He leaned his forearms on the counter and rested his chin on them. “Dare a guy hope that you might have missed me even a little?” His cologne, a mixture of spice and sport, reached out to taunt her.
She flicked him the briefest of looks, then typed “just ignore him” again. “Where have you been?” The words emerged with a lot more ice dripping from them than she’d intended.
But he didn’t seem fazed. He reached over the counter to lift her gaze to his and grinned at her. “You have missed me.”
His scrutiny slipped over her face in a way that made her heart beat against the constraint of her ribs.
She couldn’t let him know just how much she’d missed him. Because the reality of it terrified her a little. And admitting to it might give it more power, which would give him more power. She really needed to be careful. Because despite his denial of it, a guy like Jett, good looking and wealthy, had to be used to women throwing themselves at his feet. Maybe she was only of interest to him because so far she’d managed to keep herself from doing just that.
She pressed her lips together and pulled her chin back from the gentle caress of his thumb. “I have to finish these entries tonight.”
He let her go and relaxed into his casual pose, chin once more resting on his folded arms. His hair was flat on top, and indented around the sides. And he looked like he hadn’t shaved for a couple days. But if anything, that heightened his attractiveness. He still looked much too good. Her resolve to ignore him deteriorated under the onslaught of his continued scrutiny.
She pushed away from her desk and looked up as she leaned back in her chair. Dare she ask him why he’d been so moody for the past few days?
As if reading her thoughts, he stood and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and head. “Listen…I owe you an apology.”
Her brow furrowed. She hadn’t expected that. “You do?”
“Yeah. So here’s the thing… One of the first calls I got after I got injured was from a high school there in Florida. They wanted to know if I’d consider coaching for their football team this fall.”
“Okay.” Salem still wasn’t sure she understood why he felt the need to apologize, or how this related to it.
“Then, soon after, I got a call from a friend—out here in Seattle, actually—who wanted me to help him coach a game for a charity fundraiser. I declined both offers in no uncertain terms.” He shrugged. “My career was over. I didn’t want to prolong the heartache. Coaching the sport I’ve loved for so many years just seemed like rubbing salt in a wound.”
Salem could see how he might feel that way. She nodded for him to continue.
“So when the pastor mentioned that Riversong needed a football coach I cringed, halfway expecting you to volunteer my help.”
Salem started to shake her head, but he held up a hand for her to let him finish.
“Then when you didn’t, I was hurt and a little miffed that you hadn’t.” His lips twisted into a wry smile as he met her disbelieving look. “I know.”
“I didn’t volunteer your help because you seem to value your privacy. I just figured…you probably wanted to stay away from anything football.”
“I understand. And I honestly appreciate that you’ve kept quiet about who I am. I’ve just been…a little crazy in the head ever since my injury.” He tapped his temple with another sardonic grin.
Salem smiled at his self-evaluation.
“Anyhow, I’ve spent the last three days praying and hiking and trying to figure myself out. And it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that while God might be done with me playing football, He’s certainly not done using me in football. So I made a call today to my friend who wanted me to help him coach. We’ll see where it goes from there. But I know I’ve been a bit prickly the past few days. So I wanted to apologize.”
“Thank you, but there was no need.” Had Dale ever apologized to her in all the years she’d known him?
“So are you saying you hadn’t noticed?”
She grinned at him. “A porcupine is hard to miss.”
He chuckled. “Porcupine is probably a good assessment. So you did miss my charm, just a little?”
Salem scooted closer to her desk and once more picked up the receipt she’d already tried to enter twice. “I really should get back to work.”
The twinkle in his eyes said he knew she was full-on avoiding his question. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into taking Gran on a drive with me tomorrow?”
Salem blinked. Why had she not thought about taking Gran on a drive? Gran would probably enjoy a change of scenery just as much as Salem would.
“I’m looking for a few good fishing holes. I was hoping maybe you knew a few?”
