Sapphire Falls: Going for Wilder (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Trish Edmisten

  “Joe says the Blue Brigade wants to have the kissing booth at the fall festival,” Walt continued.

  Vince furrowed his brow. “They’re not going to sell cider and candy apples?”

  “Of course they are. That’s a Sapphire Falls festival tradition,” Walt said. “They’re going to offer kisses along with it so they can make some extra money. I think Joe said they were calling it Candy and a Kiss.”

  Vince nodded. “Ah, that makes sense.”

  “And Jilly Somers is going to be one of the gals behind the kissing booth this year.”

  Jackson didn’t tell his grandpa that he already knew that. As much as he loved his grandpa, the old man would give him grief for days if he found out about Jackson’s locker room run in with Jillian.

  “Is that so?” Vince said.

  “Sure is, and I don’t know about you, but I intend to buy myself a ticket, maybe more than one.” Walt’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “What about you, Jackson? You think you’ll buy a ticket or two?”

  “No,” Jackson muttered.

  “That’s all right.” Walt wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “That leaves more for the rest of us. Right, Vinnie?”

  While his father and grandfather shared a laugh, Jackson blanched at the thought of all the men that would be lining up to kiss Jillian. Though he wanted to be one of them, he knew better than to let himself go down that road.

  Chapter Two

  As soon as her alarm went off, and Jillian cracked her eyes open, she found herself face to face with Mufasa. Despite the fact that she was used to seeing his big, brown eyes first thing every morning, it still made her laugh.

  Jillian scratched behind his ears. “You’re crazy. You know that right?”

  The fact that she had a queen sized bed did not matter to her little dog. Every night, Mufasa insisted on sleeping curled up next to her head, practically lying on her pillow, which meant she woke up to his face every morning.

  It also did not matter how many times she moved him to another spot in the bed. Sometime after she’d fallen asleep, the stealthy little brat would make his way back to her. After a week of this push and pull, Jillian had given up trying to get him to allow her some space.

  When Jillian sat up and stretched, Mufasa did the same. While she went to the closet to retrieve her robe, Mufasa trotted down the steps she’d set up next to her bed.

  Once her robe was on, and her feet were encased in her favorite fuzzy, pink slippers, she opened the door. Mufasa darted ahead of her, making a bee line for the dog door.

  As usual, her sister’s bedroom door was open when Jillian passed by. Still dressed in her pajamas, Shelby sat at her computer engrossed in a spreadsheet on the screen.

  “Good morning,” Jillian said.

  Shelby turned to grimace at her. “It would be if I had some coffee.”

  “And I suppose you want me to make you some.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d run over to Dottie’s and pick some up.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I never joke about coffee.”

  “We have coffee here.”

  “I know, but we don’t have Dottie’s coffee and her amazing apple pie.”

  “You want me to get you coffee and pie from Dottie’s?”

  Shelby nodded.

  “Why don’t you just go get it yourself?”

  “I can’t. I’m already behind on the Herman account, and the numbers on this spreadsheet aren’t adding up. That’s why I need coffee and pie from Dottie’s.”

  “You need it?”

  “Yes, I’m hoping it will help me sort out the problem here.”

  “Taking a break to get your own coffee and pie will do the same thing.”

  “I already told you I’m behind on this account.” Shelby heaved an impatient sigh. “Come on, Jill. Your first lesson isn’t until nine. You have plenty of time.”

  Jillian raised her eyebrows. “How do you know what time my first lesson is?”

  “Um, hello, I created the spreadsheet you use for scheduling.”

  “Oh, right, I forgot.”

  Shelby put a hand over her heart, collapsing against her chair. “You forgot? You wound me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jillian said, shaking her head.

  “Seriously, I’m hurt. How could you forget all the time and effort I invested in making your piano teaching more efficient? I think you should do something to make it up to me.”

