Ain't Misbehaving (9781455523801)

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Ain't Misbehaving (9781455523801) Page 18

by Cannon, Molly


  She was smiling when she said it, just an old joke between friends, but he felt a pang of regret for how badly he’d handled things. He tried to make a joke of it, too. “I don’t think it will come down to that.”

  Feigning horror, she said, “Heaven forbid.”

  He felt it was important that she realize what she’d be getting into. “Listen, Marla Jean, I don’t want to smash the rose-colored glasses you wear when you look at this place, but it needs work. Lots of it.”

  “Let me ask you something, Jake. Why did you buy this house?”

  “That’s what I do. I buy houses, fix them up, sell them, and start all over again.”

  “But why this one?”

  “It’s a great house. For about five minutes, I thought about keeping it for myself, but I decided it needed a family, or at least the possibility of a family, sometime in the future.”

  “And you’re dead-set positive that a family’s not in yours.” It wasn’t a question. It was a somber statement.

  “How much do you know about Theo?” He couldn’t guess how open Theo had been about their background.

  “He was pretty close-mouthed. I think he enjoys being a man of mystery.” She smiled.

  He smiled in return, acknowledging Theo’s sense of the dramatic. “You’ve probably figured out that Theo is my half brother.”

  She nodded. “I got that much. He said he grew up in Derbyville.”

  “You remember my father? He was a mean, controlling son of a bitch that made my mother’s life hell.”

  “And yours, too, Jake.”

  “And mine, too. One weekend during my junior year while I was home for the weekend, I discovered he was a man with secrets.”

  “Secrets?”

  “Part of the time when my mother thought he was on the road, he was spending time in Derbyville with another woman and their son. That son was Theo.”

  “Oh my God. You found out before he died? Did you confront him?”

  “Let’s just say if it wasn’t for Lincoln, I would be in prison for murder. He pulled me off him before I could do more than break his nose.”

  “Lincoln was there?”

  “Yeah, so now you know what I owe Lincoln. Anyway, I found out that day that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I could have killed him without a single regret.”

  “Jake, you are nothing like your father. You had good reason to be angry.”

  His expression darkened and some painful emotion played across his face before he shrugged and said with a lighter tone, “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Marla Jean, but let’s get back to a more cheerful subject. You—buying this house.”

  “Okay, so why sell it to me? I’m as single as you are.”

  He wasn’t sure if he could explain it. “I don’t know. I can see you here. It fits you, somehow. I could never see myself filling up all these spaces. I would rattle around in this big old empty house and drive myself crazy. But you, you’ll fill it with friends and family and all your artwork. Even if no one ever lives here but you, you’ll make it a home again.”

  She looked at him as if weighing his words for signs of insincerity. Finally she said, “I think that’s the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

  “Hold that thought,” he answered and bolted from the porch.

  Marla Jean sighed as she watched Jake disappear. Hearing him talk about his father was chilling. She’d always known his father had been mean and low-down, and she’d always hated him on principle, as a show of loyalty to Jake. But she’d never imagined anything like the story he’d just shared. Jake was a good man, but it was clear he carried scars inflicted by that rotten old man. They held him back, keeping him from embracing the full life he deserved. If Stan Jacobson was alive today, she’d be tempted to kill him herself for what he’d done to his son.

  If buying this house would help Jake, she was more than willing to do her part. Wandering back inside, she took another look at the bedroom, imagining her things arranged here and there. Her bed would fit on the east wall, and she would put her vanity in the nook by the closet. Oh, and having her own place to paint. That sounded like heaven. Other than in the class she was taking, she hadn’t been able to pick up a brush since her parents had come home.

  But Jake was wrong. She could see all the worn spots, see all the repairs that would have to be made, but she didn’t care. She relished the idea. Moving into this house would be more than a new start. It would be a bold step, a giant leap, toward taking action, toward moving her sad excuse of a life forward again.

