Always Our Love

by Tawdra Kandle

  She chuckled. “Anyway, my point is that if you spend your life waiting to be healthy and whole before you consider falling in love, it’ll never happen. Falling in love, finding that right person—that’s part of what makes us whole. Not that you need a man to make you complete . . . or shit, maybe you do. My feminist roots are screaming about that, but maybe there’s something to it. I would’ve told you I was perfectly happy before I met Troy, but I learned that loving him made my life better on an entirely new dimension. More complete. I could have lived the rest of my days pretty content, but everything is so much better now that he and I are together. Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Strangely, it does.” I pushed back my chair. “Which is probably a sign that I need to get my cookies boxed up and go, before you’ve gotten me totally brainwashed.”

  “No brainwashing. Just pointing out something you’re already feeling.” Kiki stood up, too, and went behind the counter to get the cookies.

  “Kiki.” I leaned my hip on the metal part of the display, carefully avoiding the glass which I knew smudged much too easily. “If I did . . . have feelings for Linc . . . how would I know what to do? I really have no idea. I don’t have moves to make. The last time I decided to go after a guy, the consequences were kind of disastrous.”

  She paused in the act of tying string on the long box, tilting her head and pursing her lips. “I think, in this case, you just need to accept how you feel. You need to be honest with yourself, and stop trying to talk yourself out of it. And then wait. In this case, with your history, I don’t recommend you making the first move. But I do believe that we give off vibes, and if you’re open to the idea of a relationship, Linc’s going to pick up on that. Given the look in his eyes the last time I saw him, I’d lay good money that it won’t take him long at all to make his feelings known.”

  She pushed the packaged cookies over the counter to me, her eyes twinkling. “And honey, when that happens, you hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”

  “HEY, LINC.” JERRY LANG STUCK his bald head through the doorway of the master suite, where I was on my knees, checking the flooring. “We got that counter set, and the electrician finished in the living room—uh, parlor—and dining room. He left about forty-five minutes ago. You good for the rest of us to take off?”

  I sat back on my heels. “Sure.” I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, dusted off the screen protector and checked the time. “I didn’t realize how late it was. Yeah, get going, and I’ll see everyone back here Monday. Thanks for all your work.”

  “No problem, boss.” Jerry withdrew, but before he could get very far, I called him back.

  “Hey, Jerry.”

  He leaned in again. “Yeah, boss?”

  “You see Jenna anywhere around? She was supposed to be here to take a look at the kitchen. I thought she’d be on site by now.”

  Jerry shook his head. “Nah, I haven’t seen her. Once the guys and I clear out, it’s only going to be you here.” He grinned. “You okay with that? I know it’s against the, uh, protocol to have anyone on the job by himself.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Jerry, I’m okay with that. It’s more for the beginning of a job, when someone could be hurt, and besides which, I’m the boss. The buck stops here. I promise, I’m not going to sue myself if I’m stupid enough to fall down the steps or nail my foot to the floor. Also, Jenna should be here any minute. Then I won’t be alone.”

  “Yeah, I’d say not.” Jerry quirked an eyebrow, and I didn’t like the gleam in his eye. “Not hardly.”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I stood up, rising to my full height, my eyes narrowing. I’d known this man for many years; he’d come over with Ryland and me when we’d left Leo Groff’s company and joined on with Ryland in his new venture. Since he wasn’t part of the finishing team, I hadn’t worked very much with him until this job. I liked him, and I respected him. But damn if I was going to let him cast dispersions on Jenna’s name. I knew how sensitive she was about what people thought.

  Jerry backed down, and the gleam I’d objected to extinguished. “Oh, nothing, boss. Just . . . you know. We all like Ms. Sutton. It’s nice to see you . . . uh, I don’t know. You seem happy around her. Been a long time since I’ve seen you smile so much. I figure having your kids back is probably part of it, and that’s great, but seems like you kind of light up a little when Ms. Sutton’s here. I’m not trying to say anything wrong’s going on. But it makes all of us guys happy to see you with a bounce to your step again.”

