by Helen Brenna
“Sounds great.” His eyes brightened and he slipped off his jacket. “No wonder it smells so good in here.”
“Right.” She put her hands on her hips. “Erica’s not cooking tonight, is she?”
“Nope.” He grinned. “She’s at the pub.”
Sarah laughed. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to have to make something yourself.”
She quickly glanced around, wondering what he’d think of her apartment. Although the space was small, she’d used the areas well, partitioning off the family room from the kitchen with a large sectional sofa. Since she rarely had guests other than Zach, she’d never bothered with a kitchen table, preferring to have the boys eat at the counter instead.
The moment Jesse came into her small kitchen, the room seemed to shrink to half its size. He didn’t seem to mind being in such close proximity to her, but his nearness was making it a little difficult for Sarah to catch her breath.
“I think this is the brightest apartment I’ve ever seen,” he said. “I like it.”
“Comes in handy during the dreary days of winter,” she said, pulling four heavy red bowls from the cabinet. “Missy always teases me that the place looks like a Mexican restaurant.”
Jesse laughed.
A couple years ago, sick of the various hues of tan she’d chosen when she’d first moved to Mirabelle and this apartment, she’d redecorated with bright, cheery colors. She’d painted the walls a combination of red and white and accented with royal blue and apple green. Orange and yellow.
“I’m ready for a change.” For the house she was sticking with more neutral, muted browns, greens and coral tones and accenting with deeper, bolder colors.
“I think I like the choices you’ve made on your house better, but you definitely have an eye for color.”
“Good attribute for a flower-shop owner and wedding planner.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“Everything’s under control. If you want something to drink, help yourself to whatever is in the fridge.”
He opened the door, peered inside and pulled out a cola. Despite the initial awkwardness, there was something surprisingly comforting about having Jesse here. Something homey and right-feeling. Aside from Ron Setterberg making repairs as her landlord, Sarah couldn’t remember ever having had a man in her apartment. It wasn’t as if she ever dated.
Hannah dated all the time, especially in the summer months when school was out and the island was crawling with tourists and fishermen. Missy had dated occasionally before Jonas had shown up on Mirabelle out of the blue. Erica had been married to Garrett within several months of coming to Mirabelle. And Natalie? Their summer friend who ran the camp for disadvantaged kids on the remote side of the island had apparently dated more men than she’d been able to count before falling head over heels in love with Jamis, the island’s resident hermit. Sarah, on the other hand, hadn’t been out with a man since Bobby.
Almost ten years ago.
Too long.
But then that’s what happened, she supposed, when a woman didn’t trust herself, didn’t trust her judgment in men.
“Jesse, come and play with us,” Brian called.
“Yeah,” Zach said. “You always say you’ll play video games and then you never do.”
He glanced at Sarah.
“Go ahead. The soup’s not ready yet. And I really should make another client call.”
“She’s always on the phone with clients,” Brian muttered, keeping his head focused on the TV.
Jesse frowned. “Yeah, okay, I’ll play. As long as you quit giving your mom a hard time.” He walked into the family room and grabbed a controller.
As she picked up the phone and made her last call of the day, she heard Jesse say, “Being a single parent is hard. Your mom’s on her own, taking care of you, running her own business. Cut her some slack, man. Better yet, help out without being asked. If you did more around here, she’d have more time to spend with you.”
Although she couldn’t hear Brian’s mumbled response, she smiled as she wrapped up the conversation and hung up the phone. “Soup’s on,” she called.
“Okay, we’re saving the game,” Jesse replied.
Then he came into the kitchen and sat down at the counter. She set a bowl of soup in front of him. “Want some bread? Salad?”
“No, thank you,” he murmured, dipping his spoon into the steaming broth. “This is going to be perfect all by itself.”
“Zach and Brian, you guys coming?”
The boys joined Jesse at the counter and a light conversation ensued revolving around the boys. Soon the discussion turned to Jesse’s progress on the house. In no time, the boys finished eating, hopped down from their chairs and headed toward the family room.
“Hey, boys,” Jesse said.
They turned.
He glanced down at their dirty dishes. “Didn’t you forget something?”
Brian shook his head and grinned, then he came back to rinse out his bowl and put it in the dishwasher. Zach followed suit. “Anything else we can help with, Mom?” Brian asked, surprisingly sincere.
“Thank you, but I’ll get the rest. You two go back to your game.” They took off and she smiled at Jesse. It was nice having someone at her back. “Thank you.”
“No problem. It’s easy for me. I’m not mom.”
“So what are you doing tomorrow night, the night after that, and so on?”
He chuckled as he scooped out the last of his third bowlful. “That was really good.” Then suddenly he was next to her, rinsing out his bowl in the sink.
Close enough that she could feel his heat. Too close. “Um…was there something else about the house?”
“Yeah, I almost forgot.” He stepped back, as if he, too, was uncomfortable. “I need you to decide on a fixture for over the island in your kitchen.”
“I didn’t do that with Garrett?” She’d picked out so many things during the preparations for this remodeling project that she couldn’t remember.
