Lucky For You

by Jayne Denker

  “Well, it was.”

  “Through nefarious means, yeah. He got nailed while I was in grad school. I got all turned around, I kind of dropped out . . . Things happened.”

  “Things like getting drunk and riding a horse through a casino?”

  “That may have occurred around that time, yes.”

  Will studied Jordan without saying anything for a moment, his lips tight. Then he murmured, “And you were dealing with it when you were in town. Last fall, maybe?”

  “You think I left town the day after Halloween because of my dad’s issues? Hell no. That was all you, dude. You freaked me out and drove me away.”

  “Jordan.”

  She sighed. “Okay, I may have wanted to check up on my parents around then. But don’t discount the pivotal role you played in messing with my head.”

  Jordan thought she might have detected a hint of a smile as he looked down and shook his head ruefully. That made her heart lift, just a little.

  But all he said was, “I’ve got to get back to work. Stay out of trouble. And my apartment.”

  As Jordan watched him back out of the driveway, she felt something bump her shins. She looked down. Fred. Smiling, she scooped him up. When she got home, she texted Will a selfie of them on her front porch, Jordan looking smug, Fred looking bored at a level only a cat could achieve.

  Chapter 32

  Will wasn’t sure if Marsden had been unusually quiet over the past several months—well, quieter than usual—or if the funk he’d been in thanks to Jordan had left him numb to the outside world. Whatever the reason, he definitely could tell she was back in town, because she just naturally ratcheted up the level of chaos.

  “Will, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” Beth Nichols leaned into the open window of his cruiser as soon as he came to a stop in the Leigh driveway.

  “That’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He nudged the door open, and Beth stepped back. “You covering for your mom?”

  Beth nodded. “She asked me to take care of things while she’s at her conference. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I mind? I trust you. It’s great that you’re learning the family business.”

  He smiled reassuringly at the young woman, and she let out a relieved breath.

  “Well, I didn’t expect it to be trial by fire. My mom has to get back here and close on this house now. I can’t take much more drama.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Will nodded at Andy B, who raised his clipboard in greeting. “Problem?”

  “Can only do so much inspecting out here, and that one,” Andy said, nodding toward the house, “won’t let us in.”

  “Jordan isn’t too happy about this whole thing. But you’ve got a job to do, and she’s going to have to let you do it. I’ll talk to her.”

  Will was absolutely certain he was the last person who was going to be able to make any headway here—he sure wasn’t inclined to reason with her at this point—but he had to. The trainee real estate agent and the house inspector stayed in the yard (he couldn’t help but wonder if they were keeping a safe distance) while he went to the front door. Ignoring the flashbacks to the many times he’d been in this very spot—not to mention his later memories, when he’d just let himself in and swept Jordan up in his arms—he reached for the knob . . . and stopped short when Jordan yanked open the door and glared at him through the screen.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because you’re causing a disturbance.”

  “I am not. I’m staying in my house, nice and quiet.”

  “Andy B has to inspect the house before the sale. You were given plenty of warning he was coming. Now let him and Beth in so they can take care of—”

  “You’re biased against me. Send somebody else.”

  “I’m the one on duty. Now open the door.”

  “Forget it. Nobody’s buying this house. Except me.”

  “You don’t even have a job,” Will couldn’t help arguing.

  “Don’t you worry about me, Officer Billy. I’m on the up and up. You’ll see.”

  “All I want to see right now is you stepping back and letting these nice people in to inspect the house.”

  “I’m fighting this.”

  “Don’t upset your grandmother.”

  “She’s on an Alaskan cruise. This is all going to be over by the time she gets back.”

  “You’re right about that. It’s over now.”

  “It’s over when I say it’s over. I’ll fight this. I’ll . . . sabotage the place.”

  “Illegal.”

  “Then I’ll keep on driving up the price until this idiot buyer gives up.”

  Will looked over his shoulder and gave a little wave to let the fidgeting Beth and Andy B know everything was fine and Jordan would concede any minute now.

  Turning back to her, he hissed, “I knew you’ve been submitting counteroffers.”

  “Great—now you’re telling me the real estate agents blab about stuff they shouldn’t? Wait—what am I saying? Of course they do. This is Marsden. Gossip trumps ethics.”

  “Stop driving up the price!” he snapped. “It’s pissing me off.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because you’re bidding against me!”

  Jordan froze, and her eyes grew wide. “You? You’re the one trying to buy my grandmother’s house? Why . . . why would you do that? You hate me so much you’re trying to kick me out of my home?”

  “No, of course I don’t—” He stopped and rubbed his cheek. Now he just felt like a tool, and the hurt in her eyes was making his heart ache. “I didn’t do it to . . . make you homeless or anything.” He glanced around the property instead of looking at her when he went on, “I just . . . figured it was time to get a real house instead of living over my parents’ barn.”

