And then there was the sound, big and rich and filling the room with beautiful, perfect, round notes. He’d never heard anything like it before. And he knew he was listening to an instrument that belonged onstage. Or in a museum.
And the woman, he wondered. Where did the woman belong?
“Please tell me you can play ‘Orange Blossom Special.’ Between the band and that song, we could bring the house down some Saturday night.”
Aurora shook her head. “I’ve never brought the house down.”
He didn’t believe her. The speed at which she played the finger exercises—and that’s what they were, complicated finger exercises meant to warm up for playing or practicing the hard stuff—meant the woman had serious skills.
“Play something,” he said, when she’d finished warming up.
Aurora stopped and dangled the bow from her fingertips. “I don’t play. I haven’t in years.”
“Why not?”
She paled, then removed the shoulder rest before turning around to set the violin and bow carefully into the case on the floor. Jake hadn’t noticed it before. “It’s no longer a priority.”
“What does that mean?”
Aurora returned to the chaise and sat down. She reached for the wineglass she’d set on the floor. “It used to be important. But it’s not part of my life now. I can’t stop my finger exercises, but I don’t haul out my music and run through various Bach pieces.”
Jake wondered if that was really true. And if it was, could she be talked into actually playing again? He was curious, but he let it go. For now. “I guess, with the bar and all, you don’t have the time.”
“It’s not that,” she said, looking more and more nervous. “I don’t love it the way I used to.”
He thought that was a strange thing to say, but he drank the wine and pretended to believe her. He’d seen her face when she’d picked up the instrument and placed it under her chin. He’d watched her eyes soften, and her body melt into the notes. She’d only played scales, but she’d played them like a master.
Once again, the mystery of Aurora Jones intrigued him.
“You didn’t tell me what kinds of songs you write,” she said. “I should order your CDs and find out.”
“Love songs,” he said. “I write love songs. Slow, fast, in between. Those are my favorites.”
She smiled. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I’ve also written songs about dogs and trucks and going home.”
He drained the rest of his wine. “And that’s where I should go. Home. To Iris and the Red Room.”
“How much longer are you staying?”
He shrugged. “Iris has guests coming in, so we have to move out before next Wednesday. Sam wants us to move here, or at least spend the summer, I don’t know.”
“What does Winter want?”
“She wants to ride horses. She likes it here. I’m not sure how she feels about me, though.” He paused. “Do you know of any places around here to rent?”
“You want to stay here?”
“You look as if the idea that I’d want to live in Willing surprises you.”
“Well,” she admitted, “it is a little odd, considering you travel, and you live in Nashville.”
“I have family here,” he reminded her. “And I want to stay for a while. But not at the B-and-B.”
“You could ask Jerry. Or Theo Porterman. He knows just about everyone in town.”
“Theo is Hip’s brother?”
“His cousin. He and Hip do odd jobs for a lot of people. Or you could put an ad up on the bulletin board at the café. And at the grocery store.”
Jake took his glass over to the kitchen counter and left it there. He eyed the piles of triangles and rows of narrow strips stitched together in long rectangles. “I never intended to stay here for more than a few days. I thought I’d see Sam and move on.”
“It’s not a bad place,” she said, following him over to the counter.
She took the glasses and put them in the sink. “There are a lot of good people here,” she said reluctantly. “Your daughter will do fine.”
“Yeah.” He’d already figured that out. The child accustomed to boarding schools and field trips throughout Europe needed a home. She needed to return to her own house after school, eat supper with her father, visit with Lucia and Sam and the boys, go horseback riding out at the ranch and do all the things a typical kid did. She probably needed a dog, too. “Why did you decide to stay?”
Aurora shrugged and looked away. “It was like no place I’d ever been before. People said hello to me. The town was in the middle of nowhere and yet I felt as if I could be happy disappearing into it.” She rinsed out the glasses, tucked them into a dishwasher and wiped her hands on a blue-checked towel.
“Disappearing,” he echoed. “Why did you want to do that? Did it have to do with that divorce you were telling me about?”
She surprised him by smiling. “Hey, we all have our secrets, Jake. I’m not telling you mine.”
When she would have brushed past him, he caught her by the hand. “You do surprise me.” He gently held the long fingers that had lifted the bow and moved it so rapidly across the strings of the violin. “The violin, the sewing, the apartment...” He looked into those blue eyes and saw a woman who hid herself from the world. And he couldn’t imagine why she’d want to do that.
“Jake,” she said, her voice low. Just that. Jake. It might have been a warning, or an invitation. He didn’t stop to think about it. Jake slowly tugged her closer and bent his head. Her lips were soft against his, sweet. His fingers framed her face as he kissed her again; he felt her hands touch his waist. The prickly, distant Aurora Jones was returning his kiss and he found himself reluctant to end what was happening between them.
Slowly, he lifted his head and looked down at Aurora.
“Don’t expect me to apologize,” he murmured, wanting to kiss the frown from her lips.
