by Devney Perry
She’d had a total breakdown the day I told her that he’d died, but ever since, she had shut that part of her world away. She needed time to process it in her head. I got that, so I hadn’t pushed. But we were coming up on two months and I was getting worried that we were on the edge of an impending meltdown when it finally settled in her heart that he was gone.
Maybe I should try and talk to her this weekend.
I stood up and walked inside. Five minutes gave me just enough time to throw on some lip gloss, re-knot the hair on my head and refill my wineglass.
I was stepping through the front door, wine in hand, when the sheriff’s truck drove up with none other than the sheriff himself.
Just what I didn’t need right now. A confrontation with Jackass Jess right before I needed to meet with Brick.
My breath hitched as he took long strides toward me. His jeans accentuated his long, muscled legs and that white T-shirt was just a tad too tight across his chest. His face had a little stubble on his jaw from the day.
He looked good, of course.
Damn.
Why did he have to be so perfect? Couldn’t he have gotten uglier these last few days?
But I wasn’t going to let him fluster me. He was just a hot guy and I needed to keep my cool and get him the hell out of here. Because even though he was hot, he was a complete jerk.
I didn’t want to be verbally sparring with him when Brick came by. I needed to make a good impression so he would agree to take Ben’s fifty thousand dollars.
Jess stopped at the bottom of the stairs and crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his T-shirt tightly at the biceps. My breath hitched again at the sight of his bulky arms and I forced my eyes away from his bulging muscles. His signature scowl was aimed my way.
Would a smile kill him?
It was his glare that brought out my inner smart-ass. That, and the two point five glasses of wine I’d already had.
“Good evening, Sheriff. Is there something I can help you with? Here to write me another ticket? I was at the grocery store earlier. Maybe I was pushing my cart down the wrong side of the aisle?”
“I’m here, Ms. Ellars, because you asked to meet me.”
What was he talking about? “I’m certain I would have remembered asking to meet with you. You see, Mr. Cleary, I’m not your biggest fan. And I’m not in the habit of inviting people I don’t like to my home. Ever.”
He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak but I lifted a hand, palm out, and talked right over him.
“It’s not lost on me that for some reason you do not like me. Fine. Whatever. I’ll happily avoid you for the rest of my life. So how about you kindly state your purpose for wrecking my evening and get on your way? I’m expecting someone any minute now and I’d like to get this over with before he arrives,” I said.
He started up the stairs, coming right into my space when he reached the landing. As he tilted his glare down at me, I craned my neck to watch his face.
Heat radiated off his chest and he towered over me in my bare feet. He had to be at least six three. Maybe six four. And even bigger than I had originally noticed.
His body was like a magnet to mine. His tight chest, just a couple inches away from my face, tempted me to lean in, just a little, and run my fingers over his T-shirt. To feel each muscle’s rise and fall as he breathed.
I was completely attracted to him and it was making me dizzy. I didn’t even know how that was possible given his personality. He was a jerk. But unfortunately, he was a jerk that made my hands itch to touch.
“You texted me, Ms. Ellars,” he said, forcing my thoughts away from touching him. “Got something for me from Ben?” He waved his phone in my face. “I don’t know how much of that wine you’ve had, but if you can’t remember sending me a text not ten minutes ago, maybe you should call it quits for the night. Get some professional help.”
Did he just say that I texted him? Was he Brick?
Yes. Yes, he was.
I had expected someone older, someone closer to Ben’s age. Someone who was actually nice. I was speechless, so astonished that I didn’t reply to his question. I just stood there blinking, my mouth open.
Finally, my brain reengaged.
“You are Brick? I thought your name was Jess Cleary.”
He didn’t mask the annoyance on his face and rolled his eyes.
“It is. And yeah, I’m Brick. Nickname from high school football. Hitting me was like hitting a brick wall. Get it?”
“Well . . . no. I don’t watch football,” I said, taking a step back. “You’re the man who’s been taking care of the farmhouse for Ben? For nineteen years?”
“Yep. Now how about you hand over whatever it is Ben left for me and I can get the fuck on my way? Then we’ll move along to you avoiding me. Liked the sound of that.”
Jackass!
“Right,” I said.
How could Ben say this guy was a good man? Obviously he’d misjudged Jess, which was strange because Ben had been an extremely good judge of character. And he’d thought I should trust Jess? This guy that had been nothing but rude and abrasive to me since the moment I laid eyes on him? Uh . . . no.
Unfortunately, I needed to give him Ben’s letter and money, so I had to suck it up and be nice for a few minutes.
“Would you like to sit down? Can I get you something to drink?” I asked, gesturing toward the swing.
“No.” He leaned on the porch railing and again crossed his arms. As I sat on the swing, his eyes narrowed in a disapproving glare. Like he absolutely did not want my ass on his swing.
Be nice.
Be nice.
Be nice.
I silently chanted while taking a deep breath.
“Sorry for the confusion when you got here. Ben only ever referred to you as Brick. He actually never mentioned you to me personally. Only in a letter. I didn’t know Prescott, this house or you existed until after he died six weeks ago,” I rambled.
