The Cottage on Juniper Ridge

by Sheila Roberts

  “Okay,” he said, and picked his up, too. “What should we toast to?”

  “New beginnings.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” he said, and they clinked glasses. He took a cookie and bit into it. Just like the kind his mom made. He nodded. “Good.”

  “Cookies are my specialty,” she said. “I’m trying to master bread.”

  Cookies and bread...and home-grown vegetables. He’d been unreasonable earlier. “About the garden,” he began.

  “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” she said quickly. “I want to forget the whole thing.”

  “Me, too,” he admitted. “I’m not usually like that.” At least he hadn’t been since he and Ash got divorced.

  She studied the contents of her glass. “I can’t blame you for being mad.”

  “I want you to have your garden,” he said.

  Now she brightened. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Let me come over and till it for you, though. Okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  They had just started talking about what she wanted to plant when his cell phone played the theme music for the old TV show Law & Order. Tilda. Crap!

  “Dude, where are you?” she asked.

  They were supposed to be playing racquetball at Bruisers about now. “Oh, man. I forgot. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Hey, if you’ve got something going...”

  He did, but he already knew he shouldn’t go any further with it. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be there.” He ended the call. “Sorry,” he said to Jen. “I forgot I’d promised to be somewhere.” He set down his glass and stood.

  “Oh. Of course,” she said, sounding disappointed. She fetched his plate of cookies and handed them to him.

  “Thanks for these.”

  She smiled. Jen Heath had a great smile. “Thanks again for the flowers. I’m glad we’re friends now.”

  He smiled back. “Me, too.” Friends. Was that a good idea?

  Probably not, he thought as he drove away. Friendship could easily morph into something else if his hormones had anything to say about it. He was beginning to suspect there was more to Jen Heath than met the eye. For one thing, she had a heart, which was more than he could say for his ex. But she was still impetuous and flaky. And trouble.

  He was done with trouble. Now he wanted stable. He wanted emotional peace and some measure of calm in his life to balance out the storm that was his ex-wife. Stick to the plan, he told himself even as he pulled a cookie out from under the plastic wrap. Stick to the plan.

  Chapter Twenty

  Love is never as complicated as we make it.

  —Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity

  Well, there went Saturday night, Jen thought as she watched Garrett’s truck hit the road. For a few minutes she’d actually entertained visions of stretching milk and cookies into dinner. Those had disappeared with an almost audible poof when his cell phone rang. Where did he have to be? And with whom?

  She remembered the ring tone. Law & Order. Tilda the cop. Tilda the buff. Tilda, who probably didn’t tear up drain fields.

  You have to stop being so fixated on this man, Jen scolded herself. He’s seeing someone else. There were other men in Icicle Falls and she needed to start checking them out. That was how a smart woman moved on with her life.

  She put in a call to Cecily Sterling to see if she’d like to get together. “Hi, what are you doing tonight?”

  “I’m meeting Juliet and her husband for dinner at Zelda’s. Want to come?”

  It was one thing to see if a girlfriend wanted to go out, but another thing altogether to insert herself into someone else’s plans. “Oh, I don’t think—” she began.

  Cecily broke in before Jen could finish. “We’re going dancing at the Red Barn after,” Cecily added. “A great chance to learn how to two-step.”

  Dancing did sound like fun, but... “I don’t want to crash the party.”

  “There’s no such thing here in Icicle Falls. We always have room for one more. And you haven’t been to the Red Barn yet. You’ve got to experience that.”

  Yes, she did. “Okay,” she said. “Do I need a cowgirl hat?”

  “I’m sure there’ll be at least half a dozen cowboys who’ll be happy to lend you theirs.”

  Jen ended the call with a smile. All right. Dinner and dancing. And so what if she wasn’t doing it with Garrett Armstrong? There were other fish in the sea, other Icicles in Icicle Falls.

  She went to her closet to see what she had that would be suitable for dancing. There was a short, black denim skirt. That would work. And a sleeveless flowered blouse with ruffles. That would work, too. No cowgirl boots, darn it all. She’d have to make do with flats.

  Or she could spend some of her paycheck from Gingerbread Haus on boots. And eat beans for the rest of the week. Between boots and dinner out, she’d be making a big dent in her budget. She stood for a moment, gnawing on her lip. Oh, what the heck. She’d get the boots. She was halfway to the door when she remembered she had an unexpected bill for repairing a drain field looming on the horizon. Okay, flats would be fine.

  Zelda’s was packed, but Cecily and Juliet and her husband had scored a table by the window, which gave them a lovely view of Sleeping Lady Mountain. Juliet had barely introduced Jen to her husband, Neil, when their waitress, Maria Gomez, arrived to take their drink orders.

  “I need a huckleberry martini,” said Juliet. “Have you tried those yet, Jen?”

  “No.” And she wasn’t going to anytime soon, not until she’d saved enough money for repairs to the drain field.

  “Oh, you have to,” Juliet urged.

  “Or a Chocolate Kiss,” Cecily chimed in.

