by Rosanna Leo
And all because of Ms. Baker. Juliet Baker.
Lord, she was something else, and nothing like the bitches at his school.
He frowned and popped an angry wheelie, enjoying the clatter of the tools as the bike touched down again.
Boy, if only Amber and Tiffany could see him working for Juliet, their jaws would drop. To see him, Gary Mitchell, the one they'd taunted for years, working for a worldly woman. Why, Gramps had told him she'd been to Italy. Italy! And he'd never met anyone who'd gone past the town limits.
And she was pretty, too. Real pretty. Amber and her braces had nothing on Juliet.
Maybe, if he did a good job for her, just maybe...
He looked up and saw the new fire captain in her driveway. Damn. He'd forgotten that man would be there. He spun his bike around and hid behind a shrub, watching.
The captain was unloading some big mover's boxes from his truck. As Gaskill easily hauled the heavy-looking cartons from the cab, Gary couldn't help but make comparisons. The other man's muscles stood out, even from a distance. He was probably a dumb jock, like the assholes who'd locked him in his locker a couple of months ago.
To his chagrin, the captain next produced a huge, fancy toolbox from his cab. One which made Gary's look like a toy. And then, the captain just stood and looked up at the house before him. Gary just knew in his heart Gaskill was deciding what to tackle first.
Something told him if Juliet needed work done, she wouldn't come to him any longer. She'd be going to her asshole jock boarder.
As rage seized him, he turned his bike around and sped back down the path.
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Chapter Four
That evening, Jules made coffee and decided what to attack next. Her fingers were raw with all the cleaning she'd done, and she was yearning for a change of activity. She decided to sand the foyer wall, where the paint was peeling.
No time like the present. Plus, it'll help you get your mind off the gorgeous man in the next room.
She proceeded to sand the wall, building up a steady rhythm. Even as she sought to forget Shane, she thought of him the whole time. After a while, she was sanding with a vigor she'd never quite experienced before.
"What's wrong with me?” she whispered. “He's just a man. A strapping, hunky, splendid piece of man, that's all. Nothing to get my knickers in a twist over."
And not even her type. All the men she'd dated looked more or less like Kevin. They'd all been of the tall, dark and handsome persuasion. Shane looked as if he'd just emerged from the cover of some Viking romance novel with his sandy hair and muscles.
And those brown eyes which looked like a puppy dog's. The way they angled slightly at the corners, with lashes that were probably longer than most women's. And his sexy grin which made her want to eat him up...
"Stop it, Juliet!” She sanded the wall so hard more paint began to peel. “Now look what you've done."
"You've put too much pressure on it.” Shane was standing behind her with a devastatingly crooked grin on his face. He'd changed into a clean pair of jeans and a fresh, white T-shirt. “I've always found a gentle touch is more effective. May I?"
He came up behind her and put his hand over hers. He put his other hand on the wall in front of them, effectively closing her in with his arms. He guided her as they sanded the damaged spot together. Jules didn't dare look up at his face, just stared at the sandpaper in front of them. He smelled good, like a fresh breeze through an open window. She felt his breath, hot on the back of her neck, and realized she was holding her own breath.
"There,” he said, his voice a quiet tremor. “You see? I've learned you don't want to rub it too hard. You want to start softly, give the whole area lots of gentle attention. Of course, once you find your sweet spot, then you can get a bit more aggressive."
Jules got the sensation he wasn't talking about sanding anymore. She felt herself coloring from head to foot. “Thank you. I've learned my lesson. Would you care for a coffee?” She fled the circle of his arms and ran into the kitchen.
He followed her in, a bemused expression on his face. “If you don't mind me saying, Jules, you seem a bit..."
"A bit what?” she demanded.
"I don't know, nervous. Stressed, maybe."
She stopped spooning out her three teaspoons of sugar and looked up at him. “Frankly, I am. First you find me in an argument with Kevin. Then the family arrives, including my nosy sister."
"I see."