“N-n-o,” she stammered. “Of course not.”
“Nice kiss.... I felt the earth move.”
Yes, there was her smile.
“That must happen to you a lot,” she said, still smiling. She stepped back and away from him.
“You’d be surprised,” was all he said.
She tilted her head and examined him. “Groupies?”
“No.” He laughed. “I’m too old for all that.”
“Ex-wives?”
“Only one. Look,” he said, running his hand through his hair, “I’m on the road a lot.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll bet you are.”
“No—I’m not what you think I am. I’m rarely in one place long enough to have a relationship. I don’t fall in love easily, I don’t have one-night stands and...” He paused.
“And?” she prompted, studying him curiously.
“I liked kissing you.”
She didn’t look as if she believed one single word of it.
“You look surprised. You don’t believe that you’ve surprised me, too? That I liked kissing you?”
“Actually, no.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever had to convince a woman of that before,” he said, almost laughing.
She blushed. “Well, you’re a man, so I’m sure you like kissing, but you don’t have to pretend it means anything.”
“I don’t have to pretend—”
“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said, urging him towards the hall.
“But I don’t want you to think that—”
“Stop,” she said, her voice pleading. “It’s embarrassing enough. Could we just say good night and forget this happened?”
Not likely, Jake thought, but he said good night and Aurora followed him down the hall and down the stairs. She watched him c
ollect his guitar and notebook and after he left he heard her lock the door behind him.
And there, he realized, walking slowly down the sidewalk, was another reason to stay in Willing.
Aurora leaned against the door and took deep breaths. Why had she encouraged him to stay here? It was pretty clear he was attracted to her, and if he stayed here, she’d have to see him every day. It put her in a very difficult situation. One she didn’t want to be in.
She wanted to be alone. She liked her life the way it was. With absolutely no complications.
And no kissing.
* * *
“THE SHOW MUST go on,” Aurora whispered to Jerry. She’d come up behind him, hoping to catch him off guard. “Isn’t that what they say?”
“Yes.” He sighed.
“And the show starts in what, ten days?”
“Cut it out, Aurora.” He looked up at the sky as if hoping it would rain.
“Approximately two hundred and forty hours,” she mused. “That’s not a lot of time.”
“No.” Jerry stood on the sidewalk, staring at the Chili Dawg as if he’d never seen it before. He didn’t even turn toward her, which was disappointing. She’d looked forward to seeing the fear in his eyes as he pondered the start of the show without every party, every event, every minute celebratory detail in place.
“It’s a shame,” she said. “Haven’t you sent out invitations to the launch party? And wasn’t I supposed to concoct a special drink for the occasion?”
“Love Potion Number 59490,” he choked. “Also known as Zip Code of Love.”
“Yes,” she said, standing next to him in the surprisingly large crowd of people who’d come to see the demolition. “Didn’t we work on testing flavors for hours?”
He groaned. “Just open the Dahl, Aurora. Just for the opening night.”
“Just give me my building permit.” She didn’t want to be mean about it, but what the council had done went against everything Jerry wanted for the town, and he knew it. He’d let her down, and he knew that, too. “I’ve got a construction company lined up. If I can’t start on time, they’ll move to the next job and I could lose weeks. You know how it is. I want to get this done this summer.”
“She wants to get it done this summer,” Lucia, joining them, repeated. Meg was with her. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” Jerry said. “I don’t have a vote. I’m only allowed to vote to be the tie breaker.”
“You can call an emergency meeting,” Meg said, winking at Aurora. “You’ve done it before.”
Jerry muttered something about being surrounded, but he didn’t move from his spot on the sidewalk. The four of them watched the demolition crew dismantle the one-story wooden building. Aurora saw Sam and Jake, with the four children, over on the other side of the street where they presumably had a better view. The three boys could barely contain their excitement, while Winter looked more interested in people-watching than men banging on boards.
Aurora wondered if Jake would ever kiss her again, which was not what she should have her mind on this morning.
Just because she hadn’t been kissed in years was no reason to overreact. She’d chosen to live her life free of relationships, so there was no reason to let a simple kiss bother her when it could so easily be ignored and not repeated. And what was it about Jake that made her forget her plan to stay alone? She was lonely, that was all there was to it. All of this romance going on in town was affecting her. And not in a good way.
“Can you believe this?” Meg pointed to the four women from her quilting group who carried signs that read I Vote For Aurora. Meg held another batch of flyers detailing the plans for the addition and passed them out to anyone who walked by. Aurora wore a pink T-shirt she’d found in Lewistown during her shopping trip with Winter that said Girl Power in broad silver strokes. She’d piped music into the street from the Dahl: a continuous loop of the old gospel standards, “Working on a Building” and “If I Had My Way.”
“Inspired,” Meg said, laughing as Patty Griffin’s voice belted out an old song about tearing a building down.
“How was your trip?” asked Lucia, who stood next to Jerry and smiled at all the activity. “Are we all set for the show?”
