Then she shot him a cocky smile. “And an imperfect man who thinks I’m ideal?” She hitched herself up to wrap her legs around his waist. “I can so live with that.”
EPILOGUE
Sunday, July 8
“SO, YOU’RE LEAVING TOWN tomorrow, huh?”
Jake’s hand, in his cargo pants pocket, ceased rolling a small box end over end. He gave his brother a solid punch to the biceps with his free fist.
Holy Mary, mother of—
He resisted shaking his hand, but damn. He kept himself in shape, but Max was like the proverbial brick shithouse. “Tuesday,” he corrected. “And it’s only for three weeks tops, then I’ll be back home.” He turned the box over once more and looked around as Jenny, Tasha and Rebecca banged through the back door, chatting and carrying covered dishes out to the table he’d helped set up for the come-back-soon barbecue they were throwing him in Jenny’s tiny backyard.
At his side, Max said, “It’s odd to hear that word coming from your mouth.”
“What, home?” Tearing his attention away from Jenny, he grinned. “Yeah, surprised me, too. But you can forget everything I ever said about Razor Bay, because for the first time in my life it really feels like home.” Catching one of the box’s rounded corners with his thumb, he rotated it in his palm.
Max’s miss-nothing cop eyes tracked the motion. “You have something you’d like to share with the class, Mr. Bradshaw?”
“No, ma’am.” Closing his fist around the tiny box, he pushed his hand deeper into his pocket. “But damn decent imitation of Ms. Harris,” he said drily, naming the humorless history teacher from high school. “Man, that woman was so buttoned-up, I spent part of every class trying to visualize her doing that take your glasses off, let your hair down, turn into a bombshell thing that was so popular in the old black-and-white movies.”
Max looked as if he were trying to visualize it for himself. He shook his head. “Naaaah.” He shot Jake one of his rare grins. “No way I can make that fly.”
“I never could, either. But I always tried.”
Nolan Damoth’s little brother, Josh, speeding on a sugar high, shot around the corner of the cottage, zigzagging ahead of his dad and shrieking maniacally. The kid’s behavior could be laid directly at the feet of Austin, Nolan and Bailey, who were practicing bike tricks in the small parking area. Until the women had put a stop to it, the teens had wasted a lot of pop by opening a can, taking a few sips then wandering away. And the next time they were thirsty, instead of expending effort looking for the ones they’d left behind, they’d simply grabbed fresh sodas out of the cooler. Josh had managed to help himself to several of the abandoned cans before Jenny and Rebecca had caught on, and was now solidly wired.
Max’s massive body abruptly blocked the wild-eyed kid from Jake’s view. Finding his left forearm gripped, he looked down to find his brother’s hard hand firmly wrapped around it. “What’s your problem, man?”
“Let’s see what’s so damn interesting in your pocket,” his brother ordered.
Jake kept his hand firmly in place but arched his eyebrows. “Sure you want to go there? Maybe I’m just happy to see you.”
Max’s grip loosened as he threw back his head and laughed.
It was such a great and infrequent sound that Jake relaxed his guard, and the next thing he knew Deputy Dawg had pulled his hand from his pocket.
Max’s laughter died and his fingers went slack, then dropped away as he stared at the ring box in Jake’s fist. “Jesus. Is that what I think it is?”
“Dunno. What do you think it is?”
“An engagement ring?”
Jake gave the small velvet box a fond look and smoothed his thumb over its slightly curved top. “Give the man a cigar.”
“Jesus, Jake, you haven’t even known Jenny three whole months.”
He shrugged. “Damn near. Long enough, at any rate, to recognize she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You said it yourself, bro—she’s special. And I want to marry her.” He narrowed his eyes. “You wanna take a big step back if you’ve got a problem with that. Because I’ll fight you right down to the ground over this. I’d hate to do that, because we’ve been getting along real well, but I will.”
His brother stared at him for a moment. Then his wide shoulders relaxed and he nodded. “I think she probably is the best thing to happen to you—along with my nephew, of course.” He thrust out a hand. “Congratulations.”
Jake ignored the hand and hauled his brother in for a hug—or as close to it as guys got, since it was more a bumping of chests and a slap on the back. “Thanks,” he said, stepping back. “But keep this under your hat. I haven’t actually asked her yet, and for all I know she might agree with you and think it’s too soon.”
“What’s too soon? And were you two hugging?”
His heart stumbled. Thrusting the ring box back in his pocket, he turned to slide an arm around Jenny’s shoulders as she walked up to them. He hugged her to his side and felt his heart level out beneath a wash of warmth as she wrapped her own arm around his waist and leaned against him trustingly.
“Hell, no,” Max said. “The clumsy fool tripped.”
“Okay.” She gave him a skeptical look, then turned to Jake. “I just caught the tail end of your conversation. What’s too soon?”
“Something I want to discuss with you later.”
“‘Discuss,’” Max marveled. “Listen to you, sounding all mature. Who’da thought we’d ever see that day?” Then he looked past Jenny, his humor fading. “Oh, hell, what’s she doing here?”