She poured him a cup, and passed him the sugar and cream. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so edgy. I've been away from Riverbend for half a year and just got back myself, as you've seen, so everything's still a little raw."
"Well, your family's glad you're back.” He narrowed his eyes, tentative. “May I ask about your parents?"
She put her coffee cup down. “They both died just before I left."
Shane's face changed. His eyes grew darker all of a sudden. “I'm so sorry. They both went at once?"
"Within months, one right after the other. Anyway, I couldn't bear to lose the farm, so I bought my sister's share and decided to stick around and fix it up. Give it a new life. I want to make this work. Agri-tourism is huge now and we have lots of wineries and organic farms popping up in the area. People are going to need a place to stay. It's a chance for me to make this my own vision."
She could tell Shane noticed how quickly she changed the topic. But again, he was kind enough not to push her.
"Who wouldn't want that?"
"Yeah, I worked at the hotel in town for years. But I was just a warm body there, just another manager with a name tag.” She swallowed a huge gulp of coffee. “It was time to come home, and time to stop hiding in Italy. So, in a way, you're not the only newcomer here."
"Hmm.” He'd lost the playful mood he was in and stared thoughtfully into his coffee cup.
"And what brings you here?"
He made a quiet noise, as if he were still wondering himself about that very question. “Change of scenery, I guess. I grew up in Priceville but didn't feel like staying. I heard about this role and I took it."
"Priceville wasn't fitting the bill for you anymore?"
Again, a pensive look darkened his eyes. “No. I can't say it was."
She felt the space between grow and neither of them spoke for a moment, he was apparently just as lost in his thoughts as she was. To break the silence, Jules clinked her cup against his. “Well then, here's to new beginnings for both of us. A new, young firefighter boss in town. The good, old boys down at the station are going to love you."
"Yeah, I gathered that much.” He smiled and gave her a sideways glance. “Is your break-up with Kevin recent?"
"Lord, no! It's been exactly six months. You see, right after my parents died, I discovered he was sleeping with just about every woman in the county. And he'd been doing so for most of the two years we were together.” She laughed, and realized it sounded more like a groan. “I guess you could say he was a great support to me in my time of need."
He stood up straight, and once again the authoritarian in him shined through for a moment. “And this is one of my men?"
"Yes, you should be very proud.” Jules laughed, but her laughter was tinged with irritation. “Actually, Kevin is a very good firefighter. His flaw, I have learned, is he cannot say ‘no’ to a woman. And being a firefighter, as I'm sure you can attest to, he gets lots of attention. Some women really like that sort of thing."
"But not you?” There was a teasing note in Shane's voice.
"Not any longer.” Her response came out more sharply than it was intended.
"You're upset."
"I'm not upset.” She smiled, but saw his reaction to her flashing eyes.
"Oh, I think you are."
"Look, I don't mean to offend you, Shane, but I've been in a very angry place for the past six months. After the way I was treated by Kevin, and his buddies at the station, I lost my faith in men in uniform. I'm sure you're
very nice, but..."
"But you'd rather I keep to myself?"
"Let's just say I wish I didn't have to rent this place to anyone right now. Certainly not...” She stopped herself from finishing.
"Certainly not to a firefighter,” he finished the thought for her. He offered her a tight, little grin. “Not to worry, Ms. Baker. I can assure you I'm not like those men at the station, but I'll keep to myself. Honestly, I'm not looking for company either. Thanks for the coffee.” He disappeared into the back room.
"Dammit, Jules,” she murmured, more disappointed than she expected to be. “Why must you always put your foot in your mouth?"
She tossed her coffee in the sink and went back to sanding the wall.
That evening, Shane decided to cool his jets by sitting out on the porch. He figured he'd be undisturbed, as the last time he saw Jules she was still swearing at the sanded wall, like an inmate at an asylum. And she looked as if she planned to occupy herself that way for some time. By God, the woman knew as many swear words as he did.