  “Oh, no. Those are deadly,” Jen said. The last time she’d indulged in Chocolate Kisses she’d fallen in Garrett Armstrong’s lap.

  Never mind him. You’re moving on.

  “I’ll have a Chocolate Kiss,” Cecily told Maria.

  “Beer for me,” Neil said. “Diet Coke for you, babe?”

  Juliet nodded. “Drinking takes away a dancer’s edge.”

  “Or makes a man brave enough to dance,” cracked her husband. “And a huckleberry martini for our friend here,” he said, pointing to Jen. “Put it on my tab.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” Jen protested.

  “Sure, you can,” Juliet said. “We’re rolling in money. He just got a raise,” she added with a grin.

  “All right, Neil,” Cecily said, and they bumped knuckles.

  Okay, that took care of drinks. Jen searched the menu for the cheapest item. Soup. She liked soup.

  “So, Juliet tells me you’re new in town,” Neil said to Jen. “How are you liking Icicle Falls?”

  “I love it here,” Jen replied.

  “She’s in Garrett Armstrong’s rental,” Juliet said.

  Neil made a face. “That place is kind of a dump, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve got it fixed up,” Jen told him. “Actually, it’s perfect for me. I don’t need a lot.”

  “Not when you’re simplifying your life,” Juliet said.

  “Speaking of, did you get the spot for your garden tilled?” Cecily asked.

  “Well, no.”

  Juliet frowned. “Did Bill Will flake out on you?”

  “No. He was wonderful. We just, uh, had a slight setback.”

  “Like what?” Juliet asked.

  “Um.” Jen looked around the restaurant, hoping for something to distract them. Thank God, Maria was walking toward them. “Oh, here come our dri
nks.”

  They placed their orders (main course items for everyone but Jen, who ordered smoked salmon chowder), then Maria gathered the menus and left.

  “So what happened with the garden?” Juliet was like a bloodhound. She never lost the scent of a good story.

  “We encountered a little problem.”

  “Like what?” Cecily asked.

  “Like the drain field.”

  Neil’s eyebrows went up. “You hit the drain field?”

  Jen gave a quick nod and took a fortifying sip of her huckleberry martini.

  Neil let out a guffaw. “Oh, that’s rich.”

  Jen shook her head sadly. “Sometimes simplifying your life isn’t that simple.”

  “No kidding,” Neil said with a frown. “Every time Juliet does something to make her life simpler, mine gets more complicated. I have to make dinner two days a week now.”

  “Poor baby,” Juliet teased.

  “And I’ve still got to till our garden,” he said.

  “Just look out for the drain field,” Jen cautioned. “I can tell you, it’s not a good thing if you hit those pipes.”

  Now Charley was showing two new customers to their table, Garrett and Tilda the cop. Jealousy took a bite out of Jen’s good mood.

  “Hey, there, Garrett,” Neil said, forcing the couple to stop. “How’s it going?”

  The two men shook hands. Garrett nodded to the other women and said hi to Jen.

  “Jen was just telling us what happened today,” Neil said.

  Why had he brought that up? Jen could feel the flame of embarrassment engulfing her cheeks. “They were asking about my garden,” she muttered.

  “It could happen to anyone,” Garrett said with a shrug.

  If only it had happened to anyone—anyone but her. At least they’d restored friendly landlord-tenant relations.

  Tilda raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t say anything. She didn’t appear to be a big talker...unless she was threatening the competition with a ticket.

  Charley had realized that her parade had come to a halt and she joined the party. “Hey, guys, how are your drinks?”

  “Great as always,” Neil said. Then to Garrett and Tilda, “You want to join us?”

  “I’m sure Charley can find a couple more chairs,” Juliet put in.

  “Another time,” Tilda said, making the decision for both of them. “Take care,” she added, and started moving away; Charley took the hint and went with her.

  Garrett nodded goodbye and followed them.

  “I can see who’s wearing the pants in that couple,” Neil said. “But hey, when you’ve got a hot woman, who cares?” He grinned at Juliet.

  “You’re so full of it,” she told him.

  Jen downed the rest of her martini, stuck on the whole hot-woman thing. Tilda was attractive in a Lara Croft, Tomb Raider, way. She wasn’t cover-model beautiful, but in that leather jacket, the tight-fitting red top and butt-hugging jeans, she was the embodiment of all those sexy lady cops who populated TV cop shows. Everything about her, from the way she walked—look at my ass but touch it and I’ll break your arm—to the expression on her face—I am so tough that once you’ve had sex with me you’ll know you’re a hard-ass dude—seemed geared to appeal to the kind of man who liked adventure. Nobody wanted a marshmallow these days.

  * * *

  “So, what garden?” Tilda asked as soon as she and Garrett had ordered a couple of beers.

  “Huh?” Garrett pulled his mind away from the image of Jen in that flowered top.

  Tilda leaned back in the booth and studied him in a way that made him feel like a criminal in a lineup. “The garden?”

