Close to Home

by Raney, Deborah;

  He shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to assume . . .”

  “No. It’s okay. I guess you sort of assumed right. I mean, we’re not enemies or anything, but . . . My parents have always been a little overprotective.”

  “It’s probably hard not to be with girls.”

  “Worse than that, I was an only child.”

  “Double whammy.”

  That made her smile. He liked making her smile.

  “It didn’t help when I married a Marine. And chose to live with his family rather than go home to Boonville.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. It didn’t go over very well. I guess I kind of get that now. But then when Tim was killed, they all but said, ‘we told you so.’ I guess that kind of put the nail in the coffin for me. I mean . . . how could they not see that he was a hero? And that it about killed me to lose him?”

  “Hurt people hurt people.”

  She eyed him. “I’ve heard Grant say that before.”

  He grinned. “I got it from my brother. Who probably heard Grant say it, too.”

  “It probably came from Winston Churchill or somebody originally.”

  “Sounds more like Dr. Phil to me.”

  She laughed. “Good point. And I’m not saying my thing with my parents isn’t partly my fault. It was just easier to be with Tim’s family when they knew what—who I was mourning. I needed them.”

  “They probably needed you too.” Why was he being so forward? But she didn’t seem offended by his defense of her parents—people he didn’t even know and had no right to judge.

  She nodded. “I think they did. For a lot of the same reasons. Of course, my mom was jealous of the relationship I had with Audrey. It was just too hard to deal with her issues when I was barely keeping my own head above water after Tim. It was just easier not to engage.” She shrugged again and shook her head as if she was shaking away the conversation.

  He tried to lighten things without changing the subject too abruptly. “So you’re an only, huh? You never had to share with brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope. I’m your quintessential spoiled rotten brat.”

  He laughed. “I doubt that. And actually, it seems like you kind of have built-in siblings here.” He motioned toward the house the way she had earlier.

  “I do.” She beamed. “I always wanted brothers and sisters, and Tim’s family just . . . embraced me. It’s hard to describe.”

  “You don’t have to describe it. It’s pretty obvious. Watching you guys together.”

  “I’m glad. That it shows, I mean. They’re a pretty great family.”

  He scuffed the toe of his shoe in the gravel. He wanted to ask about the friend from work—who he suspected was a boyfriend—but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to that question yet. But he was in so deep already, what the hey . . .? “So . . . Is that guy—Aaron, is it?”

  She didn’t answer, but waited, her head tilted to one side.

  “Are you guys, like, together?”

  “We . . . we’re friends. Good friends. I guess you could say we’re dating. Just recently.”

  He thought she looked a little panicked.

  “That’s okay. No biggie. Just . . . thought I’d ask.” He took a step backward, but immediately moved toward her again. He could kick himself for not making a move sooner. Of course, what did he have to offer a woman right now? Still, he had to be sure. “So I guess that means you’re—off limits?” He’d had half a dozen serious girlfriends in his life. Dallas had accused him of being somewhat of a ladies’ man. But he had never sweated asking a woman out like he was with her right now.

  It never seemed like it mattered this much.

  “Oh, man, Drew . . .” Bree wrinkled her nose, which only made her look cuter. “Um . . . I guess . . . I sort of am. Off limits, I mean.”

  He took another step back, clearing his throat. Now, he just wanted to get the heck out of Dodge. He cocked his head toward the Accord. “I’d probably better go. You . . . you have to work tomorrow. Me too,” he said quickly. “Grant wants me out here at seven so we can get a jump on the heat.”

  “I don’t blame him. It’s still hot. Muggy . . .” She fanned herself with one hand.

  He took two steps toward his car. “Well . . . Good talking to you. See you around maybe?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” She hiked her purse up on her shoulder and moved toward her car.

  He felt more deflated than he should have. That hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped. But it’d gone the way he figured it would. And really, the only way it could until he figured out what he was going to do about getting himself gainfully employed.

  18

  Hey, Aaron?” Bree peeked around the corner of his cubicle. “Are you about ready to go? Sallie wanted us there by nine for a walk-through.” She looked pointedly at the office clock. She’d reminded him twice already. Now they only had fifteen minutes to get there, and the venue was the Show Me Center, the arena on the university campus, where parking was always an issue.

  “Hang on . . . I’m just about to knock out this survey.”

  She stared at him. “Seriously. You’re taking a survey? We need to be on the road now. Ten minutes ago, actually.”

  “Not taking a survey. Creating one. Remember? Sallie approved that at our last planning meeting. She thought it was a great idea.”

  “I don’t think she meant in place of working the actual events.”

  He shot her an annoyed look and closed the program, then shut down his computer. “You don’t have to get snarky about it.”

  “I wasn’t being snarky. You can create all the surveys you want, but if you’re slacking on the actual event, I don’t think you’re going to be very happy with the results of your surveys.”

  He stuffed the thick logistics timeline notebook for their event into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go. Are you always this practical? Because that could get annoying really fast.”

  She laughed. But speaking of annoying, he took the prize. “I just know who’s going to end up getting stuck with the clients you’re ignoring while you play with your stupid little surveys. Not to mention, if we’re late Sallie will have our heads.”

