Where She Belongs (Destiny Falls)

by Cindy Procter-King

  “Hardheaded?” Her eyes flashed. That was okay. Her anger promised more than her indifference ever could. “You’re using my mother to get to me, Adam.”

  “You’re using her to keep me at a distance, Jess. You tell me, what’s the difference?”

  “There’s no comparison!”

  “Know what? I agree.”

  “But you said—”

  “I changed my mind. Or is that only a woman’s prerogative?”

  Aggravation floated off her in waves. She stepped back, and he murmured, “I enjoy your mother’s company, Jess. I don’t care what you believe. I’ll gladly take her to dinner tonight, whether you decide to come or not.”

  Her gaze threw indignant sparks at him. He glanced toward the kitchen, where Nora was selecting a vase from the buffet.

  He looked at Jess again. “Now, are you going to make a scene about it when she returns, or will you be a good girl and play nicely?”

  She huffed out a breath. “Why do you insist on baiting me?”

  “Why did you come to the community hall last night?” Her eyebrows hoisted, and he grinned. “Yep, I heard all about it. The woman from Toronto, lurking in the parking lot. When you drove off like the hounds of hell were chasing you, someone thought you’d stolen my SUV. It was quite funny when they told me. Not to mention illuminating.”

  He grazed her collar with two fingers, and she bumped his hand away.

  “It’s okay, Jess, you showing up, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to stay. At least I know now that you still want me. I also know you don’t want to want me. In fact, it’s probably safe to assume you don’t know what the hell you want anymore.”

  “Adam, I swear—”

  “Want to know how I know?” He maintained his quiet tone. “Because I feel the same way. After Crysta, I vowed never to date another woman who didn’t feel the same connection to this town as I do. But then you came along—”

  “Don’t give me that,” she half-whispered. “You knew from the start that my stay here was temporary. A visit. Nothing more.”

  “You think that mattered to me a few weeks ago? Then I got to know you, and I began fooling myself. I thought we could date casually for a few weeks. Hell, I thought I could take you into my bed and be done with it. What a joke. Hooking up? For you and me, honey, it’s impossible.”

  Her mouth thinned. “I don’t want to hear this, Adam. We have no future. This is too fast. It isn’t real. And you know it.”

  He shook his head. “What I know is that you’ve built a cage for yourself in Toronto, and you’re terrified to break free. You have your reasons, but you’re soaking them with all you’ve got. You’re feeding your own damn fear.” He glanced toward the kitchen. They had maybe a minute before her mother returned. Sixty short, precious seconds. “The flowers are in a vase on the table now, sweet cheeks. What will it be?”

  She glanced over her shoulder then looked at him again. “I’ll come with you and Mom tonight on one condition,” she whispered. “Mom doesn’t know that we’ve slept together or that we’ve broken up. That’s how I want it to stay. Tomorrow’s a month since Pete died, and I don’t want her worrying about me when she has her stuff to deal with. As far as she’s concerned, you and I are dating casually while I’m here.” She had the grace to blush. He guessed it was because she’d used the same ridiculous wording as he had a moment ago. “And never, I repeat, never, pull a stunt like this on me again.”

  He smiled. “That’s two conditions, Jess. I’m afraid I can only agree to one.”

  Chapter Twelve

  NORA ASSEMBLED THE popcorn maker on the kitchen counter while Jessie and Adam quarreled in the living room over which of two rented DVDs to watch. When she’d asked Adam to dinner tonight to repay him for Sunday at the Wander-Inn, she hadn’t imagined he’d bring along his old DVD player and then give it to her. Evidently, he’d upgraded.

  She and Peter had never purchased a VCR, much less a DVD player. They’d preferred to drive to Kamloops once or twice a month and enjoy carefully selected movies in a darkened theater, a nostalgic reminder of their long drives in the classic car in the months before Frank had moved to town. However, with Peter gone, she appreciated Adam’s gift.