Jenny glanced over her shoulder and a wrinkle formed between her delicate brows when she turned back. “Who, Harper? I invited her. She’s only been in Razor Bay a week, so I thought this would be a good opportunity to meet a few locals.” She gave Max an assessing look. “Do you have an objection to that for some reason?”
“Huh?” He pulled his gaze back to her and a dull flush climbed his cheeks. “No, of course not. It just...caught me by surprise.” He looked at his watch. “Hey, it’s almost five—I think I’ll have a beer.” He shot Jake a look. “You want one?”
It was rare to see his brother rattled and Jake was tempted to prolong the treat. But this was about women and attraction and feeling outclassed, and sometimes guys just had to stick together. “You bet.”
Max beat a hasty retreat.
Jenny looked up at him. “What was that all about?”
“Beats me.” Hey, he really didn’t know for sure.
“O-kay. Let’s talk about what you plan to discuss with me.”
“We’ll definitely do that—later.” Jake leaned down to plant a kiss on Jenny’s lips and didn’t raise his head until gagging noises started issuing from behind him. He looked over his shoulder.
“Dude! Get a room,” Austin ordered. “It’s bad enough I see this action going down all over my house and yours, too—you gotta start in in front of the neighbors?” But the boy’s green eyes were alight with the same joy that had been shining in them ever since Jake had told him they were staying in town.
“You wanna talk action?” Jake inquired smoothly, sending a pointed glance toward Bailey.
Austin took a hasty step back. “Nah. It’s a party. That was just a little FYI, dude. They build walls for just this sort of thing.” And, laughing, he turned back to his friend and his girl.
Jenny turned to Jake—and promptly revisited the previous conversation. “Why not discuss with me now?”
“What—oh, the something I wanna discuss with you that you only know about because you eavesdropped earlier?”
“Yep. That.” She grinned at him without a shred of discomfiture. “Why not discuss it now?”
“Because, my darling Jenny, we’ve got company and we’re going to do it later.”
> She sighed. “Fine. But don’t think I’ll forget.”
He laughed. “Trust me. The thought never even crossed my mind.”
* * *
IT WAS CLOSING ON MIDNIGHT when Jenny walked into her living room. Jake was sprawled out, eyes closed, in the overstuffed chair and she went over and climbed aboard, wedging a knee on either side of his thighs.
He cracked an eye open. “Hey. Austin finally crashed, huh?”
“Yeah. I hated to separate you two, because I know how much he wants every minute he can get with you before you leave. But he was running on fumes.”
“So now it’s just you and me.” Looking up at her with heavy-lidded eyes and a sleepy smile, he rubbed his hands up and down her thighs.
“Yes, it is.” She arched beneath his touch, put her hands over his—and held them still. “It’s also later. Let’s discuss.”
With a wry smile, he slid his fingers out from beneath hers and arched his left upper torso as he dug a hand into a deep pocket in his cargos. “This isn’t exactly the way I envisioned doing this,” he murmured, pulling his hand out of his pocket. He held a little velvet box up to her, snapping open its top with his thumb. “Jennifer Salazar, will you marry me?”
She could almost swear an electric shock jolted through her heart, and she gawked at the marquise-cut diamond that winked up at her from its simple platinum setting. Her heart drummed with both joy and panic. Without taking her eyes off the ring, she said, “Jake, it’s too soon. You said so yourself.”
“No. Max said.”
That snapped her attention away from the ring, and she looked at him through slitty eyes. “You told him about your plans before you told me?”
“Not deliberately.” He shook his head. “Guy’s got a nose like a bloodhound. And I’m not proposing we get married next month—a long engagement is fine. You’re in charge of the where and when. But what I feel for you, Jenny? It’s like nothing I’ve ever known. Plain ol’ vanilla love you just doesn’t cover it. And I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“That’s very...”
“Primitive,” he interrupted with a baffled laugh. “Tell me about it. Hell, if I were a dog I’d be pissing circles around you to warn off the other hounds. This is a huge departure from my usual relationships with women. I’ve spent my entire adult life seeking affairs with finite shelf dates—the more temporary, the better. And now...”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to own you, and I sure as hell have no ambition to control you.” He shot her a crooked smile. “Like that would be possible if it were my intention. I just wanna see the proof that you consider yourself taken shining from your finger.”
Jenny looked down at the ring again. “And this rock certainly does shine.” Her panic couldn’t have sunk faster if it had been fitted with cement boots. Only thrilled joy remained.
“It’s only a three-quarter carat,” Jake said with a shrug. “You’ve got delicate fingers—I didn’t think something you’d need a sling to support would suit you.”
Okay, really, what woman didn’t appreciate the man she loved taking things like the size of her fingers into consideration? Didn’t like hearing how much he wanted to inform the world of the depth of his love?
Her fingers suddenly itched with greed. “Well, I don’t know,” she murmured. “I think I should be the judge of that, don’t you?” She held out her left hand.
Jake’s face lit up. “You definitely should.” Plucking the ring from the box, he slid it onto her finger.
And stilled. “Damn. That looks so...right.”
