by Susan Fox
That was exactly how Maura felt about Beater, and it was clear that Agnes viewed the two men identically. “One of those men works here,” she found herself saying.
“The tall one, with no tattoos. And he’s proven to be efficient and responsible, and very good with the seniors.”
“Really?” Agnes’s tone dripped disbelief.
Silly to have defended Jesse—it’s not as if he and her mother would ever meet. Maura felt one of those twinges of acid in her stomach, the kind she always felt when she disagreed with her parents. Still, she said, “Yes, really.”
“Hmm. His appearance certainly leaves something to be desired.”
Maura refrained from saying that was a matter of opinion.
“I should go and let you get on with your work.” Agnes walked around the car and opened the driver’s door. “If I don’t talk to you before, I’ll see you at the reunion.”
“What? Do you mean the Academy reunion?”
“Of course. Timothy’s still on the Board.”
“But you don’t usually go to those events, do you?”
“No, but this time it’s your class’s reunion. We wouldn’t miss it.” Her mother gazed at her across the roof of the car. “Who are you going with?”
“I, uh, haven’t decided yet.” Her cheeks heated at the thought of that crazy fantasy about riding in with Jesse on his motorcycle. Her parents would disown her. And, even if the other women found Jesse attractive, he wouldn’t fit in. Wilton Academy was an elite school; its graduates and their significant others would have multiple university degrees.
“I’m sure Edward Mortimer would be happy to accompany you.”
Aagh. Maura must be slow on the uptake today. Of course that was why Agnes had made this rare visit. “Mmm.”
“Maura, the two of you are very compatible. He’s an excellent match for you.”
Or for Agnes and Timothy. “I’ll think about it.” She should call him back anyhow, to apologize for being abrupt. Perhaps he was more interesting than she’d given him credit for last night.
“You do that,” Agnes said, climbing into her car.
Maura hurried into the building and out to the courtyard, where Jesse and Beater had set the big carton down on the lawn. “Well, thank you for this,” she said, a little dubiously, to Beater.
“No sweat.”
Remembering Jesse’s suggestion, she said, “That’s hot work. Would you like a cold drink?”
“Sure.” Beater grinned, revealing crooked teeth. “Got a beer?”
“Uh, no, sorry.” In fact, they did have a liquor license, but served alcohol only to the residents.
“I’ll pass then.”
“I’ll take a Sprite,” Jesse said, “if you’re offering.”
Oh, great, now she was supposed to play waitress for him? Still, he had managed, by whatever means, to get a swing set for the seniors. “I’ll just walk Mr., uh, your friend to the door.”
The two men slapped each other on the back, exchanged a few more F-laden remarks, then Maura escorted Beater, in mutual silence, to the door. She thanked him, watched him walk toward his truck, then went to drop her pashmina in her office and get the soda for Jesse.
When she returned to the courtyard, he was extracting various components from the carton and laying them out on the grass. He took the cold can she handed him. “Thanks. Got a screwdriver?”
“Yes, I’ll get it.”
She found it, and this time when she came back, he was sitting cross-legged on the grass, his worn jeans taut across his thighs and crotch.
He pulled open the plastic top of the screwdriver, selected one of the gizmos inside, and screwed it in place. Next, he began to pick up the various pieces of wood, holding them this way and that, obviously trying to decide how they fit together.
She noticed a book of instructions lying on the lawn and leaned down to pick it up. “Wouldn’t it be easier to use this?”
He glanced up, said, “Nope,” and went back to work.
She flipped open the booklet and looked at the first page. Maybe Jesse was right. The author certainly had a limited command of the English language. She tossed it down again. “I’ll leave you to it.”
He’d gotten her thinking, though. When she went inside, she headed to the reception desk and said to Ming-mei, “The home center in the mall must sell garden furniture. We’ll need a couple of tables and eight or ten chairs. Not too expensive, but durable enough to stay outside.”
Ming-mei frowned at her. “You want me to . . .”
“Go over, choose something appropriate, and arrange for delivery.”
