by Kim Law
“You have. Care to tell me why?”
“My God, Jilly.” He tried to push her legs off him so he could get up, but she held him pinned.
Then she turned his face back to hers. “Thank you for bringing me out here.” She spoke from the heart. “I get that’s not the norm for you, and I feel special for that alone. So, thank you for trusting me with this. And I also have to tell you I’m quietly praying you intend to invite me to stay the night.” She gave him a gentle smile, and she ran her fingertips over his cheek. “I want to lay in your bed with you, Cal. I want to mess up that bed with you.”
Her words were beginning to shift his gears away from anger, which had been her intent.
“But I also want to be real. I want us to be real with each other. That’s what it always was about between us.”
He nodded in agreement.
“So, I’ll shut up now. I’ve pushed, but I know when to back off. You’ve got things you don’t want to talk about? Or think about? That’s fine. I can respect that. We all need our walls. But I want you to know that I do care, Cal. While I might still be a little bent over our past, at the same time, I care about you. I want you to be happy.” She kissed his knuckles. “I want you able to enjoy this spectacular home. So just think about all those things at some point, okay? And in the meantime”—she tossed a heated glance through his bedroom doors—“offer me a demonstration of your shower, will you? And bring your dirty thoughts in with you.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Changing your mind is good for you. It keeps the brain active.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #17
“Mother’s Day!” Heather didn’t even look up from the sink full of dirty dishes as she yelled out at their foster mother, and Jill tossed a what-can-you-do shrug to Aunt Blu—who’d been sneaking back into the kitchen. Again.
“I just want to help,” Aunt Blu explained. She eyed the stack of pots that wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher. “You girls cooked everything.”
“And we’ve already covered this about ten times,” Heather replied.
Jill emptied a pan of its leftovers. “What’s the big deal with letting us do the dishes? We do this every year.”
“But you’ve done so much today.”
Trenton chuckled. “All we did was sit in front of the camera and try to look as cute as you.”
“Well, you pulled it off wonderfully.” Aunt Blu elbowed her way in between Heather and Jill, and Trenton immediately clamped her hands down on Blu’s shoulders and guided her back to the living room.
“If you want your Mother’s Day present, you’ll sit here and behave.”
Jill smiled with Heather as Trenton chastised Aunt Blu in the other room. They’d all gone to mass with Aunt Blu that morning, and afterward they’d come back to the farm and joined their foster mother to show off Bluebonnet Farms to the production crew.
“Trenton was pretty cute, wasn’t she?” Jill murmured under her breath.
Along with seeing the farm, the crew had filmed a special segment with Trenton. It had been done out in Blu’s shed, and covered the calendars slated to go on sale the following week. The show wouldn’t air until the fall, so Trenton planned to work with the printer to format a second calendar—one with only twelve months—and Texas Dream Home had promised to mention the school’s website on the show. Any additional money raised would continue being funneled to the school.
“She lit up the cameras,” Heather agreed. “I’m glad she talked them into doing that. She’s got Aunt Blu’s desire to help.”
Jill agreed. With all of it. Even if it meant more exposure for the sheds.
But the truth was, she was okay with that exposure. After hearing Josie relay her story last week, Jill’s attitude toward how they’d made their name had started to shift. She still wanted to win the competition, of course. She loved the work they were doing on the Bono House, so she’d definitely seek out more projects of that scale.
However, she’d started thinking of their company’s creations as more than hideaways in backyards. Bluebonnet Construction built dreams. For women. And that was something she could always be proud of.
Jill put away a platter she’d just dried. “So, you’re okay with bringing more attention to the sheds?”
Heather glanced over at her. “Are you?” Her answer wasn’t a ringing endorsement, and Jill couldn’t decipher the blank look on Heather’s face.
“I am,” she hedged. “I know we wanted to shift our reputation a little.”
“I thought we wanted to kill it.”
“Well . . . yeah.” Jill bit her lip. “But after hearing Josie talking to Len the other day—”
“I know,” Heather interrupted. “Right? I came in late, but I heard enough. I started thinking that even though we may not be the business we set out to create, we’re still successful, you know? We still matter.”
“We’re not just orphans playing construction,” Jill added wryly.
Heather stood to her full five-foot-two height. “We’re never just orphans doing anything.”
“Agreed.” Jill sometimes wished for Heather’s outlook. “But I still want to beat Cal.”
Heather flashed a bright smile. “We always want to beat Cal.”
“Speaking of Cal . . .”
Jill turned at Trenton’s words. “We were actually speaking of the she-sheds. We’re thinking that maybe they aren’t such a bad racket, after all.”
Trenton’s bored look could win awards. “You two are just now figuring this out? We have women calling us from hundreds of miles away, willing to pay a premium, for what amounts to a tiny square footage. What’s not good about that?”
Jill and Heather gawked at her.
“I thought you hated them, too,” Heather said. She jerked her gaze to Jill’s. “Not that we hate them. I just mean—”
“I volunteered us for a photo shoot to showcase our best work,” Trenton said drily. “What about that says hate?”
“But . . .” Jill pursed her lips. “You were all for doing the show, too. Just like us. You pushed me to do it.”