“I think that’s a really good idea, actually. I think she’d love it. Her favorite place in town is the Golden Loaves. It’s a bakery that serves pastries in the morning and sandwiches and soup for lunch and dinner. We could go there for lunch and then do a little driving? My dad was a big fisherman, so I know a few holes around here.”
“Perfect!” He bumped the little bell on the counter with his fist. “I’ll let you get back to your work. Don’t stay up too late, Angel. I’d hate to find you sound asleep on the desk come morning.”
Salem squinched her nose at him.
He laughed and headed toward his room, his athletic strut barely making a sound against the stone tiles.
Salem pressed her lips together and tried to ignore the void his departure left.
Salem prodded Gran out the front door and locked it behind them. Thankfully Gran was having an energetic day. Jett already waited for them with Salem’s car, which he’d pulled up right in front of the main doors so Gran wouldn’t have far to walk.
Salem nudged Gran forward and kept pace close behind her in case she lost her balance. The short cobbled walkway might be pretty, but it was not very kind to those unsteady on their feet.
As they approached, Jett opened the passenger door with a flourish and grandly gestured a bow to Gran.
Gran chuckled as she tottered forward and angled herself so that she could lower into the seat. “Oh, do get on with you, Howard.”
Salem felt the words like a gut punch. Her gaze darted to Jett. He didn’t seem fazed by the fact that her grandmother had just called him the name of her departed husband, but Salem was suddenly comparing Jett to her grandfather and realizing there were indeed quite a few similarities. The humor that so often danced close to the surface whenever Jett was around. The perpetual twinkle in those flirty eyes. The way he somehow made people feel easy, like they belonged and had known him all their lives. She forced her attention to helping Gran get settled in her seat.
Jett folded his arms across the top of the door and smiled down at Gran. “Think nothing of it, beautiful lady.”
Gran tittered and threw her hands over her face like a teen with her first crush.
Salem smirked. She had a feeling Gran had just blushed to the roots of her hair, even though she couldn’t see her face at the moment. Grabbing the seatbelt, she tilted Jett a look and whispered, “Flirt.”
He grinned unrepentantly and leaned further over the door to whisper back, “Maybe I am flirting. But it’s not with Gran.”
Salem felt her brows lift. Her stomach did a little dip. She quickly focused on helping Gran get strapped in, but when she stood to move around the car toward the driver’s seat, Jett was right behind her. He had one hand on Gran’s open door, and one hand on the roof, effectively trapping her, yet there was no threat in his stance. His unrepentant smile was still in place. “Would it be so unwelcome?”
She poked his sternum and did her best to narrow her eyes at him. “It would be pointless. You live in Florida. I live in Washington.” She had a feeling the smile that snuck onto her lips without permission took most of the sting from the words.
He stepped back, his grin growing. “We’ll see. His hand on the rear passenger door handle, he winked at her, and then slipped into the back seat, s
hutting himself away with a firm click.
Salem realized she was still standing frozen to the spot, and lurched into motion, giving her head a shake. There were so many reasons why getting into another relationship right now was not a good idea. She needed time heal after the damage Dale had done to her heart, and she knew this was too soon. And yet… She slid into her seat and her gaze involuntarily flicked to the rearview mirror.
Warm gray-blue eyes met her perusal, a twinkle shimmering in their depths.
“Do let’s go, Salem. A body could starve to death sitting here.” Gran fidgeted irritably.
There was no point in getting offended, so Salem chuckled. “Yes, Gran.”
She turned the key and pulled out of the driveway.
Golden Loaves sat at one end of Main Street with a towering mountain peak simply called The Summit behind it.
Salem leaned forward to peer at it through the front windshield. “Look, Gran, no snow. Summer must finally be here.”
From the backseat, Jett snorted.
Salem grinned at him in the mirror and then grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car. By the time she got around to Gran’s side of the vehicle, Jett was already helping Gran from her seat.
