Worth the Risk (St. James Book 3)

by Jamie Beck

  Hammill.

  Her heart had somehow climbed into her throat, where it throbbed. Could it be? Why now? Why would her mother contact her after all this time?

  “Gabby?” Jackson called from the garden. “I’ve got some things to take care of now, but I’ll see you later. Luc’s checking the pumpkins.”

  Gabby swallowed and nodded as he waved and went to the apartment.

  “Luc, let’s go inside.” She crossed to the house on shaky legs and opened the back door. “Come on, bud.”

  Setting the bills on the kitchen table, she then tossed the junk mail and her mom’s unopened letter into the trash.

  Twenty torturous minutes later, Gabby forced herself to return to the kitchen. She stood, staring at the trash can, debating.

  Jackson chowed down on the remnants of the leftover chili he’d brought back from lunch. A quick glance at the microwave clock told him he could probably go to the main house now, because Luc should be tucked into bed.

  Seeing Gabby and Noah in the yard today had been a practical reminder of one of many reasons why he shouldn’t act on his attraction. In a few weeks, he’d be back in Connecticut. If he allowed Gabby and Luc to get attached to him, they could get hurt—and like Doc suggested, so might he. Plus, he didn’t need an angry cop breathing down his neck, either.

  Noah’s ice-blue eyes had flared earlier, despite his civil behavior. If Jackson had been thinking, he wouldn’t have horsed around with Luc in front of Noah. But how could Jackson resist such a welcome greeting from the kid? It’d made him feel like a superhero.

  At least Noah’s presence had prevented any awkward discussion between Gabby and him about their near kiss. Halfway across the yard last night, he’d considered going back and giving her what she’d wanted. He’d even stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. Thankfully, he’d hesitated long enough for her to turn off the lights and go upstairs without him.

  Score one for team responsible, zero for team horny—which he was. Not that he should be thinking about that right now. No. He’d promised to help see her through this crisis with her father, and that’s all he was going to do, even if it meant spending a lot of time with Rosy Palm and her five sisters.

  He set the clean bowl on the counter and turned off the lights. As soon as he opened the door, he smelled smoke. Not enough to be concerned, but he was curious because he didn’t see anything puffing from the Bouchards’ chimney.

  Once the backyard came into full view, he glimpsed Gabby on the patio, adding more kindling to a fire pit that was springing to life. Unlike most of the time, her expression looked serious—somber, even—making him wonder if her father’s recovery had taken a bad turn.

  When she saw him, she waved without smiling. “Mind sitting outside to talk? Sky’s so clear. An hour from now it’ll be lit with stars. Might even see some satellites cross the sky.”

  Jackson glanced up and saw faint stars appearing against the ever-darkening expanse. It’d been forever since he’d relaxed in front of an open fire, surrounded by the scent of dry leaves. “Sounds great.”

  “I made cocoa.” She gestured toward a thermos and empty cup. “Want some?”

  Cocoa? A mom thing to do, he supposed. Very cute. Too damn cute. And in lieu of something stronger, cocoa sounded like a great substitute. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  He poured himself a mugful, and then sat in one of the Adirondack chairs gathered near the round copper pit.

  “Thanks, again, for offering your help. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  Her uncharacteristic lack of animation struck Jackson hard. Something had happened. He could pry, but maybe she’d tell him in her own time. Or not.

  He frowned at that last thought. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “If you end up changing your mind at any point, just say so.” Gabby sat in a chair that had a notebook perched on its arm. She slid it onto her lap, opened it, and without further preamble, launched into an explanation. “So basically my dad oversees thirty homes. Luckily, the snow hasn’t started yet, so I won’t need you to get up at four o’clock to start plowing people’s private lanes and driveways.” She shot him a wry grin. “But it could happen by early November. If that isn’t something you’re up for—which I totally get—I can subcontract out or something.”

  “I said I’d help, so whatever that means, you can count on me. These days I’m not finding it too difficult to get up early.” He sipped his cocoa, abashed by how much better he’d been feeling in the mornings. No headaches, no dry mouth, no stomach pain. He’d even dropped a few pounds.

