“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to.”
She looked flustered, almost frightened. Did he make her nervous? “I promise I won’t bite,” he teased.
Even though she looked like she wanted to run, she let him take her hand. It was trembling, and she had sweaty palms. He was making her nervous, which was weird. There was no need to be nervous around him. It was Duke she had to watch.
Jason put a hand to her back and drew her to him. She had longer legs than her sister and it made her just about the right height to fit him perfectly. What did those long legs look like without the pants covering them? What did they feel like? He could almost imagine skating his hand over one of them and feeling silky skin beneath his fingers.
Where the hell had that thought come from? The bounce house, of course. He reminded himself that this woman could wind up his sister-in-law and put a brotherly distance between them.
“After this, we should find Bobbi,” Hope said, searching the crowd.
“Good luck with that,” Jason grumbled. Duke should be arrested for kidnapping.
“I know she looks like a flirt, but she’s not really. She’s just bubbly, full of energy,” Hope explained.
“Duke’s being a shit,” Jason said. “If I had a two-by-four handy, I’d hit him with it. He’s supposed to be your date.”
And Bobbi was supposed to be his. It wasn’t fair of either Bobbi or Duke to ignore them like this. No wonder he was getting into mental trouble here with Hope, with Bobbi ignoring him the way she was.
Out of sight, out of mind? What kind of a shit did that make him? He decided he didn’t want to think about it. Easier to be pissed at Bobbi and Duke.
“That’s okay. Duke and I aren’t a match,” Hope said. “He’s not my type.”
Somehow, he’d known it. He should never have listened when Bobbi suggested he bring Duke along. The guy liked his women with an edge.
“So, what is your type?” Jason asked, making conversation.
She cocked her head, considering. “Oh. I like men who think about more than the next party. Who think, period,” she added with a smile.
“What? Guys don’t think?” he teased.
“Some do. I get the impression you do.”
“I try,” he said, flattered. “So, what else?” The music was still playing. They had to fill the time somehow.
“I like a man who enjoys nature.”
“Hiking?”
Her cheeks turned pink as soon as he’d said that, and Jason remembered their trail encounter when she’d landed on her back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said.
“I’m really not a klutz like that.”
“Everybody has klutzy moments,” he said. The music ended and, as he turned to see what had become of Duke and Bobbi, he felt something soft under his right foot. Hope’s toe.
He quickly removed his foot as she said, “Yeah, I guess everybody does.”
She was grinning. He found himself grinning, too. Then chuckling. Then they were both laughing.
“Well, you two are having fun,” said Bobbi, now back at his side again.
They were. Hope would make a great sister-in-law.
If he and Bobbi got together. Right now, looking at her all flushed and happy from dancing with his friend—make that former friend, former dead friend—he wasn’t so sure. She’d seemed so right, so perfect. But a perfect woman didn’t leave a guy to go off dancing with his friend.
“Let’s get something to drink,” Bobbi suggested. “I’m dying of thirst.”
“I think I’m going to go home,” Hope said. She turned to her sister and held out a hand. “Keys?”
Bobbi made a face. “Oh, come on. Not yet. We’re just getting started. And you’ve only danced two dances.”
“Yeah, the best is still coming—dancing with me,” added Duke.
Hope shook her head. “I really need to get going. Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Duke told her. “Good hangin’ with ya.”
Bobbi gave up the keys and Hope said her good-byes. “Thanks for the dance,” she said to Jason.
“I enjoyed it,” he told her. And he had. Now, maybe, before the night was over, he’d get to enjoy a dance with Bobbi.
Hope left and the trio went to the beer garden for more beer. And then Bobbi went to the bathroom, leaving Jason and Duke together for a little talk.
“Okay, you shithead,” Jason growled as soon as she’d left their table. “What’s the idea of dancing off with my woman?”
Duke looked surprised. “Hey, we were just dancing.”
“You had someone to dance with.”
“She wasn’t into me.”
