by Wendy Vella
The day after her final doctor’s visit, where Doctor McBride had given her the all clear, she woke and pulled on her running shorts and singlet. Lacing up her shoes, she took herself outside as the sun began to rise. Here in Howling, she didn’t need music in her ears; there was silence here, no blaring horns or city noise. She stretched, her muscles were tight after so long with no activity and then she ran down the drive and turned left, which would take her around the lake.
Now this, Branna, will be heaven, she thought, as the sun slowly began to rise over the lake. It was cool, but she was soon warm. It felt wonderful to be running again, especially after days spent bent over her desk. The brace was still on, but Doctor McBride said she could at least now run and type, but if it hurt she had to stop. She’d done a fair bit of one-fingered typing the past few days and was looking forward to growing her word count before her agent called to give the talk about deadlines and meeting them.
Inhaling the fresh country air, Branna began to hum an Irish ballad, one her grandmother had sung to her as a child. She saw a track that disappeared into the redwoods that she would investigate one day, then passing a driveway she looked up, wondering if she knew the person who lived there. Her stomach dropped to the soles of her shoes when she saw Jake McBride jogging down in his long steady stride. She didn’t think he’d seen her, so there was time to turn around, or maybe she should speed up?
“Morning.”
Damn, why did he have to be her closest neighbor? Branna didn’t stop, just waved her hand over her head and kept running. She didn’t want to share her first run, and especially not with a man who had taken up far too much of her thoughts the past few days.
“Nice day for it.”
He’d caught her in a few strides. Shooting him a look, she noticed his eyes were bloodshot. She took in those long muscular legs encased in gray running shorts and wide shoulders in a torn, faded T-shirt with Medical Corps U.S. Army on it.
“Your eyes are bleeding, McBride.”
“Card night last night.”
As she’d never been to a card night, nor wanted to, Branna said nothing further and he seemed happy to follow her lead. They ran as the day woke around them. On one side, there were trees and grass, on the other a beautiful clear lake with mountains beyond and she thought that had Jake not been here, she could just about be perfectly happy right at this moment.
He disturbed her; it was a fact and always had been. If he was near, she was aware of him…even if she didn’t want to be.
“How often do you run?”
He may be hung-over, but he wasn’t breathless, which told her he was as used to running as she was.
“As often as I can…mostly four times a week, but here it’ll probably be more.”
“How far do you go?”
“5 to 10 miles a run, sometimes less or more. I don’t really plan it; it’s just how I feel on the day.”
He thought about that as they ran, and she knew he was adjusting his pace, shortening his steps to match hers.
“I can run on my own, Jake, if you want to go on.”
“I’m good, but thanks. How’s the arm? I see you still have it braced.”
“Good, and before you say anything, your mom said I had the all clear.”
“You don’t have to get defensive every time I open my mouth, Rosebud.”
Branna exhaled, loudly.
“I’m not good with people, Jake, It’s not how I started out; it just turned out that way.” Why had she said that? She’d always had a loose tongue around him. He wasn’t someone who talked a lot and he listened when others spoke, but he also had the ability to unsettle a person with just a look…well, her at least. She’d rattled out more rubbish in his presence just to fill a silence than she had in her life.
“Forewarned,” he said, and she had a feeling he was laughing at her, but one look told her his face was serious and she was pleased to see, starting to sweat. “And for the record, I’m not exactly everyone’s favorite person anymore either.”
“You may believe that in some warped part of your small brain, McBride, but you still are, even with the bad boy attitude.”
“What’s with this bad boy attitude label you keep giving me?”
She waved her hand about, dismissing his question, as she continued with the matter of his popularity. “Yesterday, I went into The Hoot to have a mystery muffin, which Buster wouldn’t give me the recipe for, even though I begged.”
“You have a real thing for those, don’t you, Rosebud?”
“Each one has been as good as the last, McBride, and this one had ginger in it, but Buster just folded his arms and ignored me when I offered him a bribe.”
“What did you offer?”
“Twenty dollars a recipe,” Branna said.
Jake snorted. “Offer to scrub his baking trays; that’ll do it.”
“No, it won’t; he’s just plain mean when it comes to those recipes,” Branna added.
“Getting back to the point of this conversation, Rosebud, I think you were about to explain about me still being everyone’s favorite person?”
“Right,” Branna added. “I met Mrs. Purvis, who happens to be Penny’s mom.”
“I know who Penny’s mom is.”
“Well, she said you just needed some time, and you’d be back to the boy they all knew and loved and doing your doctoring any day now.”
“I bet those words were verbatim?” He sounded pissed off.
“The point is, McBride, you may think differently about yourself, but none of them do.”
“Them being the entire town?”
“Even the animals.”
“You seem pissed about that, Rosebud. Would you be happier if they all disliked me?”
Was she? Maybe in school it had bothered her that he could do no wrong in anyone’s eyes, but that was jealousy because no one liked her, but then she’d never given anyone encouragement either.
“McBride, it was an observation. I have no feelings about you, and don’t plan on forming any.”
“Ouch.”
