Just One More Chance: Baytown Boys Series

by Maryann Jordan

  “You’re the client,” Gareth said. “Total confidentiality.”

  “Thanks man. Work on the slimy lawyer first and then you can work on this.”

  “Shouldn’t take too long for either,” Gareth said, walking him to the front door.

  Grant stepped back out on the sidewalk, rubbing his chin again. He felt a pang of guilt, going behind Jillian’s back to check on one of her clients, but had to admit that he also saw the man as a possible competitor. It’ll be fine. What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt us.

  *

  “How’s it going in there?” Oliver asked, calling into the studio workshop.

  “Fine, Mr. Dobson,” the young woman’s voice answered. “I’m almost ready for the final firing but would like you to check it out first.”

  Oliver walked into the room, seeing two potters bent over their clay splattered wheels and one standing next to the kiln, holding an exquisite vase. With a smile and a nod toward the two, he headed to the kiln, his gaze on the colors and design. “Aubrey, that’s wonderful. You’ve added the layers to look like a sunset over the water.”

  She beamed up at him and nodded. “This was my fourth attempt, but I think I’ve finally figured out what I like.”

  “I saw your little camper out there,” Oliver said, “Are you staying for a bit?”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind. It saves me from traveling back and forth, as long as you don’t have a problem with me camping out nearby.”

  “It’s fine with me,” he replied, smiling.

  The older man sitting at the potter’s wheel looked up and asked, “Are we going to be able to show our work with the galleria in Baytown?”

  Clapping his hands before rubbing them together, Oliver’s face split into a grin. “Yes. The owner’s name is Jillian Evans and she has a perfect little place for our work. A coffee shop downstairs and a local artists’ galleria upstairs. The building is an old, restored store and is beautiful. And, as I was hoping, she’ll be handling the shipping of our pieces to wherever we sell them.”

  Aubrey crinkled her nose as she glanced over her shoulder toward Oliver. “I’ve been handling my own shipping so it’ll be nice to have someone else do that. I’m also thrilled to have a place to show my work, but will anyone but some locals and tourists see it?”

  “Ms. Evans has plans to have some extra showings, like a wine and cheese night. She will invite some people from the larger Virginia Beach area as well as from Maryland. It’ll be nice exposure. Plus she said she had a few other ideas to showcase the work.”

  Walking from the studio into his office, he gratefully took off his coat and tie. Settling into the chair behind his small, cluttered desk, he pulled out Jillian’s business card. Dialing as he smiled, he called her number.

  “Jillian’s Coffee Shop and Galleria,” she answered.

  “Jillian? It’s Oliver.”

  “Hi!” she greeted enthusiastically. “What’s up?”

  “I told the artists who are interning with me about your shop and, well, I was thinking about you and wondered if you had any interest in seeing our work here?”

  “Come to your studio? Oh, I’d love to! When were you thinking?”

  “How about tomorrow? I’ll be here all day, so it really wouldn’t matter when.”

  “The breakfast rush is over with by ten a.m., so I could easily get away after that. So why don’t we say eleven-thirty, just to be safe.”

  Grinning into the phone, Oliver agreed. “Tell you what, after you see the studio, I’ll take you to lunch.”

  “Um…okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Standing, he continued to smile as he changed into his work clothes, tying an apron around his waist before heading into the studio.

  *

  As Grant walked toward the police station he noticed Stanley climbing into his car and backing out of the parking lot. Stepping inside, Grant witnessed the normally unflappable Mildred grumbling about the “insufferable, rude, obnoxious” attorney.

  Passing her by, he headed back to Mitch’s office. “How did it go?” he asked.

  Mitch’s irritation was as fierce as Mildred’s, but he held onto his temper. “Says his client borrowed the car and had no idea the drugs were in it.”

  “When I ran the tags it was registered to him, so how the hell is he saying the car was not his?”

  “Claims he sold the car a couple of days ago to a someone on Craig’s list, but was able to borrow it back yesterday to make a trip to see his sick brother in Virginia Beach.”