Jess’s posture didn’t change and he didn’t acknowledge my apology. He didn’t even ease up on the glare.
Being nice to a jerk was really, really, really hard.
“Whatever. Moving on,” I said, shaking my head.
I gathered the letters and my checkbook from the swing’s seat.
“Ben left you fifty thousand dollars as payment for your upkeep of the farmhouse all these years. I’ve got the proceeds from his estate in my account, and if it’s okay with you, I’ll write you a personal check? Or if you’d prefer a cashier’s check, I can go to the bank tomorrow and get one.”
Jess straightened off the railing. “Told the old man over and over again. Didn’t keep an eye on his house for money. Did it because it was his and he was good to me. Keep the money.”
He started stomping his way down the porch but after two long strides, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Love this house. Worked hard to make it something great. Do me a favor? Don’t fuck it up.”
Ouch.
That wasn’t just rude or abrasive. That was just plain mean.
Sure, I had been a smart-ass to him during our previous interactions, but I didn’t think that gave him the right to be so hurtful. He didn’t even know me, and suggesting I would destroy Ben’s farmhouse, something I was growing to love, was hurtful.
It hurt enough that I instantly decided I would do whatever it took to get Jess “Brick” Cleary off my property once and for all. If I had to beg him to take Ben’s money, so be it. Because once that check was cashed, I was never going to speak to him again.
“Please wait!” I jumped off the porch swing. “Giving you that money was important to Ben. Just . . . before you take off, he wrote each of us a letter. Please read them before you say no. Please?”
I extended the letters toward his back.
Jess turned and yanked the letters from my grip, walking to the swing before opening his letter.
“I’ll just . . . give you some time to yourself,” I said. “Just come
on in whenever you’re done.”
“Stay,” he ordered, not glancing up.
I didn’t argue. I just picked up my wineglass and stood by the porch railing, aiming my eyes back to the sunset.
This was progress. At least he was reading the letters. Maybe I wouldn’t have to persuade him to take the money. Maybe whatever Ben had put in his letter would do the convincing.
I drained my wineglass and set it on the railing, focusing on the brilliant colors of the horizon until Jess cleared his throat behind me.
“I’ll take the check.”
“Okay. Great,” I breathed, my frame relaxing.
I wrote the check, which he shoved in his back jeans pocket along with his letter, and turned back to the sunset. He left without another word.
I didn’t watch him go. I didn’t want to give Jess Cleary any more of my time. I’d done what Ben needed me to do and now Jess had his money. And I wouldn’t ever have to deal with the sheriff again.
Relieved to have the encounter behind me, I watched the sun set, wondering if Ben had ever done the same.
I smiled. He’d probably spent many nights in this very spot. It made me feel good to have that connection to Ben. A bond we would always have through his farmhouse.
Jess
As I drove home, all I could think about was the letter in my back pocket.
Take the money, Brick. Don’t make Gigi fight you on it. She’ll do it and won’t stop because I asked her not to. She’s a damn stubborn woman.
Proud to have known you, kid. Grew into a good man.
Look after my girls. Let them look after you. You won’t regret it.
Ben
Over the years, Ben had made it a point to call me about once a month. We wouldn’t talk for long and the conversations were never serious. Mostly just checking in and Ben asking if I needed money for any of the work I was doing on the farmhouse. Something I’d always refused.
I would have done just about anything for Ben Coppersmith. Keeping up the farmhouse was the least I could do to repay the kindness he had shown me when I was a kid. And after nineteen years, that farmhouse felt more like my home than the house where I actually lived.
If I needed to unwind or get some perspective, that’s where I went.
Three years ago, I’d noticed a change in Ben’s monthly phone calls. He’d started to share things about his life rather than just asking me about mine. And all that Ben had to share was about Georgia Ellars and her daughter. I didn’t know much about her. Ben didn’t share her past. But he’d tell me little things. What Gigi had made for dinner the night before. What Rowen had said that made him bust a gut laughing.
I was happy for Ben. That he wasn’t alone all the way out there in Washington.
I liked it up until the day Ben called me six months ago and asked me to make sure the farmhouse was in good enough shape for Gigi to live there.
Gigi had just been out for Ben’s money. His property. She was tricking an old man out of his possessions.
I kept my opinions to myself though, hoping that Ben would never see her true colors. That he could live his final years thinking she was the daughter he’d never had. Ben had endured enough sadness. He’d deserved a few years of happiness in his old age.
Even if it had all been a show from a greedy, gold-digging woman.
Ben had been getting up there in years, and every day I had checked the Spokane obituaries. The day I found out he died, I drank an entire bottle of Crown and passed out in the swing at the farmhouse.
Then I’d watched and waited.
With Ben gone, I had known that woman would soon come to claim what wasn’t hers.
And like usual, I’d been right.
It had only taken her two weeks to start making phone calls throughout Prescott, arranging for her upcoming move. Two weeks after that, she’d pulled into town.
I knew she had spent last week moving into the farmhouse. I knew this was her first week at the hospital. There wasn’t much that happened in Prescott that the sheriff wasn’t aware of.
But what I hadn’t known was that sitting on a stool in the ER, cleaning Milo’s hand, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever lay eyes on.
