"Oh, he's too young for Caroline," the irrepressible Aggie quipped.
Laney shot her a quelling look.
"We won't hurt him," Millie said sweetly. "We have a plan."
No. The Graces didn't realize how vulnerable Jeb was. How easily his tender heart could be bruised by a woman who didn't understand him.
"Forget the plan." Laney had never been more annoyed with her beloved great-aunts. "Leave Jeb alone, do you hear me?"
She immediately regretted her sharp, disrespectful tone, but before she could form an apology, Caroline spoke.
"You could use some quiet right now." There was no censure in Caroline's penetrating gaze, only understanding and sympathy. "We three have to get to a committee meeting, anyway." She smiled reassuringly. "Have some more tea. It's still fairly hot."
The Graces rose, collected their dishes, and bustled to the kitchen.
"I guess it wasn't enough being sorry for myself," Laney muttered at the fabric-covered teapot. "Now I'm ashamed of myself, too."
She refilled her cup and was raising it to her lips when Jeb reentered the dining room.
He said nothing as he resumed his seat beside her. Folding his arms, he stared out the window and sighed.
"Troubling phone call?" Laney ventured.
"Skeptical Heart's manager," he grunted. "Pressing me for a decision I'm not ready to make."
"Want to talk about it?"
"No." He turned his head to look at her. "Want to talk about the contract you just signed?"
"No."
For several minutes they sat without speaking. Laney finished her tea, and then she sighed and nudged his arm.
"We should probably stop sulking now."
He turned to her with raised eyebrows, his expression one of exaggerated innocence. "I'm not sulking. I'm just keeping you company while you sulk."
The wretch. He was trying to make her smile. Laney snatched up her napkin and threw it at his face.
He ducked it and swung up to his feet, laughing. Then he grabbed her hand and yanked her up, too.
She threw a playful punch at his flat stomach and he laughed again, the white flash of his teeth an attractive contrast to the dark whiskers shadowing his jaw.
And just that quickly, Laney's black mood vanished.
"Help me clean up," she said.
While Jeb carried the last tray of dishes to the kitchen, Laney gathered the soiled tablecloth and napkins into a neat bundle. She was taking a fresh cloth from the old oak chest of drawers used for linen storage when the Graces clattered back into the dining room, coats on and purses in hand.
"Millie," Jeb said as he came in behind them, "don't forget your box."
"What box?" Laney asked.
Aggie and Millie exchanged furtive glances. Then Aggie's arm shot out and she pointed to a far corner of the ceiling.
"Goodness gracious!" she cried like a stage actress projecting to the back row. "Look at that enormous spider!"
"Where?" Laney wasn't repulsed by spiders, but she didn't want them dropping into her customers' teacups, so she looked anxiously in the direction Aggie indicated. "I don't see—"
"No, wait. It's something in my eye. Yes, that's it." Aggie thrust her small round body in front of Laney. "You'd better look." She pulled her glasses down to the tip of her nose and blinked rapidly.
Realizing that she was being conned, Laney barely glanced at Aggie's left eye. "Nope. No spiders in there."
"Check the other eye," Aggie suggested, leaning closer.
Jeb started to laugh and covered it up with a cough. As Laney turned a reproachful look on him, she saw Millie shove a cardboard box at Caroline, who hustled outside with it.
"Shotgun!" Millie yelled in another ludicrously transparent attempt to divert Laney's attention.
Aggie gave her younger sister a withering look. "You can't call shotgun when we're still indoors."
Millie flashed an unrepentant grin and hurried outside. Aggie took off after her.
Seventy-nine years old, and the Graces were still squabbling over whose turn it was to ride in the Buick's front passenger seat. Shaking her head over their silliness, Laney lifted her hand in an unnoticed farewell.
Jeb closed the door.
Having a pretty good idea what the triplets were hiding, Laney murmured, "I just hope they thought to poke air holes in that box."
"They did," Jeb said.
Through the window, Laney saw Caroline stow the box in the Buick's back seat and then slide serenely behind the steering wheel. Aggie and Millie, still playfully bickering over whose turn it was to ride shotgun, tussled next to the front passenger door.
