He frowned at the road. "What's wrong with that advice?"
Laney sighed. "Nothing at all, Jeb, if I wanted to catch a speckled trout. But I want to get married, and that means I'm going to have to do something."
"Like what?" he challenged.
She folded her arms and looked out her window.
"Exactly." He sounded annoyingly smug, but then his tone gentled. "Princess, don't make yourself crazy over this."
He was right; she was working herself into a frazzle. She did dumb things like that when she was tired. And she'd been tired a lot lately, thanks to the stress that was preventing her from getting any truly restorative sleep.
Jeb tuned on the radio and found her favorite station, which happened to be playing a Haydn piano sonata he'd learned in college. As his long fingers fluttered against the steering wheel in the remembered patterns, Laney shifted to a more comfortable position and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, Jeb was tickling her ear and urging her to wake up because they were home.
She insisted on helping to carry the shopping bags into his house. She ended up at his kitchen table, alternately yawning and snipping sales tags off the new garments while he made hot cocoa.
"Where do I keep the marshmallows?" he asked as he set a fragrant mug of chocolate in front of her.
"You don't have any. But this is fine."
After taking a few cautious sips of the steaming, darkly sweet beverage, Laney reached for the scissors and another crisp new shirt to divest of tags. Jeb remained at her side, towering over her like a silent sentinel.
"Jeb, you're hovering," she said with a touch of fatigue-induced irritation.
"Just making sure you don't fall asleep and drown in your chocolate," he returned calmly. He pulled her jacket off the back of a chair and held it out for her. "Come on. I'll walk you home."
She took one last sip from the mug and got to her feet. "I think I can cross two driveways and a small patch of grass without assistance," she grumbled.
"Mm-hmm." He captured her groping right arm and guided it into a sleeve. She managed to insert her other arm, and then he settled the jacket onto her shoulders and turned her around. "I know you left your porch light on, but I still don't like you going into a dark house alone."
As he gathered her hair to lift it free from her collar, the warm brush of his fingers against her neck shot tingles of comfort through Laney. Sighing, she closed her eyes and sagged against his chest.
"Wake up, princess." Patient hands grasped her shoulders and eased her upright again.
"I'm awake." She spoke with conviction, even though her eyes were still closed. "And as for me going into that dark house alone, what do you think I do when you're not here?"
"I try very hard not to think about what you do when I'm not here."
The grim note in his low-pitched reply opened Laney's eyes and touched off the fuse of her resentment.
"If it bothers you to think of me being alone, that's just too bad," she snapped. "I don't have the energy to feel sorry for you. I'm too busy trying to come to terms with your unilateral decision to abandon everything we—"
She stopped, appalled by her harsh words and by the stark pain in Jeb's eyes.
What was she doing? She might be suffering from exhaustion brought on by weeks of worry-filled, sleepless nights, but that was no excuse for attacking Jeb.
She shook her head at him, her lips shaping a soundless and grossly insufficient I'm sorry as she backed away.
"Laney." His gravelly voice had dropped to its deepest register. "Princess. We talked about this."
And they were going to talk about it some more, but not tonight. While she regretted lashing out at him, at the moment she was too upset to discuss his ridiculous plan to help her "get settled" before disappearing from her life so she could "move on."
Best friends didn't move on. Best friends stuck together and talked things through and worked things out.
Except when they were bone-weary and frustrated half out of their minds, in which case they called it a night so they could recover their good sense before resuming the struggle to work things out.
Laney grabbed her bag and fled.
"No, wait." Jeb caught the kitchen door as she tried to close it.
She kept going. He followed her onto the porch and stopped the screen door, too. He reached for her arm, but she twisted away and broke into a run.
"Laney!"
"Not now," she called over her shoulder. "Not tonight."
She thought he'd fallen back, but when she'd reached her door and was fumbling to fit her key in the lock, he grasped her arm and turned her around to face him.
"You said you understood!" he accused in thunderous tones. "You said you'd be okay. You said—"
"I said what you needed to hear!"