  I nodded, letting my shoulders drop. “I appreciate that, Jerry. I do. But Jenna and I are friends, and I don’t want anyone doing or saying anything to make her uncomfortable, got it? I know how the guys are when they latch onto something. I know you’d never do anything to hurt her feelings. Not on purpose.”

  “I got it, boss. None of us would ever make her feel bad. I’ll make sure of that.”

  Glancing out the window, I rubbed the back of my neck. “Thanks, Jerry. Now go on and enjoy your day off. See you Monday.”

  I stood still, listening to the clump of his boots down the steps. There were voices downstairs as the rest of the men gathered their tools and stomped out of the house. Within a few minutes, all was silence.

  Glancing down at my phone again, I frowned. Jenna had promised to be at the plantation by five, when everyone would be on their way out, so that she could check out our progress without getting in anyone’s way. She was always punctual, and she would have texted me if she’d known she was going to be late. Since it was Saturday, she hadn’t been working at the historical society; last night, when she’d left the kids and me after what had become our regular Friday night pizza and movie extravaganza, she’d mentioned housecleaning and maybe a visit with her cousin Rilla.

  I could’ve texted to check on her, but I didn’t want to distract her if she was already on the road. So I pocketed my phone again and finished checking the edge of the floor. We were moving along in the upstairs rooms, and I was satisfied with our progress overall. There were a few minor bumps, some hold ups that might delay us a little, but—and I hated to say it, even to myself, in the sanctity of my own head—so far, this job had been amazingly smooth.

  Jenna had felt we were sufficiently far along this week that she had brought in her boss and their PR manager, so that they could get an idea of where we stood. I’d been gratified at their surprised exclamations as they toured the house and examined what we’d done so far. Jenna told me later that they’d been thrilled and excited about how well Oak Grove was developing, returning to what it had been so many years ago.

  I heard the sound of a car crunching over the gravel, and I stood up fast to look out the window. Jenna’s small blue compact rolled to a stop just behind my pickup truck, and as I watched, the driver’s door swung open. Her long legs unfolded from the front seat, and then she emerged, her brown hair caught up in a high ponytail. She was wearing khaki shorts and a tank top, and even from this distance, I could see how the cotton hugged her boobs.

  God Almighty. For the last month, I’d been ignoring the way my body reacted each and every time I saw Jenna. I wasn’t stupid; I knew it was more than just basic chemistry and biology. I saw women all the time, and none of them ever made my balls tighten, my cock go hard and my fingers itch to touch them. I was constantly finding excuses to touch Jenna, though, all in non-sexual ways, of course. I’d brush her arm reaching for a napkin when we ate together. Press my leg against hers when we were all on the sofa watching a movie. Take her hand to help her up and hold it just a beat longer than necessary.

  But I hadn’t let myself think about why I needed to do it, why she made me yearn. I refused to acknowledge the dreams I’d been having with increasingly frequency, dreams that featured Jenna Sutton in a starring role and left me aroused and frustrated. I wasn’t ready to think about the ramifications of wanting Jenna. Each time I was tempted to say something, to make a move, I had a ready list of reasons why it wouldn’t
work.

  First of all, there was our work relationship. As I’d said to Jerry, I didn’t want even a hint of gossip about us to muddy the waters while we were working together on this project. It was too important to her for there to be any snide talk about the historical society project manager banging the contractor.

  And then of course, there was the difference in our ages. Eleven years felt like a damn long time when I considered it in the cold light of day. I never saw Jenna as that much younger than me; she was mature and steady, and she always seemed to be older than just twenty-three. But other people would see it, for sure. There was also the fact that I had two children. Becca and Oliver were the greatest kids in the world, and I loved them more than my own breath. But expecting someone who was barely out of her teens to take on parenting two almost-adolescents would be wrong. It would be asking too much.