  Tears burned her eyes, still a frequent occurrence whenever she thought of her husband. The first-month anniversary of his death yesterday had been hard, but Jessie had been there for her. They’d hiked in the hills behind the pasture, Nora wearing Peter’s sheepskin coat, his fading scent comforting her while she’d walked.

  She’d felt so close to his spirit, and to her daughter. If only she could help Jessie in return. Yet, despite her efforts to encourage her daughter to open up these last few days, Jessie kept insisting nothing was wrong.

  Sighing, Nora poured the kernels into the hot-air popper and turned it on. Behind her, Jessie’s and Adam’s voices grew quiet. Seconds later, Adam strolled into the kitchen, shadows sobering his gaze.

  “I came to help,” he announced too cheerily. He glanced at the popper. “What, no microwave?”

  “It broke a month before Peter died. I love cooking from scratch, so I didn’t get around to replacing it. I suppose I should.” The kernels began their merry dance, pinging against the plastic cover.

  She sliced a pat of butter. Adam passed her the small saucepan she’d set on the counter. She tumbled the pat into it and placed the pot on the stove.

  “Glad to see we’re having butter,” he said. “Salt, too?”

  She nodded. Why was he talking to her instead of remaining in the living room with Jessie? She didn’t need help melting butter! Did they think her so burdened with grief that she didn’t realize they felt something for each other and that those feelings were the source of their arguing?

  “Which movie are we watching first?” she asked.

  “Titanic, if it’s okay with you. It’s a chick flick and an action movie.”

  It was also a long film. Good. She’d feign tiredness partway through, allowing Jessie and Adam time alone.

  “Oh, I love Titanic. It’s a classic.”

  Adam tapped the counter. “Will the ending bother you? Jess wanted to ask, but I said I would, considering I brought it.”

  “You mean because the hero dies? No.” If she remembered correctly, the heroine in the film derived so much joy from loving the hero that she lived a long, adventurous life despite losing him. In a way, the situation mirrored Jessie’s experience with Danny Galloway, except Jessie hadn’t truly moved on. She pretended she had, but Nora knew better.

  “Love is a precious gift, Adam,” she murmured. “I treasure every reminder of Peter.”

  “You have the right attitude.” A pensive light entered his gaze, and Nora knew he was thinking about her daughter.

  “He’s driving me crazy!” Jess complained to Molly Wednesday morning. They sat at a table for two in the back of crowded Clara’s Café, catching up during Molly’s coffee break.

  “How do you expect him to react?” Glancing around, Molly lowered her voice. “From what you’ve told me, you slept with him—not once, but a few times—and then you cut him off. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying Adam only wants you for sex. It might be easier for you if he did.” A wry smile curved her mouth. “He’s a guy, Jess. If he wants you, he’ll pursue you. That’s what guys do.”

  “Can’t he take a hint? I’ve given him enough, but he’s relentless.” Last night, when he’d nestled beside her on the couch, his large hand resting possessively on her thigh as she’d tried to concentrate on Titanic, her ire had been roused to no end. She’d been roused and aroused, while her mother had sat in the swivel rocker, hopefully oblivious.

  Molly pulled off a chunk of her banana-nut muffin. “This ‘dating casually’ routine you’re faking for your mom works in his favor, you know.”

  “He’s using her.” Jess bit into her massive cinnamon bun—her first taste of the Clara’s staple in nine years. She’d looked forward to the treat for days. Unfortunately, the wa
rm, raisin-studded roll didn’t inspire the sigh of contentment she recalled.

  Molly gazed at her. “He’s not using her any more than you are. The poor guy wants some time with you. He’s getting it however he can.”

  “Well, last night he got it in spades.” Jess licked sticky cinnamon syrup off her finger. “Mom went to bed halfway through the movie, but did he leave? No, he insisted on staying until it ended.”

  “Maybe he thought leaving too quickly would alert her that you’re fighting.”

  “That’s what he said.” It was Jess’s idea that they perpetuate the charade, so she shouldn’t grumble. However, she hadn’t anticipated her mom inviting him to dinner last night—or that he’d accept.

  How was she supposed to fight her feelings for him when he kept invading her life?