“Well, neither is Bobbi.”
Duke leveled him a get-real stare. “Yeah? I hate to say it, man, but I don’t think she’s that into you.”
“The hell she’s not,” Jason growled and shot up, ready to seize the moment and Duke’s throat.
But Duke held up two hands and scooted his chair back. “I’m not fighting with you over a chick, not when I didn’t even put the moves on her.”
“The hell you didn’t,” snarled Jason. “I saw you out there.”
“Hey.” Duke stabbed a finger at him. “She asked me. You got a problem with that, maybe you need to talk to her.”
TWENTY-TWO
BEFORE JASON COULD rip his head off, Duke left the table, calling over his shoulder, “I’m out of here.”
Jason fell back onto his chair. Bobbi asked Duke to dance. Why was she asking Duke to dance? Well, duh. The guy was friggin’ Patrick Swayze. Still, Bobbi was his date, not Duke’s.
She returned to the table, all smiles. She was so damned cute, so fun. Jason was ready to forgive her.
Until she opened her mouth. “Where’s Duke?”
“Missing him already?”
She slid into her seat and her smile ran out of energy. “Just curious. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just wondering how my date wound up dancing with another guy.”
Her face turned as red as her jacket. She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Or was she simply showing off that thick curtain of eyelashes? “That was tacky. I just love dancing with really good dancers. So, when he made some crack about giving the women a treat on the dance floor, I had to ask if he knew how to dance and he said he did and I said, ‘Yeah? Show me,’ and then . . . he did.” Bobbi looked at him earnestly, leaned across the table, and put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
“I can’t dance like Duke,” Jason said grumpily.
She grinned at that, all dimples. “No, you can’t. But you can be taught.”
Okay, she’d said she was sorry. She wanted to make up. He’d be a bastard to sulk. He stood up, managed a smile, and held out his hand to her. “Let’s dance.”
And they did. Mostly slow dances and some shaking around to the fast numbers. She tried to show him a couple of steps, but even though he had the moves on the softball field, even though he could untangle the most confusing architect’s drawings, here, on this asphalt dance floor, he felt like a dumb clod. His brain and feet refused to cooperate.
“You’ll get the hang of it eventually,” Bobbi promised.
Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to get the hang of it, but he kept his mouth shut. As the evening wore on, he realized he was not having fun. Bobbi didn’t seem to notice his gritted teeth as he struggled with the steps, and that dropped the fun factor even lower. Finally, he said, “How about taking a break?”
She looked wistfully at the other dancers, but said, “Okay. Let’s bag it for the night. Want to come back to the apartment and watch a movie? It’s still early.”
Actually, what he really wanted was to go home and feel grumpy. But that was dumb, so he said, “Sure.”
They were halfway to the truck when fat rain droplets began to pelt them.
“Oooh, my hair,” wailed Bobbi, and pulled her red jacket up over her head. She huddled in close and hugged Jason
, as if for warmth.
That female softness next to him swept away the sudden question of how she survived activities in the great outdoors if she hated getting her hair wet.
Hope was at the apartment when they arrived. She’d changed into sweats and was curled up on the loveseat with a book.
“We thought we’d watch a movie,” Bobbi said to Hope. “Want to join us?”
The idea of hanging with them seemed to make her uncomfortable. “No. I think I’m just going to go to bed and read.”
“It’s only nine,” Bobbi protested.
“Don’t let us chase you off,” Jason added.
“I’ll be fine,” Hope said quietly.
Jason suspected she was leaving to give them privacy. Well, he sure wasn’t going to do her sister with her in the same apartment. “Stay,” he urged.
She bit her lower lip, considering.
“I just got the latest James Bond from Netflix. We can watch that,” Bobbi said, pulling a package of Oreos from a cupboard. “Come on,” she urged her sister. “You can read anytime.”