  She’d taken out a loan to do some badly needed remodeling at the barber shop, and she was still paying that back, but Bradley owed her money for her half of their old house. She hadn’t pushed him on it since she was living at her folks’ place, but now she needed it. Having that conversation with her ex wasn’t high on her list of things she wanted to do. He was such a tightwad, even when it wasn’t his money to be tight with, but it was her money, and it would be enough for a down payment. A booming clap of thunder shook the house, and she jumped like a frog on a hotplate. She hated storms.

  “Jake?” She walked back to the living room, wondering where the hell he’d gotten off to, when he came bounding back inside, raindrops glistening in his hair and dripping off the end of his nose. He was holding a cardboard tube in one hand and an adorable half-drowned puppy dog wrapped in a towel in the other.

  She stared at him. “Should I ask if it’s raining cats and dogs?”

  He shoved the towel and the wet dog at her. “She was under the front steps. I couldn’t leave her out there.”

  “Of course you couldn’t. Hello, little doggie. Where did you come from, huh?” The puppy sat docilely while she used the towel to dry her fluffy dark fur. On closer inspection she could see that her fur was brown leaning toward black with a spot of white right above her nose. Another tuft of white fur ran down her chest and her white paws made her look like she was wearing baby booties. “Is she really a girl?”

  “I haven’t checked, but she batted her big eyes at me. What are you going to name her?”

  “Name her? She’s not my dog.” One hand smoothed the damp fur while the other scratched between her floppy ears. Big brown eyes stared at her adoringly.

  “Well, we can put some signs up to see if anyone’s lost a puppy, but my guess, this far out from town, is that somebody dumped her. I think she adopted this house as her new home.”

  “That would make her your dog then, Jake. You name her.” The puppy barked and licked Marla Jean’s chin. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”

  Jake pulled a blanket out from under his coat and spread it on the floor. He took off his wet jacket and laid it on a windowsill to dry. Then he kicked off his shoes and settled down on the blanket. “Come here, Marla Jean. I want to show you something.” He took the top from the tube, and pulled out some papers. He unrolled the papers, spreading them out on the ground in front of him.

  Marla Jean put the puppy down on the edge of the blanket and sat with her walking boot stretched out to one side. “What is all this?”

  “Oh, just some plans I drew up when I first bought the house. I thought they would give you a better idea of what needs to be done.”

  Marla Jean leaned forward to get a better look, and the puppy pounced on the curled edges of the paper, attacking them ferociously. “So, you were going to tear out this back wall?” She pointed to the drawing.

  “It’s one possibility. This whole back section is an add-on, and I think some changes could be made while still maintaining the integrity of the original style. Let me show you what I had in mind.” Bending his head close to hers he explained the way he’d planned to open up space and repurpose other rooms to make the house more livable. She watched his face light up as he talked, enjoying the way he got caught up in the project.

  He was so close she could smell the barest hint of aftershave, or maybe it was soap. When his head bent over the plans, she discovered a smattering of gray ha
irs starting to distinguish his temples. A small crescent-shaped scar marred the top of his cheekbone, the scar he’d gotten when Linc threw a rock at him when he was twelve.

  Her hand lifted to trace it, a downright foolish impulse, but she caught herself in time. Clasping her hands together in case some other reckless inclination attempted to undermine her common sense, she fought to keep her mind on the house plans instead of the man beside her.

  “So,” he was saying, “you can buy the house as is and not do a dad-blamed thing if you like. That will be up to you. But if you decide on some renovations, I’d like first crack at making a bid.” He glanced up, and his eyes met hers.

  Those deep, dark, brooding eyes of his. If she hadn’t known better, she might have been dumb enough to mistake the look in his eye for desire. But she did know better. He couldn’t have been clearer on the subject.

  The bruise under his eye was almost gone. Only the barest trace of purple and green discoloration remained from where she’d hit him. The temptation to touch him flooded back stronger than before. She sat on her hands just to show them who was boss.

  The little dog scampered into Jake’s lap and settled down. Breaking the spell, he dropped his gaze and tentatively scratched the puppy’s head. “Of course you’d be free to use somebody else to do the work, if you’d rather.”

