by Jayne Denker
“Gabe liked taking him down a notch by telling that little story. I got all the dirt. Your brothers are very amusing.”
“That’s one word for them.”
“What happened after Gabe, anyway? I mean, the farther out you go on your branch of the family tree, the more nuts you find. Seriously, your DNA seems to break down with every subsequent sibling. Gabe’s the only normal one.”
“What do you want, Jordan?”
“I told you, I came for my cat.”
“Fred’s not available right now.”
Alarm flared in her belly. “Did someone call and claim him? Or did you give him away?”
“No. Nobody’s claimed him, and I wouldn’t just give him away. I mean he’s not here. He must be out doing . . . cat things. Hunting or whatever.”
“Oh.” Her fluttering heart calmed a little. “Well, I still need to talk to you.”
Although Will was in shadow, Jordan was pretty sure she could pinpoint the exact moment his shoulders slumped in resignation. Just a little bit.
“Fine. Do you want to go for a walk, then? Burn off some of this food?”
“No. Are you kidding? It’s friggin’ cold out there. Shut the door.” She sighed. “I swear I won’t jump you.”
Will turned on the lamp in the corner and closed the door, then crossed the room, giving Jordan as wide a berth as possible, dodging around her knees as she sat on the end of the bed, to reach another lamp. Jordan patted the duvet next to her. Instead, Will leaned against his desk, opposite the end of the bed, and crossed his arms and ankles.
“Afraid to get too close to me?” she challenged him.
“I learned my lesson.”
“Okay, obviously it’s still bugging you, so go on. Let it out.”
“Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
“No, but obviously you do.”
“So you’re not here with an explanation for why you took off without telling me? No reasons why you never answered my calls and texts, when I was worried about you? And no, you know, apology, which is the acceptable thing to do in situations like this, when you kiss somebody and disappear and then reappear and act like it never happened?”
Wow. He really was still mad about that. “Okay, are you done?”
“For now. I’m leaving room for that apology. Got any of those in the giant bag of words you carry around with you at all times?”
“No, I don’t have an apology. What’s wrong with you?” Irritation transitioned into righteous indignation. Where did this guy get off expecting her to grovel—and for what? Absolutely nothing.
“What’s wrong with me? You mean I’m wrong for thinking that when we make plans to go out on a date, you’d . . . I don’t know . . . actually be there?”
Lurching to her feet, Jordan poked Will right in the point of the V in his silly pullover. “That word. Right there. That’s why. A date? Why in the world would you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Pull a bait and switch. One minute you’re all over me, and the next you walk away and start planning a date, for God’s sake!”
Will pushed her jabbing finger aside. “What’s wrong with a date?”
“We had the perfect moment. That hookup would have been unbelievably awesome. And you killed it.”
“You wanted a hookup.” Will’s dark eyebrows drew together. “But not a date.”
“Yes! Why is that so hard for you to understand? God, you always overthink everything and just . . . kill it dead. Why couldn’t you just go with it?”
Jordan’s rant came to an abrupt halt as she stood there, panting, realizing she was way too close to him, but unwilling to step back. She didn’t dare—it would signal retreat. Besides, she didn’t want to. She just wanted to curl her arms under his and up his back to where his shoulder blades met, and pull him closer. She could blame the wine from dinner—wine always made her stupid—but she knew it wasn’t that. What she wanted, more than anything, was to go back to Halloween night and make it go the way she’d wanted it to. Hookup, like she said. Blessed, frenzied hookup. Kisses. Lips, tongues. Taste, touch. Clothes flying, skin-to-skin contact. Everything her body craved. And she knew Will’s did, too. He could act as standoffish as he wanted, but Jordan could see the heat in his eyes when he looked at her. He wanted the same thing. He’d wanted it then, and he wanted it now.
So she did just what she felt like doing—came one step closer. Wrapped herself around his solid form and waited for his arms to enclose her as well. “Just go with it,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I thought you weren’t going to jump me.”
She pecked his soft, soft lips. As nice as she remembered. “Changed my mind.”
“Jordan?”
“Mm?”
“You need to go home now.”
Laughing softly, she murmured, “Right,” and leaned in again.
Then he was standing stiffly and pulling his head away. “I mean it.”
“What, still?”
“Yes, still. Did you not hear me? I don’t want—”
“Oh.” She paused, nodding sagely. “You’re afraid of awful old predatory me. This town talks, and you can’t help but hear it. I get it.”
Will growled, irritated, and pushed his fingers through his hair. “This has nothing to do with anyone else’s opinions. Any issues you’ve got with how people perceive you are just your own.”
Jordan laughed again, but ruefully this time. “You,” she said, retying the sash on her coat a little too roughly, “are absolutely, indubitably, one hundred percent correct.”
“Jordan—”
She held up a hand. “Nope.”
“I don’t want to hook up with you.”
“Stop saying it, okay? I get it.”
