by Laura Scott
Deputy Lewis raised a brow. “What about him?”
“You know him?” Dalton asked.
“Everyone knows him; he’s as much of a fixture in this town as Mrs. Cromwell. And of course, the McNallys.”
“He basically told Jazz to get out of town because no one wants her here,” Dalton said. “When Jazz asked why he shook his finger in her face and said, ‘You know.’”
The deputy looked surprised. “You know what?”
“I know nothing,” Jazz said wearily. “The guy is old enough to be my father, how would I know why he wants me gone?”
“According to Mrs. Cromwell, Leon and Justin were both highly competitive in high school,” Dalton explained. “Could be they fought over Jazz’s mother or maybe some other girl.”
“Or maybe people just didn’t like my grandparents in general.” Jazz spread her hands. “Jealousy over their imagined wealth or status . . . who knows? There are dozens of possibilities. But one thing is for sure, the old man didn’t take a sledgehammer to the gazebo, run off toward the Stevensons’ place, and then leap into a car to drive away.”
“Not likely,” Deputy Lewis agreed. “Speaking of which, I brought your sledgehammer back. We found a few usable prints but need you to come in so we can verify they’re not yours.”
Jazz’s green eyes flashed with impatience. “I don’t have time, I’m in the middle of painting the gazebo.”
“You go, and I’ll pick up where you left off painting,” Dalton said. “It won’t take long. Besides, we have the rest of the day to paint.”
Jazz looked as if she wanted to argue, but Deputy Lewis jumped in. “Great idea, I’ll drive you to the station and when we’re finished getting your prints, I’ll bring you back. Won’t take long at all.”
She threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine, but I need to get the ladder from the garage first. Even Dalton won’t be able to reach the top of the gazebo without it.”
“I’ll get the ladder,” he said in a firm tone. “Go with the deputy.”
Jazz walked over to the garage, punched in the key code, and watched as the door raised up. “It’s in the corner,” she said. “And there’s more painting supplies in here too, if you need them.”
“I think I can handle it,” he assured her.
He waited until Jazz climbed in beside the deputy and they drove off before he fetched the ladder and carried it around the house to the gazebo.
He set up the radio again, keeping it on his favorite country station. Painting was another mindless job, although he did his best to stay focused on making progress and not on what Jazz and Deputy Garth Lewis might be talking about. The fact that the deputy would be here in McNally Bay long after he was gone didn’t sit well with him.
Which made no sense, since the deputy could offer Jazzlyn more on a personal level than he could.
He found himself grinding his teeth as he continued painting. The sun was warm, so he stripped down to the thin T-shirt, making good progress on the rest of the panel. When he finished that one, he moved on to the next panel.
What in the world was taking them so long? He glanced at his watch for the third time in the past fifteen minutes. They’d been gone over an hour and a half already.
Had the Deputy taken advantage of the opportunity to take Jazz out to lunch? And why not? She was beautiful, smart, funny, handy with a hammer, down-to-earth . . .
The muffled sound of a car door slamming shut startled him from his internal monologue. His shoulders slumped in relief, and he knew in that instant that he was in trouble.
Deep trouble.
He shouldn’t care this much about Jazz. About any woman. No way was he going down the road of a relationship. Not now, not ever.
With steely determination, he forced the memory of Debbie’s sad expression into his mind’s eye. Then he conjured up the laughing face of his son, Davy, imagining them both the last time he’d seen them, before they’d been taken from his life, forever.
He’d never have a home, or a family, again. And clearly Jazz was creating just that here in her grandparents’ house.
“It’s almost lunchtime, are you okay with sandwiches again?”
He turned on the ladder to glance down at Jazz. She’d turned off the radio and stood holding her hand up, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun. He cleared his throat. “I figured you already ate.”
“Why would I eat in town?” she asked, obviously confused.
He didn’t want to explain his assumption that she’d gone out with the deputy, so he shrugged. “You were gone longer than I thought, figured you decided to eat before coming back.”
“I waited for the deputy to verify that my prints didn’t match the ones they found on the sledgehammer, and the good news is that they didn’t match. We have the fingerprints of the perp who destroyed the gazebo. The bad news is that the fingerprints didn’t pop up in their database.”
“Bummer. Although I can’t say I’m surprised. There’s no reason to believe this guy has a criminal past.”
“I guess not.” She didn’t look happy. “Give me about fifteen minutes to make the sandwiches.”
“Don’t forget the lemonade,” he added.
She laughed before disappearing through the French doors, and he caught himself smiling in return.
Idiot. Ridiculous to be relieved that she hadn’t stayed in town to have lunch with the deputy. He didn’t want her to care about him. Not like that. Not when he was leaving ASAP.
He attacked the painting as if he could finish the entire section before lunchtime. Which of course, he couldn’t. And while he was tempted to tell Jazz to eat without him, he knew she wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.
“Dalton! Lunch!”
“Coming,” he called. He finished the last bit of trim, then climbed down the ladder. Stepping back, he surveyed their progress. Better than he’d dared hope. With both of them working the rest of the day, he saw no reason why they couldn’t finish the first coat of the entire gazebo.