  Grant’s eyebrows raised as he barked, “So, how stupid of a criminal are we dealing with? When Burt pulled him over, he had the gun in plain sight. Did the lawyer have anything to say about that?”

  Shaking his head, Mitch rubbed his hand through his short hair. “I tuned him out after the first minute. Anyway, I told him the hearing was tomorrow and he could present his side to the judge then. But,” he grinned, “I’ve talked to the DA and she’s raring to go on him. Says the judge will go along with what her recommendations are as well.”

  “Good,” Grant sighed, relaxing his stance. “But don’t you figure Isaac is small fries? Can we figure out who he’s running drugs for?”

  “I’m working with the state police and the other Chiefs on that,” Mitch confirmed. “I’m convinced Isaac is just a runner and, while the kingpin isn’t around here, I don’t want them using our city as a thorough-fare for their drugs.”

  Nodding his agreement, Grant tapped the doorframe twice and said, “I’m getting ready to head out on patrol. Catch you later.”

  After checking the public beach, he was driving down Main Street when he saw Bobby and Junior coming out of Jillian’s shop. She was standing on the sidewalk, still talking to the two boys, as he drove up and parked.

  Climbing out of the SUV, he grinned as the two boys ran over to greet him. “Hey guys, what’re you two doing down here?”

  Junior ducked his head and said, “Bobby wanted to come see if Miss Jillian had more art, so I came along to keep an eye on him.”

  “You wanted to come too,” Bobby protested, his innocent face turned toward his brother in surprise.

  Quickly stepping in, Jillian said, “Well, it was a treat to see both of you.” She smiled at them before lifting her gaze up to Grant. “I told them that if they wanted to earn a little money, they can help me out sometimes after school.”

  Grant flashed a look of gratitude toward her, admiring the way the sunlight glistened off her blonde hair flowing down her back with only a sparkly headband holding it away from her face.

  Junior tapped Bobby on the shoulder and said, “Come on, we’ve got to get home.”

  Both Grant and Jillian looked down sharply at the two boys. “I thought your dad dropped you off. How did you get here?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in concern.

  “Naw, we got the bus driver to bring us here.” Junior reached inside his backpack and pulled out his cell phone, saying, “But it’s okay. Dad knows we came here.”

  “Boys, go hop in the SUV and I’ll take you home. It’s way too far for you to walk.”

  The two boys looked up at Grant, huge smiles on their faces, before they called goodbyes out to Jillian and ran down the sidewalk.

  Grant turned back to her, one hand on his hip, and said, “I was stopping by anyway to see if you wanted to do something tomorrow. I’m off during the day and only have the evening shift, so I thought we could have lunch or something.”

  Jillian looked at his eager face and could not believe the poor timing. Good grief, I’ve wanted Grant to ask me out for years and now I already have plans. The thought jumped into her mind to call Oliver to reschedule, but she quickly dismissed it. Nope, this is business.

  Sucking in her lips, she answered, “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I’ve got plans. I’m driving up north tomorrow.”

  Blinking rapidly, Grant reared back slightly. “Up north?”

  “Yeah, I’m…uh…well, Oliver invited me to see his studi
o.” She watched in fascination as Grant’s face morphed from eager anticipation to confusion to anger—all in a few seconds time.

  “Oliver?” He wanted to protest but could not think of anything to say that would not make him look like a jerk. Before he could respond more, Jillian continued.

  “It’s just a business meeting. He thought I might like to see his studio and some of the interns that will be supplying artwork.”

  Slowly digesting this information as he attempted to tamp down the rush of jealousy, he said, “Oh, so there’ll be others around.”

  Laughing, Jillian said, “Yes. I get to see where he and his students create their work. I’ll be going up tomorrow morning.”

  “Well, then you should be back in time for us to have a late lunch,” he prodded.

  Biting her lip, she hesitated before adding, “Well, he asked me to lunch after the tour.”