She held her hand at arm’s length to get the full effect. “It really does. It fits, too.” She tore her gaze away to look at him. “How did you manage that?”
“I borrowed that little silver ring you sometimes wear from your jewelry box.” He rubbed his finger over the band of the ring. “So...will you wear mine?”
Curling her fingers, she brought her hand to her heart. “Just try and take it from me!”
He whooped and crunched up to kiss her. When he finally pulled back, it was only to press his forehead against hers, so close that he was all laugh lines and white teeth as he grinned at her. “You and me, Jenny? Whether we get married right away or sometime down the road, we’re going to be so. Damn. Good together.”
Her own grin felt every bit as big, and her forehead rocked against his as she nodded her agreement. She knew they’d have adjustments to make and that they might not always see eye-to-eye. But none of that mattered in this moment. Because when it came right down to it—
“Oh, man,” she said. “We absolutely will.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Burning Up by Susan Andersen!
If you loved That Thing Called Love, don’t miss these fun, flirty titles from New York Times bestselling author Susan Andersen. Available now!
Bending the Rules
Burning Up
Playing Dirty
“A smart, arousing, spirited escapade that is graced with a gentle mystery, a vulnerable, resilient heroine, and a worthy, wounded hero, and served up with empathy and a humorous flair.
—Library Journal on Burning Up
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CHAPTER ONE
GABRIEL DONOVAN KNEW Macy O’James was trouble the minute she rolled into town.
Hell, he knew it before she even hit the city limits. He and Johnny Angelini were sitting in Johnny’s police cruiser out near the county line, shooting the bull and discussing ways to improve workplace efficiency, when he had his first Macy O’James sighting.
Not that he knew it was her at that moment. Despite old Sheriff Baxter’s objection to what he considered the newfangled notion of interdepartmental information sharing between Johnny, Sugarville’s sole deputy, and Gabe, the town’s fire chief, the two men liked putting their heads together every now and then to talk out problems they felt had crossover potential. And that particular hot July afternoon, Gabe had just finished recounting why he thought Johnny should check out a ramshackle trailer out near Leavenston that he suspected might be a meth lab, when a candy-apple-red, drop-top Corvette roared by, trailing screaming rock and roll in its wake.
The two men exchanged a look. “Not going that much above the limit,” Gabe commented laconically.
“True.” Johnny nodded. “Ten over hardly seems worth the time to write up a ticket.”
“That was my thought.”
“Still,” Johnny said. “Hot car, hotter driver, man. Blonde. Could be my future bride.”
“There is that,” he agreed, although how his friend could state the driver’s hair color, much less her hotness factor, from the one quick glimpse they’d gotten as she’d blown past was beyond him. He didn’t, however, doubt it was true. Johnny had eyes like a raptor when it came to the female portion of the human race.
The deputy scratched a thumbnail across his jaw. “And it is a hot day. Be a real mess if Myerson chose now to let his cows cross the road.”
“Little car, big cattle,” he granted.
“My civic duty to do my job. It’s not like they pay me the big bucks for sitting under the trees. So.” He raised an eyebrow. “You in?”
Gabe considered. Common sense dictated he get out of the cruiser, get back in his rig and go about his business. He had no real reason or even desire to check out Johnny’s “future bride.” Beyond the fact he was currently dating a nice woman, he was nowhere close to being the hound
with the babes that Johnny was.
Not anymore.
On the other hand, it was pretty much the male code not to let your friends have too much fun if there was any chance you could throw a wrench in their good times. “S’pose I better,” he said dryly. “When she files the sexual harassment suit, she’s gonna need a witness.”
Grinning, the deputy started up the Ford Ranger. He eased the cruiser out from beneath a stand of Douglas firs and alders that had done a decent job of shielding their cars from passing traffic, bumped over the uneven turf and onto the highway, then hit the siren at the same time he punched the gas.
They caught up with the Corvette moments later and watched as it first slowed, then pulled to the side of the road. The blaring music cut off midnote.
Two suitcases sticking up from behind the car seats blocked the driver from view. But her door opened in the sudden silence and a long, bare leg appeared, a blue peep-toed, platform-soled, Cuban-heel-shod foot stretching for the ground.
“You can wait here,” Johnny said, reaching for the door handle. “This is clearly a job for a trained professional.”
Gabe snorted. “Not a chance. What kind of bud would I be if I didn’t have your back?” Climbing from the cruiser, he looked at Johnny over its top. “For all we know, the woman’s armed and dangerous.”
“Yeah, I’m worried about that. Might have to pat her down for weapons.”
That would be the day. Johnny loved flirting up females, but he also had an appreciation and bedrock respect for them. Besides, he wasn’t the type to abuse his authority any more than Gabe was.
By the time he’d cleared the hood, the woman had eased out of the low-slung car and risen to stand hipshot on the highway beside it. She relaxed her rump back against the driver-side door as she watched them approach, the heels of her hands braced on either side of her hips.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, because she looked for all the world like one of those World War II pinup girls, dressed as she was in a white sailor shirt trimmed in blue, those retro shoes and even more retro little blue tap pants that showcased yard-long legs.
That Thing Called Love Page 28