After cleaning off the brush and covering the paint, he headed inside. He ducked into the bathroom to quickly use the facilities and to wash up, then joined Jazz at the kitchen table.
The plate of sandwiches was heaping, and this time, instead of soup, she’d thrown together a salad.
His stomach rumbled with hunger, making a mockery out of his intent to skip lunch. Granted, the food was delicious, better than the grub he usually fixed over his campfire, but he still found it odd that he was so hungry lately.
Ever since meeting Jazz.
“Deputy Lewis doesn’t believe Leon Tate is involved in the vandalism either,” she said in a tone that implied she was right and he was wrong. “More likely it’s kids running around getting into trouble for a cheap thrill.”
“The guy I chased wasn’t a kid.” He was becoming annoyed at her determination to make this nothing more than a random act of violence. “The first brick through the window? Yeah, maybe. But not the guy I followed.”
She wrinkled her nose in disagreement but changed the subject. “Do you think we’ll get the first coat finished today?”
“Of course. We’ve already made significant progress. And that was with only one person doing the painting.”
“Good.” Her eyes glowed with excitement. “After lunch, I’m going to go on my website and make the last two rooms available as of Memorial Day.”
“Why not open up sooner?” he asked between bites. “It’s late April now, but the blue room walls won’t take long to finish up, and that only leaves the two bathrooms to fix. Seems as if you might want to start bringing in an income sooner than later.”
Her eyes widened as the idea sank in. “I could do that,” she agreed. “Especially if Jemma would agree to come out here sooner.”
“Exactly.” He grinned and lifted his lemonade glass in a mock toast. “To The McNallys’ B and B, opening May fifteenth!”
She lifted her glass to touch the rim of his. Their gazes caught
and held. Tearing his eyes from hers wasn’t easy, and Dalton knew in that moment that leaving Jazz when the renovation work was complete might be one of the hardest things he’d ever have to do.
Second only to burying his wife and six-month-old son.
7
Hiding the constant sizzling awareness that she felt around Dalton wasn’t easy. Especially when she suspected he felt the same way.
She tried to convince herself this was the normal camaraderie that grew between people who worked closely together, nothing more. In hindsight, she should have insisted on working on a renovation project with Tom before they got engaged. She was certain that they wouldn’t have lasted an hour together without arguing, much less several days.
As if to prove her point, the rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Dalton let her pick the music for the afternoon, and she’d smiled to herself when she caught him singing along with a few of the songs. The sun was out, and the waves gently lapped against the rocky shoreline, a pleasant sound amidst the whispering wind. She and Dalton painted the gazebo in perfect harmony, a mutual system where he stayed up on the ladder leaving the lower boards and panels for her to complete.
Only when the sun began to dip on the horizon did she remember that she needed to throw something together for dinner. She mentally reviewed the items she’d purchased at the grocery store. “Tacos sound okay to you?”
“Sure,” Dalton readily agreed. “I can finish up out here if you want to get started.”
“There’s a lot of cleanup to do,” she protested.
“I can handle it.”
“That’s not the point. My gazebo, my B and B, my mess.”
He glanced down at her from his perch on the ladder. “Consider it repayment for all the food you’re providing.”
She relented, partially because he was more than capable of cleaning up, but more so because she wanted some privacy to call her twin.
Inside, she took a quick shower and used the blow-dryer to dry her hair straight. She regarded her reflection and silently chastised herself for wanting to look nice for Dalton. She ran back downstairs to the kitchen, started the ground beef browning on the stove, then called Jemma.
Her sister answered right away, as if she’d been about to call her. “Hi, Jazz.”
“How are you?” Jazz asked earnestly. “Did you call the police about Randal the way I asked?”
“I did, and they took a statement from the preschool teacher. Unfortunately, the description Ms. Young gave the officer didn’t match Randal, so they’re not convinced my ex-husband is the one behind this.”
“Ridiculous, who else would try to take Trey?” Jazz couldn’t believe the cops weren’t taking the threat seriously. And she was glad Jemma was finally opening up to her about the details of what was going on. “Of course, it’s Randal. He must have asked someone else to pick Trey up for him.”
“I tried that approach too, but they said there’s no proof. They’re calling it a simple mistake.” Jemma’s voice was full of defeat. “You know Randal has friends on the Bloomington police force. I’m sure he has them convinced I’m crazy.”
“I believe in you, Jemma, and so do a lot of other people, especially the judge who awarded you full custody of Trey,” Jazz reminded her.
“For now.”
Jazz didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
There was a long pause before her sister softly admitted, “I’m deeply afraid Randal will try to sue for joint custody again.”
“He won’t win. You have proof of his violent temper, remember?” Jazz hated knowing what her sister had suffered through before finally filing for divorce. “Hey, listen, I have an idea. The renovations here at the house are going faster than I anticipated, so why don’t you give your notice now and come out in the next two weeks? I’m convinced we can rent a few rooms starting mid-May rather than waiting for the holiday weekend. But I can’t do that alone, I’m not nearly the cook you are, especially when it comes to baking.”