He shook his head. “I’m going into Duluth with Garrett tomorrow for some supplies. You want to come along and pick something out?”
“Can’t.” She grimaced. “I have three conference calls lined up with brides.”
“Want me to pick up a light fixture for you?”
She held her breath. She’d labored over the house decisions. Stain and paint colors, cabinet pulls. Carpet. Window treatments. On, and on, and on. She’d painstakingly chosen everything herself. Garrett might design and build beautiful furniture, but she’d found he was terrible in pulling together all the pieces that went into home decor. Did she want to take a chance on Jesse being any better? “Can the kitchen go without a fixture until I can get to Duluth?”
“Sure. Or you could order something online. Or…you could trust me to pick something out.”
Trust him. With something as important as her house.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll take it back. No harm done.”
Of course, he was right, and, to a degree, she was already trusting him with her house. “Sure. What the heck? Pick something out and surprise me.”
“Do you have any pictures of what you might be looking for? A brochure you might’ve picked up from the home-supply store?”
“Now that you mention it, I do. Downstairs in my flower shop. I’ve got a home file.”
She told the boys they’d be back in a few minutes and opened the door to the stairs leading down to her shop. Jesse followed her through the back entrance to her flower shop. She flicked on a light to reveal a tightly arranged back workroom and storage area.
“So this is it?” he said. “Your business.”
She glanced around. “Yep. This is it.”
One wall of shelving was packed with supplies, there were several coolers for the extra flower stock she’d have in the summer months that were empty and turned off. A work island sat in the center of the room with a couple of stools around it. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was organ
ized and clean.
“That file is in my desk out front.”
He followed her out into the retail part of her shop. “You should be proud of yourself, Sarah. A single mom, building her own business. Supporting yourself and Brian. Even buying a house.”
She was proud, but it was still nice of him to make the comment. “Thank you.” She pulled the file out of her desk and quickly flipped through all the invoices and brochures she’d gathered these past few months. “Nice place.”
The front was as different from the back room as night from day. This was where she visited with wedding clients and made sales to the public. With dark woods and granite, she hoped the area felt updated and classy.
“Your store looks like you,” he said.
“Does it?”
He nodded.
There was a counter with a register for flower sales, but it was the desk and workspace occupying about a third of the front area that seemed to capture his eye. The trappings of a wedding planner. Wedding magazines and books on floral arrangements filled a small bookcase. There were three-ring binders filled with wedding invitations, cake designs, place settings and menu selections.
“So with all this wedding planning you do, what will your wedding be like?”
“Who says I’m ever getting married?” She found the brochure on lighting fixtures, pulled it out and tucked the rest of the house file back into her desk.
“Okay, so if you ever get married, what would your wedding be like?”
“Simple. About as simple as it gets. I’d elope.”
“A wedding planner eloping.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t sound quite right.”
“Then I’d have a big outside barbecue to celebrate with friends. That’s it.”
“Interesting.” Jesse took a deep breath and smiled.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, coming back around her desk.
“Nothing.”
“What? Tell me.”
“All right,” he said quietly, studying her, all humor disappearing from his face. “This shop smells like you. And you always smell like flowers. Your hair. Your skin. I just figured out why.”
She swallowed. “No one’s ever told me… I didn’t realize… I…”
“That you smell as sweet as those lilies over there?” He nodded toward the stargazers in the cooler. Then he leaned toward her, closed his eyes and inhaled a long slow breath. “Nope. You smell better.”
Suddenly, almost paralyzed, she couldn’t take her eyes off his face. When he opened his eyes, the expression on his face was as intense as if he were drilling a hole through her. “Sarah,” he whispered, moving toward her.
She couldn’t—didn’t want to—step back. Instead, she glanced up at him, felt her mouth part and her head tilt back.
“Here we are again,” he whispered, his gaze heavy-lidded.
Only this time, as he tucked her close and kissed her, she could tell he wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t trying to prove a point. And this time she wanted more. She wanted skin. Heat. Her hands on him. His on her. She wanted to see his tattoo. Reaching under his shirt, she splayed her hands over the springy hair on his chest and Jesse stilled even as his nipples turned pebble-hard. “I haven’t been kissed like that in so long,” she whispered, leaning into him.
“How long?”
“Too long.”
“Sarah?”
“I want to see your tattoo,” she whispered. Drawing his shirt up, she traced her hands along the dark lines. “It’s beautiful. Did you get it in prison?”
“Yes, and I don’t want to talk about it.” He drew her hands down, and his shirt fell back into place. “How long has it been since you’ve been kissed like that?”
“Almost ten years.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and set her back, as if a glass of ice-cold water had been tossed in his face. “So it’s been a decade since you’ve…” She nodded.
Shaking his head, he looked away.
“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, feeling defensive.
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
“I’m as hot-blooded as any woman.”
“Trust me, I know. I can feel it.”
“You can?”
“Uh-huh.” He ran his hands through his hair. “But this is all because you see me as a bad boy, isn’t it? A ladies’ man. Exciting. Dangerous. Nothing but trouble.”
She didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say. Maybe that was partly true.
“What if I told you I’m none of those things?” he said, glaring back at her. “What if I told you I’ve had sex with only four women? My first serious girlfriend when I was seventeen. A one-night stand at a bar in Nashville. And, no, I wasn’t too drunk to use a condom. A short relationship with a woman in L.A. when I lived there for a few months before I came back north. Just before…Milwaukee.”
“And Sherri. That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Then he chuckled. “Based on what you’ve told me about your past, I’m thinking you have me beat.”
She looked away. “And you’d be right.” The time she’d spent in Miami, before meeting Bobby, had been one man after another. She frowned.
“Ah, Sarah. It’s a joke.”
“Not to me.”
“All you did was sow a few wild oats. To be honest, it’s kind of sexy. Me, on the other hand…”
“Jesse.”
He grabbed the brochure out of her hand. “Maybe this truce wasn’t such a good idea, after all.” Then he climbed the steps two at a time. By the time she made it back up to her apartment, he was gone and she was left thinking that he might be right.
“DAVID,” GARRETT SAID, patiently. “Put the hammer down, please.”
Ignoring his father, David sat in his car seat in back, pounding a plastic hammer against the window.
“Well, there’s another benefit to living on Mirabelle,” Jesse muttered. “No driving with kids in the car.”
“David. It’s too loud, buckaroo. Put that hammer down.”
Jesse opened up the diaper bag on the car seat between him and Garrett and found a juice box. “Here, Davie.” He reached back, took the pacifier from the little boy’s mouth and handed him the juice.
The hammering immediately stopped as David hungrily sucked on the straw.
“You’re getting pretty good at that.” Garrett grinned. “I’d even go so far as to say you’re a natural.”
“Yeah, right.”
Erica was busy giving the men’s bathroom at Duffy’s a new paint job after a group of snowmobilers got overly rambunctious the prior weekend and accidentally bashed in a chunk of drywall. So Garrett had brought David along on their road trip into civilization.
With a population of less than one hundred thousand, the city of Duluth didn’t come close to qualifying as big as far as Jesse was concerned. Having grown up in Chicago, there was nothing in the entire states of Minnesota and Wisconsin that could top the Windy City. Still, he felt strange being off Mirabelle the day after he’d had dinner at Sarah and Brian’s apartment. He’d gotten surprisingly used to, comfortable with, even, the island’s slow, quiet pace, peaceful environs and, more often than not, friendly faces. Sitting in Garrett’s truck cruising down a six-lane freeway felt like being on another planet.
“You ever miss Chicago?” Jesse asked his brother as they zipped by cars, passed billboards and crossed over the bridge spanning the Duluth harbor.
“No.” Garrett firmly shook his head. “Well, every once in a while I miss a couple old friends, but they all come to Mirabelle over the summer, so I get a chance to catch up. What about you?”
“Naw. It’d be nice to see Christian and Drew more often, but I never miss the city.”
“Don’t you think you’re ever going to settle down in one place?”
“What the hell for?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A job. Sense of community. God forbid, a wife and kids.”
Jesse’s palms started sweating at the thought of his own family and he inhaled deeply. “Not my thing.”
“I see you with Zach and David.” Garrett exited the freeway. “I think it might be more your thing than you think, Jesse. And I think there’s a certain woman on Mirabelle who’s thinking so, too.”
Jesse kept his mouth shut.
“Erica sees a lot more than I do. She said Sarah—”
“I seem to recall you warning me to steer clear of Mirabelle’s princesses.”
“That was then. This is now.” Garrett pulled his truck into the parking lot of the home-supply store. “You’ve grown up a lot in the last four years. I think you’re ready—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” What he was ready for was something hot and heavy with Sarah, but that didn’t mean it was ever, ever going to happen.
“Have it your way.”
Jesse climbed out of the truck and waited while Garrett got David out from the back. His brother slammed the other door, and they headed toward the entrance.
“We might as well split up,” Garrett said, putting David in a cart. “We’ll get out of here quicker.” The moment Garrett started walking away, though, David fussed.
“Unc Jess,” he cried, reaching his arms out toward Jesse.
Garrett laughed.
“I can’t help it if the kid’s sick of you.” Jesse nudged Garrett out of the way and pushed the cart into the store. “I’ll catch up with you when I’m finished.” Jesse walked up and down the aisles, dropping drywall tape, a couple switch plates, some lightbulbs and a towel rack for the master bath into the cart as he went.
David started trying to get out of his seat in the cart.
“Hey, dude, you gotta stay in the cart.” Poor kid. He’d been stuck in the car the entire way here. Now he was stuck in the cart. No wonder he was getting crabby. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“Cackers.” He pointed to the front of the store.
“Okay. Let’s go see what they got.” He found some snacks at the front registers.
David reached for some sugar candies.
“Oh, no. Your mother would kill me if I gave you those.” Jesse grabbed a box of animal crackers, opened them up and handed them to David.