by Drea Stein
He shot her a smile as he slowed down behind a school bus. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Fall was always the time for new clothes, new shoes. It was football season, too, so that was always fun.”
“I guess it must have been different, growing up in the same town, going to the same school, year after year,” she said.
“There wasn’t that sort of rollercoaster anticipation about it, I guess; but you’re right, there is something about fall and new beginnings. I always loved the smell of wood smoke, how as the leaves thinned you could start to see everyone’s houses. You get your last days out on the water, and then you’d spend your time getting the boat all shipshape.”
She laughed. “For a guy who’s been all around the world, you seem pretty comfortable with the small town traditions.”
“What can I say? I’m a small town guy at heart.”
Jackson had said the past was the past, but here in his small town, everything must remind him of her. What had Tory said about Ashley and Jackson? They had been inseparable all throughout high school. Lynn tamped the thought down before she could think any more about it.
They were in the village now, almost at her apartment. She needed to get home, grab her scrubs, and hop into the car to get to the clinic She checked her watch. Just enough time.
Jackson pulled into an empty spot. Lynn swallowed. Best to be brave, to be a grownup, thank him for the good food, the good sex, and all that, and then appear like she could care less if they made plans to see each other tonight, tomorrow, or next month. That had been the deal, right?
She put her hand on the door, ready to bolt out of there with a hurried goodbye, but he was quicker, sliding out of the car and to her side before she could open the door.
He did it for her and held out his hand. Always the gentleman, she remembered as she stood up. The gray skies of the weekend were definitely burning off. It would be sunny today, a wonderful, sunny gorgeous day. A perfect day to be dumped.
“Thanks,” she said, not trusting her voice to say much more.
“Do you want me to walk you up? I can drive you to the clinic, but you probably want your own car there.”
She nodded, her throat feeling constricted. But it had to be said.
“Thank you for the lovely time this weekend. Perhaps…” she didn’t get any further than that because he had both hands on the side of her cheeks and he was looking down at her with a slightly amused expression.
“Did you just call what we had lovely?”
Unsure, she managed to stutter out a yes. He smelled of soap, a hint of spicy aftershave, and his nearness was doing things to her she didn’t quite expect.
“Well it was…”
He kissed her, his mouth hot on hers, demanding. It was a full-bodied, full-sensory kiss. His hands twined around her hair and she relaxed into him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling them to her.
“Better than lovely,” she said. They came up for air and he looked at her, his eyes hazy with lust.
“Are you sure you have to be at work in half an hour?”
Her head fell back as his lips nuzzled along her throat.
“Absolutely sure,” she said.
“When are you off again?”
“Thursday,” she said.
“You’ll see me then?” he asked, his voice insistent.
“Yes,” she managed to whisper, feeling a hot joy spread through her. He wanted to see her, and well, he wanted her.
“Good. Dinner?”
She nodded, “My turn to cook for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you told me you lived on ramen and coffee?”
“I did. I suddenly found myself interested in developing a more sophisticated palette. Trust me?”
He held up his hand, the one she had stitched up. “With my life…and my stomach.”
Suddenly giddy, she laughed, found the strength to break free. “I really do have to get to work,” she said.
“I’ll watch to make sure you get in,” he said. “Wave from the balcony.”
Assured, feeling loved and strangely sophisticated, she took a step back, nodded, and tried not to skip as she made her way up to her apartment.
Chapter 42
“Well, well, well.” Jackson drew up short as his brother’s voice floated behind him.
“Look at who you just drove home. Were you playing doctor?”
Jackson spun around, his hands balled into fists. “That’s not funny.” He knew Lynn hated jokes like that, and besides there had been nothing funny about what they had just shared.
Chase held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, brother. I’m just a bit surprised.”
“And why’s that?” Jackson said, folding his own arms across his chest. They were in the upstairs suite of rooms of the Osprey Arms that Chase had been using for himself before he had moved in with Phoebe. Now it was going to become project central and Jackson had come to discuss plans and budgets with his brother.
“I don’t know.” Chase ran a hand through his short hair, visibly frustrated. “I just haven’t seen you with a girl in a while.”
“You haven’t seen me in a while, period,” Jackson pointed out. “There were plenty of girls along the way. I enjoy being in a relationship, treating a lady right. As long as we both understand the rules.”
Chase raised an eyebrow.
“That it will end eventually. I don’t intend to settle down and get married.”
“Good for you,” Chase said, clapping him on the back. “It’s bad for your health to keep it all bottled in. I just didn’t realize that you were, you know, ready.”
Jackson steeled himself. Chase was his brother and probably knew him as well or better than anyone, including Jake. Still there were some things he couldn’t even tell Chase, that Chase couldn’t know.
“It’s been a while. I’m allowed to move on,” Jackson said, defending himself.
