A Promise Of Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 1)

by Wendy Vella

  “I’m not sure what you are accusing me of, Miss O’Donnell?”

  Branna braced both hands on the desk. “Look, Miss Todd, I’m not accusing you of anything, nor am I judging. I was a teacher also, and understand the pressures you face every day. A child who doesn’t fit into the model you have written presents more work—”

  “Which I have no problem with, as my students’ welfare is important to me,” the teacher said defensively.

  “Excellent, then can I suggest you read his file thoroughly before you make any further judgments about his behavior?” She didn’t stay to hear any further replies from the teacher; instead, she pushed off the desk and left the room. Waving at Mrs. Huxley, she then climbed into her van and drove out of the school gates. Lowering the window, Branna inhaled a deep calming breath.

  For now, she’d done all she could, but she’d be back if she thought it was needed. Mikey would not suffer because he had smarts; she’d see to that.

  Driving into town, Branna pulled up in front of the drugstore; minutes later, she was looking on the shelves for her favorite brand of moisturizer. When the door opened, she didn’t look up, too busy reading labels, which was a bad pastime she had, but one that she had all the same. It always surprised Branna what actually went into things, and she usually tried to purchase things with ingredients that she at least recognized.

  “You still suffering with that stomach upset, Macy?”

  Branna wasn’t visible to the people at the counter, which was a relief; she had no wish to get into it with Macy Reynolds again.

  “I’ll have this made up for you in a few minutes, Macy.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Pike.”

  Holding her breath, Branna eased along the shelf so she was tucked in the corner out of sight. Macy came into her view as she walked behind a set of shelves further down the aisle. She didn’t look Branna’s way, instead lowering her head into her hands as her shoulders started to shake. She then bent double, almost as if whatever hurt inside her was making it impossible to stay upright.

  Branna was so shocked she couldn’t stop staring. The woman was crying silently into her hands. What the hell should she do now? If she moved, it would alert Macy, but then maybe Branna should ask if she could help? The hand Macy moved from her face as she straightened shook as it reached out to grab the side of the shelf, her fingers clenching so hard the knuckles were white.

  “Nearly ready, Macy!”

  “Thanks, Mr. Pike, be right there.”

  Branna watched Macy shake her hands a few times, and then haul in a deep breath, and then she was gone.

  What the hell was that about? Branna didn’t want to feel sorry for Macy Reynolds-Delray, but right at that moment, the woman she had seen commanded her to do so. Whatever was behind Macy’s pain, it was the kind of hurt that you felt through your entire body. When the door signaled she had left, Branna grabbed her selections, paid for them, and also made her way outside.

  “Good, I was just going to call you, but now that you’re here, we can just go straight to the Howler.”

  Belle was coming towards her, long legs eating the distance in seconds. Her friend was dressed in fitted jeans, high-heeled pink stilettos and a white shirt, under which she wore a pink silk camisole, the exact color of her heels. Her hair was pulled back on the sides and she looked beautiful and sexy.

  “Wow, you look hot!”

  “I was just going to say those exact words to you, Bran.”

  They both laughed.

  “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

  Why not, Branna thought. “Add food to that drink and I’ll agree.”

  “Done.”

  ***

  The Howler was fundamentally the same establishment it had been when Jake had first stepped foot inside it ten years ago. The Harris family had owned it forever and it was now run by the twins, Faith and Noah, who were a year older than him.

  It was an extension of the nature outside its door, the colors neutral, with a large open fireplace that during the winter months roared, wood paneling and a circular bar that was wrapped in beige stone. Soft lighting invited you in and the music and company made you stay. On one side was the bar and dance floor, the other a restaurant.

  The walls were a shrine to the Packers, a team the Harris family had supported forever, along with the rest of Howling.

  Walking towards the bar, Jake did a sweep of the room and found Branna and Annabelle seated at a table with Buster, Newman, and one other guy he didn’t know.

  “That woman makes me itch,” Ethan said.