  “And you thought I wasn’t coming back.”

  “I thought you weren’t coming back.” His gaze returned to hers. “And this house reminds me of you. It was stupid, but I just wanted to still have a small piece of you with me. Or, actually, a big piece. This place is like, what, eighteen hundred square feet?”

  She ignored his weak attempt at a joke and said faintly, “You’re actually buying my grandmother’s house?”

  “Trying to. You’re not making it easy.” When did she ever make anything easy?

  Eyes downcast, Jordan said nothing for a long moment. Which was unnerving.

  Finally, still not looking at him, she murmured, “Can you . . . can you just ask Beth and Andy B to come back another time?”

  “Jordan . . .”

  “I know. They made an appointment. Tell them I’m sorry. Please,” she added, voice breaking, and Will found himself unable to do anything but nod.

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  She slowly closed the door, then he heard the lock click into place.

  It was past midnight when there was a knock on Will’s door. He wasn’t asleep, just staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head, going over what had happened earlier that day. He couldn’t get Jordan out of his head. Although at first he’d thought she was her usual furious, manic self, fighting against the world, he’d later realized there was an element of panic to her insistence on staying in her grandmother’s house. Desperation. And something else.

  What was really frightening was he felt his armor crack, right about the time she’d closed the door in his face. He’d planned on staying angry with her for the rest of his life, or at least until he got to some Zen stage where he was beyond caring about what had happened (hadn’t happened?) between them. He hadn’t expected to be overwhelmed by a giant wave of sympathy. She’d looked like a lost little girl that afternoon, and it had taken every ounce of strength he’d had not to knock on her door again, push into the house, and gather her in his arms.

  Dammit, he was weak.

  Well. Only when it came to Jordan.

  The
knock came again, so faint he thought for a moment he was hearing things. He slid out of bed and opened the door to find Jordan there, pale in the wash of the security light.

  “Hey—” he began, opening the door wider and standing aside.

  But she said, quietly, “I’m not coming in. I just . . . wanted to say something. In person.”

  “We could’ve met for breakfast.”

  “It couldn’t wait.”

  “Okay.”

  Jordan took a deep breath, then whispered, “I’m sorry.” Then, stronger, “I screw things up.”

  “No, you don’t—”

  “I do. I screw things up,” she repeated hotly. “All the time. I screwed us up.”

  He stayed quiet. Now was not the time to argue, apparently. She didn’t want protestations from him; she wasn’t fishing for examples of how she’d turned out pretty damned great overall, how amazing she was, even though Will had plenty. Because no matter how he felt about her in the short term, he’d always admire this woman standing before him, for a thousand reasons, including all the things everyone else criticized about her. Jesse had been right: She was real. Honest. Hot as . . .

  “I should have done things differently. I know that. I just . . . didn’t know how. I wasn’t running away from you. You need to know that. I mean, yes, you have every right to be pissed at me because I fucked up. But I wasn’t running away. Not even from what happened with Skylar.”

  “You quit the program. Summer told me.”

  “I had a reason.”

  “You always have a reason, but you never tell me what it is.”

  Jordan bristled. “I told you it was personal.” Then she shook herself. “Shit. I don’t want to argue with you anymore.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “Take the house.”

  “What?”

  “Take it. You can have it. I’ll figure something else out.”

  “What if I don’t want it anymore?”

  “What if you’re an idiot?”

  There was the Jordan he knew. With a reluctant smile, he said, “You were right. It’s your house, not mine.”

  Jordan got quiet again. “A lot of Marsden folks wouldn’t want me in their midst permanently.”

  “Hey, I thought your motto was ‘screw ’em.’”

  “I don’t know. General consensus . . .”

  “ ‘General consensus can suck it.’ I believe that’s another verified Jordan Leigh quote.”

  Now it was Jordan’s turn to smile. “Sometimes it’s tough to buck the system when you’re one against thousands.”

  “Two,” he murmured. “You’ve got me.”

  She softened then, and nodded, and the armor he’d been lugging around for months fell away completely. He wanted to reach for her, pull her inside, but he didn’t dare.

  “So you’re . . . not leaving again?” he asked, fearing the answer.

  “Hell no,” she scoffed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I love Marsden. Remember?”

  He hadn’t believed her when she’d said it the first time she’d rolled into town sporting that ankle monitor, and he didn’t believe her now. But he wanted to.

  She leaned on the doorjamb and said conspiratorially, “I have a plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “For me to know and you to find out. But I will say it’d be way easier to pull off if I had a friend.”

  Friend. Ouch. But if that was what she needed right now, so be it. “You do.”

  “Okay then.” She straightened up and tucked her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Guess so.”

  Jordan nodded and left, steps pounding down the outside staircase, then Will watched her as she crossed the lawn and walked the length of the driveway, hair fluttering as she hurried away. She never looked back once.