“I don’t think you do. I don’t want to just hook up with you. You are . . . amazing. Beautiful, and strong, and confident. Funny. Smart. Caring. And you can’t criticize me for seeing that in you. I don’t want just your outer shell. I want—”
“If you say ‘romance’ I’m going to send out a rescue party in search of your balls.”
“You’re not going to embarrass me into changing my mind.”
“Oh my God. What in the hell do you want? Flowers?”
“You could answer your phone and your text messages, to start.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“You could act like we’re actually friends.”
“We are—!”
“You could leave the snark at the door once in a while.”
“Okay, now you’re just asking for the world.”
Will closed the distance between them and looked straight into her eyes. The anger was gone, and Jordan felt a rush of relief. “I’ve seen the cracks in that shell, Jordan. And one day I’m going to bust it wide open. In the meantime—”
“In the meantime I get nothing?”
“You get nothing. This,” he said with a smirk, pointing at his body, “is closed for business.”
Chapter 14
“Hello! Hello, Officer Nash! Look! This is Jordan answering her phone when she sees your name on the screen. Hello, what can I do for you?”
“You can stop talking for two seconds.” Will waited; all he heard was Jordan breathing, lightly, on the other end of the line. When he thought it was safe to continue, he said, “It’s the community service thing, isn’t it? What you wanted to talk to me about on Thanksgiving? You need my help to score a job?”
“Wow, and I thought I was psychic.”
“Really. You’re psychic.”
“You bet. Well, a little. On occasion. I never work hard enough to control it properly.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hey, I knew you were going to call. It counts.”
“Right. Or my mom told you she was going to ask me to help you. Plus I checked your records.”
“Can you even do that?”
“I’m a cop. My uncle’s the judge. What do you think?”
“I
think I can’t tell who I should distrust more—your Uncle Dave or your Uncle Ralph.”
“Oh, Uncle Ralph. No question. He’s handsy.”
“I know.”
“Ouch. Thought you managed to dodge him.”
“I did, for most of the evening. But he’s wily as well as handsy.”
Will smiled to himself, his sigh echoing in the empty office. He didn’t know how she did it. Really, he didn’t. On Thanksgiving, he felt toward her (in no particular order) fury, pity, amusement, more fury, simmering anger, and a heavy dose of overwhelming lust that he barely managed to escape with his sanity and his body intact. After several days of radio silence—which he repeatedly told himself he preferred to the alternative, which was All Jordan, All the Time—he found himself missing her general insanity more than he’d thought possible. He wanted to think he’d gotten used to life without her while she was gone, and was doing far better without her in town, but the minute she showed up, all those certainties went right out the window and he wanted her all over again. Not physically . . . well, not just physically. He truly wanted to spend time with her, getting to know her, doing all sorts of non-horizontal, non-naked things.
Too bad she didn’t feel the same way.
“This is the deal—I need two jobs,” she stated flatly.
“Greedy.”
“Will you listen, please? I do need a community service assignment, and my probation officer said I could work something out with you guys. I also need a paying job. I’m, um, a little hard up for cash.”
Will hadn’t been expecting that. He’d always assumed she was financially comfortable. He’d assumed wrong, apparently. “Two jobs, eh?”
“A hundred hours of community service—”
“You’re going to love that.”
“—And a paying gig. Do you know anybody looking for a part-time worker?”
“I might.”
“Does this mean you’re going to help me out?” Jordan asked hopefully.
He closed his eyes, shaded them with his hand as he massaged his temples. He knew this was a bad idea, but he just couldn’t manage to stay away from her completely. With another sigh, he said, “Yes, I’ll help you. On one condition.”
“Oh no—conditions! All right, name your price.”
“Just . . . behave yourself.”
“I always behave myself.”
“You never behave yourself.”
“Okay, it depends on the circumstances. What kind of ‘behave’ are we talking about here? Little-kid-time-out-type behave, or Austin-Powers-type behave?”
Good lord. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea. I mean, obviously we have different . . . outlooks on life. Different goals. Different viewpoints.”
“You are absolutely not making any sense.”
“Come on, Jordan. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Not even a little.”
“Just . . .”
“What?”
“Stop treating me like a piece of meat, okay?” he burst out.
Jordan snickered wildly on the other end of the line, but it was a louder, closer noise, kind of a little squeak, that made Will’s eyes fly open. Bedelia Swift was standing in front of his desk, clutching her knitting bag to her chest, pale and shocked, but blatantly intrigued at the same time. Stifling a groan, he motioned to her to wait.
“I’ve gotta go. I’ll make some calls and see where we can fit you in, okay?”
“Okay, man-meat,” Jordan howled. Then she was gone.
And he was left to compose himself and deal with her neighbor.
“Is this a bad time?” Bedelia asked hesitantly, remaining polite although he knew she was dying to run off and tell her friends what she’d heard. She had to know it was Jordan. Who else made him crazy enough to shout things like that in the middle of the station, in front of an elderly neighbor?
“No, it’s fine, Bedelia. What can I do for you?”
“Well . . .” She perched on the edge of his visitor chair, clutching her knitting bag like a shield. “It’s just . . . Rusty gave Audra a speeding ticket.”
