All for Family (The Rawley Family Romances Book 3)

by Olivia Hardin

  On the desk in his room was a stack of mail, and although he’d already been through it hastily that morning, he examined it more closely this time. At the bottom of the pile was an envelope written in a clean, yet juvenile-looking print. Curious, he grabbed his letter opener and tore into it.

  Dear Mr. Rawley,

  You don’t know me, but my name is Tim Jenkins and I work for Mrs. Slack. I hope I’m not doing the wrong thing by writing to you. I took one of your envelopes from Mrs. Slack’s house when I was helping her move so that I’d have your address. Grandma says I should be ashamed of myself, but under the circumstances she thinks God will forgive me.

  Mrs. Slack is a real nice lady and a good friend, but she seems really sad now. I asked her if she’d written to you and she said that there were just some things that shouldn’t be shared. But I don’t think that’s right so that’s why I’m writing this letter …

  Meg’s eyes cut to her right, and she watched her reflection in the window as she made her way down the street. Whoever said the scale doesn’t lie was in fact a liar. Her weight had fluctuated no more than three or so pounds, but when she looked in the mirror, all she saw these days were rolls and lumps and stretched skin. She knew she should get back to eating well again, but she just didn’t have the energy.

  Not to mention the pocketbook. Healthy food cost more money, and it was much easier to grab a burger or a $5.00 pizza most evenings. She pushed open the door of Goody’s Nursery as she reached for her list. There were several other customers in front of the counter, so she perused some gardening magazines while she waited.

  “Oh, Mrs. Slack,” Mr. Goody said, emerging from the back office. “It’s good to see you. Do you have a few?”

  Meg nodded and followed him, noticing the way the couple at the counter dipped their heads close together to whisper as she passed. Where as she had at one time been able to maintain a low profile in her hometown, these days every one knew her name and especially about her divorce, or lack thereof. A story as crazy as hers was hard to keep under wraps.

  As Mr. Goody motioned for her to take a seat, she mentally calculated whether she’d possibly forgotten to pay her bill this month. She bit her lip, at least eighty percent certain she’d sent him a check. “Anything wrong, Mr. Goody?”

  “Of course not, Margaret. Nothing wrong at all. I’d called you a few days ago, and I’m so glad you stopped in so we could chat. Are you doing all right?”

  “Oh.” She smiled, laughing nervously. She’d gotten his message but hadn’t yet returned it. “Yes, I’m fine. Just always busy as usual.”

  “Well, I just wanted to talk because I’ve had an offer for the shop. The Davis family, from east of here. They have that nursery on the interstate.”

  “Oh, yes, they were able to get me those Japanese willows that year. Nice family.” They were nice, but she had a feeling she knew where Mr. Goody was heading and her heart sank. This shop had been a little dream of Meg’s for some time. She and Mr. Goody had informally talked about her purchasing it when the time came for him to retire. “I didn’t know you were ready to sell just yet.”

  “Eh, well.” He stretched his legs and rubbed his kneecaps. “Not so much ready to sell as I am ready not to have to deal with these aching knees of mine. Doc wants to do a replacement on the right one. Can’t very well run the store while I’m recuperating from that.”

  Mr. Goody had no children and there wasn’t anyone to mind his nursery for extended periods. He took short one- or two-day vacations from time to time, but even then, he usually just closed up shop.

  “I know things have been hard for you lately, Margaret. But I did promise I’d talk to you before I sold to anyone else.”

  Meg swallowed but smiled. The expression cost her a good deal of effort. Her brow wanted to furrow and her lips fought to curl downwards instead of up. But she managed it and then leaned forward to clasp the elderly man’s hand. “Thank you so much for thinking of me, Mr. Goody. But my business has been keeping me so occupied … I don’t even know how I’d manage transitioning into the nursery business. I think the Davis family will be able to do you proud if they purchase.”

  His eyes studied hers, digging deep and seeking the truth they didn’t want to reveal. After a moment, he blinked and then looked down at his desk. “Let me see that list you have in your hand. I’ll get Andy to load your truck.”

  She inhaled, rebelling against the little sob of relief welling in the back of her throat. Her hand shook a little as she gave him the slip of paper, then she stood and headed back into the lobby to wait her turn in line.

  Apartment living had made things more difficult, but she’d made an arrangement with Mrs. Jenkins to store her supplies in the woman’s garage since she couldn’t very well trust leaving them in the bed of her truck overnight. After dropping off the bags of mulch and soil, she grabbed a few groceries and then headed home.

  The sun was just beginning to set when she finally made her way up the steps to her new home. A voice to her right startled her, but the striking blue eyes that met hers when she looked were almost enough to knock her down. “I was beginning to think you weren’t ever coming home.”

  “Jeremy? What in the world?”

  “Here, let me help,” he took her shopping bags from her and then waited while she unlocked her door. He then swept inside and placed her things on the counter. “Can I help you put them away?”

  “No!” She rushed forward to step between him and the bags, picking out the cold items and hurrying to put them in the fridge. “I can worry with most of this later. What are you doing here?”

  He sat at the bar between the kitchen and the living area, gently sliding some of her papers aside. Mentally she kicked herself for not keeping her place tidier, but then she certainly hadn’t been expecting company.

