Through The Window

by Wendy Campbell

  She watched them drive away, feeling the rapid beat of her heart. Standish didn’t even have time to finish making dinner.

  Visions of flaming pans sent her racing back in the room. Two frying pans of half-cooked hamburger were still on the six-burner stove, but the burners were off. On the far one sat a huge pot of steaming water filled with lasagna noodles.

  She stared at the pans, wondering if she should do something. If they didn’t get back soon, the food would probably go bad. She could almost hear her mother’s lecture about wasting food, and before she realized it, she turned the burners on. It wouldn’t be hard to brown the hamburger and put it in the fridge. She’d finish the noodles and put them in cold water so they wouldn’t turn to mush. They’d invited her to dinner. The least she could do was salvage it for them.

  As she stirred the hamburger, she glanced at the cookbook. The list of ingredients took half the page, but she realized it couldn’t be that hard to mix, layer, and put the finished meal in the oven. Standish must be hungry because he’d started enough hamburger and noodles for three casserole dishes. By the time she figured that out, seven half-filled bowls, empty cheese containers, spice jars and a hundred other things were piled on the counter. Her hair fell out of the rubber band she’d used to hold it back, and sweat beaded on her brow.

  It took forever to make the first batch, but when she got to the second one, she’d developed a rhythm. The door opened and a perky brunette with white streaks in hair walked in. The girl looked about seventeen, but with all the makeup it was hard to tell. She wore about thirty dangly necklaces, a skin-tight, strapless black tube top, which she filled out admirably, and an equally tight mini skirt. She swished into the room on spiky heeled sandals, scooted onto the edge of the table, swung her leg and stared at Mel.

  “What are you doing here?” the girl asked in a petulant voice that put Mel’s back up. That better-than-thou attitude reminded her of Jen Marsh, and the girl’s casual manner told Mel she’d been here before.

  “Cooking.” She blew the hair out of her face.

  “They actually hired a cook?”

  Before Mel could say anything, the girl burst into laughter, slid off the table, and settled herself into a recliner. Still laughing, she grabbed the remote and turned the TV to a music video. She cranked the volume so loud, there was no point trying to talk.

  Mel put the last dish of lasagna in the second oven and started clearing the counter when the men walked in, Jordan in the lead. So much for cleaning up, but Jordan barely glanced at her. His gaze locked on the girl stretched out in the recliner, her head bopping to the beat, her fingers drumming the armrest, still oblivious to their return and his face went hard.

  This must be Haylee. Her flamboyant and sexy approach was offset by her age and she came across as selfish and shallow. Is this the type of woman Jordan preferred?

  Standish turned the TV off, ignored the girl’s protest, and looked in the oven. “Hey, you didn’t have to do all this, but I’m glad you did. We’ll be able to eat before eight.”

  “No problem.” Mel said.

  Jordan bent low and whispered to the girl. Haylee got up and stood so close to Jordan that her breasts were actually touching him. Jordan frowned and glanced at Mel.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said and they left.

  A hand touched her shoulder, and she turned to see Standish’s smile. “He’ll get rid of her. He always does. So, what’s Stone got that I don’t?” Rubbing a hand over his hairless head, he winked. “I could use a beautiful woman who likes to cook.”

  She laughed. “Thanks, but I’m afraid you’ll have a different opinion of my cooking once you taste it. I hope I don’t poison anyone.”

  “Since you saved me from cooking, I’ll save Jordan the cleaning.” He started running water in the sink, and she escaped to the bathroom.

  By the time she fixed her hair and touched up her makeup, she realized Jordan hadn’t looked pleased to see Haylee. So she’d take the high road and bite back her snide comments because he didn’t deserve them. The girl was a lovesick teen, and Mel knew what that was like. She wouldn’t mention Haylee, even if it killed her. With a bright, optimistic smile, Mel left the bathroom.

  Jordan sat at the table, his eyes on the TV. When the door closed behind her, he turned and she could see the apology on his face. Before he could say anything, she rubbed his shoulder and sat next to him.

  “Guess what?” she said, trying for an upbeat, sexy smile.