  “Let me guess. You think I should go to Dottie’s and get you pie and coffee.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Fine, I’ll go, but don’t expect this to be a regular thing.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Shelby said, giving her a sweet smile. “Not to be a shrew or anything, but you are going to shower before you go, right?”

  Jillian furrowed her brow. “No, I’m not going to shower. I’m not going to be there that long. I’ll shower when I get back.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can wait a little bit.”

  “It’s fine. I want to get this over with.”

  “I really think you should shower.”

  “I thought you said you were behind and you needed coffee and pie.”

  “What? Oh, yeah, I am and I do so hurry your ass up.”

  Rolling her eyes, Jillian returned to her bedroom.

  Jillian grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a Nebraska sweatshirt from her dresser drawer and tossed them on her bed. Before getting dressed, she brushed her teeth and pulled her hair into a lazy ponytail.

  The dog door banged open and then closed. For such a small dog, Mufasa could be pretty noisy. He padded into the room and gave Jillian an expectant look.

  “Don’t tell me you want coffee and pie from Dottie’s too?” Jillian asked, and

  Mufasa tilted his head to the side. “Sorry buddy, you’re stuck with dog food.”

  At the mention of food, Mufasa’s ears perked up and he began to turn in excited circles. Jillian laughed as she slipped on her favorite tennis shoes. As soon as she was on her feet, Mufasa ran out the bedroom door, no doubt going for the laundry room where Jillian kept his food and water bowls.

  Sure enough, Mufasa waited none too patiently in the laundry room. When Jillian scooped the food from the bag propped in the corner, he did another series of spins. Leaving Mufasa to wolf down his food, Jillian headed out.

  Like getting most everywhere else in Sapphire Falls, the drive to Dottie’s was brief. If she didn’t need to get back for her lessons, Jillian would have walked to the diner.

  She loved autumn in Sapphire Falls. The crisp air, leaves in vibrant yellows, reds and browns dropping from the trees, the seasonal decorations in the town square, it was all home to her.

  Jillian had never felt a desire to leave, nor did she think she would. She would like to take a vacation, maybe even go somewhere exotic, but she would never move. There would be too much to miss.

  When she pulled into the parking lot of the diner, Jillian looked across the street and smiled. It had only been two days since she’d talked to Coach Cooper about fixing up the kissing booth, but she could see the work had already gotten underway.

  Seeing the square all decked out for the festival ramped up her excitement. In a few days, the entire town would turn out to cap off the three day event. Everyone would play games and eat junk food and take a turn on the carnival rides while showing off their costumes.

  And of course, she would be at the kissing booth selling cider and candy apples. With any luck, one of those candy apples would go to a handsome stranger who took one look at her and fell head over heels in love.

  It wasn’t as though handsome strangers moving to Sapphire Falls was unheard of. Joe Spencer had blown into town and swept Phoebe off her feet in short order. Even though his brother, Levi, hadn’t fallen for a local girl, he had fallen in love with one of Phoebe’s closest friends, and they’d both fallen in love with Sapphire Falls.

  If Phoebe and Kate cou
ld snag a man who had never set foot in Sapphire Falls, and live happily ever after, there was no reason it couldn’t happen to Jillian.

  Jackson had just finished pulling on his work boots when his cell phone rang, and he suppressed a groan. It was too early to deal with a backed up toilet. He exhaled when he snagged his phone from where it sat charging atop his dresser and saw it was his grandfather calling.

  “Hi, Gramps.”

  “Are you still home?”

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Oh, good, I need a favor.”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “I left my wallet at home. Could you bring it by Dottie’s so I can pay my bill?”

  Jackson frowned. “One of the guys can’t spot you the money and you can pay him back next time?”

  “You know I don’t like to be in any man’s debt.”

  “I know, but this isn’t the same thing.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Now, are you going to stop sassing me and bring me my wallet?”

  “I wasn’t sassing you.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  Knowing it wouldn’t do any good to argue, Jackson swallowed a sigh. “Sorry, Gramps, yeah I’ll bring your wallet.”