  “I just thought I’d stop in and check on things. You haven’t written much.”

  Meg snorted, then turned back towards the refrigerator, “You just thought you’d stop in and check on things? From an ocean away? It’s not like I live down the street or something.” All she had to offer was water and beer so she grabbed a bottle of each and held them out in offering.

  “Water’s fine.”

  She reached out to hand him the bottle. No use bothering with a glass since she didn’t have a working ice maker nor ice in her freezer.

  “Whoa…” Snatching the water back, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Wait a minute. How did you find me? I haven’t written to you since I moved in here.”

  “And how long ago was that?” He leaned across the counter and took the water, drinking and then slowly replacing the cap. “I think my last letter from you might have been about three weeks ago.”

  Rotating on her heel again, she started to put the beer back in the refrigerator then thought better of it. Instead she popped the top then pulled a long draw. “You’re obnoxious.”

  His lips tugged up into a grin and then he inclined his head in her direction. “You’re not the first to say it.” He swiveled on the barstool and rested his elbows on the counter to assess the rest of her apartment.

  “Well?”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he assumed a look of innocence. “Well what?”

  Meg took another swig, then dropped her bottle onto the counter hard enough that some of the liquid plopped straight up out of the top. She walked around into the living room to stand in front of him, both hands on her hips. “Jeremy Rawley, how did you find my apartment? I know you’re made of money, but using those resources to track me down when I didn’t want to be found is not okay.”

  “I was told you were sad and lonely and didn’t want to leave your house except to work. Yet here you are with fire in your eyes chastising me for being obnoxious.” His arm shot out to grab her waist too quickly for her to react. It didn’t take much effort to pull her close so that she was standing between his legs. Her breath hitched and she dropped her head back so that she could look up into those mesmerizing blue
eyes of his. “Where was that Meg over the last month or so?”

  What was she supposed to say to that? Even if she did have a good response, it was impossible to talk with his arm was around her waist and the heat of his body radiating into her.

  “This fire,” he murmured, dipping low so that his lips were nearly touching hers. “This fire I see when you’re in my arms, this fire’s one I’d rather think is just for me anyway.”

  “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

  Of course he was going to kiss her. There was no way in Heaven he could resist now that he finally had his hands on her again. But first, first he wanted to savor that look on her face. That blush on her cheeks and the way her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked up at him. Her full lips were moist and as inviting as a morsel begging to be sampled.

  He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to hers, tentatively at first as he wanted to savor every moment of this long-awaited kiss. When she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, he found the faint taste of beer lingered on her tongue. He inhaled a long breath and smelled the familiar hint of earth and strawberries. He recalled the former from many of her letters, and he knew that it was a residue of her working in the soil. The latter, he’d discovered that night they’d made love, probably her shampoo.

  And all of those things were incredibly intoxicating to his senses. Both his hands grasped her backside, and she thrust her hips close to his just as he pulled her in. He groaned, but she kissed him harder, swallowing the sound as her fingers reached up to caress his face.

  “Meg,” he murmured, dropping kisses across her cheek and towards her ear. “I want to take you to dinner.”

  She gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, then shook her head as if trying to clear the cobwebs. “Dinner? Now?”

  One corner of his lip upturned in a grin. Pecking another kiss to the top of her nose, he gently pushed her back. Having her body tight to his was too close to breaking his control. “Yes, dinner. I’d like to take you on a formal date, not to be confused with a hook-up.”

  After a moment she drew in a deep breath and then backed away from him, placing her fingers to her heated cheeks. “A date. Okay, a date.” Rounding the bar, she grabbed her beer and then headed down the hallway. “Give me just a minute.” She closed the bedroom door, then opened it and ducked her head out. “Actually more than a minute. A few minutes. Or several…”

  He chuckled to himself when the door slammed shut, then he stood and started looking around her apartment. It wasn’t very large, probably no more than two hundred and fifty square feet. But she’d situated her possessions nicely, with a small sofa on one side of the living area and an entertainment center with a television, VCR and stereo directly across from it.

  While he waiting he pressed the button on her CD player. He heard the hissing sound of the disc spinning then the intro of Tina Turner’s “Better Be Good to Me” burst through the speakers.

  “Oh, my Lord!” he heard her cry from the back bedroom. “I wish you hadn’t found that.”

  He laughed again, then adjusted the volume down a bit and made himself comfortable on her couch. He heard the sound of water running and figured she’d decided to take a shower.

  Leaning back against the cushions, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Not realizing how tired he was, he was startled when Meg gently shook his shoulder to wake him. “You sure you want to go out?”

  Her smile was beautiful and wide as she looked down at him. She was dressed in a pair of black leggings with a long sleeveless top. The fabric was thin and flowing so that it both concealed and yet hinted at the curves beneath it. Her lipstick was a wine color that matched the color of the shirt.

  After taking the time to appreciate the sight of her, he heaved himself forward and stood. “Sorry. Jetlag.”

  “Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “There is something very strange about your showing up at my door like this. But I’m hungry and you said something about dinner, so shall we?”