  “What?”

  “I finished the lasagna, which means we should probably call for pizza.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two days later, Mel found Jordan waiting outside her office at closing time. Leaning against his truck, one foot resting on the running board, he looked like he belonged in a commercial. The breeze rustled his dark hair.

  “Want a ride home?”

  “Absolutely.” She scowled at her bike as she pushed it to his truck. “This thing is giving me bruises on my butt.”

  He grinned. “I’m an EMT, trained to handle just such emergencies.”

  She laughed as he put her bike in the back of his truck and they headed out of town. The wrong way.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my place, if you don’t mind. I owe you a dinner. Since it’s nice out, I’ll throw some steaks on the barbeque.”

  “You’re going to make me dinner?”

  “You made lasagna for six. I owe you. Besides, you haven’t seen my place.”

  Being invited to Jordan’s house felt special, like their first kiss or that smoldering look when she knew he saw her and not Yvonne. When he turned onto a gravel driveway, her breath caught. A low deck circled the large, rambling two-story farmhouse. Red and brown tiles decorated the porch roof. Light brown siding and dark brown trim blended in with the surrounding forest. She was stunned, not in amazement at the beauty of the setting, but because she knew, without even looking, where the living room was, the bedrooms, the baths. The deck was covered in the back, right off the kitchen door, and an abundance of windows surrounded the dining area.

  She’d been here before.

  Mick had been edgy and pissed off that night or they wouldn’t have hit so close to home. His car wouldn’t start, so he borrowed Ed Lindkowski’s ancient truck. They got a flat two miles out. Mick forgot his flashlight, and Mel couldn’t find one in the truck. It took a half hour to change the tire in a miserable downpour. The lug nuts were stuck, so he told her to jump up on the wrench to loosen them. She had, and she’d slipped and fallen into the mud, banging her shoulder hard against the truck, but Mick didn’t care. When they finally got the spare on, it was nearly flat, but he refused to give up.

  By the time they reached the house, she was soaked, barefoot, and down to the long underwear she’d worn, since her jeans were caked in mud. The instant Mick pushed her through the bathroom window, the house enveloped her like a warm comforter. The old, claw-footed tub beckoned with the promise of hot water and bubbles. She wanted to take the tops off the fancy bottles of soap and bath oils and smell each one. Slowly, she wandered through the dark house, feeling more and more like she wanted to stay. Then she realized what she was thinking and got completely freaked out. She’d never felt that way about a house she was supposed to be burglarizing.

  Mick had been furious when she came racing out empty-handed. She told him all she found were old lady’s knitting projects and Jesus statues. It hadn’t been her first lie. Or her last.

  “Melanie?”

  “Sorry.” She realized she’d stopped at the bottom of the steps. She smiled and followed Jordan inside. The furniture and floor coverings were different, and there weren’t any pictures on the walls, but the bones of the house were the same, welcoming and warm. “Your house is wonderful.”

  He smiled. “It still needs some work, but it’s coming along.”

  “What have you done to it?”

  Jordan took a couple beers from the fridge and led her out
the kitchen door. The back of the house was exactly as she’d remembered. A large lawn stretched to the edge of the forest. In the distance, she could see the tops of the hills. As they sat on the swing, he told her about replacing the roof, rewiring and updating the plumbing. While he talked, images of that dark night kept flashing in her mind. To help ground her in the here and now, she breathed in the warm afternoon air, catching the scent of recently mown grass, supplemented with the sweet aroma from a border of purple lilac bushes on one side of the lawn.

  The crunch of gravel on the driveway announced a visitor. Jordan left to answer the door, but she wanted to stay on the swing long enough to get her bearings so she declined his offer to come along. This was Jordan’s house, not his aunt’s, and only Mick knew she’d been here before.

  ****

  “Carl, what brings you by?” Jordan walked to the black VW Jetta in his driveway. Carl Anderson wasn’t someone who would just stop by. Jordan had managed to tolerate him while they were growing up, but after the way he’d treated Sara, Jordan never wanted to see him again.

  “Jordan, my man,” Carl said as he got out. “How’s it hanging?”