Jeb released her arm.
Laney winced as she imagined her shrill words echoing off every nearby house and tree.
"What I needed to hear," Jeb repeated in a hollow voice that told her she'd pricked his masculine pride.
His chest was rising and falling as rapidly as her own, even though they had run only a few yards. The frigid night air turned their harsh breaths into silvery ice crystals; in the pool of light on her porch they faced each other like two wary, winded dragons breathing smoke.
Somewhere a dog barked. Stirred by the light breeze, a few dry, fallen leaves scraped noisily against the sidewalk. When one of Laney's corkscrew curls blew across her face, Jeb raised a hand and smoothed it back.
"I never meant to hurt you, princess."
But he had. And what was worse, he was hurting himself.
Maybe she couldn't stop him from pushing the rest of the world away, but she wasn't about to let him shut her out of his life. He needed her, the impossible man, needed her to accept him and love him and discourage him from constantly waging war on himself. Why didn't he get that?
Blasting him with her own version of the Death Stare, Laney had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. But then his chin jerked up and his expression hardened.
She wasn't surprised. Wrapping himself in a protective coat of anger had always been Jeb's way of dealing with emotions that bewildered him.
Frustrated beyond bearing, Laney just wanted to be alone. She reached for the doorknob, but Jeb captured her wrist in a firm grip.
"Here," he said roughly, pressing a velvet jeweler's box into her palm. He scowled down at her for a moment, and then he groaned and pulled her into his arms and hugged her hard.
"Don't go in there and cry." His unsteady breath tickled her hair. "Promise me you won't."
"I'm not going to cry." Laney made no effort to hide her bitterness. "What would be the point? Would it change anything?" She pushed herself out of his embrace and went inside, firmly closing the windowed door and turning the deadbolt.
"Laney."
She heard his muted voice through the glass, but she refused to look at him as she dropped her bag and shrugged out of her jacket.
"Laney, come on." He rapped on the glass. "I'm just trying to do the right thing!"
She switched off the porch light, leaving him alone in the darkness. Let him stand out there shivering; she was too disgusted to care.
She pounded upstairs and flung herself facedown on her bed. Then recalling the small velvet box in her clenched hand, she sighed and sat up to open it.
Nestled inside was a beautiful pair of sterling silver earrings that Jeb must have bought at the mall when she'd made a trip to the ladies' room. They were the dangly style that she liked, charming jumbles of shining hearts in various sizes. She lifted one cluster and couldn't help smiling when the precious metal jingled like a dozen tiny bells.
Her smile faded as she wondered if this was the last present she would ever receive from Jeb.
No, he'd send her a wedding gift when the time came—if it ever did. And if she had babies, he'd send something when each of them was born. But it wouldn't be the same.
She was terrified that nothing wou
ld ever be the same again.
She closed the box and set it on her nightstand, then kicked off her shoes and lay down again. Dry-eyed and miserable, she pulled the quilt around herself.
Laney, I needed to hear your voice.
What had upset him so much that he'd made that almost frantic phone call and then jumped on the first plane headed to Minnesota? And what good had it done him to rush home like that when he wasn't even going to tell her what was wrong?
Like a snowball rolling downhill, Laney's confusion just kept growing.
Why was he so insistent that she let go of their special friendship and "move on" with her life? She would never marry any man who couldn't accept that Jeb was like family to her. How could he imagine otherwise?
And on the subject of marriage, she never discussed spiritual matters with him, so she was fairly certain she'd never explained why she could marry only another believer. Yet he was suddenly fixated on fixing her up with a good Christian man. Wasn't that a strange goal for an atheist?
With a groan of frustration, Laney sat up to pound her feather pillow into a better shape for cradling her weary head.
Everything just felt so wrong.
In the old days, she had run to Jeb whenever she'd needed help righting her world. But what was she going to do now that Jeb had become one of her biggest problems?