“Of course I was. And of course I did. Because, hello. It’s television. When will we get an opportunity like that again? And once the show airs, our work will expand, and the business will grow. I get that, and I’m all for that. But to be honest, I’m just as fine building retreats. I just want to work. I want to do things that make others happy. And if that’s she-sheds . . .”
Heather nodded in agreement. “I feel the same. If that’s she-sheds . . .”
Jill looked from one to the other, then in silent agreement, she held out one hand. Heather added hers next, and then Trenton, and at the count of three, they declared it so. “She-sheds!”
Jill laughed at the childhood memory. They’d been the only girls living with Blu long-term for the first couple of years, and as a coping mechanism, they’d formed a secret club. They’d been “The Three.” No one else had been allowed—clearly, or they wouldn’t be “Three”—and all decisions had been made official via the huddle-type “handshake.”
She hadn’t thought of that in years.
They returned to the dishes, each with a slight smile curving her lips, as if Jill hadn’t been the only one to recall their long-ago club, but it didn’t take long for Trenton to change gears. She repeated her earlier words. “Speaking of Cal . . .”
Jill slowed her movements on the pan she’d been drying. “Were we speaking of Cal?”
She hadn’t had a chance to tell them yet.
“Yep.” Heather nodded. “Guilty. I called it. She had sex.”
Jill lost her grip, and the pan clattered to the countertop. “What are you talking about?” she hissed. She glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure there was no sign of Aunt Blu.
“I’m talking about sex,” Heather said, this time pumping her fist in and out. “Boom, boom. Bang, bang. You did the dirty. We can tell.”
Jill smacked at Heather’s fist. “And how in t
he world can you tell that?”
Trenton pinched one of Jill’s cheeks. “Because you haven’t stopped grinning all morning, chica.”
Jill intentionally frowned. “Of course I haven’t grinned all morning.”
“When you showed up late for church”—Heather counted off on her fingers—“when you were supposed to be praying, but were thinking about something else instead. Father Kibby even saw that one.”
“How would you know he saw it unless you weren’t praying, yourself?”
“When you forgot the words to the hymn.” Trenton picked up the game, and Heather pointed to Trenton in agreement, and held up a third finger.
“We could go on,” Heather assured her.
“Please don’t.”
“So when did it happen?” Trenton asked.
Both of them stared back at her, eyes wide and fake innocent expressions on their faces, but Jill also saw their concern layered beneath the surface. And she couldn’t blame them. She was concerned, too. She couldn’t decide if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life, or if it was simply a matter of her finally growing in the maturity department by letting so much past anger go. “Let’s finish the dishes, then take a walk,” she suggested.
“Good idea,” Trenton agreed. “Because it’ll either be that, or we’ll talk in front of Aunt Blu. But make no mistake, we are talking about it.”
Jill didn’t argue. She’d actually planned to bring it up herself.
She’d just intended to be out of hearing range of their foster mother when she did it.
They finished the dishes in a hurry, Aunt Blu’s soft snores as background noise, then Heather wrote out a quick note telling her they’d be back for presents soon. It wasn’t that they got her anything super special, but the woman loved receiving gifts, so they always made a big deal of the day. At the same time, Jill had always wondered if Blu’s exuberance wasn’t enhanced simply to keep the girls laughing—and not thinking about their own mothers. Though not everyone who passed through Bluebonnet Farms had physically lost their mom, none of them were with their mother if they were living with Aunt Blu. It could be a tough day. Even as an adult.
It was for her.
They stepped out of the house, and had barely gotten twenty feet before Heather began.
“We know you were home Friday night. We all talked after work.”
“I was,” Jill confirmed. “But then, Cal showed up at about eleven.”
“And you just let him in?” Trenton bypassed Blu’s she-shed, and the three of them headed for the open field. They’d spent hours roaming the property as kids, whether on foot or by one of the horses often stabled there, but rarely had they had time to enjoy that simple pleasure lately.
Jill fell into step beside them and focused on the tree-lined horizon. “You said it yourself. Cal and I are combustible.” That was the best way she’d come up with to explain it. “He’d had a rough day, and we’d done that interview earlier in the afternoon.”
“Where you lied through your teeth,” Trenton pointed out.
“I did.” She might have known she hadn’t gotten that past her friends. “I’m not over my anger, but I really am trying. And I want to be.” Jill took in both of them. “I’m tired of that being the focus of my life.”
“Good for you.” Heather linked an arm through Jill’s as they walked. “You’ve held on to it long enough.”
“I think so, too,” Trenton added. She turned to face Jill, walking backward as she talked. “But does that mean you immediately needed to jump in the sack? I mean . . . don’t get me wrong. I think Cal is great—his past choices notwithstanding—and like I said before, I know you two have fire. But Jilly”—she clamped her teeth together before finishing—“do you know what you’re doing?”
Jill had no idea what she was doing.
“I’m thinking I needed the closure?” She made the statement a question. “We had all this unresolved past. So maybe that’s all this is. Us wrapping things up. And then the fire will probably recede,” she finished on a positive note. She wasn’t sure she believed any of it, but it sounded plausible.