  A flash of jealousy reared its angry head, but he worked to hide it. “Okay, well then I guess I’ll talk to you when you get back.” Leaning over, he kissed her lips. He meant to only brush against hers but the instant their lips touched, a flame sparked and he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. It took all his willpower not to take the kiss into erotic territory, fighting the desire to plaster her body tightly to his. Finally, he pulled back slightly and smirked at her flushed cheeks, plump swollen lips, and lust-filled eyes. Grinning, he knew it was Neanderthal to claim this power over her, but seeing her acquiescence made him want to thump his chest.

  Before he had a chance to revel in that experience, she gave him a slight slap on his chest instead. “Just what are you smiling about?” she asked. “You look like a caveman who’s about to drag me off to his lair.”

  Throwing his head back in laughter, he squeezed her waist. “Busted,” he admitted. “I can’t help it, Jillian. I felt like I just got my head out of my ass when it comes to you and now you’re having lunch with someone else.”

  “It’s just business,” she protested. Sliding her eyes upward, she added, “Kind of like when you’re with Ginny. There’s nothing there, so it’s just business.”

  “No way,” he countered sternly. “Ginny and I are partners, neither has any interest in the other. But Oliver? I think he has a very personal interest in you!”

  Reaching up, she cupped his strong jaw with her hands and brought his mouth back down to hers. With a gentle kiss, she said, “No, he doesn’t. But don’t worry, there’s really only ever been you.”

  The feel of her fingers on his face, the gentle touch of her lips on his, and her soft confession warmed his heart while bringing a fresh wave of guilt that he had spent so long pushing her away. Mitch’s words came back to haunt him. I have hurt her. Sighing, he jolted when she brushed her lips once more against his.

  “Grant, stop it. No going back. From now on, we move forward.”

  Smiling down at her, he could not agree more.

  Chapter 10

  The fuchsia blooms of the crepe myrtle trees were vibrant against the green leaves and the brilliant blue sky. Jillian smiled in appreciation of the colorful early fall as she drove along the main highway that cut straight through the Eastern Shore from the southern tip in Virginia north into Maryland. Farmland bordered both sides of the road while crepe myrtle trees lined the edges. Winding her way through another small town, she came to a gravel driveway, the name on the mailbox stating Dobson Pottery.

  At the end of the drive an old building sat, paint peeling off the sides. A large, sliding door was partially open in front, so she parked her car on the gravel near the entrance. Alighting, she smiled as Oliver stepped out to greet her. She noted his relaxed stance in what must be his work clothes—stained cargo pants, long-sleeved t-shirt, and muddy work boots. He was just pulling off a thick cotton apron, wiping his hands, as he approached.

  “Hey, did you have any trouble finding us?” he asked, reaching out to shake her hand.

  “No, no, your directions were perfect.” Smiling as she looked around, she said, “This place is bigger than I thought it would be.”

  Shrugging, he explained, “I got a good deal. I needed a place to bring the kilns and they take up a lot of space. An old garage or barn would have been great, but it was hard to find just that without having to buy a lot of land. I found this place and spent several months setting it up.”

  “I can’t wait to see it,” she exclaimed, following him inside. As her eyes adjusted to the interior light, she saw four pottery wheels, three with people working at them.

  “Let me introduce you to my interns,” he said. “Aubrey and Jonas are from the University of Maryland’s Art School and Mike is a potter who rents my space and use of my kilns. Guys, this is Jillian. She will be showcasing our work and handling shipping from now on.”

  Aubrey looked up and smiled as her hands continued to work the clay, the soothing motion creating what appeared to be a large vase. “Nice to meet you, Jillian,” she called out before turning her concentration back to the wheel.

  Jonas was just finishing his piece and Jillian paused by his wheel to admire his deft fingers as they made the fluted edges on his bowl. His boyish enthusiasm was contagious and she laughed as he wiped his cheek, leaving a large streak of wet clay.

  Mike, grey-haired, grizzled, and bent over his wheel, gave her a swift nod before returning to his work.