“But . . .”
“I’ll authorize two hundred dollars. Take it from petty cash. If you need more, check with me.”
A smile tugged the corners of Ming-mei’s mouth. “You trust me to choose?”
Maura smiled back. Maybe all the young woman needed was a little responsibility. “Just bear in mind the age and health of our residents.”
Her delicate forehead creased in a frown as she considered that, then she said firmly, “Padded seats.”
“Yes, exactly. You’ve got the idea.”
Back at her desk, Maura glanced out the window and saw that the swing set was a magnet. Half a dozen elderly men had congregated in the courtyard. They stood in a circle around Jesse, pointing and talking with great animation, obviously all offering advice—differing advice, from the gestures they made—on how to construct the swing.
Jesse listened, nodded, and kept on with what he was doing.
She chuckled softly, less and less concerned about having him interact with the residents. So far, he’d always been polite with them, and considerate.
He got along better with them than he did with her. To him, she was . . . what? An annoying supervisor? A plain woman who had enough pride to not fall for a player’s attempt at seduction?
And yet, she remembered the moments before that kiss. The compliments he’d given her about her job. It was as if he really understood the pleasure she took in her work—something her parents had never grasped. She had felt seen, understood, even appreciated.
By a man she supervised, who came from a completely different world, who would never in a million years fit into hers.
Thanks to his “assistants,” it took Jesse way too long to get the swing assembled, but he didn’t mind. Seemed they were having fun, and that made it fun for him, too. Finally, the half dozen old boys gave him a thumbs-up, patted each other on the back, and headed in for lunch.
All except Fred Dykstra, who said, “You haven’t forgotten, have you, Jesse?”
Jesse stretched. “Nope. You still wanna do this?”
“I’ve been looking forward to it. You brought another helmet?”
“Sure did. Let’s go.”
Yesterday, the old biker had asked for a ride. Jesse’d figured, what could it hurt? He’d go slow and make sure Mr. Dykstra hung on tight. The man might walk with a cane, but he wasn’t exactly doddery.
As they walked down the corridor to the entrance, Jesse asked, “How did you like the movie last night?”
Fred shook his head. “Hoo boy, that young woman sure was mixed up, but I guess she found what she was looking for in the end. I’m glad my daughter’s happily married and not traipsing all over the world by herself.”
“Does your daughter live here?”
“Yes, she and her family live in town. She’s a teacher; her husband’s a vet. They have twins, a boy and girl, heading into their teens now. Good kids. My son-in-law will be picking me up later. I always go over for Sunday dinner.”
“Sounds nice.” A nice, normal family. He could only imagine it.
As they passed the front desk, Fred handed his cane to Ming-mei, the very polite young Asian woman who’d greeted Jesse when he arrived. “Hold on to this for me, Ming-mei.”
“Certainly, Mr. Dykstra, but . . .”
“I won’t be needing it for a while.”
Jesse held out an arm,
but Fred waved it away. “I’m feeling young today, Jesse.” They walked together to the entrance, and he said, “I was thinking, I might ask my daughter to invite Lizzie for next week.”
Jesse winked at him. “You and Lizzie hittin’ it off, are you?”
Fred winked back. “A man doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” A truth that, unfortunately, made him think about Maura.
So she wanted to pretend that kiss had never happened. How the hell could he forget her honeyed mouth now that he’d tasted it?
Why had he kissed her? It wasn’t just those sexy lips, it was that she’d loosened up, stopped being so snotty, seemed approachable. Seemed to almost be inviting a kiss. And yeah, she’d been into it, until she came to her senses and realized just who she was kissing. The guy from the wrong side of the tracks. Crap, she didn’t know the half of it. He could just imagine her expression if she found out he’d never graduated from high school and couldn’t even read the instructions for putting together that swing set. He gave a snort of disgust.
“Jesse? Something wrong?”
He shook his head as they approached the Harley and forced Maura out of his brain. “Nah, I’m good.” He handed over one of the helmets. “You’ve ridden before. Not much has changed. Lean into the curves, right?”