  Dragging his eyes from Branna, who was smiling at something Newman was saying, Jake looked at him. “Branna?”

  “Annabelle Smith,” he glared across the room.

  “Don’t tell me there’s a woman who can resist your charms, stud?”

  “She has an attitude that drives me crazy.”

  Jake made himself turn and walk to the bar. The foreign emotion called jealousy was chorusing through his body and all Branna was doing was smiling at his friend.

  “She also happens to be an outstanding nurse and loyal friend.”

  Tex lounged on the bar beside him while they waited to be served.

  “She’s hot.”

  “Yeah, she is, but more like a sister, so it just feels plain wrong to call her hot, so instead I’ll say pretty,” Jake said, thinking about the brief look he’d gotten of Branna. She’d appeared happy, which should make him feel good, but instead made him angry that she wasn’t being happy with him. Hell, he was screwed up.

  “You better get over there, McBride, that guy with the blond hair is moving in on your girl.”

  “She's not my girl.” But if anyone touches her, they're dead.

  “Okay, just so I'm clear. You don't care that the man now has his hand on her arm, her bare arm,” Ethan clarified. “And that she's laughing up at him, all flashing teeth and sparkling eyes.”

  Jake didn't turn even as his gut clenched.

  “That shit only worked on me in college. I'm a big grown up now and Branna can talk and interact with whoever she wishes.”

  “Bullshit,” Ethan whispered.

  '“Hey, Jake, what you after?”

  “Faith,” Jake acknowledged the woman who stood before him. She had the Harris dark skin and hair and fine delicate features. “Two beers, thanks, for me and the idiot.”

  “Ethan Gelderman,” Ethan stuck out his hand and gave his patented smile, which Jake was pleased to see Faith ignored and turned back to him, after giving his friend’s hand a good hard pump.

  “Your mom and dad were in here earlier, they said Katie's coming home for a few days.”

  “Holidays are soon, so she's going to spend them here with us.”

  “Be good to see her.” Faith walked away, then Ethan sighed. “What’s your problem now?” Jake asked him.

  “The women in this town are way too pretty and they all seem to have attitude.”

  “You mean they all seem immune to the patented Ethan Gelderman brand of charm.”

  “There's no lying, it's a strange thing, McBride. Like some kind of parallel universe where I'm invisible.”

  Jake laughed as he paid Faith for the beers. “Faith, give this man a compliment, will you? He's feeling insecure.”

  “You have good teeth.” Faith Harris then walked away, leaving a devastated Texan at his side.

  “Teeth! All she could come up with was my teeth are nice. I'm a broken man, McBride, my pride lying in shredded remnants at my feet.”

  “Well, step over the mess, buddy, we got beers to drink.”

  They walked to where the others had gathered, and Jake seated himself beside Buster, next to him was Branna, then Newman and the man he didn't know, then Annabelle. Ethan took the space beside her.

  “Evening all.” Jake smiled around the table, not letting his eyes rest on Branna for any longer than the others.

  “This is Oliver Rendell; he's visiting from England,” Newman made the introduction
s. “Jake McBride and Ethan Gelderman the 5th.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes as he shook the man's hand. His name was a constant source of amusement to Buster and Newman.

  Jake sat back as he took a mouthful of beer, his eyes settling on Branna. She was talking to Annabelle. Her lemon dress had two thin little shoulder straps and a fitted top that sat low on her breasts exposing soft, slender shoulders and a cleavage that he'd had his mouth all over last night. The rest of her wasn't visible, as it was under the table, but what he saw was enough to heat him up. She'd pulled her hair into a messy knot on her head and it exposed the delicate line of her neck and curve of her jaw.

  “Are you fortunate enough to live in this town also, Jake?”

  Jake’s mother had made him watch Jane Austen movies when she’d had no other sucker to do so and this guy could have stepped right out of one.

  “Yes, I was born and raised here.”

  “How wonderful and are you a woodsman too?”

  “Too?” Jake looked from the Englishman to Buster, who lowered his eyes.

