by Jill Shalvis
“I ruined him,” Dee said.
“What? No,” Leah said emphatically. “No. Dee, you raised him well. You—”
“I fell apart when his daddy died.” She nodded at Leah. “Don’t you pretend otherwise. I fell apart, and Jack watched me. And now he doesn’t do relationships.”
“Dee,” Leah said, managing to find a laugh. “Your son has had more relationships than I have shoes. And we all know how many pairs of shoes I have. Too many to count.”
Jack had always been irresistible to the opposite sex. Maybe because he’d always been tall and built with that protective, chivalrous air. Or maybe it was that spark in his rich caramel eyes, the one that said I’m trouble and worth every minute of it.
In any case, Jack had had a way of getting himself into, and then smoothly out of, any so-called relationship with a girl without it ever getting ugly. He was what Leah jokingly labeled “a picker.” There was always some reason that he couldn’t take his relationships to the next level. Too clingy. Too ostentatious. Too crazy. She’d long ago decided not to obsess over what excuse he’d use to dump her, knowing there were too many to worry about.
Dee was shaking her head. “I’m talking about a real relationship, Leah. One that lasts long enough for him to bring her home to meet me. He avoids doing that.” She paused. “Well, except for you, honey.”
Leah’s stomach tightened. She and Jack hadn’t ever really gone there.
Except that once. That almost once.
“He’ll find the right woman,” she said quietly. “It only takes one.”
“But when?”
“Maybe he’s working on it.”
“He’s not.” Dee’s brow was creased in worry, and her voice wobbled. “He’s not working on it at all. And he’s going to end up alone, as I have. And who could blame him? Ever since his dad died, it’s all I’ve shown him.”
“Dee—”
“It is my fault, Leah. He won’t get too attached. I taught him that. I have to undo it before it’s too late.”
Her words grabbed Leah by the throat and held on. She wanted to say something, anything, like “it’s not too late” or “there’s lots of time,” but looking into Dee’s eyes, she knew that might not be true. Leah had a lot of faults, big, fat faults like running tail when the going got tough, pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t, and sometimes, late at night when no one was looking, she even ate store-bought cookies.
But she didn’t lie.
“I want to make this right for him,” Dee said quietly. Desperately. “I need to make this one thing right at least.”
Jack was a black-and-white kind of guy and not all that complicated when it came right down to it. He hated closed spaces—an endless source of amusement to his coworkers. He hated snakes. He hated green toenail polish.
And yet Leah could bank on the fact that he’d date anything blond and stacked, even if that stacked blonde lived in a small closet filled with snakes and wore green toenail polish.
She also knew he was the most stubborn man on the planet. He’d argue the sky wasn’t blue, and it took an Act of Congress for him to admit when he was wrong about anything. But above all else, he was extremely careful not to share his heart. Which meant that Dee couldn’t make this right. And yet there she sat, looking so worried and so heartbreakingly ill.
From the other side of the window, still on the phone, stood Jack, his posture giving away nothing.
But Leah knew he was worried sick too.
Kevin, now sitting on Jack’s big boot, was also looking worried. Worried that there wasn’t any food in his near future.
But Jack…
Damn. “He’s okay,” she said, hoping like hell that was really true.
“But how do you know?” Dee asked.
“Because…” And that’s when it happened, when Leah’s brain disconnected from her mouth. “We’re together.”
Dee went still.
So did Leah, still with shock at her own words.
“Wait,” Dee said slowly. “You and Jack…really?” she asked, as if she didn’t trust her own hearing.
“Uh—”
“Oh my goodness, honey.” Dee was looking like she’d just found out it was Christmas morning and Santa had come. “Oh my goodness!”
For someone who didn’t lie, this was a hell of a way to jump into the pool. Not a lie, Leah corrected.
A fib.
A fib told in order to give Dee the one thing Leah had to offer—a little peace of mind. Jack wouldn’t care. Probably.
Okay, he was going to care.
Unless…unless he never found out. Was that too much to hope for?
“You and Jack,” Dee repeated, a slow, warm smile creasing her face. A real smile, one that seemed to light her up from within. “I’ve hoped,” she said, “oh how I’ve hoped. But he’s always got some silly woman in his sights, and you’re never here, and plus you’re both so damn stubborn—”
The bakery door opened, the bell dinged, and Dee whirled around to face her son. “Oh, Jack! Oh, sweetheart, I’m so happy.”
This clearly surprised the hell out of Jack. He stood there taking in his mom’s expression, obviously trying to figure out what had happened in the span of the five minutes he’d been outside that could have changed her mood so drastically.
And also her appearance, Leah realized. Because Dee was…glowing.
“You should have told me,” Dee said, practically vibrating. “Did you think I wouldn’t have been thrilled to hear that you and Leah are together?”
Jack’s gaze locked on Leah, brow raised.
Okay, so maybe he was going to find out.
Chapter 3
You and Leah are together… Jack’s mom’s words bounced around in his head like a Ping-Pong ball as he stared at Leah for an explanation.
She had a hell of an explanation if her blush was any indication. “It just sort of came up,” she said, nibbling on her lower lip.