  “That’s my boy. I think it’s on my dresser. If it’s not there, check the pants I wore last night. They should be in the hamper.”

  “Sure thing, see you soon.”

  “See you,” Walt echoed and disconnected.

  Jackson stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He hoped to God his grandpa’s wallet was on his dresser. The last thing he wanted to do was go rifling through the old man’s dirty laundry.

  When he opened the door to his grandpa’s room and spied the wallet on the dresser, he sent up a prayer of thanks. Jackson grabbed the wallet and left but not before patting his back pocket to make sure he didn’t leave his own wallet behind.

  A few minutes later, pulling into the parking lot of Dottie’s Diner, Jackson groaned at the sight of Jillian’s red Jeep Grand Cherokee. A lot of people drove red Jeep Grand Cherokees, but only Jillian’s Jeep was plastered with bumper stickers proclaiming her love of her job.

  ‘Piano teachers are nothing but treble.’ That was an understatement. ‘Dating a piano teacher may not be your forte.’ Something Jackson knew firsthand. Then there was Jackson’s favorite. ‘Piano teachers do it with rhythm’. Jackson would never admit it to anyone but himself, but that was something he wouldn’t have minded putting to the test.

  About seven years ago, Jackson had one of those goofy bumper stickers on his truck. Not by his doing. There was no way he would have put a sticker on his truck that said ‘I have pianist envy’. Only one person would have thought that was funny.

  Considering they hadn’t spoken more than two words to each other in the three years leading up to that incident, Jackson had no idea why she would have done it. The offending sticker had long since been peeled from his bumper, but to this day his dad and grandpa still gave him a hard time about it.

  The bell above the door tinkled when Jackson entered the diner. Everyone inside called out a greeting to him; everyone but Jillian. She spared him a scowl before turning her back to him to wait for her order.

  Jackson couldn’t help his grin as he took in her appearance. Judging from the yoga pants and messy ponytail, she hadn’t come prepared to dine in. Normally, yoga pants didn’t do it for him. Truth be told, he despised them on most women.

  Jillian wasn’t most women. She filled out those yoga pants so well it was hard to keep his eyes off her ass.

  “Jackson, there you are,” Walt said. “Maybe you can settle an argument for us.”

  “Sure, Gramps.” Jackson handed over his grandfather’s wallet before he forgot why he’d come. “What’s the argument?”

  “Which Huskers quarterback had the most passing yards in school history,” Joe answered. “Your granddaddy here says it’s Crouch, but I think he’s off his rocker. Everyone knows Crouch was drafted by the Rams to play wide receiver, not quarterback.”

  “I think he played quarterback for the Huskers, but he got drafted to the NFL as a wide receiver because of his speed,” Jackson said, and the group nodded.

  “See, what did I tell you?” Walt gave Joe a triumphant look.

  “You didn’t tell me who actually has the most passing yards in Huskers history,” Joe said.

  Unless someone came up with the answer, they could go on like that all day. Jackson was tempted to pull his phone out and do a quick Google search to make sure that didn’t happen.

  “I’m pretty sure it was Crouch,” Walt insisted.

  “Actually, it wasn’t,” Jillian said.

  The entire group of men looked up. Jillian stood at the head of their table, a tray of coffees in one hand and a bag in the other. For the first time, Jackson noticed the Huskers sweatshirt she wore.

  “It was Tommie Frazier in 1986 that set the Huskers record for the most passing yards,” Jillian said, and they all stared at her. “Eric Crouch was third in career passing, but he did finish first in offensive touchdowns.”

  Not waiting for anyone to refute her statement, she turned and strolled out of the diner. There was a beat of silence as everyone stared out the door, watching her get into her Jeep.

  Joe let out a hearty laugh. “If that don’t beat all. I think she’s right.”

  “You do, huh?” Walt shook his head. “Until two seconds ago, you were ready to agree it was Crouch.”

