"Such a sweet man." Jordyn didn't worry about her father or brothers, she moved in, her arms going around his waist as she rested her cheek just above his heart. "I won't come back."
The hell with prying eyes, Murphy brushed his lips across Jordyn's forehead.
"I know."
"Not because I don't want to." Stepping back, she took Murphy's hand. "But because I do. So very much."
Jordyn didn't give Murphy a chance to answer. If she had, what would he have said? I'm here anytime you want me? For her sake—and the promise he'd made her father—they were words he could never speak. Instead, he watched as she walked to the truck, and pulled herself into the front seat. Without a backward glance.
Slowly—almost tauntingly—the truck rolled down the road and finally, out of sight.
"All alone again." Murphy lifted the puppy with one hand. "I have you to keep me company, don't I? Jordyn's gone. But at least she left me you."
CHAPTER EIGHT
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SIX WEEKS LATER
JORDYN PLACED THE last jar of exfoliating cream on the shelf with a sigh of satisfaction. She'd performed the task hundreds of times, but today was different. In a little more than two weeks, a new branch of her beauty boutiques was set to open in a prime downtown Seattle location. She'd coveted the corner space for years. However, something always stood in her way.
Money was Jordyn's first obstacle. Prime location meant a sizable rent. When she first started out, she poured every dime back into her business. She never had enough in her bank account to justify the expense.
Then, when she found herself flush with cash, the store was already occupied. Patience and perseverance were hallmarks of any successful entrepreneur. And Jordyn had been blessed with both qualities. In spades. She kept her eyes open, her ear to the real estate grapevine and finally, the place was hers.
The sign over the door—tasteful, yet prominent—contained a single word. Periwinkle. A light shade of blue with a touch of lavender thrown in. Her mother's favorite color. And—perfectly—the name of Jordyn's business.
Periwinkle had been Jordyn's dream for as long as she could remember. The name came much later. As did the precise products she would sell. But the need to run her own business? To never let anybody be the boss of her? A family trait, such ideas came as naturally as breathing.
Jordyn had learned at her father's knee. He started Kraig's Hardware from scratch when he was eighteen. Now, one small neighborhood store had been turned into thriving ones. With the help of her two oldest brothers, he'd expanded to cover Washington, Idaho, and Oregon. Plans were in the works to go national.
As a teenager, Jordyn worked in the flagship store, absorbing every detail. The nuts and bolts—so to speak of how to run a business. No job was below her. She did everything from inventory to cleaning the restroom—a gag-worthy endeavor, but necessary.
By then, Jordyn's dreams had grown and solidified. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to achieve her goals. Out of her tomboy stage, she'd discovered the joys of the girly side of womanhood. Lotions and creams and everything in between. She loved to experiment with scents and textures, her bedroom dresser soon became crowded with jars, bottles, and tubes in every size and shape.
However, Jordyn wasn't interested in making the products herself. She focused on finding the best local artisans. Masters of chemical compounds. People who knew just the right combination of ingredients to make a woman—and a man—feel their best.
Unlike her father, Jordyn didn't begin her journey toward world domination with a brick and mortar store. She used the tool of her generation. The internet. She researched and plotted. Sweated the details. Then started over, going over everything again until she had what she thought was the perfect business plan.
With a few changes along the way—from tweaks to major overhauls—Jordyn found her foothold in an already crowded market. Her niche? She only carried exclusive, never before seen products.
At first, Jordyn stayed local. The best of the Pacific Northwest. Now, her reach was global. Last year, she traveled to South America for a lip balm, Europe for an elbow cream, and Canada for a lotion that made feet silky smooth and soft.
All these years later, Jordyn and Periwinkle were a certified, unequivocal success. Not quite beyond her wildest dreams. Her dreams could get pretty crazy. But close. And still growing by the day.
"New shipment of Periwinkle boxes, bags, and ribbons just arrived," Raina Patel told Jordyn as she came out of the storage room, a medium-sized cardboard box in her arms.