  Gabby looked like she bit back a comment or question. If he had to guess, she’d probably been about to probe him about his drinking. He couldn’t blame her for her heightened sensitivity. Instead of being irked, he felt grateful she cared at all, considering their short-lived acquaintance. Still, he didn’t want to discuss that tonight, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “Hopefully we won’t see heavy snowfall before my dad can drive.” She sighed and flipped one page. “October is typically a month of rodent issues. Temperatures are dropping, so mice and snakes and stuff seek shelter indoors. My dad has a rotating schedule where he checks each house for pests, leaks, furnace and appliance issues, etc. Monday is garbage day, so he takes the pickup and makes a few dump runs for people who’ve come to their homes for the weekend. In November, we’ll start checking propane levels and add an extra day per house to check electrical and heat issues. We make special runs on Fridays to turn up the heat and turn on a light for owners who will be arriving in the evening. Stuff like that.”

  “Sounds pretty straightforward.” He tipped his head.

  “Only gets interesting when something goes wrong, which we never hope for, of course.” She wrapped her hands around her mug and sipped. “I thought maybe this week we’d do it together, then once you’re familiar with the routine, we can split the work or something. I’ve still got to do my landscape work—leaf removal and cold-season prep—and on top of all that, I need to get Luc back and forth from day care.”

  “I heard Noah offer to help.” Jackson watched Gabby’s gaze drop to her lap. “Maybe he could do the drop-off or pickup, whichever best works in his schedule? I’m guessing Luc would like to ride in that patrol car.”

  Gabby looked up, chagrined. “Luc probably would love that. Unlike you, however, Noah hasn’t proven to be too reliable. I could totally see him forgetting to pick up Luc one day.”

  Jackson nodded, not knowing exactly why he’d encouraged her to involve Noah when Noah didn’t seem to be a great guy. Must be the part of him that had been denied fatherhood hated to see any guy denied the opportunity. “You might be underestimating him. Maybe if you give him some responsibility, he’ll take it seriously. Luc is his son. That must mean something to him.”

  Fifteen seconds passed in silence. Apparently he’d crossed a line. Funny, ’cause Gabby hadn’t struck him as a girl with many boundaries. It was one of the traits he liked best about her—that willingness to open herself up, come what may.

  “Let’s not talk about Noah, okay?” She closed the notebook. “He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not a good one, either. Cocky, selfish, and he left me high and dry. I don’t trust him not to break Luc’s heart like . . .” Then she stopped suddenly. Jackson guessed the end of that sentence might’ve been “like he broke mine.” The fact that she ran her own little business, this household, and her son’s life like a champ sometimes made him forget how young she was. But just now, her bravado reminded him.

  “Deal.” Jackson offered an apologetic smile and sipped his cocoa. “This is great, by the way. Is there peppermint in here?”

  “Yep.” Gabby breathed a relieved sigh. “Let’s plan to get moving at eight. I can drop Luc off beforehand and then meet you here. We’ll go around to half the houses tomorrow, and the other half the next day. Takes about ten to fifteen minutes per house plus travel time, so that’ll take us into mid to late afternoon.”


  Jackson stretched his legs toward the fire. “Guess I’ll get to know all the back roads of Winhall by the time I go home.”

  Home.

  He’d been treating his time away from home like a vacation, if one ignored the therapy sessions and lack of partying. Doc’s suggestion that he invite the family up for a group session replayed, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his chair.

  “Do you miss it yet?” Gabby asked.

  “Hmm?” He met her gaze, confused from being lost in his own thoughts. “Miss what?”

  “Home.” She set the notebook on the ground and pulled her legs up to her chest. Curled in a ball that way made her look even more sweet than usual. The unjaded air of innocence appealed to him so damn much.

  Jackson shrugged one shoulder. “I miss my own bed.”

  As soon as that word left his mouth, he pictured Gabby in his bed. The flush creeping up his neck had nothing to do with the fact he sat before a crackling fire. Maybe Gabby envisioned something similar, because she looked away for a second before clearing her throat.