Hope surrendered, positioning herself in an old, overstuffed chair and leaving the loveseat for Jason and Bobbi. Bobbi set cookies on the coffee table, and then moved to the TV to put in the DVD. Jason took a cookie and idly picked up the Jane Austen book sitting on the coffee table.
Hmm. The bookmark hadn’t moved since the last time he was here. It was still on page two. It seemed like slow progress for a smart woman who loved to read.
“You guys are going to love this movie,” Bobbi said, and snuggled in next to Jason.
Maybe he would have loved the movie, if he’d been able to concentrate. But he kept thinking about that bookmark. And his and Bobbi’s dance incompatibility. And, after the movie, after she’d walked him to the door and given him a kiss that should have fried his memory chip completely, he walked to his truck thinking about something else: the look he’d seen flash between her and Duke.
BOBBI FLOPPED ON the loveseat and helped herself to another cookie. “I swear, I could have eaten this whole package, but I didn’t want to look like a pig in front of Jason.”
Hope was looking at her in disapproving shock. “Now you think about what you look like in front of Jason?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Deep down she knew, but the last thing she wanted to do was admit it to her big sister, who was acting very much like a big sister.
“Do you want this man or not?” Hope scolded.
“Of course I do.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be looking at his friend like you’re on a diet and he’s Boston cream pie.”
“I was not looking at him like that,” Bobbi protested. She could feel her cheeks flushing.
“Jason saw it, too,” Hope said. “And I don’t think he was very happy that you left him to dance with Duke.”
“We got that all straightened out. I said I was sorry.”
Hope shrugged and picked up the package of cookies, returning it to the kitchen.
“He was fine with it,” Bobbi insisted, clinging to the arm of the loveseat.
She could feel panic starting to rise in her. She couldn’t afford to lose the perfect man. Damn that Duke anyway. Why did he have to come along and make her mess up? “What am I going to do?” She realized she was wringing her hands. She forced herself to stop. This was silly. Things were fine with Jason. Hope was making her panic for nothing.
Still, insurance would be good. “A card,” she decided. “I’ll get him a card tomorrow and put it in his truck.” But she didn’t want to wait till tomorrow. “I’ll write him a letter and go leave it on his doorstep.”
“Or better yet, pretend his friend is invisible.”
That could prove hard to do, but she’d make an effort. Meanwhile, though, she’d inputted her problem into her internal computer and the answer had come up loud and clear: do damage control now.
Okay, damage control. “Have we got any paper?”
“Printer paper.” Hope pointed to where her laptop and printer sat in the corner.
“Perfect.” Bobbi snagged a piece and sat down at the Formica table with paper and pen. She chewed on the pen. “What can I say?”
“That you’re sorry,” Hope suggested.
She picked up her book and started for her room, and that made Bobbi panic all the more. “Don’t leave me,” she begged. “I already said I was sorry. This has to be something more, you know, poetical.”
“Poetic.” Hope slumped in the loveseat and closed her eyes.
Hopefully she was thinking and not falling asleep. Bobbi held her breath, waiting for magic to happen.
And then her sister, the good fairy of love, spoke. “What about this? Rhythm and music and feet aren’t the real dance. The real dance is when two hearts move together.”
Her sister was amazing. “How do you do that?”
Hope opened her eyes and looked at Bobbi. “What?”
“Just close your eyes and be so brilliant. I couldn’t do that in a million years. I wish I was smart like you.”
Hope was looking at her earnestly now. “You are smart.”
“Not like you.” Bobbi rested her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. “This is like cheating on a test. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Well, then, you come up with the last part,” Hope suggested.
“Okay.” Bobbi sat and gnawed on her lip. Come on, brain. Think of something.
It was like her inner computer had gotten fried. It just sat there, doing nothing. “I can’t,” she moaned.
“Yes, you can. Think about your heart.”
Bobbi heaved a sigh and stared at the paper. Heart, she should write something about her heart. And then it came. “My heart wants to dance with you!”
Hope nodded approvingly. “Only maybe change the you to yours.”
