“Listen,” she said. “I probably needed that class today more than you did.” She paused, preparing herself with an encouraging breath. “The other day while I was driving, I had a super-close call with a little girl on a trike. It was so close that I came within inches of her trike by the time my brakes caught up. I was so close to running her over.” A deep shiver rocked through Jessie’s chest.
“Wow,” Nate whispered, scratching the back of his neck. “I bet that was scary.”
Jessie nodded. “Terrifying. I might not have received a ticket, but I definitely deserved one.”
When Nate remained quiet, Jessie gave him a pointed look. “So you’re not going to blame yourself about things between Trent and me, and you’re not going to take on more guilt over the ticket. Right?”
“Right.”
Jessie ran the tip of her finger over the grooves along the steering wheel. “I learned something really important at that class today. I learned about … well, let’s just say it gives me some answers regarding the argument Trent and I had. About what’s most likely holding him back.”
“That’s awesome.” There—his real smile was back.
Jessie grinned in return. “Yeah. But what am I supposed to do now? Wait for him to come to me?”
Nate scrunched his face and tilted his head thoughtfully, a look she’d seen on Sheila a hundred times. “You remember the night of the fundraiser, how Griff put you up for auction?”
Jessie blurted out one short laugh. “Yes. Trauma has a way of searing itself into your brain.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nate mumbled. “I’m sure you also remember that my Uncle Shawn bid on you too.”
She nodded.
“I asked him about it the following day, mainly because I was surprised he did it. Not that, I mean, I can definitely see why a guy would want to bid on you. It’s just that …” Nate shook his head as color filled his cheeks. “You know what I mean.”
“Of course,” Jessie said. “I was surprised too. He lost his wife not long ago. That, and he doesn’t know me real well.”
A sigh fell from Nate’s lips. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.” He pushed his sleeves up to his forearms, revealing the tattoo he’d gotten on his eighteenth birthday. Three symbols, each with distinct meanings: strength, courage, and hope. His mom could hardly get mad at him when he’d gotten the ink with her in mind.
“So I asked him, and he told me that life was too short to let a chance at love, even a small chance with a big price tag, slip away. And that even though my aunt died, being with her was worth all the pain he’s gone through.” Nate shrugged. “He said love is always worth the risk.”
“Worth the risk, huh?” Jessie mumbled.
“You know what makes me the maddest—about my dad leaving?”
Jessie gave him an encouraging nod to continue, surprised by the shift in topic; Nate rarely spoke about his father.
“Here my uncle was doing everything he could do to keep my Aunt Mindy alive—I mean, my mom says he would’ve died for her if he could have, that’s how much he loved her. And then my dad, who had a perfectly good wife, just walked away from her.”
“You’re right.” It was an interesting way to put it. She could almost hear him saying, And here you have a chance at a perfectly good relationship and you just walk away. But that’s not where Nate was going. At least, she didn’t think it was.
He shook his head. “I know we’re better off without him, but it still makes me mad. At least I’ve been able to take a good look at how I don’t want to be.”
“Exactly,” Jessie said. “And it sounds like you’ve got a good example of the kind of man you do want to be, too.”
He turned to look at her. “I’ve got two,” he said.
Jessie lifted a brow.
“Uncle Shawn and Sheriff Lockheart.”
Warmth—the kind that came from Grandma or God—bloomed in Jessie’s heart.
“I admire him a lot,” he explained. “What he’s doing after what he went through. Could have just wandered off and turned into some drunk.”
“True.” She continued to soak up their conversation, her spirits lifting considerably. “I admire both of them as well,” she agreed. “And you already have a pretty incredible mother—I admire her every day.”
“Oh, she’s my number one hero, for sure. I just want her to find someone who will …” A tiny tremble formed in his lower lip as he paused and shook his head. “Who will be amazing to her.” He glanced at Jessie, hesitating while something new played over his expression. “You know what?” he said. “I want that for you, too.”