  “What about your family or friends?” She hugged her knees tighter, and all he could think about was how he’d like to snuggle up with her on his lap. “Are you eager to return to them?”

  Normally he wouldn’t answer that question honestly, but something about the crisp fall night and cocoa and his growing infatuation urged him to open up. Or maybe pulling information from him was a special gift of Gabby’s.

  “Not exactly.” He shifted again.

  Gabby didn’t ask him why. He suspected she’d become preoccupied with her own thoughts again. She held her mug beneath her chin, as if using it for additional warmth. Her gaze remained fixed on the flames, which popped occasionally, shooting glowing embers upward like tiny fireworks.

  He watched her as if he could will her to share her thoughts. Odd, considering how long it had been since he’d cared to know someone else’s thoughts about anything. What he guessed he really wanted was to find a way to make her dimples reappear.

  A canopy of stars now hung over them, vivid and dense like in a planetarium. He’d experienced this wonder in the Rockies, too. Spectacular, really. The enormity of the galaxy—of the universe—could make a man feel miniscule, or just damn lucky to be alive.

  Depended on his mood.

  “Satellite!” Gabby pointed at the westward horizon and then traced her finger eastwardly, following the dim white dot steadily drifting across the sky.

  Jackson grinned because she looked almost childlike then, her face awash in the golden glow of firelight, excitedly watching something he suspected would bore most of the women he’d spent time with this past year.

  Gabby glanced at him and then her brows knitted together. “Maybe I should keep my mouth shut, but I need to apologize about last night. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I just . . . I want to clear the air so we can start fresh. As friends.”

  “I already told you, no apologies needed. No explanations, either.” Then, because once again her courage oddly empowered him, he confessed, “One thing I could really use these days is a friend.”

  Not that, under other circumstances, she wouldn’t tempt him to want more. Much more. Wrap her in his arms and don’t let go kind of more.

  “Me too.” Her melancholy aside ruffled him like the cold gust of air that swept over the yard. A resilient, caring girl like Gabby ought to have a long list of friends instead of settling for a transient one like him.

  Her uncharacteristic attitude all night convinced him that something weighed heavily on her mind. Although it went against everything in his St. James nature, he jumped headlong into personal territory. “You seem preoccupied tonight. Did something happen with your dad since I saw you earlier?”

  “No.” She pressed her lips together while staring at the fire. Then she rested her cheek on her knees and met his gaze. “I got a letter from my mom.”

  “Really?” He leaned forward, uncertain of what to say. “That must’ve been a shock.”

  “Apparently she’d written to me a few times years ago, but it turns out my dad kept those letters from me.” Gabby hung her head for a second. “She’s living in Burlington now, working at a B and B. Last weekend was parents’ weekend at the University of Vermont and she ran into our neighbors, the Dresslers. They mentioned Luc. Of course, my mom had no idea she was a grandmother. She wrote to ask if she could come see Luc and me.”

  A bunch of thoughts crowded Jackson’s brain at once, not the least of which being that he’d stepped in way over his head with this conversation. He sucked at giving advice, so he decided to take a page from Doc’s playbook and listen, validate her feelings, and let her come to her own conclusion. “That’s a lot to think about.”

  “Is it?” The hostile edge in her voice caught him unawares. “I mean, honestly, why should I even care about her or what she wants? Why should I ever let her near my son after the choice she made?”

  Validate and let her decide, he reminded himself.

  “Fair points.” Then he paused. “But it seems the real question isn’t why you should care; it’s do you care?”

  He couldn’t see her eyes too clearly in the dark, but he thought he heard a sniffle. Shit. He’d made her cry. “Gabby?”

  “I’m fine. Or maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m mad, and not just at my mom. My dad kept those old letters from me like I’m some kind of baby. Like I didn’t have the right to have contact with my mom. And I’m mad at my mom for being so weak. For walking away instead of fighting for our family, for me.”

  Her normally melodious voice had become strangled with emotion.