Raina had managed Jordyn's first store in Bellingham. In her early thirties, she dressed with a flair for fashion without ever looking like she tried too hard to follow the latest fly-by-night celebrity styles. Raina wore her dark hair in a short bob, her makeup was minimal yet impeccable. She was smart, outgoing, and media savvy with sharp brown eyes that saw every detail and missed nothing.
Jordyn sometimes lamented there weren't four more just like Raina to be found. However, the woman—her employee and good friend—was one of a kind. And irreplaceable. Luckily, Raina personally trained her replacement at the other store, giving the woman her stamp of approval.
Onward and upward, Raina—with a sizable raise she more than deserved—was excited to make the downtown Periwinkle a raging success.
"Let's see." Rubbing her hands together, Jordyn opened the box.
All the company's wrapping materials sported the same distinctive color. Periwinkle blue, naturally. As did the ribbons the sales clerks used to tie up each purchase. The store's logo, the letter P entwined with periwinkle flowers. Too much? Nope. In the branding world handbook, the word overkill did not exist.
The only difference from store location to store location was a small set of letters at the base of the logo. B for Bellingham. And for downtown, an interlocking D, and T. Online, Jordyn stuck to the unaltered, original design.
"They're perfect," Jordyn declared after inspecting each item carefully.
Raina nodded, her signature ruby-tinted lips curving with pleasure. "The new printer is fast, their work impeccable, and with our bulk orders, they've given us a sizable discount compared to the last company we used."
"I agree. On all counts. Go ahead and place an order for our projected six-month needs. If they come through the way we hope, we have our new printers."
Alone once more, Jordyn took a moment to simply breathe. Time was a paradox she would never understand. Now that she was in the homestretch of something she'd wanted for so long, the days seemed to speed by. Yet the minutes and hours dragged interminably.
Suddenly, a wave of fatigue washed over Jordyn, her endless tank of energy near empty. For the past six weeks, she'd gone non-stop with little time for anything but work, hastily consumed and prepared meals, and—if she were lucky—a few hours of restless sleep. Her body was happy to shut down every night, but her brain wasn't as cooperative.
What had she forgotten? Was the time right to expand? What if this… What if that… She might make the store grand opening without going mad, but the margin for error narrowed daily.
Excitement and anticipation. Endless details running on a non-stop loop. And now and then when her defenses were down, a certain bearded man with crystal-clear blue eyes invaded her thoughts, and for a few minutes, she indulged herself and thought about Murphy.
What was he doing? Had he finished her painting? Did he look at her image and wish for one more hour together? Jordyn hoped so. Because she did.
Silently, Jordyn groaned, running a hand over her face. She didn't regret the time she spent with Murphy. The memories were strong. Blindingly intense. However, she knew as the days and months passed, his face would begin to fade.
As would the feeling late at night that she could almost feel Murphy's touch. His kiss. His body next to hers. But when she reached out, half asleep, he was never there. And, he never would be.
And then, Jordyn woul
d smile, hugging herself close. Murphy. A strong, sexy, loving man who hadn't had time to annoy or disappoint. And the same could be said for her.
The perfect romance. One, if she were smart, Jordyn would let it stay in the past. But she couldn't help thinking about dropping in on him again. One night? Or two? Every now and then? What harm could the occasional booty call do? Friends with benefits? A chance to see Murphy's killer smile once in a while? And his equally gorgeous body? And the blue of his crystal-clear eyes? And—?
"Stop," Jordyn shouted to the empty room. Like hitting the brakes on her brand-spanking-new, decked-out SUV, she put a screeching halt to her wayward thoughts with one firm mental shake. "Go home. Get something to eat. And get to sleep at a normal hour. And for the love of all that's holy and good, find somebody to talk to other than yourself."
As if on cue, Jordyn's phone lit up. She smiled when the familiar ringtone, You've Got a Friend, reached her ears. Without hesitation, she answered.
"Blue."
"Jordyn."
One word from her life-long best friend and Jordyn felt her bunched muscles relax.
"How did you know I needed to hear from you?"