There was that warmth again, swelling in her chest, filling her with inspiration and hope. Jessie wanted to be someone Nate could look up to. Someone who took risks—not only for others—but for herself, too.
A vision of Trent floated to her mind. Perhaps, after today, she could get somewhere with him. It was possible they could overcome what had most likely been holding him back all along. There was only one way to find out. And though it involved risk on her part, Jessie was ready to try.
Chapter 24
Trent pushed his food from one side of his plate to the other. Why he’d bothered making a pan of scrambled eggs for dinner, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps because it was usually the one thing he could muster an appetite for, even during times like this. Seemed women—when they were upset—could stuff in chocolate and ice cream and pack in the calories. Men, on the other hand, at least in his experience, skipped food altogether.
Benny and his big mouth. Had he set that whole thing up? Had he convinced Trent to speak at the classes just so he could send Jessie to one? Of course, if Trent hadn’t backed out of them in the first place, none of this would’ve happened. Benny only found out about the dropped classes because Judy was looking for a replacement.
The four legs of his chair scraped over the tile as Trent stood. His footsteps echoed off the windows and walls as he walked to the sink. Next came the scrape of metal to stoneware as he pushed the eggs off his plate and into the sink.
His fingers met with the disposal switch, yet before he flicked it on, a bell chimed. His doorbell.
Trent’s mind shot back to the moment he’d spotted Jessie in the crowd—the way his heart nearly clanked out of his chest. The way his knees became shaky and his voice, weak.
Jessie knows everything now.
He straightened up, considered not answering the door, but thought better of it. May as well get things over with now while his determination was strong.
He didn’t bother turning on more lights, simply let the glow of the kitchen mark his way through the front room and into the entryway.
The brass knob was cool against his palm. But an even colder sensation erupted inside him.
No. He couldn’t do this.
The wood blinds over the window were tilted up, making it easy to see the driveway. With a slow, shallow breath, Trent took a long sidestep to examine the drive, his hand still firmly gripping the knob. Jessie’s silver sedan waited below.
A knock came at the door, followed by a second chime of the bell. She’d definitely heard his steps and seen the slight jostle of the doorknob. But the determination Trent had moments ago was somewhere between the soles of his boots and the rug he stood on. A rug Jessie picked out herself after their moment outside the warehouse …
At the memory, Trent wanted to tear open the door, profess his love for her, and kiss Jessie until his past fled back to its rightful place.
But that’s not how it would go. No, he’d been through this before and knew exactly what to expect: First Jessie would be angry for not telling her about the accident. Don’t you trust me enough? Next she’d want to speak at length about life’s circumstance and how there are some things that are out of our control. She’d try to convince him that he wasn’t a villain. That he was heroic, even, for all the great things he was doing.
Trent shook his head. People meant well. They couldn’t possibly know that words lik
e that only made him feel worse. What he’d done was as unforgiveable as it was irreparable. At least to him.
A car door slammed out front, and Jessie’s engine roared up from the driveway.
Trent’s arm went limp and heavy to his side. No need to open the door now. She was gone. He waited for relief to kick in, but as the minutes turned into hours, relief never came.
When Brett died, his ashes were placed in an urn. Yet at the funeral—for the sake of offering a traditional experience—the home provided a ceremonial casket. Closed, of course. But people walked by, ran their hands along the solid wood, and said their goodbyes to the empty box.
Perhaps that was an accurate description for Trent. After all that he’d been through—after losing what he’d almost gained in Jessie—he felt like no more than an empty shell.
Chapter 25
“How are you ladies getting along over here?” Jessie glanced up to see Anthony standing beside her booth.
Sheila spoke up first. “Wonderfully, thank you.”
“Glad to hear it.” Anthony set those deep brown eyes on her. “How about you, Jessie? Are you good?”
Jessie pulled in a breath, feeling the kindness in his words. He was genuinely concerned about her. She nodded. “Yeah, I’m doing all right. Thank you.”