“I know, and that’s great. I mean we all loved Ashley and it was terrible what happened, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, it just seems sudden, you know. You moving back here, which is great, but getting caught up again with a girl, too? Maybe you should take it one step at a time.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “I already told you, I’m quite comfortable with relationships. Is there a problem with Lynn in particular,” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
“Not at all. And that’s the point. She’s a nice girl.”
“She’s not a girl,” Jackson pointed out, remembering the way her body had moved under him. There had been nothing but a passionate, sexy, strong woman in bed with him the past weekend and he had loved every second of it. Her strong, tight, lithe, athletic body had surprised him in many, many ways. He sucked in a breath and focused on the lecture his big brother was giving him.
“Fine, a woman. But she just got out of med school, just moved out on her own. Hell, I don’t think she’s ever had a real boyfriend.”
“So?” Jackson stilled, watching with hidden amusement as his brother grew more and more uncomfortable. He didn’t plan on enlightening Chase that Lynn wasn’t as innocent as she seemed.
“So, just don’t mess her up,” Chase said.
“What?” The word came out of Jackson in a burst of surprise.
“I just mean she’s a good friend of my future wife, and I like her and I’m looking out for her.”
“You think I would hurt her?” Jackson asked.
“Not on purpose, no, but I don’t think Lynn’s a casual type of girl, if you know what I mean. And what I saw you two doing out there seemed pretty intense. Are you ready for that, ready to be serious?”
It was Jackson’s turn to run his hand through his hair. “Who said anything about being serious? We were just having some fun,” he said, echoing the words Lynn said to him.
“That looked like more than fun to me, brother. And look, I know you too. You may say that you can have a casual relationship, but that’s not tr
ue, not when it really matters. So just be careful for both of your sakes. I don’t want to have to pick up the pieces again.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look, I get it. You were messed up after Ash died and you had to get out of here. But there were whispers and the Morans kept coming around looking for answers. I defended you even though I didn’t understand why you left. This was your town too.”
“And I’m back now. And Lynn and I are, well, we’re taking things as they come.” Jackson felt the flash of anger, wishing that people would have enough sense to mind their own business. But that was part of living in a small town. Your business was never fully your own. There were too many interdependent relationships riding on it.
Chase nodded. “Good. You know I hate pulling the big brother act, but you’re family, and Lynn’s a friend. I just don’t want to see it get messy.”
“Hey, it’s just a mature relationship; no strings attached,” Jackson said, knowing even as it came out of his mouth that he was already beyond that, no matter what Lynn said she wanted. Chase was right.
Chase gave a rueful smile. “Somehow it never quite works that way, does it?”
Chapter 43
Lynn checked the index card again. Her mother had written it down in her neat, precise handwriting. The recipe was the Holy Grail, the one her grandmother had passed down through generations of Masters women. A guaranteed man-pleaser, the recipe was supposed to have been the one that had won her grandfather’s heart, at least according to Lynn’s grandmother.
The ingredient list had looked deceptively simple, she thought, looking at the packages of food crowded over her counter. She and Jackson hadn’t seen each other in four days, Lynn thought, not that she was counting, and she had invited him over for a home-cooked dinner. He had asked what he could bring, and she had made what she thought was a sophisticated response. “A bottle of good Bordeaux.”
Her mother had said it could go well with the dish. She had wanted to say more, but Lynn had told her that she was being safe and her mother had backed off, knowing that there was only so much honestly you could have with your adult daughter.
Now, as Lynn looked at the recipe she wasn’t quite sure where to start.
“At the beginning,” she could almost hear her mother say.
All that had seemed well and good as her mother had passed over the card, but now the terms like sauté, blanch, and make the garlic dance had her bewildered. Her mother had offered to show her how to do it, but Lynn confident that this cooking thing couldn’t be too hard, had passed on the offer.
So now there was nothing to do but make a start of it. She grabbed one of her new knives, pulled an onion from a bag, and started dissecting it.
The videos helped, she decided. Lynn had caved and used her tablet to search up definitions, techniques, and just about everything having to do with the recipe. She was led down a rabbit hole of videos and articles about fresh versus dried herbs, the proper way to handle a knife, and whether salt was really necessary to make water boil.
It was fascinating to watch, knowing there were people out there who treated cooking as a science. Her mother had always approached it as more of an art, but now Lynn had a better appreciation for how many different steps must have gone into putting a simple weeknight dinner on the table. When she glanced up at the clock she had to stop herself from cursing. Jackson was due here, literally at any moment, and there was an explosion of flour in one corner and what looked like the results of a nasty accident involving decapitated tomatoes in another. The first batch of garlic had burned, and though she’d bought enough to keep a nest of vampires away, there was a lingering, slightly over-roasted smell in the apartment.
And she was still wearing scrubs. She was about to make for the bedroom when the doorbell rang.
“Just a minute,” she said and looked around. There wasn’t time to do much of anything she thought. Perhaps clean up the flour? There was a short knock, as if to highlight his impatience.