Bobbi nodded eagerly and scrawled out the sentence. There. She’d done it. She wasn’t a fraud. She folded the paper and jumped up from the table. “I’m going to go put this under his windshield wiper so he’ll find it first thing tomorrow.”
“You’d better put it in a plastic bag then,” said Hope. “It’s still raining out.”
“Oh, good idea.”
Bobbi bagged up her letter and drove to the duplex Jason was renting. She braved the pouring rain and slipped her offering under his windshield. There. Now everything would be fine again.
TWENTY-THREE
ON SUNDAY, BOBBI was a basket case and the sisters’ usual Sunday lunch together was more torture than fun for Hope. Bobbi kept up a constant stream of fretting. “Do you think he got the letter yet?” . . . “Does it sound like I wrote it?” . . . “Should I be doing this?” . . . “I’m a fake” . . . “I need retail therapy. Let’s go to the mall.”
Bobbi wasn’t the only one who needed therapy. If Hope had to keep talking her sister down from the ledge, she was going to end up in a padded cell before the day was over. Forget the mall. She needed garden therapy.
“I should really run over to the garden for a while. Why don’t you see if Anna wants to go?”
Bobbi looked disappointed. “You don’t want to go to the mall with me?”
The clouds from the day before had gone and the sun was shining. The air at the garden would smell fresh and clean. “You know I’d love to,” Hope lied, “but I really need to get over there and check on my cilantro.” Like her cilantro really needed her. It was going gangbusters.
Bobbi slumped in her seat. “Okay.” She sat bolt upright. “I should just go over to Jason’s.”
“Good idea,” Hope said. Bobbi would go over and fall into Jason’s arms, and then they’d fall into bed. And then they’d live happily ever after. Her little sister would be with the perfect man and everyone would be happy.
Hope shot out of the apartment as soon as Bobbi left and drove ten miles over the speed limit all the way to Grandview Park. Garden therapy, garden therapy, garden therapy.
Millie and Amber were
both already there by the time she arrived, and busy putting chicken wire around Amber’s veggies.
“Welcome to the Bunny Produce Mart,” Amber greeted her grumpily. “That stupid rabbit broke into my garden and ate down my lettuce. I should have listened to you earlier, Millie.”
“Better late than never,” comforted Millie.
Amber looked to where Seth sat by the bunny’s favorite camping spot, inching a carrot under the bushes. “I doubt he needs that as well fed as he is. I swear, if I ever catch that animal, we’re going to be eating rabbit stew.”
“You couldn’t really kill that cute little animal,” said Millie.
“Probably not. I can’t even kill spiders, and I hate them almost as much as I hate that rabbit.”
“And the animals have to live, too,” Millie reminded her.
“I don’t know why they can’t learn to live on things we don’t want to grow, like dandelions,” said Amber.
“It’s the Murphy’s law of gardening,” said Millie.
That made Hope chuckle. Just being here with these women sloughed off her bad mood. The sun was warm and the air smelled of earth and growing things.
“We were just talking about how much fun the Slugfest was,” Millie said to Hope. “It looked like you were having fun. I saw you dancing as my friend and I were leaving.”
Hope felt her stomach clench. Oh, no. No talking about Jason here. That would be pathetically un-Zen.
“Millie’s male friend,” added Amber, her voice teasing. “He’s a hottie, Millie.”
Millie’s cheeks suddenly looked sunburned.
Relieved to have the topic turned away from herself, Hope asked, “Who’s the friend?”
“Actually, it’s the man I met when the flower deliveries got mixed up,” said Millie.
“Is this someone special?” Hope asked. As if they couldn’t tell simply by Millie’s smile. She looked like a fourteen-year-old with her first boyfriend.
“He is,” Millie admitted. “He’s a widower, new to Heart Lake.”
“Millie’s the welcoming committee,” Amber teased, then quickly added, “Seriously, I think it’s great that you’ve got a boyfriend.”
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