She didn’t say anything, and then clamped her top teeth around her bottom lip to shut herself up.
“You ever drop those barriers enough to let anyone in, O’Donnell? Really in, I mean, the fall in love, you’re the sole reason I breathe, in.”
“You read romance novels, McBride? Because no man I’ve ever met has said the words ‘you’re the sole reason I breathe,’ before.”
The sound of their feet hitting the road was the only noise for a few seconds, and Branna was congratulating herself on the fact that she’d headed him off when he said, “I guess that answers my question.”
She wanted to snap something back at him, tell him to stuff his comments somewhere she’d never have to hear them again, but instead, she ran on in silence. She was older now, twenty-six to be exact and no longer needed to snarl like a rabid dog when someone annoyed her, even if it was Jake McBride…still the hottest guy in town.
They ran on in silence, both lost in thought; he led and she followed, as she didn’t know the way and when her sides were starting to hurt, she looked up and found herself back where they had started.
“You swim, Rosebud?”
“Why?” Branna watched as he pulled off his running shoes and socks, which revealed long feet. He then stood once more and somehow, he was now inches from her.
“You always answer a question with another one?”
“Do you.”
He snorted, and even with bloodshot eyes and sweat running off his big body, he was sexy as hell.
“Yes or no?”
“Maybe.”
“Well then, get your shoes off and that brace.”
Branna slapped his hand as he reached for the straps on her arm. “Touch me and I’ll drop you, McBride.”
“You and whose army, Rosebud? You’re an itty bitty thing compared to me.”
His smile was slow and easy and to her, it was the exact one a wolf would give before
it gobbled up its prey.
“I’m not swimming in that,” Branna shot the lake a look. “It’ll be freezing; I’ll probably never thaw out.”
“I can help you with that.” He took another step towards her, but she spun around and started running away. His laughter only stopped when she heard a loud splash as his body hit the water, but she refused to look back. The thought of that body all wet was not one she wanted to have put into reality.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She allowed herself a smile as she ran up the driveway. He couldn’t see it, so she was safe. The day would be warm and Branna had plenty to do. Her book was coming along and she wanted to get the border finished around the garden. Humming, she ran inside and straight up to the shower. Stripping off her sweaty clothes, she stood under the hot spray and let it pound her body.
How was she going to cope with him?
The problem was, he was just so good at getting under her skin. He could irritate her with a few words and just a look from Jake McBride got her riled up. Squirting a handful of soap into her hands she ran them over her body and her breasts tingled. That was the biggest problem; thinking about him heated her up. He was sexy and smart and she wanted him, and that annoyed her because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted anyone.
Shutting off the water, Branna wrapped herself in a towel and walked into her bedroom. The morning sun lit the room in a soft glow. She’d put her furnishings in here too, her big free standing oval mirror, the thick red rug that had yellow and blue splashes of color. Across the bed, she’d draped a soft purple wool blanket and placed colorful pillows.
After drying her hair, which she vowed to cut because she was tired of it getting in her way, she left it long, the ends reaching below her shoulder blades now. Pulling some white lace underwear on, Branna then went to the wardrobe and looked in. She wore shorts most days, but today, after her first run, she felt like putting on a dress.
It was a simple pale green shift that stopped a few inches above her knees. On her feet, she wore sandals and looking down at her toes, she thought about painting them and then thought not, as the vision of Jake, looking at them filled her head. She would not dress so he noticed her, ever. Strapping on the loathsome brace, she headed downstairs.
Grabbing an apple, Branna picked up her keys and headed out to the van. She needed a few things from town, and then she’d see what Buster’s special muffin was today.
The grocery store was towards the end of town and tucked back behind the row of shops. Making her way inside, she grabbed a cart and started down the aisles.
“The apricots are good this time of year.”
An elderly woman was inspecting the oranges, which were right beside the apricots.
“Thanks.”
“Make a good cobbler with those if you get some berries as well,” the woman added.
Branna was used to walking around a crowded supermarket in Washington without saying a word; she’d frequented the same one for five years and never conversed with anyone unless absolutely necessary. This was another thing that she needed to adjust to here in Howling. It seemed that her, “I don’t really like to talk much” sign wasn’t flashing neon.
“I was thinking of a chicken apricot dish,” she said, surprising herself.
The woman sucked on her teeth, the lines on her face deepening as she thought about what Branna had said. “May work, but I’m not partial to mixing my sweets and savories too much; still, you be sure to let me know how it turns out.”
“I will, and you have a good day,” Branna added.
Moving along, she began to navigate the canned food section. It was about adjusting. She could do that, and would have to, if she planned to stay in Howling. She didn’t want to be known as that woman, you know the one that lives in Georgie’s old place. Has thirty-seven cats, doesn’t leave her house.
“Hey, Branna, how’s the head doing now?”
Penny Bilks gave her a wide smile from across the aisle.
“Much better, thanks, Penny.” Branna didn’t hold grudges and in all honesty, Penny’s intervention had helped her, she could see that now, even if it did put Jake McBride on her doorstep.
“Good morning, Branna.”
