Melt With You (Fire and Icing)

by Evans, Jessie

  If there was ever a time to give himself a break, this was it.

  Jenny had passed exactly two years ago today. That morning, he’d kissed her good-bye and teased her about wearing a Santa Claus sweatshirt her Meemaw had made her to go shopping; that afternoon he’d been called to identify her body.

  On the first anniversary of her death, he’d spent the entire day at a megaplex movie theater in Atlanta, hopping from film to film, hiding out from everyone he knew, letting himself get caught up in stories other than his own. But today he hadn’t felt like hiding.

  He’d started the morning by taking flowers to the cemetery and having a long talk with Jenny, filling her in on all the news from the last time he’d visited a few months before. He even told her about Naomi moving back to town, and how mixed-up it had him feeling. Jenny knew that Naomi was a big part of Jake’s past, even though his wife hadn’t moved to Summerville until she was in her twenties and never witnessed the high school romance that had defined Jake’s teen years.

  Talking to Jenny had soothed something inside of him. For the first time since her passing, he’d felt uplifted, instead of depressed by a visit to her grave. He knew Jenny would have told him to relax, and that the opportunity to apologize to Naomi would present itself when the time was right—Jenny had been a big believer in letting things work themselves out, and not pushing people or situations too hard.

  But now Naomi was here, and the chance to start fresh with her had fallen into his lap, the way Naomi used to fall into his lap when they were younger.

  Back in high school, Naomi would burst into his bedroom while he was studying and plunk herself down on his lap, inserting herself between him and his computer, refusing to let him concentrate on chemistry homework or English papers or anything serious until she’d had her fill of him. Lyle Hansen, Jake’s dad, had been too busy to pay attention to whether or not his boys had girls in their bedrooms—one of the upsides of being raised by a single parent. From the time Jake was sixteen, he’d been free to shut his bedroom door, lock it tight, and make love to Naomi until they were both limp and breathless and his sheets smelled of her perfume.

  Jake took another drink, forcing away thoughts of a naked Naomi. Thoughts like that were the opposite of relaxing, and a good way to ensure he made a fool of himself all over again.

  “Hey,” Naomi said, casting an uncertain glance his way as she and her sister came to stand beside him. “Work party?”

  “Yep,” he said in what he hoped was a pleasant tone. “We have it here every year. Best buffalo wings in Georgia.”

  “Really? In the entire state?” Maddie’s eyebrows lifted skeptically. “That’s a big claim.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, there’s none that can compare,” Jake said. “And I pride myself on being a man who knows his wings.”

  Maddie unwound her arm from Naomi’s. “I’m going to go order us a plate.”

  “Have some of ours,” Jake said, motioning to the buffet. “We have plenty, and friends of the station are always welcome. Especially friends who bring over cookies.”

  “Oh yeah? So you liked those, did you?” Maddie asked, a gleam in her eye.

  “Loved them,” Jake said with a smile. He’d always had a soft spot for Naomi’s little sister. She had been a sweet kid, and clearly grown into an even sweeter woman. “They were the best cookies I’ve ever had. God’s truth.”

  Maddie clapped her hands, clearly pleased. “Oh, good, I’m so glad. They’re my secret weapon.”

  “Maddie’s cookies could bring about world peace,” Naomi said. “If we could just get everyone to sit down and eat those cookies together, they’d see how perfect life is and never fight again.”

  Jake chuckled, taking note of the way Naomi’s eyes flicked uncertainly to his face at the sound. She was obviously expecting a repeat performance of the “Jake the Jerk” show, but he wasn’t going to give it to her. After lying awake most of Friday night, thinking back on the fool he’d made of himself, Jake had to admit that he hadn’t been civil the way he’d promised, and that was something he intended to remedy.

  “Jamison!” Ben shouted Jake’s brother’s name with the same unbridled enthusiasm that he’d shouted Mick Whitehouse’s, proving Ben had the alcohol tolerance of an insect and was already tipsy after one Bloody Mary.