  “Fine. Come on then. I’ll drive. I’m parked in back.” He strode past her and headed for the rear door.

  She hurried back to her own cubicle and grabbed her things. When she got to Aaron’s car, he was tapping the steering wheel as if he’d been waiting on her forever.

  She climbed in. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

  “We have plenty of time, you know. Sallie always allows way too much lead time, and then you end up sitting there waiting for the organizers to show up before you can even do anything. Or worse, waiting for someone to come and unlock the venue.”

  He was right, of course. But that didn’t make it appropriate for him to brush aside Sallie’s request about their arrival time. “So you’re making the rules now, is that it? Wow, I didn’t know you got a promotion.”

  He stared at her. “Are you just trying to start a fight?”

  “No, I—” She made a face. “I guess it just would have been nice if you’d informed me that you had no intention of doing what our boss asked.”

  He matched her expression. “What is your deal? Are you mad at me about something?”

  “No. I’m not mad. Please, drive.” She glared at him. Was she mad? She didn’t have any good reason to be. Not really. “It’s just frustrating when I’m trying to follow the rules and you’re off freelancing doing whatever you feel like, never mind what our boss instructed us to do.”

  “Well, excuse me.” He pulled out of the parking lot, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. “I had no idea you felt such loyalty to doing things Sallie Wilkes’s way. Duly noted.”

  “Aaron . . .” He was giving her the fight he’d accused her of trying to start. “Are we having our first fight?”

  “You tell
me. You started it.” He sneered.

  “I’m sorry.” She reached across the console and put a hand on his arm, but he flinched. She quickly removed her hand. “I shouldn’t have said anything, Aaron. Please forgive me.”

  “So what is the deal?” His tone softened a little. “Why are you in such a foul mood?”

  “I guess I’m just nervous about . . . You know. The whole office romance thing. I need my job. I just don’t want to give Sallie any reason to can one of us.”

  He brightened. “Oh, so you’re worried about something coming between us? Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” He grabbed her hand and held it, stroking his thumb over hers. “Nobody is going to get canned.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “Hey now . . .” She affected a teasing tone and pulled her hand away. “No PDAs. That was the rule, remember?”

  They’d barely been dating two weeks and she was starting to feel a little pressured by him. Not for anything wrong exactly. He’d only kissed her that once. But it was clear he wanted to again, and their dates were starting to feel like an uncomfortable game of keep-away, with him inching closer and closer and her pulling away, not wanting it to happen. Not yet. It felt too soon. Too much.

  She felt bad because she knew he was doing everything he could to honor her desire to go at a snail’s pace. Because of Tim.

  And yet she wasn’t sure anymore if it was Tim that made her so hesitant. She’d told Aaron it was Tim. And then she’d said it was the whole idea of dating a coworker. But were either of those things really what made her so hesitant to embrace her relationship with Aaron? Yes, she did feel a bit uncomfortable at work when he flirted with her in front of others in the office. She never liked public displays of affection, even with Tim.

  But then, they didn’t work that closely with the other event planners in the office. Often it was just the two of them in the office. But even then, she didn’t like him hovering over her, working, she knew, toward that next kiss. A small shudder went through her at the thought.

  What was wrong with her?

  The arena came into view and Aaron slowed the car. The parking lot was already crowded.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “Since you were, ahem, right, I’ll drop you off and park the car. Is your phone turned on?”

  She held it up as proof, trying not to look too smug.

  “Okay, smarty-pants. Meet you inside.” He winked. “You look cute, by the way.”

  She looked down at her slim black skirt and sleeveless silk blouse. Comfortable, yet dressy. Her usual event “uniform” for all but the fanciest galas. Feeling cute, she smoothed her skirt, grabbed her bag, and climbed out of the car.

  Taking the steps to the main entrance two at a time, she felt the adrenaline start to kick in. She’d always liked this part of her job. Those moments before an event began, when anything could go wrong—and usually did—but nothing she couldn’t fix. And that was where she really shone. She could always find a solution for a delayed speaker, or a missing award plaque, or a menu snafu.

  If only she had a solution for her Aaron problem. But a person had to know what the problem was before they could fix it. And she didn’t have a clue.

  * * *

  Drew’s phone buzzed in his pocket and from his perch on the ladder, he fished it out. Grant waited on a ladder adjacent to him, his expression curious.

  “Sorry, man. I need to take this. It looks like that company in St. Louis I was telling you about.”

  “You go ahead.” Grant waved him off and began to descend the adjacent ladder. “I need a break anyway.”

  Drew remained on his ladder perch against the southeast side of the cottage. Ostensibly because they’d discovered cell service was better the higher you got. Mostly because he didn’t want Grant to overhear his conversation. Not that Grant didn’t know he was looking for a full-time position or that he cared how much he knew. In fact, he’d probably tell him everything once he hung up, ask his advice even.

  But he’d come to care a lot what Grant thought. Maybe too much. And he didn’t want to be judged on his interview skills, which left plenty to be desired.