Chapter Ten
Tuesday was an unusually busy day at the tearoom, so Laney had no time to feel sorry for herself. Jeb called twice, but both times the Graces told him she was unable to come to the phone—and she honestly was. It was almost six o'clock before she returned his call.
"Laney." He exhaled her name in obvious relief. "About last night, princess, I—"
"Jeb, I'll be late getting home." She felt mean for interrupting him, but she just couldn't summon the emotional energy to pick up where they'd left off arguing last night. "If you still want to go to the Bible study, be ready at a quarter to seven."
"I'll be ready." He paused. "Laney, I—"
"Thank you for the earrings," she said quickly. He was attempting to apologize, but she couldn't bear that, not when he deserved such a huge apology from her.
"You like them?" His smoky voice betrayed a hint of anxiety that made her feel even worse.
"They're beautiful, Jeb." She fingered the cluster of silver hearts dangling from her right earlobe; they rang like precious coins. "You know I love anything heart-shaped."
His chuckle sounded forced. "Because you're an incurable romantic."
"Actually, I'm beginning to think I might be curable." She'd lain awake most of last night wondering why she was so eager to get married when she couldn't imagine ever feeling as comfortable with a husband as she did with Jeb. "But never mind that. Just be ready when I get home, okay?"
She pulled into his driveway at ten minutes to seven and found him waiting in front of the garage. She'd told him his usual T-shirt and jeans would be fine, so when he opened Francine's passenger door and ducked inside, jamming his long legs under the dash, she was surprised to note that he'd taken some trouble with his appearance. He'd shaved, and he was wearing one of his new shirts with a neatly pressed pair of khakis and his new leather jacket. He looked like a fresh-scrubbed kid on the first day of school.
"I could have met you at the church," he said.
"You wouldn't have wanted to go in alone, Jeb. You're not exactly the mixing and mingling type."
"I can adapt," he said loftily. "I realize it will take some mixing and mingling to find you a good Christian man."
She'd wait until tomorrow to break the news that she was no longer husband hunting, Laney decided as she backed out of the driveway. Just now there was too great a risk that any serious conversation with Jeb would segue into another painful exchange like last night's.
As she drove, she explained that her church's weekly singles' night began with a short Bible study and was followed by refreshments and various group activities for the college-to-age-thirty set.
"We won't stay if you're uncomfortable," she added as she claimed a space in the church parking lot.
"We're staying," Jeb said. "Where else are we going to find so many single Christian men in one place?" He opened his door and would have climbed out, but Laney touched his arm.
"This is a Bible study and fellowship group, Jeb, not a dating service."
"I get that," he said with a hint of impatience. "Now come on. We're late."
They hustled into the church and down the stairs to the basement fellowship hall, where assistant pastor Ted Vance was attempting to herd about thirty young men and women to the rows of chairs at one end of the long room.
Surprise lit Pastor Ted's round face when he saw Laney, but he smiled warmly. He waited for everyone to settle, and after welcoming Jeb and two other first-timers, he offered a brief prayer. Then he said he'd be giving a short lesson from the tenth chapter of First Corinthians.
Laney located the page and held her Bible so that Jeb could read along if he got curious enough.
"I know this!" he said in an excited whisper. "Corinthians!"
Laney's head whipped toward him. "What did you say?"
He cleared his throat, and then he bent to murmur in her ear. "I notice more women than men." He glanced meaningfully around the room.
"Oh. I thought . . ." Laney shook her head. "Never mind." As she returned her attention to Pastor Ted, her peripheral vision caught Jeb lifting his eyes to the ceiling like a man praying for assistance. She shook her head again and reined in her galloping imagination.
Feeling eyes on her, she looked across the aisle formed by the two blocks of chairs. Rae Cornell was staring not at her, but at Jeb, a half-smile curving her mouth as she toyed with a lock of hair that was about fifteen different shades of blond. Rae was flirting, that's what she was doing, and Laney was utterly disgusted.