  Jake lifted his beer in his brother’s direction by way of greeting. Jamison’s smile slipped when he saw who was standing next to Jake, but he recovered quickly, waving to Naomi and Maddie before clasping Ben’s uplifted hand and settling into conversation on the opposite side of the buffet.

  “All right, I’m going hunting for wings,” Maddie said, turning back to her sister. “You want to come with?”

  “No,” Naomi said, a tremble in her voice. “You go ahead. I’m going to wait and have a salad or something once we get a table.”

  “Salad on your day off?” Maddie wrinkled her nose. “Whatever floats your boat, sis, but I’m going for the good stuff.” As soon as Maddie stepped away to fetch a plate of wings, Jake shifted to face Naomi, turning his back on the rest of the party.

  “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about Friday night,” he said in a voice he hoped was soft enough not to be overheard by his coworkers, all of whom had been none-too-subtly inquiring as to why they hadn’t seen him at the fair. “You were right. I was being a grouch.”

  Naomi’s lips curved, but the ghost of a smile vanished quickly. “I want to apologize, too. I’m stubborn and bossy and I do want to control things. You were right and…I’m sorry we fought.”

  “Apology accepted,” Jake said, but Naomi still looked nervous, so he added, “and I hope you’ll accept mine, and my promise to be on my best behavior for our next date.”

  “Oh.” Naomi’s eyebrows lifted as her eyes flicked from Jake to the people gathered behind him and back again. “Okay. Apology accepted. I’m…I’m glad we’re good.”

  “You sound glad,” he said with a laugh, doing his best to lighten the moment. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m just surprised,” she said. “I didn’t think…I mean, I thought you were finished with me.” She winced. “With the dates, I mean. Finished with the dates.” She pulled in a deep breath, but didn’t look any calmer for it.

  Jake studied her over the rim of his glass as he took another drink of his beer. She was definitely anxious. He must have been an even bigger asshole than he’d thought, which meant a bigger apology was in order.

  “Listen,” he said, stepping close enough that he knew his words would stay between him and Naomi. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Friday night.”

  “You have?” She looked up, focusing her full attention on him for the first time since she walked into the room.

  Jake met her eyes—so clear and blue and bottomless a man could drown in them—and immediately knew why she’d been acting so weird. Naomi had sex eyes, the worst case he’d seen in years.

  Back when they were kids, he’d assumed sex eyes were a Naomi thing, that she was the only girl who got a certain telltale look that let him know what she wanted and how she wanted it. But as he’d gained experience, Jake had learned that most women had some version of sex eyes, though none as easy for him to read as Naomi’s.

  One look in Naomi’s eyes and he’d always known exactly what she wanted—sweet and easy, drawn out with lots of teasing, hard and fast with enough force that both of them were moaning in pleasure-pain by the time they were finished.

  Right now, she looked like she’d be up for all three, one right after the other.

  Jake swallowed—hard—and fought for control, refusing to acknowledge the swelling inside his jeans.

  Naomi wanted him. Big deal. He wanted her, too. They would probably always be attracted to each other, but that didn’t mean they had to act on it. In fact, that was the last thing he intended to do.

  And so he pretended not to read Naomi’s heated look and said—

  “I was thinking that there’s no rea
son we can’t be friendly.” He struggled to retain his focus as Naomi’s tongue slipped out to dampen her lips. “Like you said, if you’re going to make Summerville your home, I should get used to it. I don’t want to be a grouch every time we cross paths. I went to visit my wife’s grave today and—”

  “I’m so sorry.” Naomi’s hand flew to hover above her lips for a moment as her brows drew together. “Today’s the anniversary, isn’t it? I can’t believe it slipped my mind.”

  “It’s okay,” Jake said, meaning it. He wanted Jenny to be remembered for the way she lived, not the day she died. “Anyway, I had a long think, and realized Jenny wouldn’t have wanted me to be a grouch. She was very anti-grouch.”

  “From what I’ve read, she sounded wonderful,” Naomi said.

  Jake nodded. “She was. Never an unkind word out of her mouth.”