  “We shall indeed.” He crooked out his arm, and she looked askance at it for several seconds before finally looping hers inside it.

  “Where are you taking me anyway?”

  Jeremy peered down at her with a grin. “That’s your department since you’re a local. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

  After following Meg’s directions, they finally arrived at a small Italian restaurant called Dino’s. He took the liberty of order a bottle of Pinot Grigio and began perusing the menu.

  “I hope you like Italian. I probably should have asked, but since you said this was my decision …”

  He slipped his menu down and saw her brown eyes peeking above the tall menu at him. Cocking an eyebrow at her, he set the menu aside and then leaned back to stare. It was probably a bit rude, but for some reason, he was getting an inordinate amount of pleasure from watching her.

  “What are you looking at?” She blushed, trying to avoid his gaze, but unable to keep from glancing from the menu to him and back again.

  “Stop fretting, Meg. I like looking at you.” He crossed his leg over his knee and reached out to tap the menu. “So what do you recommend?”

  Her lower lip made its way into her mouth, and she scrunched up her face as she considered that. “Well, I would probably recommend the family style. They have one that’s just for two and it gives samples of their best dishes.”

  Just then the waiter returned with their wine, opening the bottle and pouring two glasses. “Have we decided?”

  “Yes.” Jeremy reached out to grab her menu and then handed both of them to the server. “We’ll have the family style.” He gave Meg a look to ask if that was right, and she smiled up at the waiter with a nod.

  “For two,” she added.

  As the man scribbled onto his pad, he asked, “And what sort of dressing would you like for your salads.”

  “Balsamic vinaigrette.”

  “The same,” Jeremy told him.

  When they were alone again, he picked up his glass and then pierced his date with a serious look. “So now, tell me what’s been happening.”

  “Well.” Meg shook her head and took a long drink of her wine. “That’s a long story …”

  The meal and the story progressed at about the same pace. By the time he poured her the last bit of wine after their plates had been cleared away, she’d just finished the part about getting “well and truly” divorced.

  “So what about Ray? Where is he in all of this?”

  She frowned. “Ray? What about him?”

  Jeremy leaned forward and leaned his arm along the table where his plate had been earlier. He rapped his fingers across the hard surface a few times. “Where is he? You’ve done nothing but clean up this mess. Has he done anything to help?”

  She took a deep breath, her shoulders slowly dropping while her head tilted back just a little. Her mind and body felt as if there were some weight upon her, but she couldn’t shake it off. “He’s gone, Jeremy. I haven’t heard a word from him. Not one. And I don’t know that he’s communicated much with Rhonda either, though I haven’t spoken to her. As far as I know, he’s dropped off the face of the earth, and I’m okay with that right now.”

  By the pursing of his lips and the movement of his jawbone at his temple, she didn’t think Jeremy was okay with it. Feeling it was time to shift subjects, she plastered on a smile. “So, that’s my story. Now it’s your turn.”

  “I have no story. Not a single ex-wife to my name.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Why are you here? How did you really find me?”

  With an exasperated sigh, he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. From within the folds he retrieved a letter, holding it up so that she could see the return address.

  “Tim…” she breathed, and her eyes got a little watery. “He shouldn’t have.”

  Her fingers began to reach out for the letter, then snatched back to her chest to rest against her heart.

  “If you ask, I’ll let you r
ead it, but I’d rather not.” He told her, placing it on the table. “I think he’d be embarrassed, yet it isn’t right to keep it completely from you that he wrote to me. He’s a good lad and he cares for you.”

  Sniffing, Meg nodded. “He’s a really good kid. And I care about him too. But I’m still not sure why you’re here. I mean, its not like I’m totally broken up or something. My marriage was over a long time ago. The way it finally ended on paper wasn’t ideal, but at least I can be sure it really is done now.”

  “Then why aren’t you out there, doing things?” He flicked his wrist in the direction of the door. “I confess that Rhonda is not my favorite person, but she was your best friend. And others, too.”

  “Let’s be honest here. I’m broke, Jeremy. I need to work and try to rebuild my savings. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this apartment. And right now the ‘story’—” She made quotations in the air. “—is still big news around here. I don’t need that drama. I’m not interested in their judgment.”

  Jeremy’s blue eyes stared off in the distance, and Meg sensed there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  “So when are you going home?”

  “I haven’t decided. Are you anxious to see me leave?”

  She blushed. “Of course not.”

  He was quiet a moment, then he leaned forward and took her hand, skimming his thumb across her knuckles. “Meg, do you realize how much I like you?”

  “Why?” It embarrassed her that her voice came out as barely a whisper. But the truth was she was afraid of his answer.

  “Because I’ve thought of you almost constantly while I’ve been away. I was back in Durma, absorbing myself in the land of my ancestors, and I wanted you there to see it too. At the same time, I read your letters about the project at the Pennington House, and I wanted to be there to hear the bubble of excitement I knew would be in your voice. I took those morning rides with Mom and wondered if I could convince you to ride with me one day. Even when my mother and sister were carrying on their women’s talk and boring me to tears, I thought about having you there to bore me, too. When I got this letter from Tim, I had to come to you because I care about you, Meg.”