“She dumped me,” he stated, his voice flat.
“Tracy? Dumped you?” Lucia looked at Meg and Aurora as if to say Did you know about this? They shook their heads but didn’t look surprised. No one had really expected Tracy to be happy in Small Town, Montana.
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said.
“We all are,” Lucia added.
“She wasn’t good enough for you,” said Meg.
“Absolutely not,” Aurora said, when Meg elbowed her. “What happened?”
“She met someone else.” He stared at the Chili Dawg, which was no longer the Chili Dawg, Aurora noticed with satisfaction. The sign was gone, as was the roof. A pile of old lumber filled a giant Dumpster set up along the curb, and more lumber joined it every few minutes. The four men assigned to the job looked as if they knew exactly what they were doing. Once in a while one of them waved to the crowd.
“I’m really sorry,” Meg said. Lucia patted his back.
Aurora finally understood his distress over the text message. “Is that why you were in such a hurry to leave the meeting last week?”
“Yeah,” he said, jamming his hands in the pocket of his fleece jacket. “She dumped me with a text. A text.”
“Brutal,” Aurora said.
“That’s not very nice,” Lucia agreed. “Not nice at all.”
“You’ll meet someone else,” Meg assured him. “Think of all the people who will be coming to town soon. One of them could be the love of your life.”
“Speaking of next week...” Aurora said. “And speaking of new women coming to town, and those women wanting a place to socialize, and those women wanting to meet the handsome, charismatic and charming mayor of Willing—”
“You’re laying it on a little thick,” Meg interrupted her. She turned to Jerry. “Call another meeting, get another vote and issue the permit.”
“I’m grieving my loss,” he said, then without another word to anyone, turned and walked away.
“He’s going home?” Lucia was incredulous.
“I don’t think he’s himself,” Aurora said, watching her nemesis trudge down the sidewalk. He owned the largest house in town, a huge white Victorian that fronted the park. Next to it was Iris’s bed-and-breakfast, a slightly smaller Victorian with a larger front porch and a bigger array of summer flowers. Jerry had thrown himself into town politics and town improvement since he’d moved from California about four years ago. Or was it three? Aurora couldn’t remember exactly, but he’d been here when she’d arrived and he’d been about to make an offer to buy the Dahl when she’d unknowingly beaten him to it.
“Harve is giving away balloons,” Meg said, pointing to the man in the blue baseball cap and the white beard. He stood next to a helium tank and filled red and blue balloons for the kids.
“He said he had them left over from the Fourth of July parade,” Lucia explained. “That’s nice of him.”
Mike and Cora walked over and said hello. Mike looked embarrassed and wouldn’t look Aurora in the face, but Cora chatted happily about her store and when she was permanently moving to town.
“Jerry’s letting me stay at his place,” she said. “Until Mike and I figure out when we’re getting married. I don’t really want to live together until then.”
“I don’t blame you,” Aurora said. “After all this is over, you may not even want to get married.”
Mike sputtered. “No, we’re all set!”
“Some things, like marriage, shouldn’t be rushed into,” she continued. “Cora might realize you’re the kind of man who doesn’t want a busin
esswoman, such as myself, to have the right to build her business the way she sees fit.”
“It’s okay,” Cora assured her. “Mike’s going to vote for you at the next meeting, aren’t you?” She turned to her fiancé. “It’s good for business, remember? My business and everyone in town’s business.”
“I hate to see things change,” he grumbled, but Cora put her arm through his and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“I know, babe,” she said. “But you’d better get used to it.”
“You have the votes now,” Meg said, watching Cora and Mike head toward the street. Mike had his camera out, so no doubt the photos would appear in the next edition of the paper. “Mike, Les, Pete and Owen will vote yes. Even if Hank and Gary vote no, you get the permit. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” She watched as Jake, Sam and the kids headed in their direction. Jake was smiling at her. And she could feel herself start to blush. “It’s getting warm out here in the sun,” she said, hoping that would explain her flushed skin.
“It is?” Lucia glanced up at the thin clouds above their heads.
“Maybe Owen could talk to Jerry about an emergency meeting,” Meg said. “I wonder what the rules are for that.”
Aurora forgot all about rules and meetings and votes when Jake caught her eye and grinned. He certainly was a handsome man, she thought once again. No wonder she’d let him kiss her.
Of course, she’d need to be a little more careful in the future. She had a lifestyle to protect.
“Sam wants him to stick around. He’s worried about him.”
“Why?” Except in his dealings with his daughter, Jake Hove looked like the most confident, self-sufficient man she’d ever met. Owen MacGregor and Sam Hove were a close second, but Jake had a charming smile and a charisma that the other men lacked. Aurora decided not to share that observation with Lucia.
“Jake needs help with Winter. Sam said Jake told him he’s not going back on tour.”
“Because of his daughter?”
“I would think so. But he’s a carpenter. He worked construction for years while he was trying to break into the music business. He and Sam are both pretty good at it.”
The Husband Show Page 14