“I remember.”
“And hold on tight. No macho no-hands stuff, okay?”
He showed Fred how the helmet fastened, then climbed onto the bike and waited for the old man to mount up behind him. He started the Harley, revved the engine a few times, and they were off.
He cut through a residential area, then steered onto a country road with little traffic. Fred was doing fine, keeping his balance like a pro. Jesse opened her up just a little and heard a whoop in his ear. He laughed and let out a whoop of his own. The speed was pretty wimpy, but the old guy’s enthusiasm was contagious.
Last night he’d fantasized about Maura riding behind him on the bike. Nope, that’d never happen.
Maura’s phone buzzed again. This time Ming-mei said, “I thought you’d like to know that the garden center truck is here. Also, I bought tables and chairs and they’ll be delivered this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Ming-mei.”
“Maura, do you know where Mr. Dykstra was going at lunchtime?”
“No idea. Why?”
“He went out almost an hour ago with Jesse Blue. He left his cane at my desk.”
Maura frowned. “Maybe they went across to the mall for lunch. But he shouldn’t go far without his cane.”
Troubled, she walked out to the entrance. She had to smile at the sight of flats of bright flowers being unloaded from a green van. The van was spotless and bore the Sunnyside Nursery logo, and the young men unloading the plants wore tidy jeans and green Sunnyside smocks. Yes, her mother would approve of the professionalism of this delivery.
The delivery men had just taken a load into the building when the rumble of an engine drew her attention. Jesse’s bike skimmed down the driveway. There were two people aboard. Maura stopped smiling. She walked toward the parking lot as Jesse pulled into it. Surely he wouldn’t have . . .
Fred Dykstra clambered awkwardly off the back and almost lost his balance as he tried to stand. Maura ran toward him, but Jesse had already steadied the man. The same way he’d steadied her, a couple of times.
“I’m all right, I’m all right,” Fred said. “Just stiffened up a little.” He beamed at Maura, his whole face one giant smile. “We went for a ride.”
“I see that.” She bit her lip. She wanted to yell at the pair of them, but she couldn’t bear to wipe the grin off the old man’s face. She’d discuss it with him later.
As for Jesse Blue . . . She trailed behind as he walked Fred inside, steadying him until he retrieved his cane. The two men shook hands and Fred hobbled away.
When he was out of hearing, Maura told Jesse, “I want to talk to you. In my office, now.” She marched away.
Chapter 9
When Jesse followed her into her office, Maura shut the door and demanded, “What did you think you were doing?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “He asked to go and I figured it wouldn’t hurt.” There was no hint of apology in his voice.
“It wouldn’t hurt? What if he’d fallen off? He could have been seriously injured. Not to mention the fact that Cherry Lane could have been liable. Our residents are required to sign waivers when they go on outings.”
“Lawyer stuff,” he said disparagingly.
She was far too close to him. His body gave off a kind of heat, a magnetism, that made it hard to concentrate on what she was saying. She retreated behind her desk and sat down. “Yes, it is lawyer stuff, as you so elegantly put it. We’re legally responsible for the people who stay here, and we have to take that seriously.”
He flopped down in a guest chair, uninvited. “But . . .” He frowned. “I don’t work here. This was just a guy thing. I’ve got a bike, he wanted a ride, I took him.”
It took her a moment to translate that. “You’re suggesting it really didn’t have to do with Cherry Lane, it was personal. Hmm. That’s a good point, but . . . Look, the fact is, he met you here, the two of you left from here, it was the middle of a workday. Cherry Lane agreed to have you work here, so I’m pretty sure we’re legally responsible for your actions while you’re here.” And she was the supervisor, so it was her responsibility. Thank God nothing had happened, or she’d have lost all chance of that promotion.
He was sprawled back in the chair, his knees bent and legs spread, looking as hot as ever. She couldn’t believe she and this man had kissed. Maybe it really had been another of her hormonal fantasies.