  With a laugh that sounded unnatural to her own ears, she got to her feet. “Why would I do a silly thing like that? But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Why don’t you write up a price, one with and without renovations, and if I don’t faint dead away, I’ll get back to you as soon as I know if I can swing it.”

  “That sounds like a plan. To be honest, you’d be doing me a favor by taking it off my hands. Financially, I can’t afford to hold on to this place much longer.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t had other offers.”

  “Oh, I’ve had offers. Bud Gailey is always after me wanting to buy the place. In fact, he just made another offer last week. But he’d come in and lower the ceilings and replace the screen porches with decks.”

  “Not the screen porches,” she protested.

  He shrugged. “I was all ready to grit my teeth and let him buy it, but then I thought of you. I’d much rather sell it to you. That would work out better for both of us.”

  She put her hand over her heart. “I promise not to lower a single ceiling.”

  Jake started rolling up the paper, while the dog scampered into the middle of everything.

  Marla Jean scooped her up, rubbing her face against her fur. “You’re a mess, aren’t you puppy? Have you come up with a name for her yet?” She took a moment to examine her. “And you were right, she’s a girl, but we can’t keep calling her puppy dog.”

  Jake stood, stuffing the papers back in the tube. “I guess I’ll have to name her, or she’ll suffer the same fate as your poor cars. You’re probably one of those people who would name her ‘Doggie’ and be done with it.”

  “Doggie is a good all-purpose name. But okay, let me think. What do dogs do? They bark and wag their tails. Waggy, maybe?”

  “Waggy?” He laughed. “You really suck at this, don’t you? I pity your future children.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, let’s hear your brilliant ideas.”

  He took a minute to study the dog. “Well, you could always go with ‘Boots’ or ‘Socks,’ but they aren’t too original.”

  Marla Jean rolled her eye. “I could have come up with those.”

  “But you didn’t, did you? Hold on. Let me think.”

  “We can barely wait. Can we, puppy?” The puppy whined and nuzzled her neck.

  “I’ve got it. How about Sadie? She looks like a Sadie to me.”

  Marla Jean held the pup up and looked at her face. Now that she was dry, her fluffy fur stood up at all angles. “Are you a Boots, or are you a Sadie?” The dog let out a little yip and Marla Jean was charmed. “I think so, too. Hello, Sadie. And your new daddy is going to take you home and feed you really soon, aren’t you Jake?”

  “Hold your horses, missy. I think her new mommy should take her home and feed her. It’s obvious the two of you have already bonded.”

  “Can’t. Dad’s allergic.”

  He scoffed. “I never heard anything about Milton being allergic to dogs.”

  “Well, he is. The fur makes his nose run and his throat swell shut. You have to take her.” She settled the puppy on Jake’s shoulder.

  “I think I’m being suckered,” he protested even as he reached up a hand to hold the small dog in place. “But as long as you understand it’s only going to be temporary. The minute you buy this place Sadie is moving in with you. I’m really not a dog person.” Sadie licked his chin, and then settled onto his shoulder falling instantly to sleep.

  Marla Jean thought Jake looked curiously content. She grinned and said, “Oh, I can see that. If you’re nice we’ll talk about joint custody.”

  Still carrying the snoozing puppy Jake walked over to the front window and looked out at the rain. The afternoon shower had turned into a full-blown thunderstorm. “Wow, it’s really coming down out there. Maybe we should wait a while before we go and see if the rain lets up a little.”

  It had gotten really dark outside and the rain pounded on the roof. She walked over to stand beside him. A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder shook the house, making Marla Jean jump out of her skin. “That’s a good idea. I’m not crazy about driving in heavy rain, and it looks bad out there.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to hide her nervousness.

  Marla Jean couldn’t contain herself at the next loud boom. “Yikes. Sorry. Ignore me.”

  Jake put the sleeping puppy down on the blanket and walked over to Marla Jean. He put a friendly arm around her shoulder. “Hey, you’re really scared, aren’t you?”

  “I hate storms. It’s silly, I know.” She pulled the neck of her sweater up to her chin like she was trying to disappear inside it.