  “I’m sorry you’re upset.” He sat back in his chair. “Your feelings are totally justified.”

  Discomfort squirmed through his body from the venom in her voice when she spoke of her mom’s addiction. Did Gabby consider him weak because of his alleged drinking problem? Worse, did that kind of anger lie beneath the concern Cat and David were showing him lately?

  “Justified, but not helpful. They don’t change anything or make it easier.” She looked at the fire again, clearly delving deeper into her own thoughts. “The thing is, I’m being a hypocrite. If I want to be seen as something more than my mistakes, don’t I owe my mom the chance to make up for hers?” She whipped her head back toward him. “Look at you. You’re beating your problem. Maybe my mom is finally beating hers, too. She said she’s been clean for twenty-two months. That sounds like a long stretch, right?”

  “I don’t know.” He crossed his ankles and avoided her gaze.

  Out of nowhere, she turned the discussion on him. “How long have you been sober?”

  “Hold on.” He frowned. “First of all, my drinking’s not the issue. Secondly, you can’t compare your mom to me. Maybe I drank more than my family approved of, but I’m not an alcoholic or a drug addict. I never abandoned my responsibilities or the people who loved me.”

  He drew a deep breath to slow his heart rate, which had started racing. Did she honestly think him comparable to her mother? Meanwhile, Gabby seemed calm as she dismissively waved one hand.

  “Semantics, really. I mean, your family did kind of force your hand. You did take time off to come here and regroup. So you know more than I do about fighting habit-forming impulses.”

  “Considering your low regard for your mom, I really don’t like the comparison. And I’m not going to tell you what choices you should make regarding her or your dad.”

  “No?” For the first time since their only other argument, she scowled at him. “So this friendship doesn’t include honesty and advice?”

  He had two choices. He could get pissed at her for poking him so hard, or he could consider that her mom’s letter had thrown her into a tizzy, and she had no one else to take it out on but him. It wasn’t personal. She needed to vent, and he needed to take it. But he didn’t need to encourage her anger or let it escalate.

  “Gabby . . .” Not knowing how to steer the conversation, he joked to l
ighten the mood. “God, are we as pathetic as we sound?”

  But Gabby’s tone remained decidedly serious. “Maybe.”

  He frowned while gulping the majority of his drink, which had turned lukewarm.

  “That bothers you, huh?” Gabby cocked her head. “Is it because you care what others think, or because you weren’t always ‘pathetic’?”

  Hell, maybe she should go apprentice with Doc. Her forthrightness kept him in a constant state of suspense. Before he had time to think, he blurted, “Both.”

  She cocked one brow. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Oh, really.” He leaned forward, half teasing, and fully glad to have moved away from the hot topic of her mom. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

  “Not all figured out, but I’ve got good intuition.” Gabby sat back and straightened her shoulders.

  Morbidly fascinated by what she might say next, Jackson couldn’t break away from her gaze.

  She pressed her lips together tightly, as if telling herself not to speak, but then did. “Someone really hurt you. Made you doubt yourself.”

  Direct hit.

  Jackson’s entire body flashed hot. He liked Gabby, and even trusted her, but he wouldn’t spill all his guts. Not now, not here. Especially not right after she’d struck a bull’s-eye.

  His mind jumped from thought to thought as he set his mug on the chair’s arm. Leaning forward, he said, “I think I should probably go to bed soon if we’re going to get an early start tomorrow. Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

  “Jackson.” She remained seated when he stood, but set her feet back on the ground. “Whoever she was must be an idiot.”

  He huffed an amused chuckle. “They—plural. So it seems more likely that I’m the idiot.”

  Gabby’s eyes widened, but he lost focus on her expression when a slideshow of images—Alison, David, Cat—shuffled through his mind, causing him to frown. Tugging on his earlobe, he finally managed to settle his thoughts. “Just so you know I can be a friend who offers advice, if I were you, I’d see my mom—alone, not with Luc. Otherwise the not knowing might eat away at you.” He blew out a breath. “See you in the morning.”