He recognized the tell. She nibbled on her lip whenever she stepped in the proverbial pile of shit. “It just sort of came up,” he repeated, nodding like this made perfect sense to him. But then he shook his head because it made absolutely no sense at all. He knew he was off his game big-time, crazy with worry over his mom, but this was not computing. “What exactly sort of came up?”
“Why, you and Leah, silly,” his mom said with a delighted laugh.
A laugh.
Jack hadn’t seen her so much as crack a smile in weeks.
Maybe months.
And here she was, laughing. Had it been only a day ago that she’d been lying on her couch in her Sunday best, arm poised dramatically over her eyes, as she told him that she was just going to die quietly and try not to make a mess “so don’t mind me.”
“Me and Leah,” he said slowly, aware that he was starting to sound like a parrot. “What?”
“Honestly, Jack.” His mom was still smiling easily, like she had in the old days. The very old days, before his dad had died. “I’m the shaky one today,” she said. “Turn on your brain.” She was beaming with joy.
And Jack got his first real sense of doom. It started deep in his gut and ended up dead center between his eyes as a tension headache.
Back in the spring, when they’d first gotten his mom’s diagnosis, his summer goal had been simple—get his mom through it. The goal was now in sight, the light at the end of the tunnel visible. It was August and she was beating the cancer, though granted the treatment was now the one endangering her.
But he should have known nothing was ever as simple as it looked.
“It’s so wonderful,” his mom said, hands clasped together. “I was just telling Leah that I’d always secretly hoped, but you two seemed so set on ignoring all the chemistry between the two of you. Remember back when Leah graduated high school, sweetheart? You were home from college for the summer, just before she left town. Remember how much she loved you back then?”
Leah made a sound of embarrassment a
nd started to turn away, but Dee smiled at her. “It’s true, honey, you know it is. You used to do his homework for him, remember? He was perfectly capable of doing it himself, except that he hated English and history. He needed to keep his GPA up for that scholarship and you…well, you remember.”
Yes, it was clear by the look on Leah’s face that she remembered exactly. Two grades behind him, she’d managed to save his ass and keep up with her own school load—and since her father had required straight A’s of her, not to mention the hours of filing and other administrative work she’d had to put in every day at his dental practice as well—this had been quite the feat.
“And then when Jack Senior died,” Dee said, “and he fell apart, you were there for him.”
Jack opened his mouth but closed it again. What was he going to do, remind his mother in public that she had been the one to fall apart? That it’d been all he and his cousin Ben could do to keep the house and their lives together? The doctors had eventually been able to treat her depression, but her bouts of anxiety had never abated.
“No one else could console him,” Dee said to Leah. “Not Ben. Not me. No one.” She paused. “Only you, Leah.”
Admittedly, Jack had grieved and grieved hard. He’d been a teenager who’d lost his father unexpectedly, and then he’d grown up in the shadow of his dad’s legend.
But there were worse things.
And yet his mom was right about one thing. Leah had been there, no matter what she faced in her own home life. She’d found time to make them meals, do his homework, cover his ass however it had needed covering.
She’d done that for him. She’d been his rock.
“I really thought the two of you would go for it back then,” Dee said, and Leah sucked in a breath.
Jack did his best not to react because he wasn’t willing to admit that he’d thought the same. That he’d thought it up until the day Leah had walked away.
Always running.
“You’re right, Dee,” Leah said, her gaze on Jack. “The chemistry finally got us.”
“Did it?” Jack asked her softly.
“Yes.” There was a long, indefinable beat when something seemed to shimmer between them, and then suddenly Leah was a study of movement, hustling to put some space between them. “I was about to tell your mom that it’s not a big deal,” she said, very busy wiping down the other tables, way too busy to meet his gaze. “And that we’d like to keep things under wraps.”
“Under wraps?” Dee asked.
“Yes,” Leah said. “Because as you know, Lucky Harbor doesn’t keep its secrets very well. We’d rather no one knew yet.”
His mom looked so disappointed. “So this is…new?” she wanted to know. “This relationship between you?”
Leah did glance at Jack then, two spots of color on her cheeks as, unbelievably, she deferred the question to him. He crossed his arms and blessed her with his you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me expression.
“Um,” she said, blanching a little bit. “Sort of new, yeah. A little bit.”
Dee processed this. “I bet it happened at the music festival on the pier, right? I saw you two dancing that night. So romantic, so sweet.”
The festival had been a month ago. Jack remembered that he and Leah had shared one quick dance and then he’d been called into work. And if he’d enjoyed it a little too much, the way Leah’s skirt had twirled around her thighs, how she’d felt against him, he’d told himself he’d gotten caught up in the moment.
“Yes,” Leah said. “It happened at the music festival. We had late-night brownies at the café afterward, and that was that.”
“But Jack was called to work that night on a suspicious fire,” Dee said. “I remember because he called me from the station at midnight to make sure I got home okay.”
“Late, late-night brownies,” Leah corrected.
“Don’t you make your own brownies?” Dee asked.
“Once in a while I cheat,” Leah said, sounding a little strained.