"Somebody's going to fall and break a hip," Jeb predicted as Aggie batted Millie one last time with her handbag and then got in the back seat.
Returning to her cleanup tasks, Laney shook out the crisp white cloth and watched it flutter over the Graces' table like a collapsing parachute.
She was upset about signing that contract, but where was the sense in risking foreclosure? Even with its prehistoric heater, this building was worth a nice chunk of change, and selling it should net her enough to get completely out of debt.
"They're up to something." Jeb turned away from the window and walked toward her.
"Besides concealing cats in my dining room?" Laney set a glass vase holding a pink carnation and some ivy in the center of the table and smoothed a wrinkle from the cloth. "Yes, Jeb, they're up to something. They're matchmaking."
"Ah." He hesitated, then cringed a little and said, "But, princess, you do want to get married."
Holding his gaze, Laney folded her arms. "The question is, Jeb, do you want to get married?"
"What kind of question is that?"
She merely raised her eyebrows and waited for him to catch on. It took a couple of seconds, but then his eyes widened and he clutched at his heart and pressed his lips together as though to form that horrible word, married.
"Exactly." Laney's reply was punctuated by a rubbery squeal as the Buick peeled out of the parking lot.
Jeb's mouth worked, but shock appeared to have paralyzed his vocal chords.
"Don't worry." Laney picked up the soiled tablecloth and walked past him. "I told them to back off."
"Laney." He caught her arm like a shipwreck victim grabbing for something to keep himself afloat. "You're talking about the women who turned me into a pink rabbit!"
She pressed her lips together a second too late; the guffaw that slipped past them earned her an indignant look from Jeb. But how could she help laughing when she recalled how the Graces had stuffed seventeen-year-old Jeb with his favorite strawberry-rhubarb pie before requesting a "small favor"? Only after securing his promise had they revealed that they needed a tall person to wear the fuzzy pink rabbit costume they'd rented for an Easter party at a local nursing home.
The worst of it was that a full-page photograph of Jackson Bell, Easter Bunny—with a smiling elderly woman hanging on each of his long, pink arms—had somehow found its way into the high-school yearbook.
"I'm sorry," Laney managed through quivering lips.
"Yes, I can see that," he said dryly. "Now stop laughing and promise you'll save me from the Graces."
"Like I said, I already took care of it." Which was why she felt free to laugh at him now. He was just so cute: six feet and five inches of terrified male trembling at the prospect of three little old ladies foisting a fiancée on him.
"Although I can't help wondering who they had in mind," she added.
Jeb shuddered like someone who'd just had a snowball pushed under his collar. "Forget it."
Laney gave him a break and changed the subject. "Are you going fishing today?"
"Yeah. If you're okay here, I'll go toss another bag of minnows into Clear Lake."
"Try attaching them to hooks and lines before you toss them," Laney said archly. "I'd love some walleye fillets for supper."
He smiled. "I think I can promise you some, as long as you're not picky
about whether I get them directly from the lake or buy them at a store." His smile faded as he caught one of her curls and twined it around his finger. "Come with me," he urged in his deepest, smokiest voice.
Gazing up at him, Laney tried to swallow and found her mouth had gone dry. When had Jeb's lean face, always dearly familiar, become so attractive? And why was that raspy voice of his suddenly so beguiling? It made her feel odd and shivery, and she had a wild desire to lay her palm against his unshaven jaw and—
"I can't," she said, averting her face to hide her sudden confusion. "I'm expecting Sarah Jane Swenson any minute, and I have a dozen other things to do here today."
He gave her curl a light tug and let it go. "See you later, then."
Just a few minutes after he left, Sarah Jane arrived to pick up the four dozen lemon tartlets and an equal number of chocolate-dipped gingersnap cookies Laney had made for a fundraising dinner Sarah Jane's mother was giving.
"I owe you one." Immaculately attired in black dress pants and a burgundy silk jacket and dripping with gold jewelry, Sarah Jane watched Laney slide the single-serving tarts into sturdy white bakery boxes. "You really should let me pay you, though." Pushing back her lush fall of chestnut hair, she smiled her cheerleader smile.