  “Aw, sweetie, you didn’t see this coming, did you? If it helps you feel better, I don’t think Adam did, either.”

  “See what coming?” She frowned.

  Molly nibbled another chunk of muffin. “I think he’s in love.”

  Jess’s heart soared. No, no, no!

  “Has he told you that?”

  “He doesn’t have to. He’s my best friend, next to you. I know him inside out. If he’s not in love with you, I’m a monkey’s aunt.”

  Jess’s throat tightened. She swallowed. “Maybe it’s not love. Maybe it’s infatuation or... or lust.”

  Molly flicked a hand. “I don’t think so. Look at this.” She retrieved an envelope of pictures from her purse and riffled through them. “Remember that shot I took of you and Adam the night of my anniversary? I printed them up. I think Adam was halfway in love with you then.”

  Jess snorted.

  Molly slid the picture across the table. “See how he’s looking at you? How about the way you’re looking at him? The beginnings of love, my friend, not lust. I’m an old married woman, remember? I know of what I speak.”

  Jess picked up the picture and glanced at it. Adam sat with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. A nervous yet excited expression brightened her features.

  Later, for a brief time at the drive-in, she’d relaxed easily enough.

  Her gaze misted. The picture blurred. “I don’t believe in love at first sight.” She held the picture out to Molly.

  “Yeah, right. What about Danny?”

  “He lived here a year before I even noticed him.” Granted, she’d only been fifteen.

  “Interesting. So you’re saying you love Adam in a way you never loved Danny?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Sometimes Molly’s tenacity was as irritating as Adam’s.

  “Sounds to me like that’s what you’re saying, Jess.”

  Jess flapped the picture. “My arm’s getting sore, Moll. Are you taking this back or not?”

  “Keep it. I saved them to my computer.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “I mean it. I don’t want it.” Jess tossed the picture onto the table.

  Molly blew out a breath. She tucked the photo into the envelope and shoved the packet into her purse. She drained her coffee, then stood. “Thanks for the break, but I need to get back.” She tossed five dollars onto the table.

  “Already?”

  “Sorry, hon, twenty minutes is my max. Tomorrow again?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Molly left and Jess gazed at her unfinished cinnamon bun. Mom wanted some items from the drugstore. She should go.

  She fetched her purse from the floor. As she sat up again, her pulse clattered. Adam stood at the counter, chatting to the waitress pouring him a cup of take-out coffee. He paid for the cup, turned, and then he saw her.

  Her heart raced. Please leave. Just turn around again and go.

  But Adam Wright didn’t follow telepathic orders any better than he did spoken ones. He said something to the waitress, then headed to Jess’s table, looking sexier than he had a right to in the same faded jeans and ivory shirt she remembered from the night he’d picked her up at the airport.

  Her knees weakened as she gazed at him, memorizing each line of his body, every curve and angle of his handsome face.

  He planted a hand on a chair back. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “Could I stop you?”

  “Not unless you want to leave without finishing your coffee. Not to mention that monster cinnamon bun.” His scarred eyebrow quirked. “Reminds me of your sundaes.”

  Her grip tightened on her purse. She wouldn’t let him chase her out of here.

  Placing her bag by her feet again, she replied, “Go ahead, sit.”

  He draped himself in the chair Molly had vacated. “Thanks. I ordered a sandwich.”

  Him and his appetite. “What brings you downtown?”

  He lifted his coffee cup. “Meeting at the Forest Service. They make lousy coffee. Tastes like sawdust.” He paused. “How are you doing?”

  As exasperated as she’d felt last night, considering his DVD shenanigans. She ran a finger up and down her coffee cup. He’s not funny. He’s not charming. He’s not.

  “I’m sure you can tell me, Adam. We’ve spent enough time together lately.”

  “Well, then, I say you’re a bit testy.” He sipped his coffee. “Mmm. Much better than at the Forest Circus.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Did Molly put you up to this?”

  “I just said I have a meeting.” He glanced at her. “Do you wish she had?”