  Now that he had a little distance from the event, it was sort of funny. “Well, Jen decided she wanted to put in a garden, so she got Bill Will out to till a spot for her.”

  Tilda rolled her eyes. “Bill Will. I can see it now.”

  Garrett shook his head and smiled. “Of course, she managed to pick the part of the yard where the drain field is.”

  “No way,” Tilda scoffed.

  “Oh, yeah. I swear that woman has a gift for taking the simplest thing and turning it into a sitcom.”

  “I bet you weren’t laughing.”

  “No,” he admitted. “I wasn’t. But we made up.” Made up. Did that sound too personal, like he had something going with Jen? Yes, judging from the odd look Tilda was giving him. “We fixed the problem,” he amended. “Got Grover’s Septic to come out.”

  “That had to cost a pretty penny.”

  It wasn’t going to be cheap, but even though it was Jen’s fault, Garrett wasn’t going to charge her.

  “You’re gonna make her pay for it, aren’t you?” Tilda asked.

  “We’ll work it out.” Tilda didn’t need to know how.

  “This chick is a pain in the butt,” she observed.

  “Yeah, she can be.” Garrett thought of the cookies she’d made. “But she’s a nice pain.”

  “Yeah?” Tilda didn’t sound happy to hear it.

  Garrett grabbed his menu. “I’m starving. What looks good to you?”

  * * *

  After dinner Jen and company were off to the Red Barn. Cecily had been right; Jen met plenty of men who were more than willing to lend her their cowboy hats. Bill Will and two of his buddies taught her how to do the country two-step, and Cecily and Juliet dragged her out on the floor every time there was a line dance. When they finally left the noisy little honkytonk, her ears were ringing and her feet were throbbing. She’d given her phone number to a cowboy and a local wine grower, and her social life was looking up.

  What were Garrett and Tilda doing right now?

  * * *

  “I really liked that movie,” Tilda said as Garrett drove her back to her house. “Bruce Willis still kicks ass.”

  “Yeah, he does,” Garrett agreed. He and Tilda had enjoyed a pleasant evening—a good dinner followed by a good movie.

  Well, when he’d been paying attention the movie was good. His mind had wandered, straying to thoughts of Jen Heath. What was she up to? He’d been willing to bet she hadn’t gone straight home after dinner. He’d played on Neil’s fast pitch team the year before, and he knew the guy and his wife went dancing at the Red Barn on a regular basis. They’d probably all headed over there after dinner. So who was Jen dancing with now?

  None of your business, he reminded himself. She’s your tenant, nothing more. You have a woman. Right here.

  They pulled up in front of Tilda’s place. She didn’t wait for him to come around and open the door. Tilda wasn’t that kind of woman. She did wait for him to join her once they were out of the truck, and they fell into step, strolling up her walk.

  “Thanks for the movie,” she said. “And dinner.”

  When they’d first started doing things together, they’d shared the tab, but Garrett always felt awkward doing that and he was slowly edging them toward something a little more...traditional. Of course, when a man picked up the tab, it meant he was interested—but now Garrett found himself suddenly ambivalent about the message he was sending.

  They reached her door. She turned and leaned against it. “You wanna come in?”

  Garrett knew what that meant. He could tell by the look in her eyes. Tilda was ready for more than friendship. Hell, so was he. He’d been celibate for way too long. Still, he hesitated.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “We don’t want to rush things.”r />
  “Rush? Dude, I know you got burned and you want to take it slow, but I’ve seen slugs move faster than you.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Great. I had to pick a gentleman.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid you did.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “And I shaved my damn legs and everything.”

  That made him chuckle. He leaned over and gave her a kiss good-night, just a friendly kiss.

  She slipped her arms around him and changed it into a friends-with-benefits kiss. Whoa. It would be so easy to keep that going, to let the fire she’d lit turn into a blaze. Every ounce of testosterone in him wanted it.

  But it didn’t feel right. Not yet. He took her hands and gently unlocked them from around his neck. “Hey, you do that too much and I might just forget I’m a gentleman.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” she said.

  “How did such a good cop get to be such a bad girl?” he teased.

  She grinned. “Remember who my mother is.”

  Yeah, Tilda had her mother’s edgy humor. Dot Morrison was probably something else in her day. Tilda would probably be something else in bed if Garrett would let her. Well, he would. Soon.

  And as he went back to his truck he told himself that his reluctance to log in some sack time with Tilda had nothing to do with a certain strawberry blonde with freckles and a tendency to wreak havoc wherever she went.

  It wasn’t only Jen Heath who had a gift for that. When he picked Timmy up from his ex on Sunday, the kid was on a sugar high, racing around the apartment like the Road Runner on speed.

  “Timmy, stop it!” Ashley yelled.

  She was wearing a tight black top that was cut low enough to give a man an eyeful and skintight jeans. A few years ago that would have turned Garrett’s burner to high. Today he just looked at her and frowned.

  “What did you feed him?” he asked. Wasn’t the mom supposed to ask the dad stuff like this?

  She shrugged.

  “Hey, buddy, what did you have for breakfast this morning?”