  Will saw Jordan around town fairly frequently over the next couple of weeks. She was friendly. Warm, even. But the heat that had been between them was gone. No, not gone. On the back burner. On low. That was the way he felt, anyway. Whether she did as well was a mystery, because she never gave even a hint of what was going on inside her.

  It drove him crazy.

  In his darker, more distrustful moments, he wondered if that was her plan: to literally drive him crazy. If so, it was working really well. The friend zone sucked, but he had to admit he’d contributed to this turn of events. He hadn’t texted her back while she’d been gone, and in his anger had pushed her away when she came back. It was a miracle, really, that they’d managed to make this much progress, back to being friends.

  If he now wanted her so badly, when she’d finally accepted the fact that they were over, it was his own problem. And it was a problem. Thoughts of Jordan flitted through his head constantly. Concentrating on police business was a monumental struggle every day. He was just grateful he never had to face life-or-death situations in Marsden. Hell, he was grateful he remembered to put on both shoes every morning.

  Nights were another story altogether; sleep was out of the question. Instead, his racing mind reviewed their time together—the bad and then the good and then the very good. And then the bad again. If he happened to also spend a lot of time coming up with all sorts of fanciful scenarios about how they could escape the friend zone and get back to where they’d been before . . . well, he just couldn’t help it.

  Then he ran into Jordan first thing in the morning on a Saturday, at the station. Not because of any legal issues. She’d been “keeping her nose clean” as she’d happily reminded him from time to time, and she had no need of police services (which, in a way, he kind of regretted). She was outside the station, on her knees and up to her wrists in freshly turned earth on the lawn of the town hall, working with Summer and some of their teen group. Planting a flower bed.

  Will let his bike coast to a stop on the sidewalk and hopped down from the seat, intending to observe from a distance. But when one of the teens shouted something silly and Jordan threw back her head and laughed, he found himself approaching the group before he even knew he was in motion again.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  Summer and the girls greeted him cheerfully as Jordan, still digging in the dirt, answered, “Community prettification project, Officer. Care to join us?”

  “Sorry. Starting my shift. Looks good, though.”

  Of course, he had to make a concerted effort to make sure he was looking at the impatiens and not Jordan’s short shorts and tight t-shirt, or the lock of hair that was caught at the corner of her mouth, as she settled the brightly colored flowers into the dirt.

  “So you’re, uh, back with the group?”

  “Better than back,” Summer said, breaking apart the flats of flowers, cracking the thin black plastic between the individual pockets. “Jordan is my official employee, and my protégé.”

  “For what?”

  “The teen group, among other things. She finished her master’s degree, and now she’s qualified to take over from me when I leave.”

  Will’s heart sank. “Summer, I wish you wouldn’t.” The girls echoed his sentiment by booing heartily.

  His sister-in-law had been talking about quitting work and moving to the Capital District, which essentially indicated her marriage to Cam was over. Will still didn’t want her to give up on his brother, mainly because she was the better part of the pair of them. As a second option, he found himself agreeing with his mother about being fine with dumping an actual Nash child but keeping the wife around. Summer was far more enjoyable to have in the family than Cam was.

  Then the other thing she’d said hit him. “Wait . . . Jordan, you finished your master’s degree?”

  She nodded. “I only had one more class to take and one research paper to do. I did some major groveling, and they let me back into the program for the spring semester. That other ‘thing I had to take care of’ while I was gone.”

  Will was a little stunned. After all, she’d c
ultivated an aura of directionless rich girl a little too well over the years. “Uh, congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” Then, “Told you I was staying.”

  “I guess you did.”

  Well, this complicated things. Here he was, thinking Jordan had just cruised back into town because she had nothing better to do, but in reality she was sporting a freshly minted degree and had a job lined up.

  “Wait,” he said again. “When did all this happen?”

  “Jordan asked me about jobs here before she left,” Summer replied.

  “I do tend to plan ahead once in a while, you know,” Jordan added, with a flick of her eyebrow.

  It occurred to Will that in the not-too-distant past, she would have tacked an oddball W name onto the end of her sentence. It also occurred to him that he desperately missed it.

  “Hey, Jordan?”

  “Yep?”

  And there. A W name definitely would have gone there too.

  “What . . . what sort of design have you got going here?”

  “We’re doing this!” Danielle exclaimed, hopping up and thrusting a smudged sheet of paper at him. “Pretty cool, right?”

  He frowned at the familiar design. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jordan had grown very still. “Where did you get this?”

  “From Jordan,” Sydney said. “It was her idea to copy it. Don’t know if we’re getting it right, in flowers, but we’re trying.”

  “No, it’s . . . it’s great. Very accurate.” He paused. “Jordan? Can I see you a minute?”

  She followed him a few steps away, around the corner of the building, still with a plant in one hand. “What can I do for you, Officer Billy?”

  “You can tell me what the hell’s going on.”