"No, I'm happy to do this," Laney said. "Children's charities have always been dear to my heart."
That was certainly true, but it wasn't the only reason she'd volunteered to provide desserts for this dinner. She'd hoped that the people who sampled her baked goods would like them enough to visit the Three Graces Tearoom for more.
Only there was no longer any point in drumming up new business for the tearoom, was there?
"Are you okay?" Sarah Jane asked. "You look like you're about to cry."
Laney started to protest that she was perfectly fine, but Sarah Jane's coffee-brown eyes were glowing with friendly concern, and Laney had never been much of an actress, anyway.
"I'm a mess," she admitted on a sigh.
"If you need a listening ear, I could spare half an hour," Sarah Jane said.
Laney hesitated. It was a kind offer, but her current troubles weren't ones she could discuss with Sarah Jane. Still, half an hour of pleasant conversation with another woman might do wonders for her mood.
"I could do with some girl talk," she admitted.
"Good." Sarah Jane gracefully shrugged out of her silk jacket. "Why don't you make us a pot of tea?"
Laney had already consumed enough tea to float Jeb's canoe, but she put a kettle on to boil.
A short while later, sitting across a table from Sarah Jane and sipping tea for politeness' sake, she took a third piece of buttery shortbread so Sarah Jane wouldn't feel like a pig for having eaten two. She was well aware that she carried a few extra pounds on her hips; she attributed every one of them to her "Minnesota Nice" upbringing.
"I hear Jackson's in town," Sarah Jane said as she stirred milk into her second cup of tea.
"Yes. He just finished a concert tour, and he wanted some peace and quiet."
The band's heading back to L.A., but I need to come home.
When was he planning to tell her what was going on? Something was happening with the band; that much was obvious from his reaction to the phone call from his manager. But she had a feeling there was more.
"He'll find plenty of peace and quiet in pokey old Owatonna," Sarah Jane said with rueful humor.
Laney nudged the cookie plate toward her. "Try the gingersnaps," she said absently.
"We've never really talked much, have we, Laney? I wonder why." Selecting a cookie, Sarah Jane grinned suddenly. "You wouldn't believe how I envied you back in high school."
Laney had just raised her teacup to her lips; she set it down so abruptly it was a wonder her saucer didn't crack.
"You envied me?" she squeaked. "Sarah Jane, you were the most beautiful and popular girl in school. You were even a model student. I wanted to hate you, but you just kept on being nice to me. Do you have any idea how annoying that was?"
Sarah Jane dismissed the question with a tinkly laugh and a wave of one beautifully manicured hand. "Aren't teenagers awful?"
"I was," Laney said. "But you were disgustingly perfect."
"I had my faults, Laney, believe me. And I did envy you."
"Why?"
"Because I had a huge crush on Jackson."
Laney still didn't understand. "I was never his girlfriend, Sarah Jane."
"Maybe not, but he treated you like a princess. He even called you that, didn't he?"
"Still does." Laney shrugged. "It's because the first time we met, I was wearing a princess costume, complete with a sparkly tiara." She smiled, savoring the memory. "He was eleven. He said I looked dumb."
"Well, eleven. At that age, they're still putting frogs down your back to show how much they like you. But Jackson was plenty attractive in high school. That high-voltage stare and that thrilling voice." Sarah Jane shuddered delicately. "Oh, I envied you, all right. Because 'just friends' or not, that intriguing bad boy would have done anything in the world for you."
Yes, he would have. That was his maddening gratitude. Believing himself unworthy of her friendship, Jeb had never stopped trying to compensate her for it. Sometimes he'd seemed almost desperate to make her happy, as if he feared she might abandon him just as his mother had.
Things sure had changed since those days, she reflected bitterly. Now Jeb wanted her to abandon him. But he knew she wouldn't do that, so he meant to find a nice man to distract her while he quietly slipped out of her life.
Oh, she could just strangle him!
"I know he went out with other girls," Sarah Jane went on. "He even asked me out once. I said no because I knew he wanted only one thing from those other girls, and after he got it he always ran straight back to your side."