  “Buster and Newman told me they are log rollers and I must say it sounds a dangerous occupation, and that to do it well one must have perfect coordination.”

  Jake leveled his friends a look. Last time they had told a group of tourists they were fire jumpers. This time he was going to teach them a lesson. Sending a silent apology to log rollers everywhere, he said, “Unfortunately, no, I failed the log rolling course. You see, to be really good at it, you have to stand in ice cold water for long periods of time, and that does things to your…” Jake looked down at his groin briefly before continuing. “Over time, things fail to work as well as they once did and eventually you’re unable to rise to any challenge, Oliver. Loggers have even lost their, ah drive permanently. So, you see, it takes a devoted and dedicated man to give that up.”

  Jake shot Branna a look; she was staring into her glass of wine with her top lip clamped firmly between her teeth.

  “Well, I must say, you are to be commended for such dedication, gentlemen,” Oliver said politely.

  “Yeah, dedicated is what we are,” Buster scowled at Jake.

  “I’m real proud of them, Oliver, it has to be said.” Jake lifted his beer to salute his friends. Newman flipped him the bird, seen by everyone but Oliver.

  “So, how about a dance to show off those fast moving feet, Newman?” Annabelle got to hers and held out one hand. “After all, you were crowned log rolling champion in these here parts for the last two years; you should be up for the challenge.”

  “Aww, shucks,” Newman muttered. “There’s no need to go on about that, Annabelle, you know how it upsets Buster that he came in second.”

  Jake watched Annabelle laugh as Newman led her to the floor.

  Buster grabbed Branna before Jake could and by the smug look on his face, it was payback.

  “I can’t line dance, Buster.” She tried to stop him, but he simply picked her up and placed her on her feet, then tugged her behind him.

  “You ever danced in a line, Oliver?”

  “I haven’t, Ethan, no.”

  The Englishman was looking at the dance floor as the lines formed. Jake watched Buster grab Branna’s hips and push her into the space between him and Newman. She was nervous, her body stiff, as she listened to Buster explain the moves. She took a step to the right and turned back as Buster instructed her to do, and the hem of her skirt lifted, showing Jake, and anyone else watching, the lower half of her thighs. It was a dress that caressed her curves just like his hands had last night, a dress that he wanted to remove slowly and then kiss everything he uncovered. She had on heels, high enough to give her a few more inches, the color of raspberries; they did amazing things to her already amazing legs.

  “Right, so let’s find some partners, Oliver, and attempt to teach you a few things before you return to your homeland. Off your ass, McBride, and get us some women, seeing as you know every one of them in this room.”

  He did as Ethan asked, because he wanted to get onto the dance floor. Minutes later, he’d asked three women he knew, and soon they were all in a line. Jake could hear Branna’s laughter as she got the steps wrong, often going the wrong way. Buster was patient, just placing a hand on her back and pointing her back the right way.

  “You getting it, Rosebud?” Jake grabbed her hand as the song finished and she started to walk off the floor.

  “No, in fact it’s fair to say I’m hopeless.”

  Her skin glowed under the soft lights, and her eyes were alive, and he wanted her in his arms. “Come and dance with me and I’ll give you some more lessons.”

  Branna looked into the black eyes of Jake McBride and fought the shiver of longing that raced through her. He was dressed in jeans and a white fitted T-shirt, and while she’d only had two glasses of wine, which for her was one too many, he looked so sexy her body was actually tingling being this close to him.

  “I don’t think I should embarrass myself anymore, Jake, I have to live here, after all.”

  “Just one dance, Branna.”

  She took the hand he held out to her and let him lead her back into the line.

  “Think about the basic pattern, Branna. Right heel to the ground, then left. That’s it.”

  He stood behind her, hands on her hips, leading her through the steps, and she began to see the pattern as he explained it to her. Pushing aside the feel of him so close, his breath on her cheek, hands on her hips, she concentrated and soon had the rhythm.

  “I’m doing it!”