“Okay . . .”
“I think it was a mistake.”
He shrugged. “Well, if I recall correctly, she was doing forty-five in a school zone.”
“The kids were still in class. Nobody was outside.”
“Doesn’t matter. It was pretty cut-and-dried. She can argue her case in front of Dave, of course, but . . .”
She waved him off, irritated. “Your uncle is a power-mad tyrant.”
“Bedelia . . .”
“Besides, I think Rusty just gave Audra the ticket because he asked her out a couple of weeks ago and she said no.”
“Well, of course she’d turn him down. I mean, what about Toby?”
“They broke up last month. For good this time, and I say good riddance. But she doesn’t want to date just anybody, if you know what I mean.”
He was afraid she did, judging by the significant look she was giving him, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Bedelia, why are you coming to me about Audra’s ticket?”
“Well, I just don’t think it’s fair, and since you’re the most understanding officer we’ve got, I wanted to talk to you about it.”
He ignored the flattery. “I can’t rip up a ticket. Tell Audra if she wants to fight it, she’ll have to go through the proper channels. Have her plead not guilty and schedule a court date to meet with the ‘power-mad tyrant’.”
“You’re not as nice as I thought you were, Will.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”
“Are you sure I can’t have Audra call you for some advice? Maybe the two of you could talk about it over dinner at Café Olé?”
Never in a million years. “I’m sure, Bedelia. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Well,” she said with a resigned sigh, “I guess I should tell you Ray and—”
“—Nate are at it again? I’ve heard. We’re on it.”
“Well, you’d better step it up. Someone—and I suppose you can guess who—took Ray’s animatronic Santa and stuffed him head first into the big stone urn outside Luigi’s Chinese. His echoing ‘ho ho hos’ were just pathetic to hear. And after a while . . . nothing. Santa’s dead.”
“When?”
“What was Santa’s time of death?”
Will sighed wearily. “When—approximately—did this ‘someone’ vandalize Ray’s property? Yesterday? Last night?”
“About an hour ago, I think.”
“In broad daylight?” Wow, those guys were getting hardcore this year. Will loved everything about the holiday season, but Nate and Ray’s feud really put a damper on things. “Okay, I’ll check it out. Thanks, Bedelia. You have a good day, okay?”
Summarily dismissed, the woman started to sidle out of the office, but she couldn’t resist a parting shot. “You know, Will . . . I love Holly like the sister I never had, but . . . really, don’t get too close to her granddaughter.”
“Bedelia . . .”
“I know, I know—it’s none of my business. But we all love you and we don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“‘We all’?”
“Everyone in town.”
Great—now the entire Marsden population was weighing in on something it had no right to express an opinion about. Nothing new, but he’d never been the subject of town scrutiny. He’d managed to keep a low profile just fine for twenty-eight years; now Jordan had managed to blow it all to hell in a matter of months.
“Tell ‘everyone’ not to worry about me, okay?”
“She’s not good enough for you, Will.”
He bristled. Jordan was right—it was impossible to get everyone to accept her. She’d done it to herself, but where was the forgiveness and compassion? Jordan was a pain in the ass, but she meant well. She just didn’t express herself perfectly on every occasion. Who did? Plus the more he got to know her, the more he realized how much more to her t
here was—how many positive traits she had hidden under her abrasive surface.
And suddenly he knew just whom to talk to about a part-time job.
“Are you sure about this? I’m not so sure about this.”
Will glanced over at Jordan, sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat of his Jeep instead of lounging haphazardly like she usually did, staring out the windshield at the wet snowflakes smacking the glass. Was she actually nervous for once?
“It’ll be great,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “This could be perfect for you.”
He swung his vehicle into the driveway of Bowen Farms and drove around back. The farm was quiet and vacant, so very different from its busy season only a month ago. The clouds were dark with snow, making the hilltop feel closed in and midafternoon look like evening.
Will gestured to Jordan to go ahead of him up the back steps. Huge snowflakes were already clinging to her knit hat and dark hair, landing on her cheeks and melting quickly. He fought the urge to brush away the water droplets as though they were stray tears. Suddenly she looked much younger, much softer, and much more vulnerable.
“Hey,” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”
Jordan looked up at the looming Gothic house with her huge brown eyes. “Nothing. I’m cool.”
“Yeah, you look it.”
“I’ve just . . . never had a job before.”
“What, never?”
She shook her head, still looking up at the house. “I never had to.”
“Because of your parents.”
“Wealth has its privileges.”
“Not even when you were in high school? A few hours a week at McDonald’s or whatever?” She shook her head again and remained uncharacteristically silent. “So what have you been doing with your life?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. Screwing around, mostly. I went to college, then grad school. Some stuff happened, and I, uh, didn’t finish. Took a little break in the second year of my master’s program, and it kind of . . . became permanent.”
He wanted to ask her what kind of “stuff ” had “happened,” but the poor girl looked green, so he held his tongue. “Don’t worry about any of that now. You’ll be fine.”