Jess was looking concerned, so Evan sent her a helpless shrug before saying to Trav, “Since it’ll be at your shop for so long, I’ll pay for storage, of course.”

  There was a long silence, and then the mechanic said, “You’re looking for an excuse to stay in town. Is that it?”

  Relieved, Evan said, “Yes.”

  “I suspect there’s a woman involved, but I really don’t want to know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Okay, then. Now we’re on the same page. I won’t charge you storage as it’s only a week, but after that, we’re going to have to talk.”

  “Deal. And seriously, thanks. I owe you.”

  “Yes, you do.” Trav hung up.

  Evan dropped his phone into his pocket as he turned back to Jess. “Too bad.”

  “You’re stuck,” she said, her jaw tight.

  “I guess I’d better get used to that dip in the mattress in my room.”

  “What? No. You can’t stay here.”

  “Why not? From what I’ve heard, I’m in your least rentable room.”

  She bit her lip. “Sorry about that. It was rather childish of me, but I didn’t want to encourage you.”

  He rubbed his lower back. “Message received.”

  She tucked a stray strand of hair behind one ear, her brows drawn. “I don’t like this, Evan. Not even a little.”

  “Sure, but can we talk about it after breakfast? I’m starving and you know I can’t think until I’ve had coffee.”

  She didn’t look happy, but she shrugged. “You might as well. I’ve things to do, anyway.”

  Relieved she hadn’t said “you can’t stay here” more than once, he went to the buffet table and found a collection of fresh muffins and bagels in a box marked The Magnolia Café, a bowl of ice displaying an assortment of yogurts, and a small chafing dish holding fluffy scrambled eggs and bacon. An urn of hot coffee sat nearby with pitchers of half-and-half and milk. He picked up a plate. “This is all for me?”

  She was already at the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She didn’t look up as she replied, “It’s been good practice for my opening. Plus, the workmen love it.”

  Evan had only seen one workman so far. From what he could tell by the still-generous portion of bacon left, it didn’t appear that Doyle had yet stormed the breakfast buffet. That was a good thing because Evan suspected that, given the chance, the plump handyman would eat more than his fair share. Evan poured
himself a cup of coffee and then piled eggs and bacon on his plate. The tempting smell made his mouth water.

  He carried his food and coffee to the check-in counter and set them on the marble surface. “You said last night that you wanted to open in September.”

  She turned to look at him. “In time for leaf season, yes. But you’re not staying that long, car or no car.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting I should. I was just thinking that September isn’t that far away, and yet you’ve only finished two rooms. You have a lot to do before then.” He picked up his fork and attacked his eggs.

  Jess frowned and then pointed past him to the seating area. “There’s a table and chair right there in the corner.”

  “I’m good here.” He took another bite of the delicious eggs, aware that Jess was still frowning at him from the other side of the counter.

  The moment stretched and became heavier.

  He sighed and put down his fork, eyeing his cup of coffee with regret before turning his attention back to Jess. “You’re upset.”

  “You can’t stay here until Friday. I can’t—” She closed her lips over the words and shook her head. “I’ll drive you to a car rental place. There’s one about twenty minutes from here in Marion. You can go back to Atlanta for the week and return when the car’s ready.”

  “I want to stay here, in Dove Pond.”

  “Then I’ll take you to a local B&B. There are several really nice ones in town. And don’t tell me you can’t sleep in a creaky bed. The one in your room last night couldn’t have been any better.”

  “It was pretty brutal.” He stretched his back, wincing a bit as he did so. “Made me think of that lumpy bed we slept on our first year.”

  When they’d first gotten married, they’d been broke but deliriously happy. While her family had welcomed him from the beginning, others had warned them about the dangers of getting married “too soon.” His parents had made impassioned pleas for him to rethink what they’d believed was a hasty decision. Meanwhile, their friends, all of whom were either focusing on graduation or were neck deep in the party life, declared them both crazy to marry so quickly.

  But he and Jess had ignored them all. They’d been madly in love and determined to make things work, and they had. For a while, at least.