  Naomi smiled softly. “I’m glad you had her. You deserve someone great.”

  “Thanks.” Jake glanced down at the floor. This conversation was too close for comfort, but strangely, he was all right with it. “I tried to deserve her, anyway.”

  “I’m sure you—”

  “I’m back,” Maddie said brightly, cutting Naomi off as she returned with a plate full of wings. “I brought extra in case you two couldn’t resist. And extra napkins because when it comes to wings you can never have too many napkins.”

  “Or too much blue cheese dressing, apparently,” Jamison said, wandering up behind Maddie and casting a critical look at her plate. “That’s a lot of dressing, Whitehouse.”

  “I didn’t ask for your input, Hansen,” Maddie said, narrowing her eyes at Jamison.

  Jamison was two years older than Maddie and had teased the younger Whitehouse sister relentlessly when they were kids—a tradition he clearly intended to continue now that Maddie had moved back to Summerville.

  “Just trying to help,” Jamison said. “Didn’t you used to say salad dressing gave you zits?”

  “Ew,” Maddie said around a bite of buffalo wing. “I’m eating. Naomi, tell him to quit being gross while I’m eating.”

  “I don’t take orders from big sisters anymore,” Jamison said, turning his attention Naomi’s way. “What about you, Naomi? You think this is a good idea?”

  Naomi shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah, well…probably not,” she mumbled, running a hand through her hair. “You know, I should order a drink. Be right back.”

  Before Jake could offer to order something for her, she bolted, setting off at a clip that would have been more appropriate at a speed-walking race than a honky-tonk. And she didn’t stop when she reached the long bar, but kept going, past the bartender and on toward the stage, disappearing into the hallway leading to the restrooms.

  “Is she all right?” Jake asked, concerned.

  Maddie set her plate on a nearby table with a sigh and wiped her fingers with a napkin. “I’m sure she is, but I should go check on her.”

  “She’s a big girl,” Jamison said. “Surely she can go potty by herself.”

  “Of course she can,” Maddie said, rolling her eyes. “But there’s no harm in making sure she’s okay. That’s what sisters do.”

  “Just because you’re sisters doesn’t mean you have to put up with her shit.” Jamison cast a cold look toward the restrooms. “Naomi always was a drama queen.”

  Maddie turned on Jamison, all playfulness vanished from her voice when she said, “Now just wait a second. You don’t know anything about who Naomi is, Jamison Hansen, or what she’s been through. So why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself, and quit talking out of your ass.”

  Jamison’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened, but by the time he found his words, Maddie was already walking away.

  “Guess I said the wrong thing,” Jamison said with a loud exhale, accepting a beer from the waitress as she passed.

  A moment later Mick Whitehouse appeared beside them, a frown creasing his brow as he stared across the room in the direction his sisters had disappeared. “Are they okay?”

  Jamison shook his head. “I have no idea, man. Women confuse me. All I know is Naomi ran off first, and then Maddie followed a second later, after handing me my ass on a stick.”

  Mick scowled as he grabbed a buffalo wing from the plate Maddie had left behind. “All right. I’ll give them a few minutes and then go check on them if they don’t come out.”

  Jamison laughed. “You’re going to brave the ladies’ room?”

  Mick shrugged. “If I have to. They’ve both had a hard year. I want to be there for them. Even if it’s in the ladies’ restroom.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jamison raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

  Jake was about to tell his little brother it was none of their business, but Mick spoke first.

  “Maddie’s husband left her for a dude,” Mick said.

  Jamison winced. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, and then Naomi’s baby came too early,” Mick said with a weary sigh. “Grace only lived for a few hours, and the father didn’t even come to the funeral.”

  Mick’s eyes darkened with anger Jake completely understood. Jake wanted to go find the bastard who’d fathered Naomi’s baby himself. Right now. Find him, and smash his face in.

  What kind of monster didn’t attend his daughter’s funeral? What kind of partner left his devastated lover alone to deal with that kind of pain and loss?