  “It’s not silly. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You’ve always seemed so fearless. I’d have bet my last dollar you weren’t scared of anything.” This was a side of Marla Jean he’d never seen before. When they were kids she’d been too brave for her own good. Linc was always challenging her to stupid dares, and she never had the good sense to back down.

  “I usually manage to put on a good front.” A flash of lightning had her burrowing into his chest, and he hugged her good and tight until the rumble of thunder that followed faded away. “When I’m at home I hide under the covers.”

  “Why don’t we move away from the window?” He guided her into the dining room. “We’ll stay in here until the storm passes.”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “This is much better. I’ll be okay, now.” But she didn’t let go of his arm as they sat down on the hardwood floor and leaned back against the wall. A panicky laugh escaped her throat. “Now that you know my shameful secret, you have to confess something, too. What are you afraid of, Jake? Ghosts? Clowns? There’s got to be something.”

  He turned his head to look at her. The late-afternoon shadows fell across her face, washing her in shades of green and gray. “Hmm, I’m not sure I should admit anything. It might mess up my tough-guy image.”

  “Oh, come on. Tell me.” A flash of lightning filled the room and she practically climbed onto his lap. She closed her eyes tightly and squeaked, “It’ll keep me from envisioning my fiery death when lightning strikes the house and burns it to the ground.”

  He laughed. “A fiery death. That’s it. I’m afraid of that, too.”

  He knew he needed to keep talking, to keep her distracted from all the flash and noise going on around them. But his body was busy responding to the way she was using him like a jungle gym. It was almost impossible to think while her arms wound themselves around his neck and her knee rested so close to his crotch. With her face buried in his neck every breath she took sent warm shivers of lust galloping right through him. He’d made such an effort to
keep his distance, but it was only gallant to offer comfort under the circumstances. At least that’s what he told himself when she snuggled closer, pressing her breasts against his side.

  “That doesn’t count.” Her long hair tickled where it cascaded over his arms. “Quit stalling and tell me.”

  “Okay, but you can’t laugh.”

  “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

  “And you can’t tell anyone.”

  “Cross my heart,” she agreed.

  He took a deep breath and paused. “Crickets,” he said finally.

  She raised her head to look at him. “Crickets? As in little-bitty, never-hurt-a-soul crickets?”

  He made an icky face and shuddered. “Ugh. I can’t stand them. As in creepy-crawly, oily-looking, disgusting bugs.”

  She laughed. She didn’t just laugh; she rolled on the floor. “Sorry, oh Lord,” she said between gasps, “but crickets? Big bad Jake afraid of crickets.” That set her off again. At least she seemed to have forgotten about the storm raging outside.

  “All right, have your fun. But remember a couple summers ago when we had that invasion? They swarmed everywhere. My parking lot was covered solid black with crickets. I’ll never forget the crunching sound of my tires rolling over them. And when I had to get out of the truck they skittered and swarmed all over my boots and up my legs. It was awful. I still have nightmares about it.”

  The grin plastered on her face ruined any show of real sympathy. “Poor baby.”

  He warned her. “It’s not that funny.”

  “It’s pretty funny,” she said, patting him on the cheek.

  He caught her hand and pulled her close. “You think so?”

  “I do.” Her voice was less than a whisper.

  A flash of heat flared between them, and his mouth crashed down on hers. He kissed her before he could drag out all the reasons he shouldn’t do it. She was warm and willing, and he hauled her up against him without giving common sense a chance to intervene. She opened her mouth, and he savored the way she tasted on his tongue. He cupped her breast, loving the weight of her in his hand despite the rough barrier of her sweater. With a hand behind her head, he pushed her onto the hard floor, his lips molded to hers, keeping her beneath him as he found the button on her jeans. He touched the soft skin of her stomach, slipping his hand under her sweater, discovering her, inch by inch. She started on the buttons of his shirt, both of them working in a clumsy attempt to shed themselves of their clothing. Without warning a small, smelly bundle of fur jumped between them, whining and wagging her tail. Marla Jean sat up laughing, hugging the puppy to her chest. “Well, hello there. Looks like we’ve got company, Jake.”

 

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