When he only nodded and proceeded on to the next table, Jessie wondered if she should finally give the guy a chance. She sensed he was still interested, but that he was respecting what she’d told him before—that the timing wasn’t right. Before when she’d said it, Jessie had inwardly thought there would never be a good time for her to date. But now that she’d opened herself up to it …
“Nate’s so excited about the sign Frankie made for him.” Sheila beamed while setting her mug back on her plate. “It’s only been up two days, and he’s already signed on four new clients. The Jensens, Carters, Mike Jackson, who’s been paying some neighbor kid who does a crummy job, according to Mike. And then Frankie signed a contract for the shop too.”
“Wow, that’s awesome. I’m so proud of him.” Jessie still couldn’t believe how much better Sheila looked each time she saw her. There was color in her cheeks, as thin as they might be. And her eyes had that lively glow once more.
Sheila reached over and rested a hand over Jessie’s. “I know you don’t like me to gush about it, but I just have to make sure you know how much I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for us.” She shook her head, her eyes watering as she looked across the booth. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
It was funny how situations worked out. Jessie had to admit that, though things with Trent hadn’t gone how she wished they would have, a lot of other things were dropping right into place. Sheila and Nate moved in downstairs at the inn. Sheila had taken Charlotte’s place, allowing the hardworking woman to enjoy retired life with JD. In fact, they’d already spent their first week on the road.
“I talked to Shawn today,” Sheila said. “Sounds like he’s thinking about moving out here with the kids.”
“Your brother-in-law?” Jessie asked, dunking a fried zucchini slice into a small cup of ranch dressing.
She nodded. “He thinks it’d be good for them to have me and Nate close—being family and all.”
“That sounds like a good idea. Family is usually the next best thing.” Jessie should know. Without her grandmother, she wasn’t sure where she’d be.
“Do you think it would be horrible if we … if me and Shawn ever …”
Jessie lifted a brow.
Sheila blushed and shrugged. “Mindy and I always had similar taste in men. And he’s been extremely nurturing through all of this. I’m not sure that it’s headed in that direction, but it seems like maybe it could be.”
“Stranger things happen,” Jessie said with a smile, recalling what Shawn had told Nate about taking risks. She admired that. “I’m starting to realize that we need to just take happiness where we can find it.”
The statement led Jessie’s thoughts to Trent. Three whole weeks had passed since she’d gone to his house. Three weeks since he’d left her standing outside his door. Sheila and Char had done their share of encouraging. Nagging was more like it.
Just go get some answers—you deserve at least that much. And while they were right about that, Jessie wasn’t about to pester the guy. If Trent Lockheart didn’t want a relationship with her—fine. And if she and Trent never sat down and talked about it, Jessie could imagine that the problem went beyond her. Maybe it had something to do with other things he’d hidden from her. Perhaps it wasn’t because she was impossible to love.
“Oh, look,” Sheila said, turning the screen of her phone so Jessie could see. “It’s a group text from Charlotte. Did you get it? ‘Happy as dead pigs in the sunlight. Next stop I get to squish my grandbabies.’”
Jessie dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. And there it was.
“Grandbabies,” Sheila muttered from across the table. “I hope to have a few of those one day. Not that I want to rush it. Nate has another seven or eight years of growing up to do first.”
Jessie smiled, once again relieved that Sheila’s cancer was a thing of the past and she could think seven years in the future. She prayed it would stay that way. She hoped Sheila would live to see the things she looked forward to.
But, just what exactly was Jessie looking forward to?
A lot, she assured herself. Jessie enjoyed life. She had plenty of people she loved—people who loved her in return. She’d look forward to the changes in their lives and families. In being a part of it.
“Happy as dead pigs in the sunlight,” Sheila mumbled once more. “Can you imagine?”