Fixing her gaze on Pastor Ted, she slid her arm behind Jeb to rest on the back of his chair. He frowned down at her, a question in his eyes.
"Just stretching," she murmured.
"You'll make us look like a couple," he whispered back.
"Shh." Laney pointedly returned her gaze to Pastor Ted.
As the lesson continued, she sneaked a glance across the aisle to ascertain whether Rae had taken her hint and turned her attention elsewhere. It seemed that she had. But trouble arose on another front when the Bible study ended and everyone adjourned for refreshments before moving on to that evening's special event, a volleyball game in the gym of the school across the street.
Laney was saying hello to Derek Lynd, a college freshman she used to babysit, when Jeb was accosted by dark-haired beauty Amber Havlicek, who wore a clingy turquoise shirt.
"Hi, Jackson." Secure in her gorgeousness, Amber smiled and hooked a lock of gleaming chestnut hair behind one ear. "Try one of these." She moved unnecessarily close to hand him an oversize chocolate-chip cookie on a pink paper napkin. "It's my own recipe, with pecans."
Oh, for crying out loud. This woman was flirting, too. Something inside Laney snapped, and she went a little crazy.
"Ooh, pecans! He doesn't eat nuts, Amber, but I do." She reached for the cookie. "Thanks."
Jeb surrendered the cookie without comment, and Laney felt a stirring of remorse. She'd heard his stomach growl during the Bible study; he might be hungry enough to eat even a pecan-studded cookie. But he wouldn't do it now because he never contradicted her in public.
Salve for her guilty conscience was unwittingly provided by Derek, who brought her a cup of fruit punch. She thanked him and took a sip for the sake of politeness, then passed the cup to Jeb. Maybe the sugary drink would stave off his hunger.
As Jeb drank, Amber's gaze fluttered uncertainly between him and Laney. Satisfied when the other woman faded back into the crowd, Laney brightened her smile for Derek and asked how his parents were doing.
"Still driving me crazy." Derek's impish grin was as adorable now as it had been when he was a freckle-faced eight-year-old. "Mom ke
eps reminding me to be on the lookout for a girl as perfect as Mrs. Ryland's daughter."
Laney chuckled. "How did I ever manage to fool her into thinking I was perfect?"
"That's what I'm wondering," Derek teased. "All I know is that if I'd been born seven years sooner, she'd have us married by now."
Laughing again, Laney turned to share her amusement with Jeb, but found only empty space where he'd been standing.
Afraid that he'd fall into the clutches of Amber or Rae, she anxiously scanned the room. She relaxed when she spotted him talking to two men by the door.
When he returned to her side a few minutes later, she looped an arm through his so he wouldn't wander off again.
He subtly pulled away. "What's wrong with you tonight?"
"Nothing." Hearing his stomach growl, she said, "Here, eat this," and gave him Amber's cookie.
As he took a huge bite and chased it with the rest of the fruit drink, Laney wondered what reason she could possibly have to be jealous. When had she ever been in Jeb's company and not enjoyed his undivided attention?
Amber and Rae were hardly the first females to bat their eyelashes at him right under Laney's nose. She was certain that he noticed women, but he never responded to their overtures when he was with her.
So what was wrong with her tonight?
"Don't put your arm around me anymore," he said. "One of the guys I just met, Steve somebody, asked if we were dating."
Laney rolled her eyes and wondered what kind of brain glitch had caused her to agree to let Jeb help her find a husband.
Oh, wait. She hadn't actually agreed, had she? But Jeb hadn't let that pesky detail stop him from charging ahead with a plan she hadn't liked to begin with and that she liked even less as the evening wore on.
"I think Steve's shy with women," her personal matchmaker continued. "But he introduced me to his cousin, and . . ." Jeb glanced around the room and then gestured with his empty cup. "Over there. The chirpy blonde in the tight jeans."
Laney didn't need to look. He was describing Rae. And the woman's jeans weren't merely tight—they looked like they'd been airbrushed onto her curvy body.
"The four of us should go out."
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