“It was just a bike ride,” he said.
He honestly didn’t seem to understand what he’d done wrong, which made it hard to remain mad at him. It was also next to impossible to avoid staring at his crotch, which was aimed in her direction. Close to where the two seams crossed, she could see a distinct bulge in the worn, faded fabric. Testicles, she thought. What an odd, clinical word. The slang term, “balls,” seemed more appropriate. What would it be like to cup their soft weight?
“It’s fun,” Jesse said.
“What?” She knew another of those embarrassing flushes was brightening her cheeks.
“He’s a good rider. Didn’t come to any harm.”
“Thank heavens for that.” She hoped he would attribute her flush to annoyance.
Jesse’s lips curved up. “You oughta have heard him whoop.”
Maura grinned spontaneously, then straightened her lips. Having Jesse Blue around was anything but boring. Still, she couldn’t let him distract her. Be thorough in formulating your plan, and disciplined in carrying it out. “No more rides,” she said sternly.
He rolled his eyes.
“Jesse, I mean it. I’m your supervisor, and that makes me responsible.”
Humor glinted in his eyes. “Ought to come for a ride, then. See how safe it is.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” A fast, throbbing machine under her, her thighs spread wide around Jesse’s denim-clad hips, her arms wrapped around his hot, muscular torso . . . Yes, it was totally ridiculous that the idea should be appealing. Besides, he didn’t really mean it; he was just trying to get to her.
He said something under his breath. It sounded like, “Chicken.”
She was, if that meant a person who avoided taking risks. She preferred to think of herself as sensible. And the sensible thing to do now was to ignore his provocative remarks and get back to her point. “No rides. Not with any of the residents. Is that understood?”
He heaved a disapproving sigh. “If any of them ask, I’ll tell them to talk to you.” He shoved himself to his feet. “I’ll go plant the flowers.”
“You haven’t had lunch.”
“That was my lunch hour. I’m okay.” He opened her door and sauntered off.
She hadn’t eaten lunch, either, so she headed toward
the dining room to grab a snack to hold her until teatime with Virginia. On the way, she popped her head into the kitchen and said to Felipe, one of the cooks, “There’s a man working in the courtyard. Would you mind taking him a sandwich and a cold drink when you get a chance?” She thought about the size of Jesse Blue and the energy he expended in the garden. “Better make that a couple of sandwiches.”
Then she settled down with a group of residents and listened as they dissected last night’s bridge game. There, for probably the first time today, she could relax. At least until Sophie Rudnicki pushed back her chair and stood up, saying, “I want to see what’s happening in the garden.”
Hilda Jenssen promptly followed suit. “There’s always something new, isn’t there? Makes life interesting these days.”
“It certainly does,” Maura said dryly.
“That gardener you hired is doing a fine job,” Mrs. Jenssen said. “You’re to be commended, my dear.”
“Actually, it was Louise who, uh, hired him. But yes, he’s doing a good job.”
“Brightens up the scenery, too,” Mrs. Rudnicki said. “Don’tcha think?”
“I really didn’t notice.” Lying again, but what else could she say?
Mrs. Rudnicki snorted. “Open your eyes. Single girl like you, I’d think you’d be paying more attention.”
Mrs. Jenssen gave a tinkly laugh. “Oh, Sophie, what are you thinking? Maura date a gardener?” She cocked her head in Maura’s direction. “No, I see you with a professional. You know, my niece is a paralegal in a law firm. I wonder if there are some nice single lawyers there.”
“Mrs. Jenssen, please.” Maura held up both hands. Now that she was thirty, was everyone going to try to match-make her? “In fact, I met a very nice man last night. A university professor.”
“I hope it works out, dear. It’s fun to be single when you’re young, but there comes a time when it’s more rewarding to share your life with a partner.”
Oh, great, now she was no longer young.
“Especially if you find a partner who’s fun,” Mrs. Rudnicki chimed in. “A girl’s got to let down her hair sometimes, doesn’t she?”