Profoundly embarrassed, Laney shifted on her chair and cleared her throat meaningfully.
"Sorry." Sarah Jane waved that elegant hand again. "Too much information, right? But why was he was so relaxed with you and so edgy with everyone else? I swear, every time I saw you sitting with him at lunch I thought of that fable about the child who pulled the thorn out of the lion's paw."
But Laney had never succeeded in pulling the thorn from Jeb's paw. She'd been trying for years to ease his suffering, to convince him that his parents had rejected him because of deficiencies in themselves, not in him. But he persisted in believing he was unworthy of anyone's love or respect.
The blockhead. If only she could hug him hard enough to squeeze all of that stupidity out of him.
"Laney?"
Her gaze, which had drifted to the windows, jerked guiltily back to Sarah Jane. "Hmm?"
"Tell the truth." Speculation gleamed in Sarah Jane's brown eyes as she leaned forward, inviting a confidence. "Haven't you ever wondered if there could be something more exciting than friendship between the two of you?"
Laney felt a hot flush spread across her cheeks. "I've wondered about it," she confessed. "Just lately."
For an instant she panicked and wished she could unsay the words and even unthink them. When had she turned into one of those women who sighed over Jeb's masculine appeal?
That night at Willie's, he'd looked at her in a way that had made her heart beat faster. And just now when he'd left her to go fishing, she'd felt the same breathless wonder.
What was happening here?
"My, my. Look at her eyes go all dreamy." Sarah Jane's tone was softly mocking, but there was no meanness in it. "So you've gone and fallen in love with him."
"No," Laney protested, but then honesty compelled her to amend that answer. "I mean, I've loved him since I was nine years old." She struggled to shape her thoughts into words. "But lately something has felt different. Sometimes when I look at him . . ." She faltered. How could she express her feelings when she wasn't even sure what they were?
Sarah Jane dabbed gracefully at her mouth with her napkin. "You're having romantic thoughts about him."
&n
bsp; Laney nodded slowly.
"And you're wondering if it's the same for him."
Recalling the way Jeb had looked at her that evening at Willie's, Laney nodded harder.
"But you don't know how to find out."
"Exactly." Relief shuddered through Laney. If Sarah Jane understood all of that, surely she'd have some good advice to impart. "So what should I do?"
"It's very simple," Sarah Jane said. "Just kiss him."
"Kiss Jeb?" She couldn't possibly kiss Jeb. Not on the mouth. Not the way she had kissed the three men she'd talked herself into falling in love with.
Sarah Jane loosed another peal of her bubbly laughter. "If the thought of kissing him repulses you, Laney, why are we having this conversation?"
"It doesn't repulse me. It just worries me. What if he doesn't like it?"
"He's a man," Sarah Jane said dryly. "He'll like it."
"All right." Laney nodded again. She'd do it. If Jeb didn't like it, she'd find some way to laugh it off.
"Well, then." Sarah Jane lifted her teacup and swung it toward Laney in a toast. "Good luck!"
"Wait!" Laney said, panicking. "I don't know how to do it!"
Sarah Jane's perfect eyebrows rose halfway to her hairline. "You've never kissed a man?"
"Of course I have. But Jeb's a foot taller than me. What am I supposed to do, order him to stand still while I drag a stepladder in front of him?"
"You're right," Sarah Jane said decisively. "You need a plan."
A plan. Yes. She definitely needed one of those.
"Make sure he's sitting down," Sarah Jane said. "And then when the moment's right, just walk over to him and swoop in for your kiss."
Laney stared into her teacup and tried to picture herself doing that.
"Now let's think of a romantic set-up." Sarah Jane tapped her bottom lip with a slim finger. "Maybe a candlelight dinner."
No. Jeb never balked at taking Laney to elegant restaurants, but he'd didn't love the soft music and candlelight the way she did. She tried to think of something he would enjoy.
She could ask him to take her fishing, she supposed, but he'd be at one end of the canoe and she'd be at the other, and flinging herself at him in hopes of achieving lip-lock could tumble them both into a freezing lake.
Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) Page 14