  “They’ve both been so sad,” Mick continued, a helpless note creeping into his voice. “I thought some time out of the house, doing something other than work might make them feel better, but…I don’t know. I’m beginning to think Mom and Dad should come home. I don’t know if I can fix this by myself.”

  “It takes time,” Jake said, feeling for Mick. The kid was obviously trying his best to help his sisters, but he was too young to understand that some things couldn’t be fixed, even by the people you loved. “Everyone mourns in a different way. All you can do is be there to support them, and it’s obvious you’re already doing that.”

  Mick nodded. “I know, I just… It’s hard to see people you care about hurting and feel so helpless to make it better.”

  Jamison clapped Mick on the back. “You’re not helpless, man.” He set his beer on the table and threw his arm around the slightly shorter Mick’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go get the girls some drinks and have them waiting when they get back. They may be sad, but at least we can make sure they don’t stay sober.”

  Mick smiled. “We did come here for Bloody Marys.”

  “And you won’t be leaving without them,” Jamison said, starting toward the bar. “You need anything, Jake? Another beer?”

  Jake shook his head. He didn’t need another drink, and he doubted that’s what the Whitehouse sisters needed, either. Alcohol might numb the pain for a few hours, but Jake knew from experience that it didn’t do jack shit to help a person heal. Alcohol only helped you hide, and hiding never made anything better.

  The thought resonated inside of Jake, and for a moment, he swore he could hear Jenny’s voice in his head, telling him to take his own good advice.

  He had finally stopped hiding from his grief over losing his wife, but he was hiding from other things. He was hiding from the future, determined to keep his heart locked up tight so it could never be shattered the way it was when Jenny died ever again. He was hiding from hope, figuring it was better to assume he’d always be alone than to open himself up to disappointment.

  And lately, he’d been hiding from Naomi Whitehouse.

  He’d thought he was hiding from their painful past, but as he watched her emerge from the hallway, her arm around her sister’s waist and a determined-looking smile on her face, he realized the truth.

  He wasn’t hiding from what had been; he was hiding from things that could be. He was hiding from how much he wanted Naomi and, at the moment, how much he wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her how sorry he was that she’d lost her little girl. To tell her that she had deserved better than the assho
le who had fathered her baby and then left her to shoulder her grief alone. He wanted to hold her close and hug her tight and…let her in.

  The realization was sobering, banishing his hint of a beer buzz.

  What would happen if he stopped hiding, if he gave the feelings he still had for Naomi the opportunity to grow? What if he took her up on the invitation he’d seen in her eyes and took a chance on the woman the girl he’d once loved had become?

  It was a heady thought, but not an entirely terrifying one. There was still something between him and Naomi, an energy that sparked in the air between them every time they were together, and Jake knew from experience that it didn’t take much for a spark to become a flame.

  But before he fanned any flames, he had to be sure—one hundred percent sure.

  Jake set his beer down on the table and headed for the exit, suddenly needing a breath of fresh air, needing the space to think, to decide if he was ready to make Naomi part of his present, and maybe…his future.

  Chapter Eight

  Naomi took one whiff of the fragrant, deep-fried-turkey-scented air wafting from inside the VFW hall Friday night and wished she’d worn her control top underwear.

  Sure, they gave her a headache and judging by the shade of blue her toes turned after a night out in industrial strength, belly-squishing spandex, she was pretty sure they also cut off blood flow and might be causing mild organ damage, but who cared? What was proper blood circulation compared to the magic of being able to have seconds of turkey and dressing and still fit into her skin-tight black sheath dress?

  Her stomach fluttered, but Naomi knew it wasn’t hunger alone making her unsettled. Jake was late. Fifteen minutes late, which wasn’t like him.

  But then, he’d been acting strangely ever since Monday afternoon.

  First, he’d left the bar without saying good-bye—which wouldn’t have been a big surprise if he hadn’t been so sweet up to that point—abandoning her to drink Bloody Marys with Jamison, Mick, and Maddie. After she returned from the bathroom, Jamison had been civil, weirdly so, in fact, but Naomi’s nerves were already shot.