  “I was not, you old fool,” Joe said, still looking at the door that Jillian had just exited. “That woman is going to make some lucky bastard one damn fine wife.”

  A hard core Huskers fan, artistic, beautiful and an ass that looked good in yoga pants. Sounded like the perfect wife to Jackson. If things were different, she would have been his.

  Driving back to the house, Jillian was torn between basking in the triumph of her superior college football knowledge and seething over Jackson seeing her looking like something the cat dragged in. Of all the days for them to cross paths, fate picked the one where yoga pants were her fashion choice.

  It didn’t help that Jackson looked like he was ready to pose for a magazine spread dedicated to the sexy working man. Those jeans hugged his thick thighs and highlighted a perfect ass, but it was the bicep squeezing flannel shirt that made the ensemble drool worthy.

  To make matters worse, he probably didn’t put any effort in to his appearance. He no doubt rolled out of bed and grabbed his jeans and flannel without caring how he would look in them.

  And there she’d stood in all her yoga pants and ratty sweatshirt glory, her hair messy and not a stitch of makeup. She would not have been surprised if he’d taken one look at her and wondered what he was thinking when he’d kissed her all those years ago.

  Next time she was going to listen when her sister told her to shower before she went out. Screw that! Next time she wasn’t going to let herself be talked in to going on a coffee run for her sister. They had coffee at home.

  Though she’d been gone for less than half an hour, Mufasa still greeted her like she hadn’t seen him in more than a year. Jillian paused to give her dog some love before stomping up the stairs to her sister’s room.

  “Hey, you’re back. Thank God. I really need that coffee.”

  “Yeah, well, the next time you need coffee, you can go get it yourself.”

  Shelby frowned. “Did something happen?”

  “Jackson Wilder showed up,” Jillian said.

  “Oh, God, and you were wearing yoga pants and no makeup.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I guess you should have listened to me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you’d showered before you left, you wouldn’t have looked so heinous when you ran in to Jackson.”

  “I do not look heinous,” Jillian huffed, and Shelby raised her eyebrows as she sipped her coffee. “Okay, fine, I look heinous, but why should I care what Jackson thinks of me?”

  “You tell me.
”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “But you do?”

  “No, I don’t. That’s not what I meant.”

  Shelby smiled. “If you say so, but methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  Jillian threw up her hands. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  With her sister laughing behind her, Jillian spun on her heel and stormed from the room.

  Chapter Three

  Jackson let out a satisfied sigh as he stood and stretched. Another day of work in the books, and it had been a good one.

  Instead of dealing with backed up toilets or temperamental garbage disposals and leaky faucets, he’d spent the day installing pipes in the bathroom of a house Delaney Tucker was flipping on the edge of town.

  With two and a half bathrooms and the kitchen in need of work, the project was nowhere near finished. It would take at least two weeks for him to get the job done if he wanted to do it right, and there was no question he would do it right.

  Wilder’s Plumbing had been a family business for more than fifty years, going back to Jackson’s great-grandfather. Jackson had lost count of how many times he’d heard his grandpa say they hadn’t lasted as long as they had by cutting corners and cheating folks out of their hard earned money.

  Having Delaney Tucker in Sapphire Falls had certainly been good for Wilder’s Plumbing. Every time she flipped a house, she called Wilder’s to do the plumbing. Sure, they were the only plumbers in Sapphire Falls, but she didn’t have to use them. She could have gone with an outfit from the city.

  So far, Jackson had laid the pipes in Ty Bennett’s house and Levi and Kate Spencer’s house. This was the third house Delaney had flipped.

  Jackson liked working with Delaney. She was a great contractor, and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.

  Delany came to stand in the doorway of the bathroom he’d been working on. “I was just coming to say we should knock off for the day, but it looks like you had the same idea.”

  “You know what they say about great minds thinking alike.”

  “Did you have any problems?”