Branna turned to look at who else had spoken, and thought about making a run for it. Macy Reynolds was approaching with a man. Dressed in snug-fitting red Capris, a tight stretchy white top that hugged every curve, and a red pair of slip on heels, her perfectly made up face held a cold expression.
“Macy,” Branna nodded her head.
“This is my husband, Brian Delray,” Macy said. “Brian, this is Branna O’Donnell.”
Macy said the words reluctantly, almost to Branna’s ears as if she didn’t want Branna to meet her husband.
“Miss O’Donnell,” Brian Delray held out his hand, which Branna shook.
He had a nice open face, neat dark hair, and soft brown eyes. His clothes, unlike his wife’s, were understated, a pair of gray trousers with a sharp edge ironed in the fronts and a pristine white shirt with pale gray pinstripes, and a matching tie. His shoes were polished black leather. Branna could only imagine the life this man led at the hands of the Barracuda at his side.
“I hope you’re settling in well, Branna. Georgie’s place needs a bit of work from what I remember; if it gets too much, you let me know,” Macy’s husband said.
“I’m sure she can cope, Brian, especially as the house was a gift,” Macy’s words sounded almost shrill, and Branna felt another tug of sympathy for the man.
“So, how long have you two been married?” Branna asked, when they fell into a heavy silence.
“Six years now, and we’re very happy,” Brian Delray said with another gentle smile.
“I-I, ah…” Branna felt the heat of embarrassment fill her cheeks. Did he know what she’d been thinking? She didn’t know what to say; the thought of this gentle soul being in the clutches of someone like Macy Reynolds was just plain wrong.
“Branna? Branna O’Donnell? How long has it been since we saw each other?”
This day was just getting weirder by the minute. Now, a big dark-haired man, who looked like he’d stepped off a billboard, was sauntering towards her, his smile wide and genuine. She had no idea who he was, but he seemed to know her. Looking closer, she wondered if he’d gone to school with her. She couldn’t remember anyone who had eyes that particular blue, and his accent had a Texan twang to it.
He didn’t stop as he reached her, just wrapped his big arms around her, placing a smacking kiss on one cheek. Then, tucking her into his side, he stuck out one large hand to Brian Delray, who was watching the proceedings with a slightly stunned expression on his handsome face, while his wife’s mouth had puckered in disapproval.
“Ethan Gelderman the 5th.” His words were as smooth as heated honey and rolled off his tongue.
“Brian Delray, and this is my wife, Macy. You’re not a local, Mr. Gelderman?”
“No, but I love your little town, Mr. Delray, and it holds even more appeal now that I know the first woman I ever loved lives in it.”
She had to fight the urge to laugh. She knew he was making it up then, but why? Furthermore, why was she going along with him when normally she would run a mile if anyone touched her like he was? Funny, how she didn’t feel threatened by him.
“Let’s go, honey, I’m hungry; hustle that sweet little butt of yours along and we’ll head over to Buster’s for a coffee,” Ethan Gelderman the 5th then said.
Smiling at Brian and Macy Reynolds-Delray, Branna raised a hand before letting him lead her away.
“You done?” he questioned.
“I am, and I have to say, you don’t look like Sean Connor, who was my first love. He had red hair and green eyes. Although, they can do wonders with surgery these days, and name changing happens all the time, I believe.”
“I got the feeling from Buster and Jake you’d be handful,” the Texan said.
“A handful? Are you serious? You
were the one who walked up spouting all that rubbish about first loves, Mr. Gelderman, and I’m not entirely sure why?”
“Ethan,” he corrected her, “and that little gathering just looked plain awkward, so I took pity on you.”
“Do you know Macy Reynolds or should I say Reynolds-Delray, that poor man’s wife? The woman standing there dressed like a model?” Branna looked around the supermarket. If she was in the city, she’d have been nudged and shoved a dozen times by now, but here she was able to walk and browse, or had been until a large, way too handsome man had intercepted her.
“Can’t say as I’ve met her before today,” he drawled.
“Think fake everything, right down to her personality, and you’ll understand,” Branna, said.
“Now, that I understand, darling. I’m from Texas, after all.”
“And you love those kinds of women?” Branna added, looking at his perfect bone structure. The man was a walking advertisement for what woman wanted in their men. Tall, built, devastating smile, and could talk a pair of panties down without breaking a sweat.
“You talk funny,” he said, hustling her up to the checkout by putting a hand on her back.
“I’m Irish.”
“Jake said you’d lived in the U.S. for years, but occasionally you spout out something from your homeland.”
“Sounds like you and Jake had a nice little chat about me.”
“He may have misled me about just how damned hot you are, but I’ll take that up with him when I see him.”
Branna rolled her eyes, because men like Ethan Gelderman the 5th had learned to flirt in the birth canal.
“Morning.” The young girl at the checkout gave the man behind her an interested look before returning her attention to Branna. She had short white hair, spiked, with bright green tips. She had piercings through her lip and brow.
“Morning,” Branna said, as she started to load her stuff on the counter. The Texan tried to help, but she slapped his hand, which kept him out of her cart.