“Mid-May?” Jemma sounded skeptical. “How is that possible? You said it would take a full month to get all the work done.”
She glanced out the window and watched as Dalton climbed off the ladder and began cleaning up. Muscles rippled along his back causing her pulse to jump erratically.
With an effort, she turned away and swallowed hard. “I’ve had a little help from a handyman,” she said, hedging a bit on the truth. “Please, Jemma, take Trey and get out of Bloomington. I miss you, and you and Trey will be safer here. Not to mention, we’ll be one step closer to opening our new business.”
Another long pause. “I’ll think about it,” Jemma finally said in a low tone. “You’re right about getting out of Bloomington, but I hate to leave my little second graders in the last month of school. They deserve better from me.”
Jazz held the phone with one hand and jabbed a spoon into the browning meat with the other. “I know you care about your kids, Jem, but think about Trey. Is finishing the school year really worth the risk to your son?”
“No, it’s not.” Jemma’s voice sounded brittle.
“The little ones will be fine. And so will you, once you and Trey are here with me,” Jazz pressed. She set down the spoon and covered the skillet. “Please? For me? And for Trey?”
“Okay, I’ll talk to the principal next week, Monday. If they can arrange for someone to cover, I’ll move to McNally Bay earlier than originally planned.”
Jazz performed a quick fist pump. “Great! I’ll be sure to have the master suite ready for you and Trey.” Remembering that Dalton was staying there, she hastily added, “But, um, give me a twenty-four-hour notice of your anticipated arrival, okay? I, uh, want to be sure I’m around and not at the hardware store or something.”
“I will,” Jemma promised. “Thanks, sis.”
“Anytime.” Jazz disconnected from the call overwhelmed with relief. There was no way Randal could know of her twin’s plans, and Jazz was convinced that having Jemma here would protect her twin and her young nephew.
Since she was already on a first-name basis with Deputy Lewis, she made a mental note to let him know of Jemma’s situation, just in case Randal decided to follow them here. Maybe a stranger would stand out more noticeably in a small town, compared to the large city of Bloomington, Illinois.
Dalton came into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. “Smells good. Do I have time for a shower?”
“Yes, I still have to cut up the tomatoes and black olives.” She waved him off. “Dinner in fifteen.”
He disappeared into the master suite, and she wondered if she should ask Dalton to move upstairs to the yellow room for the rest of his stay.
However long that might be.
She didn’t want to think about how lonely it would feel once Dalton was gone. Oddly enough, even though he’d only been here for a few days, she’d gotten accustomed to having him around.
But he wasn’t hers and he wasn’t staying, so she needed to get over it. She wouldn’t be alone for long anyway. Jemma and Trey would be here soon. And at some point over the next few months, each of their brothers had promised to stop by to visit. Well, except for Jonas who was deployed overseas for who knew how long.
By the end of the summer, between her family and their guests, no doubt she’d be longing for peace and quiet.
Dalton didn’t say much over dinner, but she was glad to see his appetite had returned. He helped himself to a third soft shell taco heaped with guacamole. “This is great.”
“Guacamole is easy.” She smiled at his enthusiasm, comparing his appreciative attitude to Tom’s less than agreeable countenance.
That should have been her first clue, she thought with a sigh. Not only was Tom always finding something to criticize, but he had never been satisfied with anything.
Including her, apparently, or he wouldn’t have been doing the tonsil dance with Megan after their rehearsal dinner.
Old news. No sense rehashing her failure
s.
“I mentioned the idea of opening earlier to my sister,” she said, abruptly breaking the silence. “Jemma is going to see if she can join me sooner than originally planned.”
Dalton nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“After dinner, I’d like you to show me the work you need done in the bathrooms,” Dalton said. “Did you already buy new fixtures and tile?”
“Not yet,” she admitted.
“Bring paper and pencil so I can help you make a list,” he suggested. “We should be able to finish painting the gazebo tomorrow. No reason not to start in on the bathrooms.”
“You still have to finish the drywall in the blue room, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but this is the putzy phase, I have to wait for the paste to dry, add more, wait for that to dry, then sand it all down before we can even think of putting the first coat of spackle on. In the meantime, I can start working on other projects. Like the bathrooms. The blue room and the yellow room, right?”
She stared at him in surprise at how he had everything planned out in detail for how to proceed over the next couple of days. Logically, she knew it was only because he was determined to finish the job so he could leave town.
As if he couldn’t wait to get away from her.
She forced a smile. “Right. Okay, we’ll make a list.”
“Good.” After he carried his dishes to the sink, he disappeared upstairs to check out the bathrooms.
Bracing her hands on the sink, she stared at nothing, wondering if there was anything she could say or do to convince Dalton to stay.
Dalton inspected the bathroom in the blue room, taking note of the missing tiles and the cracked grout. Not to mention it was all the old-fashioned two-by-two size, instead of the larger ones that were more popular now.
If this place belonged to him, he’d rip all the tile out and start over fresh. It would be expensive, but he thought it would look amazing when it was finished.
Not his decision to make, especially since he had no idea what kind of a renovation budget she was working with.