“There you go!” he encouraged her. “Nicely done. Now how about one of your favorite sandwiches from Golden Loaves?”
Gran’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, I love Golden Loaves!”
“So I’ve been told.” Jett smiled kindly at her and offered her his elbow.
Salem felt a warm wash of appreciation for the man. Had Dale ever taken time to pay attention to Gran? Much less treat her with such tender kindness?
Jett led Gran slowly up the ramp, and Salem stayed behind to close Gran’s door. She didn’t bother locking the car. In Riversong there was no need. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a robbery.
She paused with a wistful smile and watched Jett escort Gran for a moment. She found herself thinking a lot of “if onlys” lately. If only Gran had good days like this one more often. If only Jett didn’t live so far away. If only he wasn’t heading home in just a few short weeks.
With a little huff of frustration, Salem adjusted her purse on her shoulder and followed up the ramp to the front door of the bakery.
There was no point in living in a dream world. Riversong was her reality. She didn’t belong in Jett’s world any more than he belonged in hers. But if there was one thing good that came from his time here in Riversong, it might be the gift of realizing that not all men were like Dale Schmidt.
CHAPTER 10
Jett held the door for Gran, warning her about the slight bump at the threshold. He glanced back to Salem, and stilled. “What’s wrong?”
She seemed to give herself a little shake and purposefully composed her features. “Hmmm?” Her brows lifted. “Nothing.” She hurried inside before he could question her further.
Jett scrubbed a finger over his jaw as he followed her into the room that looked like an antique mall and a bread shop had experienced a head-on collision. He’d thought this outing into town with Gran might be helpful and encouraging to Salem. But maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
“Why if it isn’t Maude Finn!” the middle-aged woman behind the counter exclaimed.
Gran chuckled but then clutched at her broach, fear creasing the lines of her face. “Do I know you?”
The woman who had rushed out from behind the counter with the clear intention of wrapping Gran in a hug got a bit misty-eyed, and stumbled to a stop. “Oh yes, hon. You do. You went to the old elementary school out on Rosewood with my mother, Helen Field. It’s me, Jonie.”
“Jonie!” Gran’s face perked up. “Well why didn’t you say so.” Gran pulled the woman close for a hug.
Salem’s smile was pensive as she watched them together.
Seeing that the situation seemed to be in hand, Jett touched her elbow. He leaned close so he could speak quietly while Jonie and Gran chatted. “Listen, if this is stressing you out, we can go right back to the B&B.” She swung to face him, the sweep of her blond curls leaving the scent of vanilla and something floral tantalizing his senses.
Salem studied him, her brow slumped quizzically. “No, I think this is nice. Really. Thank you for suggesting it. What makes you ask?”
It was his turn to be puzzled. “Just seems like something is bothering you?”
Salem laid one hand on his arm and gave him a little squeeze. “We’d better order if we are going to find you those good fishing holes at some point today.” With that she stepped around Gran—a clear dismissal—and set her purse on the little counter by the register.
Jonie took the hint that she should be serving them and not chatting and started to resume her place at the register.
Before she could go more than a step, Jett touched her arm and surreptitiously pressed his credit card into her palm, mouthing, “My treat today.” A tip of his head indicated Salem, who was already digging out her own money with her back still to them.
Jonie gave him a little nod and a wink.
Gran’s hands found her brooch once again. She spun in a half circle, her gaze darting around the room as though she was trying to figure out where she was.
Jett stepped up and touched her elbow. There was a table only a couple steps away. “How about we sit right here while Salem orders for us?”
Gran accepted his help to the table, and admired the mural of a man fly fishing in hip waders painted on the tabletop beneath the glass protector. “Oh, this looks like the tables at the Golden Loaves. Isn’t that lovely?”
Jett heard Salem loose a little sigh, but only smiled at Gran and helped her take a seat. “It is lovely.” He sat next to her and tapped the man in the river. “I’m going to be doing some of that here before you know it.”