  “What do you want?”

  “How ’bout a beer while we catch up?”

  “Sorry, don’t have time. What do you want?”

  Carl belched. “Roger sold me a stereo about a month ago. Said you had it.”

  “In the garage.” Jordan led the way into the garage and sorted through boxes. He should get Roger’s crap out of here, but his brother didn’t have much room with one kid, and another on the way.

  “Here it is,” Jordan said. He slid a tattered cardboard box to the edge, lifted it, and the bottom collapsed. Aunt Madge’s empty canning jars hit the cement and shattered.

  “Shit. Can you get me the broom and dustpan by the door?” Jordan bent down and started tossing the biggest pieces of glass into the garbage can.

  “Sure.” Carl looked around by the door. “Here’s the broom. No dustpan. You got another one?”

  “In the kitchen,” Jordan grumbled. “Never mind.”

  Carl laughed. “I’ll get it.”

  “Don’t bother,” he said, but Carl was already gone.

  Jordan managed to sweep up most of the glass using a piece of cardboard as a dustpan. He moved the other boxes aside and took out the receiver, CD player, and speakers. Carl wasn’t back yet, so Jordan left them in a pile by his car and headed for the house. The swing was empty so he went into the kitchen. Hot rage flooded through him.

  Carl had Melanie pinned against the fridge. Jordan flew across the room, resisting the urge to knock Carl alongside the head only because he didn’t want to hurt Mel. So he wrapped his arms around Carl’s biceps and broke the man’s hold. Then he tossed Carl across the room. Jordan didn’t wait to see him land.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, running his hands over her arms and face, checking for injuries. Her body shook, and he knew the marks on her arm would match Carl’s fingers. A red haze filled his vision, but she moved before he did.

  With a vicious oath, she sprinted across the room. Her head rammed Carl’s gut. He flew back, toppling a chair and landing against the table. Jordan couldn’t reach her in time to stop Carl’s fist. The moron punched her in the face. Her head snapped back, but her fists continued to pound on him. Jordan managed to pull her to the side, putting his body in front of her in case Carl took another swing.

  Jordan dragged her away, while she struggled to break free. “Stop it.” He held her tight against his chest.

  “Let me go.” Her voice quivered with anger.

  “No.”

  “Let her go.” Carl sneered and struggled to his feet. Blood ran from his nose, colored the edge of his mouth. “I’ll have her arrested for assault.”

  “Stay here,” Jordan told her. “Please.”

  When she relented, he crossed the room in three steps. Carl pulled back for a swing, and Jordan smashed his fist into the bastard’s face. Carl fell to the floor.

  Mel bounced on her toes, her gaze locked on Carl, and Jordan knew she really wanted to take another swing, so he wrapped his arms around her.

  “Get out of here.” Jordan nodded toward the door, but Carl just glared at them. “Now, or I’ll let Mel have a go at you. You deserve everything she’d do and more, you coward. And I’ll clean up anything she leaves behind.”

  He loosened his grip and Mel managed to get one arm free. Carl, half-crouched and holding his stomach, ran out the door. Jordan held her until they heard the sound of his car peel away. A bruise circled her left eye, and it was starting to swell. “Damn. You’re going to have a shiner. I’m sorry. I should have stopped him from coming inside, but I got distracted when the jars broke.”

  Her eyes filled, but she blinked back the tears and gave him a fierce grin. “I wish Sara could have seen him run like that.” She raised a hand to her eye. “I hope you have an icepack. I’m not going to let you ruin our dinner by putting a steak on my face.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed. This woman had more guts than most men.

  Calmly, she raised her eyebrows and winced as the skin stretched over her black eye. “I’m glad you see the humor in the situation.”

  Still chuckling, he took her in his arms.

  ****

  When Melanie got to her desk the next morning, the phone was ringing. Since an applicant waited in the nearly completed lobby, she should have ignored it, but the number on the caller ID gave her a quiver of excitement.

  “Good morning, this is Melanie Quinn.”

  “Good morning, Miss Quinn,” came Jordan’s sexy voice. “How’s the eye?”