He rocked on the porch swing and listened for a few minutes to the rhythmic creak. He felt badly about their conversation but was still miffed. More than anything, he sincerely hoped he wasn't going to have to walk on eggshells around his landlady.
He got it. She didn't like firefighters. Hopefully she wouldn't feel the need to throw it in his face every day.
Yet, as perturbed as he was, he was even more perturbed by the fact he wanted to change her opinion of men like him. Wanted her to like him.
Which was a very annoying thought.
Just as he was mulling over how annoying it was, Jules appeared. She blasted through the front door, an expletive in her pretty mouth, and tossed her sandpaper over the porch railing. Defiant nose in the air, she watched it flutter into the garden.
"Not going well?” he asked with a smirk.
She jumped and turned to face him. “Oh my God, I didn't know you were skulking out here."
"I'm not skulking,” he replied, offering her his most infuriating grin. “I'm enjoying some fresh air."
"You could enjoy it a little more noticeably,” she mumbled. “Don't mind me. I've done enough sanding for the day. The sandpaper has won. I accept defeat. The sandpaper is clearly the better man."
He couldn't help smiling. She said such funny things sometimes. “Why don't you rest for a bit?” And before he could think better of it, he patted the swing next to him.
She frowned at the spot. “No, thanks. I also came out to get my wallet. I think I left it in the car."
He watched her head to her Jeep, enjoying the sight of her wiggling, plump ass. God, for a crazy lady, she sure had a great one.
She approached the Jeep and noticed a piece of paper stuck under her windshield. She pulled it out and began to unfold it as she walked back to the porch. As she came to within a few feet of him, her face changed and she dropped the paper as if it were burning her fingers.
Shane dashed over, noticing how her hands shook. “Jules, what is it?"
She blinked at him and stammered, “Uh. I'm sure it's nothing.” The paleness of her face, however, belied her true concern.
He slowly looked down at the note on the ground. It was a simple, printed sheet which could have come from any computer. It lay turned up and he could see the message clearly.
It said “YOU WILL PAY."
Shane froze, then looked around to make sure no one was watching them. And then he looked back at Jules, who was now very absorbed in biting her bottom lip. “Who the hell would leave something like this for you?"
She stared up at him and the wideness of her eyes made him want to draw nearer and hold her. Instead, he settled for putting a hand on her shoulder.
She shook her head, as if dismissing a disagreeable notion. “No one I know. It's probably a prank. Or one of those weird ad campaigns which never tell you the name of the store until the final ad. I'm sure that's all it is.” She nodded, clearly buying her own theory.
Shane was somewhat more skeptical but didn't want to scare her. “You're probably right, but better safe, than sorry.” He stepped carefully around the area, and reached into the cab of his truck where he'd stowed a first-aid kit and some other supplies. As he slid on a pair of latex gloves, he saw Jules grimace.
"Isn't that a bit much? I don't think there's any need to get all CSI on me."
He ignored her and pulled out a baggie and a new set of tweezers. Using the tweezers, he carefully put the note in the bag and sealed it tightly. And then he called his buddy on the local police force, much to the vexation of a mortified Jules.
"Fine,” she muttered once he'd made his call. She shook her head at him as if people left her threatening notes every day. “But when the police accuse me of wasting their time, I'm sending them to you.” And though she was trying to look happy-go-lucky as she pranced back into the house, he could see the tension in her body.
Gritting his teeth, he once again looked out over the property and waited on the porch for the cruiser to arrive.
The next day, Jules marched up the walkway to Claire's house, noting the grass was about as long as her sister's bangs. “Mental note,” she reminded herself. “For their next birthdays, treat Claire to a spa day and Todd to a grass-cutting service."
She'd already decided not to say anything about the “YOU WILL PAY” note. It had creeped her out enough. She didn't need to creep out her family too. God only knew it had already set Shane on edge, which was weird, but also nice in a way. There had been a look in his eyes which was almost ... protective. She hadn't seen that look in a man for some time. Still, she didn't want him to worry. It was nothing. She was sure of it.