Jessie recalled the time Char had described her and Trent that way. While looking at the image on her phone, Jessie tried replacing the faces in the picture. The couple stood outside their trailer, arms spread as they took in their surroundings: pink sand dunes and a bright blue sky. JD became Trent in his old age, and Char became Jessie. The idea of having all those years together—sharing kids and grandkids and everyday life—all of it sparked the once-dying flame for Trent back to life. “No,” she finally said, tucking the phone away. “I can’t imagine.”
The clouds rolling in were different from the puffy cotton balls that normally spotted the sky. They were flat—laid out like an ashy blanket—sinking closer to the mountains before Trent’s eyes. Good, he mused. Bring on the rain. Bring on anything, as long as it differed from the day-to-day drab his life had become. He could hardly believe that the month of July was already gone. Trent knew there was plenty of summer left, but in his mind, it couldn’t be over too soon. The blue skies, colorful sunsets, and warm nights kept memories of Jessie fresh on his mind.
As it was, his parents were coming into town again. And if there was one thing his mother couldn’t resist, it was playing matchmaker. Chances were, his broken relationship with Jessie was the only reason they were coming back through so soon.
“It’s like a female war zone in there,” Benny grumbled around a bite of food. “I swear the women are on edge. Cussing out the men for every wrong move they make.”
Trent blinked the dryness from his eyes and set his gaze back on Ben. Lamaze class—that’s what they were talking about.
Benny scrunched up his face and raised the pitch of his voice. “‘No, you’re supposed to be on this side. Your hands are freezing, can’t you make them warmer? You’re breathing too fast.’”
Trent chuckled. “And Darcy?” he asked. “Was she that way with you?”
Benny smeared a few fries in his ketchup, stuffed them in his mouth, and washed it down before continuing. “See, that’s just the thing. She wasn’t like that verbally, but I could tell that she was really irritated with me.” He leaned over the table like a secret agent ready to share his latest find. “Darcy has a tell.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s lucky.” Trent took a bite of his neglected sandwich, wondering if Jessie had a tell.
�
��See, Darcy was born with these raspberry-like birthmarks over her eyelids and forehead. You can see them real good in her baby pictures, which means our little one might have them, too. Anyway, they faded over the years. They’re pretty much invisible actually. Unless …” Benny grinned, waiting for Trent to fill in the blank.
“Unless she’s angry?”
Ben dunked more fries. “Yep.”
Something in the air seemed to shift. A foreboding of sorts. It was the feeling that came over Trent when something was going down. Something he needed to attend to. He tilted his head to one side, listening as he held up a finger.
The distinct sound of a struggle echoed off the pavement, causing Trent to jump to his feet. He grabbed for his gun, opted for his Taser instead, then sped toward the noise—an alleyway between the burger joint and the laundromat.
Trent reached a hand back to silence his CB, listening closely as he neared the alley entrance.
“Stop,” a female pled. “Don’t involve her in this. Just let her go back into the laundromat, and I’ll stay.”
Adrenaline surged through Trent as a scuffle sounded. He rounded the corner, barrel aimed toward the action, and saw Benny appear at the other end. A woman ran past a tall, skinny guy with greasy hair, but already the guy was trying to thwart her. With long, scrawny fingers, he fisted the woman’s ponytail and yanked her down to the ground.
“Hold it right there,” Trent shouted. “Put your hands up!”
The gangly guy’s eyes bulged as he caught sight of Trent. He came to a slow stand, eyeing the lady on the ground while raising his arms over his head.
“Are you okay, miss?” Trent asked. “Can you get up all right?”
She gave him a timid nod, her brown eyes wide and worried.
With his Taser aimed at the man, and Benny unnoticed at the rear, Trent gave her a nod. “Go ahead, then. Walk over there and stand by those pots so I can ask you some questions.” He guessed her age to be late-twenties or so, despite the appearance of a premature furrow at her brow and frown lines around her lips. She was nursing a black eye, he realized, spotting the greenish bruise around her left brow.
The Sheriff's Bride: Country Brides & Cowboy Boots (Cobble Creek Romance Book 1) Page 16