  He pressed Answer. “This is Drew Brooks.”

  “Mr. Brooks, this is Garret Harport at Vineguard Manufacturing in St. Louis.”

  “Yes, sir. Good to hear from you.”

  “I hope you received my message?”

  “I did.”

  “We’d like to set up an interview next week for the sales position you applied for.”

  “That sounds great.” Good. It didn’t sound like he’d get grilled on the phone. “And will this be an in-person interview? At your offices?”

  “That’s right. We do have a couple of other candidates we’re interviewing as well, but we’ve narrowed it down to three.”

  They set up a time and Drew hung up, feeling pretty confident about his chances of getting the job. The position was similar to what he’d done at Critchfield, but it was a much larger company. And it sounded like something he’d enjoy.

  But St. Louis? He wasn’t so sure about that.

  Smiling, he waved the phone at Grant. “I’ve got an interview!”

  “Hey, that’s great. As long as you tell ’em you can’t start till we get this house built.” Grant started back up the ladder.

  Drew knew Grant was kidding. He’d already made it clear that he fully expected to lose Drew from his crew before the cottage was finished. Drew hated to disappoint him. And hated to leave the job without seeing the finished product. No, not just seeing it. But being a part of it.

  He felt a ton of pride in what they’d accomplished. It had been amazing to see the structure he was touching now rise from an empty meadow over just a few short weeks.

  And he was grateful for the work. For a little income while he looked for a “real” job. Grant had been more than generous, considering that Drew wasn’t a natural at construction by any stretch of the imagination. He didn’t dare ask Grant how much his mistakes had cost the project. Yet Grant had patiently taught him the ropes. And every day he made fewer mistakes. Learned something new. Things he could use if he ever had a home of his own. Shoot, maybe he’d build himself a house someday.

  He went back to hammering beside Grant. First things first. He needed an income he could live on, and this wasn’t it.

  19

  Now remind me again why you had to pick me up so all-fired early.” CeeCee fiddled with the seatbelt on the passenger side of Bree’s car.

  “I have some news I want to share with you and Grant and Audrey before everyone else gets there.”

  “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say it involves your young man you brought with you a while back. Darren, wasn’t it?”

  “Aaron.” Bree corrected, grinning. Maybe no one would be as surprised as she thought. “Don’t jump to any conclusions though. We’re not getting married or anything.”

  CeeCee looked mildly disgusted with her. “Well, then what’s to tell?”

  “I just didn’t want people to find out about it on Facebook.”

  “Oh? So it’s Facebook official now?”

  “CeeCee! How do you even know that term? You are so tech savvy!” She laughed. “Social Media Mama!”

  “Well, now, I’m afraid you’re going to have to define tech savvy and social whatever-that-was-you-said for me, but I do know a thing or two. My bridge club is a wealth of information, just in case you thought we only play cards when we get together.”

  That made her laugh again, delighted that CeeCee seemed so much herself today. “Maybe I should take up bridge, you think?”

  CeeCee patted her knee. “When you’re seventy. Maybe even sixty-five. Right now, you have more important things to do with your life. Starting with a certain Aaron . . . What’d you say his last name was?”

  “Jakes.”

  “Ah. Bree Jakes. That has a nice ring to it. Or are you going to be one of those modern women who keeps her name?”
<
br />   “Oh, we aren’t even close to talking about marriage, CeeCee. Please don’t give anyone the wrong impression. I’m . . . really not even sure Aaron is the one for me.”

  “Well, why would you make it Facebook official if he wasn’t?”

  Good question. “I guess . . .” She shrugged. “That’s just the way it’s done now.”

  She frowned and looked at Bree over her bifocals. “That may be the way it’s done, but that doesn’t make it right. Or smart.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why would you invest one day of your short life on someone you don’t think is ‘the one’?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t think he’s the one. I said I’m not sure. There’s a difference.” Wasn’t there? “But you’re probably right. Although I do think most people understand that just because you are ‘in a relationship’ ”—she drew quotation marks in the air with her fingers—“doesn’t mean it will lead to marriage.”

  CeeCee harrumphed. “Sounds like a waste of time to me.”

  The idea got an equally enthusiastic reception with Audrey and Grant a few minutes later.

  “I’m happy for you, dear,” Audrey said, seeming preoccupied with the tacos she was putting together. “I thought he seemed like a nice guy. You’ll invite him here again?”

  It sounded less like a warm invitation, and more like she wanted fair warning.

  Grant hadn’t said anything yet but apparently felt obligated now. “Have your parents met him? I bet they’re excited.”

  She shrugged. She seemed to be doing a lot of shrugging tonight. “Not yet. But I told them about him. My mom’s pretty busy with a class she’s taking so we didn’t get to talk too long.” Ten minutes to be exact. And for at least four of that, her mother was multitasking, searching online for a research book for her class and giving Bree a boring play-by-play of the hunt.

  “Have your parents come and stay here some weekend,” Grant said. “Our treat, of course. We’ve been wanting to have them for ages. And it would give them a chance to spend some time with this Aaron fellow. Jakes? Is that right?”