Gran smiled and rocked forward and back, her eyes misting as she looked at the painting. “That’s my Howard. He should be home soon. We should order him a sandwich.”
“It’s okay, Gran.” Salem didn’t even miss a beat. “Grandpa doesn’t need a sandwich.”
“Oh.” Gran looked a little deflated. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. Do you want a BLT today?”
“BLT’s are good.” Gran smiled.
Salem’s face softened. “One BLT for Gran,” she said to Jonie. “And…Jett?” She glanced at him, waiting for him to order.
He studied the menu on the board along the back wall for a moment. “How about roast beef and a strawberry shake?”
Jonie rang that in, and Salem ordered a Cobb salad.
When Salem tried to hand over her card to pay, Jonie gave her a wink. “Sorry, hon. He got you beat this time.” She tipped her head toward Jett, held up the card he’d given her a moment earlier, and processed the payment.
Salem narrowed her eyes in his direction.
He grinned unrepentantly and lifted his hands. “My invitation. My treat.”
“Well…” She slipped her own card back into her wallet and brought him his, along with the receipt. “Next time it’s on me.”
Yeah, like that’s going to happen. But he only offered, “We’ll see.” He accepted his card and the receipt and stuffed them both into his wallet.
Salem tried to hurry through her salad when she noticed that Jett had already consumed his meal and sat waiting on her and Gran. The bulk of her time had been spent helping Gran with her BLT, instead of eating her salad.
Another impetus to hurry was the fact that Gran was getting anxious and teary. The crying stints had started recently. Gran would set to crying for no apparent reason, and nothing Salem did seemed to comfort her. This time she kept muttering something about needing to find eggs.
Sometimes Salem could identify what had triggered an episode of confusion, but today she had no idea why Gran was suddenly so set on needing eggs. She lowered her voice and kept her tone as soothing as possible. “It’s okay, Gran. We all have sandwiches. No one needs eggs.”
Gran shuffled her hands across th
e tabletop, her movements growing sharp, a sure sign that she was about to start crying in earnest. “The chickens got out. No pie.” Gran rocked in disconcertion.
Pie? Salem was at a loss. “Do you want a piece of pie, Gran?”
“No eggs!” Gran practically sobbed, her agitated fingers plucking at her brooch as she rocked forward and back.
Jonie hovered behind the counter, trying to look busy wiping things down. But the look of sheer sympathy in her countenance said she could overhear every word.
Salem set her plastic bowl to one side, concern making her wish she had a better solution. But the only resolution would be to get Gran home and give her a dose of the meds her doctor had prescribed for times like this. She gave Jett an apologetic look. “I think it might be best if we just took her home.”
Jett’s gaze dipped to Salem’s nearly full salad bowl. His hand darted out and captured one of Gran’s. “Don’t worry, Maude. Howard doesn’t need any pie.” He shrugged at Salem and made a face that said he was shooting in the dark just as much as she was.
As though a blanket of peace had been dropped over her, Gran stilled.
Salem held her breath.
Gran blinked at Jett. “You don’t?”
Jett smiled and gave Gran a wink. “Sure don’t. I just ate one of the best sandwiches I’ve had in a long time.” He nudged Salem’s salad back in front of her.
Gran relaxed against her seat, but didn’t release Jett’s hand. “It was a good sandwich, wasn’t it?”
“One of the best I’ve had.” Jett smiled over at Jonie, who blushed to the roots of her hair.
Salem withheld a roll of her eyes and dug into her salad once more.
Gran loosed a breath. “We should fix the coop.” She started to rock again. “It’s bad. Bad. Sad.”
Jett leaned down and caught Gran’s gaze with his own. “All the chickens are safe.”
To Salem’s horror, Gran leaned toward Jett and bared her teeth, emitting a growl. “You always say that!” Gran yanked her hand from Jett’s grip.
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