“Ah hell,” she muttered and went to open the door. He was standing there, wearing a dark suit, no tie, shirt open at the collar. She thought he might have gotten his hair cut, but she had no time to think because he crossed over the threshold and pulled her toward him, covering her mouth with his, a kiss full of intensity and desire.
All thoughts of a dirty kitchen faded from her mind as her senses took on a life of their own. Perhaps her Nonna was wrong about food being the way to a person’s heart. Perhaps all it took was a kiss. His scraped his lips against her chin as she pulled him into her apartment.
She was vaguely aware of the door shutting behind them and of the way his arms encircled her, lifting her up onto her toes, closer to him.
“I missed you,” he said as he set her down. She licked her lips and took a step back to gain a measure of steadiness. She told herself that she shouldn’t get used to that, that this was, by mutual consent, a fling, meant to be passionate but ultimately destined to flame out. Jackson had all but told her he wasn’t ready to love again.
“I can tell,” she said.
He smiled down at her and with a fluid gesture, held out a bottle of red. “You said Bordeaux, correct?”
She nodded, taking the bottle and setting it down on the kitchen counter.
“What are we having?” he asked.
“Well,” she looked around, and his eyes followed her gaze. “It’s supposed to be chicken cacciatore. And I was supposed to have showered and dressed. And not made it look like I was murdering tomatoes.”
He looked at her and she was certain that his mouth was twitching, but he said nothing as he went into the kitchen and peeked into the pots and pans.
“It’s an old family recipe,” she offered.
He took up a spoon, stirred something, and then held it up for a taste.
“Wait,” she said, panicky, “Me first. I don’t want to poison you.”
“Do you really think it’s a possibility?”
“There’s a first time for everything,” she said darkly. She went over, took the spoon from him, and inhaled. Ok, so it didn’t smell so bad. Sort of like tomato soup. Sure, not like when her mother was cooking it, but maybe it would taste fine.
Tentatively she took a taste. “Omigod,” she said, dropping the spoon and going to fan her mouth.
“What?” he asked.
“Hot,” she managed. She needed water, or milk, but she was certain she didn’t have any of that, so she went over to the sink, quickly grabbed a cup and switched on the tap.
“How bad can it be?” Jackson asked. She turned in time to see him dip the spoon in, lift it to his mouth, and then take a big swallow.
It took a moment before he too started to cough and sputter and his eyes water. Wordlessly, she filled the glass full of water and handed it to him. He drank it one gulp.
“Were you supposed to use red pepper flakes?”
She nodded. “That’s the secret ingredient. The recipe called for a pinch, but I thought I should measure it.” She held up the measuring spoon.
He looked at it and burst out laughing. “That’s a tablespoon. That’s more like a fistful.”
She looked at the spoon, looked at the mess, and then because he had started to, she went along with him and soon they were both laughing.
“Maybe you should stick to medicine,” he said.
She punched him lightly, but he was too quick for her and caught her hand, using it to pull her towards him. He wrapped his arms around her so his chin nestled on her head.
“We could always go out,” she suggested, trying to quell her laughter.
“Or,” he said, taking her chin with his hand and lifting it up, “we can just stay in. I’m not that hungry.” He dropped his mouth and his lips brushed against her ear. She felt her body respond, a thrill coursing through her. Her Nonna definitely had it wrong. Food had nothing on this.
His mouth moved to hers, insistent, demanding. She reached up into him, hearing herse
lf moan. She wanted this, wanted him. Everything seemed to slip away as his arms came around her. She could taste the sauce on him, the scent of spice and to her it seemed to mean danger. She knew that she shouldn’t let herself be so caught up in this, so caught up in him, but when his arms came around her and he pulled her to him, everything else seemed to fall away. For so long she had been focused on her goal that she had let nothing distract her. Now, when Jackson was around, everything but him and her need for him, faded away.
His arms slid down her shoulders, around her back so that he cupped her backside. In one fluid movement, he lifted her up so that her legs were wrapped around him. His teeth raked down her neck.
“Didn’t you say you just had a new bed delivered?” he said, his voice a low growl that made her clench tighter around him.
“Something like that,” she said.
“Sounds to me like we better go break it in, make sure it’s up to standard.”
He swung her around and before she knew it, he was carrying her from the living area, down the short hall into her bedroom. She managed a wild glance around, wondering what sort of shape it was in. Thankfully, she had put all of her clothes away and all there was was the bed and its new cover, soft, inviting.
He lowered her down on it, and she felt her head hit the pillows, her hair splaying out around her. She looked up at him. He took off his jacket and tossed it aside. Before he could start on the buttons of his shirt, she rose up, pulled him down and kissing him, began to undo them, one at time. She let her hands roam over his chest as she pulled the shirt away, let her fingers soak up the feel and play of his muscles, feel the strength underneath them.
She tossed the shirt in the corner and her hands hovered over his waist and played with the buckle of his belt. She could feel his want through the soft fabric of his pants as she brushed her hand over him.
He hissed in through his teeth and looked down at her. “Be careful of the game you’re playing,” he said.