"Problems?" In a snap, Blue's tone changed from light and breezy to concerned and ready to do whatever was necessary.
"A slight case of pre-opening nerves. Have I made a huge mistake? Will I go broke? Humiliation for me? And my family? You know, the usual."
Blue chuckled. "When have you ever come close to failing at anything you really wanted? And don't say pitch for a major league team."
As she bit her lip to keep herself from saying exactly what Blue had predicted, Jordyn wondered if she had become too predictable. Or—and she liked her alternative scenario better—her best friend knew her so well she could predict what she would say.
"You were never serious about playing professional baseball," Blue continued. "If you were, you'd have kept pitching beyond little league and to hell with anybody else's opinion."
"I didn't have enough heat on my fastball," Jordyn sighed.
"But your curve was a killer. Still is."
Blue spoke the truth. Jordyn could still sling a ball past a batter with good control and accuracy. She rolled her shoulder as if she could still feel the pain she would experience after a game. For all her laments, she had hung up her glove with only a second thought or two. She never would have made the big leagues. But if she'd continued to pitch on a regular basis, she might have spent the rest of her life dealing with permanent damage to the muscles and joints in her arm.
Jordyn had never been a quitter. But in hindsight, she'd made the right decision. If she'd tried to play a few more years, in all likelihood, she wouldn't have had anything to show for her efforts but bitter disappointment and decreased range of motion.
"Are you at the store?" Blue asked. "Silly question. Where else would you be? You eat, breathe, and sleep at the place."
"And will continue to do so until opening day."
"I've just clocked out from work. Let's meet at your place to unwind. I'll bring the wine."
Blue's job as head of public relations for the Seattle Cyclones meant she never truly clocked out. In truth, she was on twenty-four-hour call in case one of the team's valuable assets put his butt in a precarious position.
Which given the temptations offered to young men with high profiles and more money than they'd ever seen before, happened too often for anybody's comfort.
Blue had earned her lofty position with the team when she was thrown into a trial by fire. Calm nerves, quick wits, and compassion for all involved, she'd come out the other side without as much as a singe in sight. And in the process, earned the respect of the Cyclone players and management.
"I can be home in forty-five minutes," Jordyn said, looking at the clock. If she left now, she would miss the worst of the commuter traffic. "Too bad you gave up your downtown condo. Before you moved, your place was in walking distance of my store. Five minutes and I'd have my feet up and a glass of crisp white wine in my hand."
"I loved the convenience of my old place."
"So, why'd you move?" Jordyn asked, smiling because she already knew the answer.
"Blame your brother. I do." Though she sighed, Blue didn't sound the least bit upset at her fiancé. "I pointed out how he could walk to the ballpark instead of fighting the traffic. He reminded me his place on Lake Washington has more room to grow. Besides, he gave me carte blanche to change anything I wanted."
"Naturally. Spencer loves you. You love him. His house—home—is now yours. If you aren't happy, he isn't happy. And vice versa."
"True." The satisfaction in Blue's voice radiated through the phone.
No matter how perfect a couple seemed, a happily ever after wasn't guaranteed. However, for the cynics of the world, Spencer and Blue were a shining example of how to make love work. Through a separation of time and thousands of miles. And a whole lot of stupid—mostly on her brother's part—they found a path back to each other. And Jordyn couldn't have been happier.
"My place in forty-five."
"I'm on my way," Blue said, then hung up.
Jordyn put her phone away.
"Raina? I'm heading out." She stuck her head in the storage room. "I want you to do the same."
"But—"
Jordyn was the ultimate workaholic. Which was easy because she loved what she did. Few people could rival her devotion to the job, but Raina came a close second.
"No arguments. Nothing here can't wait until tomorrow."
Taking the clipboard from Raina's tight grip, Jordyn handed the woman her jacket and purse, then guided her through the store and out the front door.
"Alarm set, door locked," Jordyn said with satisfaction.
Raina frowned as Jordyn waited while she slid into her parked car.