  Finally, but definitely not the least of my worries, was our friendship. I’d promised to be her friend, the person she could trust above anyone else to be truthful. In the last month or so, watching Jenna come out of her shell and come back to life had been a beautiful thing. She was more spontaneous now, less contained and less anxious. I’d heard her laughter more often, and each time, it made my heart expand. I was terrified that if I changed our relationship now, it might destroy the progress she’d made.

  I watched now as Jenna slammed shut the car door and bent to look into the side view mirror, fussing with her hair. Seeing her smoothing one hand over the dark strands and then reach into her purse for something she put on her lips struck me as two distinct realizations swept into my mind.

  Jenna was fixing herself up before she came to see me. She wanted to look good for me. If that was the case . . . maybe, just maybe, Jenna was feeling the same temptation about me that I was feeling about her. I’d noticed over the past week or so that she’d been different. More than once, I’d had the sense that she was watching me with knowing eyes, that she’d been dressing a tad more—not provocatively, because Jenna always looked classy. But her shirts clung just a little more, her skirts were a tiny bit shorter. Could she be trying to subtly tell me something?

  On the heels of that heady thought came a second, more sobering realization. I was guilty of treating Jenna the same way her family had. By assuming that she was too fragile to handle a shift in our relationship from friends to—well, more than friends—I was taking away her choice. I was assuming she’d fall apart. And that was so wrong that I felt a little sick.

  She was heading into the house now, a little skip in her step, as though she was eager to see me. Suddenly nervous, I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans and took a deep breath before I headed down the stairs to meet her.

  Just as my boots hit the bottom steps, Jenna appeared at the front door. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled. In that moment, I knew. I knew with a certainty that I hadn’t felt since the last time I’d kissed Sylvia goodbye. I knew that despite all the obstacles we might face, all the reasons not to go forward, I was going to have this woman. Or more accurately, we would have each other. There was a sense of inevitability as well as anticipation. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her until neither of us had breath left. At the same time, I wanted to take her by the hand and tell her every secret thought I’d ever had and share every hope for our future. I wanted more than just her body; I wanted her heart and her soul.

  “Hey.” She paused there, tilting her head, looking at me quizzically. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” It was all I could manage to get out.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. But I have a good excuse.” She came further into the house and rested her hand on the sanded newel post between us. “Rilla and I went out to the farm today to see Meghan. We figured we’d stop by the stand, pick up some vegetables and peaches . . . you know. I was going to text you and offer to get Becca and Ollie and bring them over here with me, to save you the stop at Meghan’s. But while we were visiting, Becca came into the kitchen, crying.”

  “What? Why?”

  Jenna laid her hand on my arm. “Don’t panic, she’s fine. She just . . . umm . . .” Her face pinked a little. “She officially entered puberty today. Her cycle started.”

  “Oh.” If I’d thought I was speechless before, now I was really dumbstruck. I’d had a sense that this was coming, but I’d been living deep in a river in Egypt called Denial. “Oh, God. Well . . . what did you do?”

  Jenna shrugged. “It was fine. I handled it. But the point is, when Becca came into the kitchen all upset, she came to me. She didn’t go to Meghan. She wanted my help. She needed me.” Happiness shone out of her eyes.

  “Babe, that’s terrific.” The endearment, more intimate and full of meaning than my typical darlin’s and sugars, slipped out without me thinking about it. But if Jenna noticed, she didn’t give any sign, other than maybe a slight hitch in her breath before she spoke again.

  “I left Ollie with Meghan and the other kids, and I took Becca to the store to get the supplies she needed. And then I took her to a coffee shop, and we sat and talked for over an hour. She was so scared about what this means . . . even though I know they prepared her for this in school, and God knows everything’s on the internet these days, she still needed to hear the facts from someone she trusted.”

  “And that someone was you.” I absorbed a little bit of Jenna’s joy, coming the rest of the way down the stairs, and rubbing her upper arms. “Thank you, Jenna. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. I was dreading what was going to happen when it, um, started. I didn’t know what to say or do. I’m so glad she had you.”