  As they passed from the front wheel room into the back area, she saw three kilns set up. Oliver talked excitedly about the process and showed her some of his newer work.

  “I’ve got some new shipments packed up and ready for you to send out for me,” he said. Seeming to be suddenly unsure, he rushed, “If that’s okay?”

  “Absolutely,” she assured. “I’ll get the galleria labels ready and can get them shipped tomorrow.”

  Letting out a sigh, he nodded. “Thank you. It relieves me to have someone I can trust to take over the shipping aspect of my work. And,” he grinned, “gives you some exposure as well.”

  “Speaking of exposure, I’m organizing the first showing in the galleria. I’m leaning toward a Saturday night in two weeks. Now that I’ve seen your place here and your interns working, I’d love to have them come as well.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he agreed. “Let me know as soon as you have the details.” Looking down at his clothes, he said, “If you give me a few minutes to go to the house, I’ll get cleaned up real quick and we can head to lunch.”

  She watched him jog to a small house toward the back of the studio and turned to meander to the front. Making small talk with the interns, she discovered more about them and Oliver’s work.

  “Were you an art major too?” Aubrey asked.

  “Oh, goodness no. I love local art and since I have a business where I can showcase it, the situation works for all of us.”

  They continued to chat for several more minutes until Oliver reappeared, now in clean jeans and a button down white chambray shirt. His hands were slightly red from the scrubbing. He smiled as he escorted her to his car. “There’s a nice restaurant in the nearby town.”

  “That sounds fine,” she agreed, glancing sideways at the man behind the wheel. Handsome, accomplished, owns and operates his own business…but no sparks. She quickly chastised herself for even having those thoughts, but then just as quickly accepted that there was nothing wrong with acknowledging that her sparks only ran toward Grant.

  Minutes later, as the hostess showed them to a table in the corner of the small, Italian restaurant, she felt Oliver’s fingers pressing on the small of her back. Eyes wide, she involuntarily stiffened. Oh shit, could Grant be right? No, no…Oliver is just being a gentleman.

  “Are you all right?” Oliver asked. “You seem a little flushed.” He held her chair and scooted her up to the table.

  Muttering, she said, “Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s just a bit warmer than I was prepared for today.” Thankfully the rest of the meal passed without incident as they talked about the area, their businesses, and the upco
ming wine and cheese event at the galleria.

  “I have sold a few pieces of your work to some of the tourists,” she commented. “I’m keeping track of them and will send you an itemized list along with your payment at the end of the month.”

  “Perfect. For the pieces I’ve boxed up, if you just add your logo and send them to the address I have on each box you can deduct the cost of shipping from my sales payment.”

  “I can do that easily with a spreadsheet,” she said, but then cocked her head to the side. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be cheaper for you to just send them yourself?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “I have no desire to deal with that aspect.” Rubbing his fingers on the table, he added, “Essentially, I’m an artist. I totally hate the business aspect of dealing with sales, taxes, and shipments.”

  Laughing, she said, “I’m the total opposite.”

  “That’s why we make such a good pair,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Swallowing deeply, her gaze shot down. Shit, that did sound like a come on. Clearing her throat, she lifted her eyes and said, “Well, here’s to great business partners.” She noticed a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but neither remarked on it.

  Clinking their wine glasses, they finished the meal in easy camaraderie. She made sure to stay a step ahead of him as they made their way back to his car. Once at the studio, she noticed the lights were off. “I guess the interns have gone home for the day?”

  “Yes, they have no set hours. I guess I don’t either,” he joked. Coming to her car, he said, “I’ve got the boxes in the back. I’ll put them in your car.”

  It only took a few minutes to load the boxes packed with Oliver’s ceramics, and afterwards they stood awkwardly by the driver’s door of her car.

  Sticking her hand out, she thanked him for lunch, but glanced down nervously when he held her hand a moment longer than she wanted. Turning, she opened the door but hesitated as he put his hand on her shoulder.