No wonder. Lying was damn hard work.
Jack moved around the counter to face her. She was wearing jeans and a long halter top that had some flour on it.
He was six feet two, but they were still nearly nose to nose thanks to a pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals. How she worked in her seemingly endless supply of shoes he had no idea, but they were sexy as hell.
This was confusing too. When had she become sexy as hell? And why? They were friends. Nothing more. She’d made that evident a long time ago. “Why do you wear shoes like that to work?” he asked. “You’re going to break an ankle.”
“Aw,” Dee said, delighted.
He looked at her. “What?”
“You noticed her shoes! Jack, do you know what that means?”
That he’d gone over the deep edge? He put a hand to his head. Was the world spinning? He felt a little dizzy.
“Listen,” Leah said. “Forget my shoes. About the other thing. About…us.” She swallowed. “Your mom was worried about you.” Her eyes were desperately trying to communicate something to him.
Probably that she was crazy.
Which he already knew.
Jack turned to his mom. “Mom, we’ve talked about this. I don’t want you wasting your energy worrying about me. You need to be focusing on yourself right now.”
Oh, Christ. Suddenly this was all making sense, the chain of events that had led to Leah’s proclamation that they were a “thing.”
Not that it mattered, because this wasn’t going to happen. They were not going to lie to his mom.
“It haunts me at night, Jack,” Dee said.
Ah, damn. He loved his mom, more than anything. But if she gave the “I’ve had a good life and all I want is for you to meet a great girl so I can die happy” speech he was going to burst a blood vessel. “Mom—”
“It’s all my fault, Jack. Don’t you see? After your dad died—”
“No,” he said firmly. “Nothing about that was your fault.”
It really hadn’t been anyone’s fault, which of course had made it all the harder to accept. Jack knew he wouldn’t have made it through that time without Ben or Leah—something he’d never told her but should have.
Which meant that he couldn’t kill her for this latest stunt.
“I never showed you it was okay to move on from grief,” Dee said. “That’s why you never have any meaningful relationships with women.”
Jack opened his mouth to say he didn’t have the lifestyle for that right now anyway, just as the power blinked out and then back on. Then something sizzled, and this time, when the lights flickered and went out, they stayed out.
“Crap!” Leah said. “My soufflé.” And she vanished into the kitchen.
“You okay?” Jack asked his mom.
“I’m great, actually.”
She was still smiling. Jesus. “Wait here,” he said and followed Leah into the kitchen.
She stood in front of one of the ovens, staring gloomily into the small window.
“Don’t start with me,” she said. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to make a great soufflé? And now it’s all going to be ruined. Dammit! I knew better. The power’s been going on and off for days. Mr. Lyons looked at it and replaced the fuses. They should’ve lasted longer than this.”
Jack frowned. “This has been going on for days?”
“Weeks, actually. Maybe longer. At first, I thought maybe Grandma had forgotten to pay the bill, but I made sure it got paid on time this past month.”
Jack strode out the kitchen door to the back alley, moving along the wall to the electrical panel. Just as he opened it, the flower shop’s back door opened too, and out came a harried-looking Ali.
“Jack,” she said in surprise, a pair of clippers in one hand, a rose in the other. “Did you turn off the power?”
“No.” He looked inside the electrical panel and swore. The wiring was a mess, crisscrossed and frayed. The building was so old that they still had fuses behind the
wiring, and he could see two right off the bat that were blown.
The entire downtown commercial row of Lucky Harbor was quaint and historical, but not necessarily practical, since most of the buildings were a hundred-plus years old. This building, one of the oldest, was in serious need of a big renovation, but the historical society—currently run by Max Fitzgerald—had a pretty restrictive rein on the county building department and the permits, all in the name of protecting history.
But what they were really doing was unintentionally preserving Jack’s—and all the other firefighters’—jobs because this was a disaster waiting to happen.
Leah had followed him out. She stuck her hand into her pocket and came out with a palm full of fuses.
“Look at you with all the preparedness today,” he said dryly.
She winced. “The fuses keep blowing,” she said quickly, clearly choosing to ignore their situation, and they did have a situation. “I have to be prepared,” she said, “or I ruin whatever I’m cooking.”
Their gazes met. Aware of Ali standing within hearing range, Jack said none of what he wanted to say. Which was along the lines of: What the fuck, Leah? Instead he said, “We need to find out what’s wrong with the wiring and why the fuses are blowing.”
“Oh, we know why,” Ali offered. “The place is falling apart.”
“What about the new guy?” Jack asked. “The one who bought this place?”
“He’s got the money,” Leah said. “But the inspection didn’t go well, and he’s been making a stink about the hidden problems and condition of the place. He wants the price reduced. But Mr. Lyons says he sold the place as is and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the problems and that Mr. Rinaldi can cry him a river. So the sale might fall through.”
“Why is Lyons selling in the first place?”
“He wants to retire and get a ‘chickie.’ And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean a chicken,” she said with a shudder.
Jack took the fuses from her and began to change them out. “We have something else to discuss,” he said.
Leah glanced at Ali, then back to Jack. She bit her lip again. “Later.”