She had true beauty, like nothing I’d ever seen before. Something that brought men like me to their knees. Something that went straight to my dick and shut off my brain.
There was nothing artificial about her. No fake tan or fake tits. She was perfect without all the heavy makeup and teased-out hair. And she clearly ate more than lettuce and diet pills. Not that she was fat. She had a fit body with toned muscle on her arms and legs but soft curves around her breasts and hips.
One look at Georgia and I wasn’t sure what I’d ever seen in the Hollywood-styled tourists I normally took to my bed. All the money in the world couldn’t make them as stunning as the woman dressed in plain navy scrubs.
She had deep blue eyes the color of Yogo sapphires and chocolate-brown hair that fell in long, loose waves to her waist. But it was her freckles that made her beauty stand apart. They were scattered all across the bridge of her nose and upper cheekbones.
True beauty.
And dangerous as fuck.
I didn’t need to get swept up in her beauty and let her lead me around by my balls. I could never forgive the fact that she had snaked her way into Ben’s life to manipulate a payday and steal the farmhouse out from under me.
So I’d done the only thing I could think of to get her to stay far the hell away from me. I’d treated her like shit.
And now, driving home with that letter and check in my pocket, I realized what a complete and total prick I’d been.
I prided myself on my ability to read people. It made me one hell of a good cop. But never in my life had I read someone so incredibly wrong.
Georgia hadn’t manipulated Ben. Christ, she hadn’t even known Ben had owned a house in Prescott. Plus, she could have easily ignored Ben’s request to pay me the fifty thousand dollars and just kept it herself. It’s not like I would have ever known.
“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, Cleary,” I muttered to the windshield.
I needed to fix this. I owed it to her and to Ben to right this wrong.
I’d show her that I was indeed the good man Ben professed me to be.
Sitting behind the ER counter, I studied the patient chart layout on an iPad. Jamison Valley had managed to make the transition to electronic charting, which was impressive for such a small hospital. The file layout was fairly straightforward but I wanted to make sure I was well prepared to input vitals, med intake and other notes without Maisy at my side over the next week.
My manager had stopped by first thing this morning and asked if I was ready to start my rotation to other units. Seeing as John Doe and Milo had been my only patients in the ER, I was more than ready. With Maisy’s constant chatter and the excitement surrounding John Doe, I hadn’t been bored these last few days, but I was ready to see more patients.
Georgia Rae Ellars was not made for desk work.
I was so focused on my studies, the sound of something hitting the counter made me gasp and jump.
I looked up into ice blue.
Jess.
Not yet nine o’clock in the morning, and I was only on my second cup of coffee. I didn’t have the energy or sufficient caffeine levels in my body to deal with him.
“Sorry. Thought you heard me walk up,” he rumbled.
I shrugged.
“Here.” He slid a paper coffee cup over the counter.
It was a tall, white cup with a cardboard coffee collar, black lid and two red straws. On the side, written in green, swirly handwriting, was Double Irish Cream Latte.
My favorite.
I’d only splurged once this week, but I knew that green, swirly scribble was from the coffee place downtown, Maple’s.
Jess had brought me my favorite coffee.
Had hell frozen over last night while I’d been sleeping?
Because that’s what I
figured it would take for Jess Cleary to willingly talk to me, let alone buy me a frou-frou coffee. Before I could ask, Maisy came bounding around the corner.
“Hey, Jess!”
“Maze,” he said before taking a drink from his own cup.
His was labeled Black. Not surprising that Jess was the type of man who went to a coffee hut where you could get any number of delicious, complicated caffeinated concoctions and left with a plain, black coffee.
“Are you here to question John Doe?” Maisy asked.
“Yep. Meeting Sam here in a little bit. Thought I’d come early, bring Georgia some coffee. Visit with her before we get the okay from Carlson to head upstairs.”
“Sweet,” she said before disappearing behind the corner. Where she was going, I had no clue. She was supposed to be sitting with me, reviewing the patient chart layout. But now that she’d abandoned me, I was stuck here with a Jess that wanted to “visit.”
“Coffee’s getting cold, Georgia.” He leaned on the counter with his forearms.
Forearms that were tanned and sinuous. Forearms that I really wanted to touch, with veins I really wanted to trace as they snaked their way across the muscle.
Forearms I should not be thinking about.
I needed to focus. My mission? Get Jess away from my ER counter.
“Did you poison it, Sheriff?” I asked, grabbing my cup.
He chuckled but didn’t answer.
The sheriff probably wouldn’t poison me and more caffeine was a necessity, so I took a healthy pull.
Bliss.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
I had no desire to feel indebted to Jess but also didn’t want to be rude. I wasn’t a rude person, normally. Something about him brought it out in me.
“So why the coffee, Sheriff? And how did you know what I liked?” My curiosity was piqued.
He smirked and took a drink from his own cup. What he didn’t do was answer me.
“You do realize a smirk is not an answer.”
Still no response.
“Seriously, what’s going on?”
He sighed. For once, his beautiful eyes weren’t glaring at me. They were kind and gentle. He could melt me with those eyes.