Trenton and Heather stopped walking as Jill finished her attempted explanation, and Heather’s still-linked arm pulled Jill to a stop. Then Heather stepped forward to stand with Trenton, and both her foster sisters faced her.
“So this was a one-night thing?” Heather asked.
“She wasn’t home all day yesterday, either. I went by there three times.”
Jill looked at Trenton. “Why didn’t you call?”
“Because your car was there, but no you. I went in and made sure.”
“Oh.” Which meant Trenton had also seen the two damp towels hanging outside the shower. And the two plates and glasses from breakfast. “I spent the day with him, too,” she confessed. “And last night.”
She wanted to be ashamed, yet she couldn’t muster it up.
She pointed at Heather instead. “And no judging. I was doing fine until last weekend. When you let him into my bedroom.”
Heather held up both hands. “I maintain that I had no choice in that matter. He would have taken out the door if I hadn’t let him in.” She glanced at Trenton. “I also kind of agree with Jill. I feel like this needed to happen. She’s been hanging in a kind of black hole all this time.”
“But how long is it going to happen?” Trenton questioned. “That’s what I want to know. Is it just sex? Was it just for one weekend?”
“I don’t know,” Jill whispered.
They’d stopped in the middle of a clump of wild-growing yuccas, and she stared down at the pale blue-green spikes. Cal had once told her their color reminded him of her eyes.
She forced her gaze back up. “Am I being totally stupid here?”
“Romance is never stupid,” Heather insisted.
“But is it romance?” Jill and Trenton asked the question at the same time.
Heather reached for Jill’s hand. “What are you hoping to get out of it, hon?”
“I have no idea,” Jill answered honestly. “But it wasn’t just for the weekend. I’m going back out to his place tomorrow night. And I’m looking forward to it.”
Heather squeezed Jill’s fingers, and Trenton kicked at a bare patch of ground.
“Will you promise us something, then?” Trenton asked.
“Anything.”
“Be careful. Don’t make me have to kick his ass again.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Trust a man who feeds a stray cat. His give-a-damn is working.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #57
Upbeat jazz played from the corner as Cal stared down at Jill. They were naked in Mrs. W’s room, with the corner camera covered with a shop rag.
“She is having far too much fun with this,” Cal murmured. He pushed his hips forward, sliding deeper into Jill, and as he groaned at the feel of the woman underneath him, he also admitted that he agreed with the woman who’d once found this room to be her favorite in the house. This was his favorite, too.
But Mrs. W had nothing on Cal when it came to enjoying himself that evening.
“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into desecrating the place like this.” Jill moved underneath him, her body as familiar to him now as his own. “With her watching.”
“And I can’t believe you’ve become so accepting of her.”
“The music doesn’t lie.”
He chuckled at that, then leaned in and nipped at the corner of her mouth. When she turned her lips to meet his, her body indicating that she wanted the pace to slow even more, he took his time kissing her. He held her head between his hands, and he showed her with his mouth how appreciative he was for the desecration she was bestowing upon the house.
He gave her a slow smile when they came up for air. They’d been in the room for the last hour. First, they’d had a picnic—or they’d started one—then he’d talked her into taking off her clothes. He’d helped, of course, and had returned the favor. And thou
gh their lovemaking that evening had been neither rushed nor bursting with energy, it also wasn’t lacking in the least.
“This is good,” he whispered. And she felt damned good beneath him.
“Very.”
He continued to move inside her, keeping their pace steady, but when her fingers began to clench at him, he lifted his head and peered down at her. He kissed her nose. “Now?”
She nodded, her eyes glittering. “Now.”
And just like that, the passion that had been contained exploded. It was always the same with them. Same as it had been when they’d been teenagers. And the same, he suspected, as it would be for as long as this lasted.
He pumped harder, feeling her muscles tighten around him in a rhythm he’d never tire of, and he focused on listening to her body. She was close, but not quite there yet. He buried his face in her neck, forcing himself to wait on her, but give her what she needed at the same time. They’d been together every spare minute over the last eleven days, and had done this very thing during a number of those minutes. It was a time he’d never forget.
“Cal.” The single word seemed to fill the room, and he lifted his head once again. Instead of saying anything, though, he put his lips to hers and showed her once more what being with her meant to him. He moved faster, and he held her tight. And when she finally cried out, he let himself go with her, shouting with his own release.
When they were both spent, he collapsed, but he rolled to his back within seconds, bringing her with him. He wanted to keep her tight to his side for as long as she’d let him.
Carpet had been installed earlier in the day, and they lay on a blanket in the middle of the floor. The music filtered back into his consciousness, now a soft piano ballad, and he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. What a difference a few weeks could make.
“Did you know she played piano in her husband’s church?” Jill said.
Cal looked down at her. “I was going to tell you the same thing. How do you know that?”
A blush touched her cheeks. “I’ve been looking into her, too. Her husband was the pastor at the Baptist church on Main Street. She not only played the piano every week, but was active in raising money for the church, as well. She and her husband were married for forty-two years before he died in his sixties.”