  He came to stand beside her. “Clever girl.”

  She bumped into him a few times and his hands steadied her, then usually caressed whatever part of her body they touched before removing them. It was like some kind of bizarre mating ritual that was heating her up faster than a hot tub. His hip bumped hers, his eyes, when she was foolish enough to look up, would wander over her face and down to her breasts. Branna needed to get off this dance floor before she gave into the urge to jump him.

  When the music finished, she thanked him, and then started back to where the others sat with Jake on her heels.

  “My pleasure, now let me take you home and you can show me just how grateful you are.”

  Branna stopped at those growled words, turning, she looked up at him. His smile was soft and only for her, filled with sensual promise of just what the night would hold if she let him take her to bed.

  “That’s not a good idea, Jake, not after you running scared this morning.”

  “Sure it is.” He stepped closer, crowding her with his big hot body. “And I wasn't running scared I had work to do.”

  “No,” she took a step backwards, “it’s not, and you didn't” Branna said, turning away from him and continuing on to the table, where she said goodnight to everyone as she retrieved her bag. Giving Oliver a friendly wave and telling him to come back soon, she then left before Jake could lay a hand on her, because she knew that if he did, she’d be lost.

  Branna woke to sunshine again, her sleep had been deep, and luckily, she couldn’t remember her dreams, as they were almost certainly about Jake. Climbing out of bed, she hurried through her shower.

  Mikey and Belle were coming to help her in the garden and she’d promised to cook them breakfast as payment. After she’d prepared the batter for the waffles and started the coffee, she wandered outside. This place was changing her; she could feel it. Softening her edges, making her feel like she hadn’t for years and Branna wasn’t sure how she felt about that. For so long, she’d managed not to care. But now she had a house, friends, and Jake, whatever that meant.

  Walking around the side of the house, she came to a stop before the garden. It was totally destroyed. Plants had been uprooted, others stomped on, and the ones she’d bought, that had sat waiting to be planted, had been destroyed. Dropping to her knees, she looked at the mess. Why would someone do this to her?

  The sound of a vehicle had her regaining her feet. She didn’t want Mikey or Bell
e to see the mess. She’d take them out; tell them she hadn’t managed to get the plants, take them to The Hoot for breakfast.

  “We’re here!”

  She was too late; they were both coming around the house towards her. Belle saw the garden first and grabbed Mikey, but it was too late, he’d seen it too.

  “What’s happened, Branna?” He ran to the garden and looked at the plants, bending to pick up petals and broken plants.

  “I didn’t hear them doing it, Belle, I just saw it before you drove up.” Branna felt the anger begin to simmer inside her.

  “Bastards,” Belle hissed. “Low life fucking bastards,” she said so that the boy couldn’t hear.

  “Who would do this?” Mikey’s little face was tight with worry as he looked from Belle to Branna.

  “Some dickhead, with shit for brains is who, Mikey. Now, don’t you worry about it, we’ll get to the bottom of it. You just get mad and that’ll make you mean, which is what we women need about now,” Belle added. “Go get my camera from the car; I want to take some pictures of this.”

  “I can do mean.” He bared his teeth and Branna managed to laugh. He hugged her then, before running to Belle’s car.

  “Jesus, Branna, why would someone do this to you?” Branna let her friend wrap an arm around her neck and pull her close. Normally, she didn’t like being touched or hugged, but that too seemed to have changed since she’d come to Howling.

  “We should tell Cubby.”

  “Why? It’s a garden, Belle, some kids probably got high and did it.”

  “This is Howling, Branna, not Washington. Kids may get high here, but it’s behind closed doors where no one can see. People here know people; kids wouldn’t risk doing this, not so close to the house. You could have woken anytime and seen them.”

  “But who else would want to and why? I’ve made no enemies since coming here, and I don’t think even Macy hates me that much that she’d get dirt under nails.”

  They stood looking at the mess until Mikey came back and handed Belle the camera. She started snapping pictures as they watched.