  “No.” Maybe. Stop it! “Why would I?”

  “Because then you could get all ticked off about the set-up instead of admitting you’re thrilled to see me.” His eyebrows rose. “We’re good for each other, Jess. You just refuse to believe it.”

  Her spine stiffened. “That’s because I decide what I think, Adam. Not you.”

  “Then tell me what you think, Jess.”

  “Persistence is outdated.”

  “So is the fear of intimacy.”

  “I don’t have a fear of intimacy.”

  “Denial. A bad sign.”

  “I don’t have a fear of intimacy,” she repeated through clenched teeth. Her stomach felt like a rock.

  “Actually, you have a point.” Voice low, he murmured, “You’re quite good at physical intimacy. It’s the emotional kind I’m thinking of.”

  Her face stung as if she’d been slapped. She leaned over the tiny table. “Look, Adam, I thought I told you no more stunts. It’s not enough that you tricked Mom and me into going to the Wander-Inn Sunday. No, you had to weasel an invitation to dinner last night, and now you insist on sharing my table. Did you ever consider that maybe you’re not welcome?”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw. He plunked down his cup. “In the first place, I didn’t weasel an invitation to supper, Jess. Your mother asked, and I accepted. That’s it.”

  “You didn’t have to accept,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I did.” The waitress delivered his sandwich. He chomped into it, chewed, and swallowed. “You won’t be around much longer, and Molly’s busy with her job and family. Someone’s got to keep tabs on your mother when you leave. I’m available.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because I like her, as I’ve said before. Because I was friends with Pete. Because her nearest family is in Kamloops—the sister I met at his funeral. Because she needs someone she can rely on here. Those reasons enough?”

  Jess pushed aside her plate. “She has a lot of friends.”

  “Now she’ll have me, too.” He bit into his sandwich. “Relax, Jess. Eat your cinnamon bun. Hell, I thought I was doing you a favor, volunteering to keep an eye on your mom.”

  She pulled in a breath, head throbbing.

  “What now?” He drank from his cup.

  She fixed her gaze at a point beneath his chin. “I need to make sure your motives for paying all this attention to my mother are honorable, and not a ploy to get me back.”

  He sputtered on his coffee. “Get you back? I haven’t had you, Jess. At leas
t not in the way I’d like. Could we please try to have a civil conversation? All this tension is giving me indigestion.”

  She sighed. “I know what you mean.”

  “Good. Then eat.” Tone softening, he slid her plate toward her. “And tell me how the car’s running.”

  Last night, while her mom was making popcorn, she’d told him the car had come out of the shop. She’d asked about returning his SUV, but he hadn’t wanted to discuss the issue while her mother was within earshot.

  She replied, “The car’s running great. Thank you. Getting the new transmission was the right thing to do.” She picked at a raisin on her cinnamon bun. “Adam, I wish you’d let me give you back your truck. Now that Mom has the car again—”

  “Jess, how many times do we have to go through this? You’re keeping the SUV until you leave. It’s what works best for you and Nora, and I don’t mind at all.”

  “But now that you and I aren’t—”

  “Your mother thinks we are. Or have you told her that we’re not ‘dating casually’ anymore?”

  “No.” She stared at the tabletop.

  “Then it makes sense for you to keep the truck. If I take it back now, she’ll know something’s up.” He devoured the remainder of his sandwich. “Besides, what about her idea to visit your aunt?”

  Jess held in a breath. “She’s leaving Friday.”

  “You going along?”

  “No. Molly’s hosting an end-of-season dinner for the high school boys’ basketball team. I already promised to help.”

  His gaze narrowed. “How did you intend to get around this weekend, with your mom taking the car to Kamloops and the SUV sitting idle at my place? Molly?”

  She shrugged. “The taxi.”

  “Right.” He slapped sandwich crumbs off his hands. “I can see right through you, Jess Morgan, and I’m not sure I like what I see. You’re not indebted to me for the loan of the truck, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop thinking I have ulterior motives in mind. It’s not like I plan on dragging you to bed in exchange for using a damned SUV.”