  “It still works.” After trying for five minutes to hide the dark bruise with makeup, she finally gave up. The swelling was down, thanks to the icepacks Jordan sent home with her after dinner, and ibuprofen took the edge off the pain.

  “Good. I swapped a few days around and I’m off this Friday. Can I interest you in a date?”

  “What did you have in mind?” She hoped he’d say wild sex, but she’d probably drop the phone if he did.

  “Dinner out, dessert in.” The huskiness in his voice made her think dessert might be berries and whipped cream. Licked off of each other’s bodies. Or chocolate-raspberry ice cream—

  “Mel?”

  “Sorry, I got carried away imagining dessert. Your place or mine? For dessert, I mean.”

  He laughed. “You pick.”

  “Yours. Are you working Saturday?”

  “No, that’s my day off.”

  “Good. Since I don’t have to be at the store until noon, I probably don’t have to hurry home.”

  “Are you offering to stay the night?”

  “If I make you nervous, I can sleep on the couch.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “Like hell. I want you in my bed. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  ****

  The hours raced by as Mel interviewed applicants and took calls. Thanks in part to Nicholas’s good looks, and that country boy charm, they were busier than she’d dreamed. Finally the day ended, and she headed to Last Chance. When she opened the front door, a wave of animosity hit her. She immediately looked for Carl, but saw Yvonne behind the counter, chatting with a customer and giving Mel the evil eye. Relieved, Mel ignored her and found Sara in her office.

  “What happened to your eye?” Sara jumped to her feet.

  Mel closed the door. “Sit down, and I’ll tell you in a minute. I tried calling before your meeting, but I couldn’t get through. How’d it go?”

  “I don’t know. Carl didn’t say much. His nose looked broken.” Sara looked suspiciously at Mel’s eye.

  “So what happened?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I will, but I meant at the meeting.”

  “The lawyers bickered for an hour and we left. Why do you like you’ve been punched in the face?”

  “Has Jordan talked to you?” She didn’t want to tell Sara about her encou
nter with Carl, but Jordan insisted Sara had a right to know.

  “No,” Sara answered. “Why?”

  “You should sit down.”

  “Nothing good can follow that,” Sara said, but she sat on the edge of the desk. “Spit it out.”

  “I was at Jordan’s house yesterday. Carl stopped by.” Mel pointed to her bruised eye, and Sara paled. Slowly, Sara got to her feet, opened the door, then slammed it.

  “Damn it,” Sara said. “Tell me what happened.”

  Mel explained how Carl had caught her by surprise and pinned her. “After Jordan pulled him off, I went after him. I got in a few good hits, but he got lucky and nailed me. Then Jordan pulled me off and took him down with one punch.” She grinned. “God, it was beautiful. After Carl ran like the chicken-livered coward he is, we talked and agreed to tell only you. Unless he does something stupid, like try to press charges.”

  Sara wiped at her tears and gave Mel a hug. “I should have dealt with him before this, before he could hurt you.”

  “He’s worse off than I am.”

  “I know. I saw him.” An odd light filled Sara’s eyes.

  When Mel left, she passed Lyle on his way in, but he didn’t even see her. His gaze locked on Sara in a way that made Mel’s heart fill with hope.

  ****

  Since Yvonne worked mornings at the store, Mel didn’t see her. It would be impossible to avoid her sister for long, but the longer the better. On Friday, she said goodbye to Nicholas and headed home. She volunteered to work Sunday, even though Jordan was off. While part of her wanted to spend every minute with him that she could, she needed to hold something back, especially this early in their relationship.

  Relationship? What was she thinking? She didn’t want a relationship. This was about sex. Just sex. Once she got him out of her system, this obsession would go away. It had to.

  During her ride home, she noticed a small rambler on the outskirts of town with a white picket fence and a tricycle in the yard. It looked so sweet, she could almost picture a little girl with blonde pigtails pedaling around. Or dark hair, like Jordan’s, cut in a bob. She jerked her eyes back to the road, adjusted her sunglasses, and focused only on her ride until she got home.