"I'll be back first thing in the morning. The back shelves need rearranging if you want Claire Thornton's products front and center. And—"
"Enough!" Jordyn chuckled, shaking her head. "Do I sound like you?"
Raina nodded, smiling. "Pretty much."
"As soon as we open, each of us is going to get a life. Dinner. Dancing. Adult conversation that has nothing to do with creams, lotions, or unwanted hair removal. Deal?"
"I'd settle for a man who doesn't leave his dirty socks in the middle of the bedroom floor." Raina waved, shutting her car door.
Every floor in Murphy's house had been impeccable. Spotless. And sock free. Shit. Why was she suddenly thinking about him so often when until now, she'd confined her Murphy musings to late at night?
Jordyn headed toward home, taking the side streets to avoid traffic. She needed to start dating again. A serious relationship wasn't on her agenda, but a little mindless fun would be nice. She knew plenty of men who fit the bill. Maybe they weren't Murphy, but in her entire man/woman experiences, she'd never met anybody like him. A genuine original.
As she turned onto the bottom of Queen Anne Hill, Jordyn realized what she was doing and vowed right then and there to stop. Immediately.
If she spent her time comparing other men to Murphy, looking for his equal, she would be sadly disappointed. So, for now, she would do what she'd always done. Enjoy what was available. And later?
Jeez, Jordyn sighed. She could only figure out one thing at a time. Could only live in the here and now. Later could take care of itself.
CHAPTER NINE
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THE WINE, AND especially the company, was exactly what Jordyn needed. She was surrounded by some of her favorite things. A home she loved, and a friend she loved even more.
Dressed in her favorite lounge-around-the-house attire—jeans and a loose, impossibly soft Van Halen t-shirt she'd appropriated from her oldest brother around the time she turned eighteen. Almost ten years later after more washings than she could count, the garment had seen better days. But Jordyn couldn't bring herself to consign the shirt to the garbage.
Blue collapsed onto the sofa, her long, slender legs resting next to Jordyn's. Like her friend, she'd changed clothes. When she left her home that morning, she presented the image of an ultra-chic businesswoman, her beautiful face enhanced with a perfectly applied layer of makeup that highlighted her striking gray eyes and high cheekbones. A garnet-colored silk dress and impossibly high heels completed the look.
Done with her working day, Blue had easily morphed into a laidback young woman, her face makeup-free—and just as gorgeous—long, red hair hanging loosely down her back. Her jean-clad knee tapped Jordyn's in solidarity as she raised her glass to her lips.
"Oh, boy," Blue let out a long, tired sigh. "What a day. Nothing but paperwork all morning and then major drama this afternoon."
Eyes closed, Jordyn sipped her wine as she slowly rotated her neck, the tension seeping away. She loved baseball—most of the time. However, she'd grown up in a family where they spoke about the sport day and night. Her brother played the game. Her best friend worked in the front office of the defending champions. Luckily, unless there was major news afoot, Blue rarely talked about her job when they got together.
"Do I want to know?" Jordyn asked without much enthusiasm.
"I thought you might have already heard."
"Nope. The store is a no-news zone. Happily. Music, creativity, and plenty of sweat are all we allow."
"I can fill you in later." Blue paused. "I want to set you up on a blind date."
Certain Blue was joking, Jordyn stayed as she was, her head tipped back on the sofa's cushion, body relaxed.
"Interesting segue. How did he lose his sight?" she asked with a straight face. "I assume my prospective date is a man? Unless you think I suddenly changed my sexual orientation?"
"Team lesbian?" Blue asked with an equally straight face.
Jordyn shrugged. "I kissed a girl. Once."
"I know. But unlike Katie Perry, you didn't embrace the experience."
A total cliché, Jordyn had been on an anti-man kick at the time of her one foray into the world of woman-on-woman love. One lousy date after another with a series of college-aged gropers and she had almost decided to embrace celibacy with open arms. Then she met Layla Pike. They hung out. Became fast friends. And ended one evening with a memorable kiss.
For the First Time (One Strike Away #$) Page 8