  “Me, too.” Her smile stayed put as she sighed. “Anyway, I had to go back to the farm because I’d driven Rilla and the kids there, so I had to take them home and then come over here. Becca decided she wanted to hang out with Bridget. Ali invited her to stay overnight. Oliver wasn’t sure he wanted to be, and I quote, ‘with all those girls,’ but Flynn lured him into going over to the Nelsons’ farm to see the new colt. He promised they would do manly things—said he needed Ollie to save him from being overrun by females.” Jenna rolled her eyes, and I laughed.

  “Well, I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry when you didn’t text.”

  Jenna leaned against the windowsill. “Sorry. By the time I realized that I wouldn’t get her by five, I was already driving. I didn’t want to take more time to pull off and text.”

  “That’s okay.” I offered her my hand. “Want to come see the kitchen? The guys got the counter installed, I hear.”

  “You mean, the sideboard.” She cast me a teasing glance, and I grunted.

  Originally, the kitchen hadn’t been a part of the main house. The cooking had been done in an outbuilding, set yards away, but that had been destroyed years ago. The historical society had made the decision not to recreate that structure, but instead to approximate a kitchen inside the house. Since they planned to hold fund-raising events at Oak Grove eventually, it made sense to install a working kitchen that would resemble as closely as possible one from the mid-nineteenth century. We made concessions to functionality, but overall, I thought the plan was pretty brilliant.

  What the guys and I referred to as a counter was seen by the historical society as a sideboard. It was made of butcher block, and we’d installed it somewhat lower than a traditional modern kitchen countertop, but it would work, from both points of view. We were carefully adhering to the guidelines laid out by the health department, so that it could be approved for food preparation.

  “Oh, Linc . . .” Jenna ran her hand over the wood. “It’s perfect. It has the look of a sideboard that was used for years, like someone kneaded endless loaves of bread, chopped a million different vegetables, peeled mountains of potatoes . . . can’t you just see it?”

  “Um . . . yep.” At this moment, I couldn’t see anything but Jenna. The end of her ponytail brushed over the tanned skin of her back where the tank top dipped, and I wanted to push her hair aside and kiss her there
. Her shorts cupped that perfect round ass so well that I wanted to skim my fingers just beneath the hem. I wondered if I would find her wet and ready for me.

  “Linc?” She turned, resting her lower back against the counter—uh, sideboard—and folding her arms over her chest, which meant her tits were resting on top of those arms. At that moment, all the blood in my brain headed south, and I could only remember three pertinent facts: Jenna was the woman I wanted. We were alone in this building. And my kids were not going to be at home tonight.

  “Yeah?” I rasped out the word.

  “I was talking to you, and it was like you zoned out. I lost you for a second.” One side of her mouth curled into a smile.

  “Um . . .” Oh, yeah, I was smooth. “No, you didn’t lose me. I was just thinking.” I took a step closer to her.

  Jenna’s eyes widened a fraction, but she didn’t flinch. “Really? What were you thinking about? Something else in the kitchen?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.” Another step forward, and I was so near her that she had to look up to see me. I became painfully aware that her breathing had sped up. When I glanced down, I could see the tops of her breasts, just below the neckline of her top, their rise and fall rapid.

  “What are you doing, Lincoln?” she whispered.

  I rested my hands on her arms again, caressing her warm skin lightly with my palms. “I’m making my move, Jenna. I’m taking things between us to the next level. And unless you have a strong objection, I’m going to kiss you right now.”

  Her chin lifted up, and the tip of her tongue ran over her lips, which parted slightly. “And if I have objections?”

  I slid my hands up to frame her face, brushing my thumbs just under her mouth. “I will never do anything that you don’t want, Jenna. I promise. If you don’t want me to kiss you, all you have to do is say no, and I’ll back off. I won’t say that I’ll never try it again, but I’ll never force you into something that makes you uncomfortable.”