So sure, that when she rang the doorbell and heard the delirious screams of children, it brought a big smile to her face. Claire opened the door with little Abby hanging on her hip and her hair in her eyes as usual. She leaned towards Jules and plucked at her shirt, as if to air it out.
"Do I smell?"
"Of what?” Jules laughed.
"Vomit. Abby puked all over me this morning. I changed and washed, but I can still smell it on myself."
"I distinctly recall a certain first-time mother telling me having her child spit up on her was a badge of honor.” Jules ignored Claire's glare and gave Abby's soft hair a tousle. “Is she okay?"
"Oh, yes. Spin around forty times and you'll puke, too. Come on in.” Claire regarded Jules archly as they maneuvered the obstacle course of toys on the floor on the way to the kitchen. “When you're a mother, you'll get to experience all this bliss."
"No way!” Jules headed to the coffeemaker, which was always on and always full, and poured them both cups. “I'm not cut out to be a mother. You know it."
"Jules, you love kids."
"Sure, I'm just not having any of my own. I'm destined to be cool Aunt Jules forever.” She busied herself by measuring teaspoons of sugar into their cups, while Claire let Abby run into the play room.
"That's silly. You'd be a great mom."
"Don't start."
"I just hate to see you limiting yourself."
Jules stared at her sister with the pained expression of one who'd had the same conversation dozens of times already. “Claire, would you say you've had to rely on your instincts as a mother?"
Claire sipped her coffee and frowned, then added two more teaspoons of sugar. “Well, sure. You can't know everything. Sometimes you gotta go on instincts."
"Then there you go.” Jules was all defiance. “I have horrible instincts. I allowed my boyfriend to cheat on me for two years, and I didn't see it coming at all. It hit me like a truck. If I can't even employ my instincts for self-preservation, how on earth would I preserve a child?"
For a moment, Claire was silenced. “I still think you're being too hard on yourself.” She sighed, as if deciding to change tactics, knowing she'd return to the topic another time. “So, how was your first night with Captain Gaskill under the same roof?"
"That's another
thing!” Jules shook her finger at her sister. “It's bone picking time! What was going through your mind when you put him in contact with me? And why on earth did you not tell me he's so..."
"Orgasmically delicious?” Claire blushed. “God knows I love my husband, but have you ever seen anything so fine in your life?"
"You led me to believe he was more ... mature."
"I did nothing of the kind. He's very young to be a captain, that's all. One would just assume him to be an older man."
"And you did nothing to correct that assumption, did you?” Jules narrowed her eyes at her, but her sister wasn't intimidated. “Don't get any ideas."
Claire feigned shock. “Who me? If the tantalizing fire captain makes my little sister's toes curl, it's none of my business!” She took another sip. “Hit me with the sugar again, honey. Thinking of Shane is so sweet it makes my coffee bitter."
She ducked as Jules threw a squeaky toy ducky at her.
When Jules went home in the evening after running many errands, she was on the lookout for strange people distributing literature on her front lawn. Between Shane's behavior and the conversation she'd had with the police, it was hard to forget. She was sure the note was just a silly prank. After all, who'd want to make her “pay?” Aside from her credit card company, she couldn't think of anyone.
Thankfully, though, there were no strangers loitering on her property. Once again, her thoughts turned to Shane. She had to remind herself not to be startled at the sight of her new boarder. It was odd having him in the house and her body had been attuned to his every movement the previous evening.
She had lain in bed that night, listening to the various creaks and groans of the furniture in the room below hers. Her street sense had kept her awake in case Shane turned out to be a psychopathic rapist after all, or an author of crazy letters. But her instincts had told her he could be trusted.
Those damned instincts were at work again.
As she drove up the path to the house, she found herself wondering how he had spent his day. Being the newbie at the fire hall, he was probably still there. She half hoped he would be, as she still felt awkward over the conversation in which he'd told her he'd keep to himself.