A Baxter's Redemption

by Patricia Johns

He walked resolutely away, and Jenny’s earlier bravado wilted. She picked up another fry, but she didn’t eat it. She just held it in front of her face, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” James said gently. “This isn’t a good place for you. You don’t want to work for that guy, right?”

  What did that manager even know about Jenny? He’d dismissed her on first sight. Isabel looked in disgust from the manager then back to Jenny, whose brother was trying to put a positive spin on her treatment.

  “Do you want a job, Jenny?” Isabel asked softly.

  “Yes, I really do. I want to make some money. And I’m good at things.”

  “I believe you,” Isabel said.

  Jenny turned to her brother. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore. Can we go now?”

  James nodded and pulled a few bills from his wallet. He met Isabel’s gaze. “This is on me. My treat.”

  His glance was filled with something tender and sad, akin to what she saw in him the night before when his lips had met hers. Was he remembering it, too? But it didn’t matter—she couldn’t do this.

  “Jenny, wait—” Isabel had an idea, and while she hadn’t thought it through, she couldn’t just let Jenny walk away feeling as though she didn’t matter, as though she had nothing to offer. Isabel was a little too familiar with that feeling lately. She couldn’t let that manager crush this young woman.

  Jenny turned back, her blue eyes still misting.

  “I’ll hire you,” Isabel said. “I’m going to need a hand at the store when it opens. What do you say? Will you take the job?”

  James looked about ready to speak, but Jenny’s face lit up and she nodded excitedly.

  “Yes! Yes, I’ll work for you!” she squealed, then she dived down and hugged Isabel tightly. As Isabel lifted her gaze, she was surprised to see that James’s expression was grim, the earlier tenderness evaporated. She’d assumed he’d be happy that she’d given his sister a chance. She shot him a questioning look.

  “I’ve got to get back to the office,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.”

  “Of course,” Isabel said. “It was nice to see you both.”

  James gave her a curt nod and nudged his sister toward the door. That kiss had thrown off their balance. She didn’t feel quite so confident with him anymore, and she hated that. With a sigh, she turned back to the food in front of her.

  * * *

  THAT EVENING, JAMES pulled up in front of Isabel’s little house and turned off the engine. He sat there quietly for a moment, surveying the scene. In the distance, the jagged mountains were just visible against the dusky sky. The brightest of the stars twinkled through the blanketed sky, and a cool breeze whisked across the field, wild grasses bending and rippling in the dimness.

  The last time he’d been here, he’d kissed her. He inwardly grimaced. He’d set himself up for rejection, but more than that, he’d started messing around with something that couldn’t work. It was foolish and unprofessional, and he hadn’t forgiven himself for it. But he wasn’t here for that—he was here because of Jenny.

  The Baxters had done enough for the Hunters. Isabel didn’t need to hire his sister. Moreover, things would only get more complicated when she had to let Jenny go. Jenny needed the right job, and much as he found himself liking Isabel—more than liking her—he didn’t think that this was the right fit, either.

  I’ve got to stop this before it gets out of hand, he thought to himself. Ironically, he’d already let too much of his relationship with her get out of hand. That kiss had been his move. Her move had been to hire his sister. All too often people thought they were doing a good deed, when they were actually making everything else more difficult—like wealthy people traveling to developing countries to witness the poverty, take a few pictures and post them to the internet with the hashtag #feelingblessed. Some things just weren’t helpful.

  Like kissing his client’s daughter. He was going to beat himself up for that for a while longer.

  The house glowed from within, and the front window darkened as Isabel looked out. She’d seen him, so he opened his truck door and gave a wave.

  The front door opened, and Isabel stood in the pool of warm light, crossing her arms over her chest against the evening chill. She wore a pair of fitted jeans and a pale blue tank top. Her feet were bare, and she shot him a warm smile, the scars along the side of her face masked in shadow.

  “Hi,” James called as he headed toward the door. “I’m sorry to come by so late, but I was hoping I could have a word with you.”

  “Sure.” Her smile faltered. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah...” He paused, not sure how to bring this up. She stepped back and ushered him. He smiled his thanks and stepped inside. It was different between them now—he could feel it. When he looked at her, he knew more than he had a right to know—like the way her hair smelled and the way she fit into his arms. He looked around for a place to sit and sank into a chair.

  “How was your day?” he asked. The high ceiling made the space seem more open than it really was, and he glanced around, impressed with her decor.

  “Good.” She opened the little fridge under the counter. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

  So they weren’t going to address that kiss, were they? Maybe it was better that way.

  She shut the fridge again and turned toward him. “So what’s going on? Is this about my dad?”

  “No.” He must have made it seem like there was an emergency. “I’m sorry, I’m making this sound like it’s more serious than it is. It’s about my sister.”

  Isabel nodded quickly, and a blush rose in her cheeks. “She doesn’t have to work for me. I only wanted to help. If she’d rather not—”

  “No, she really wants to,” James interjected. And that was the truth. Jenny had sent him three emails about how excited she was to have a new job, and called him twice. “That’s the thing. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here. Jenny is sweet and a really great person, but she’s gone through a lot of jobs here in Haggerston.”

  “Because she’s misunderstood?” Isabel asked.

  He smiled wanly. “Yes and no. She’s definitely misunderstood, but it’s more than that. She doesn’t always make the appropriate decision. For example, she recently threw cheese at the head of a man who insulted her.”

  Isabel nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “She doesn’t do anything without reason. It always makes sense when I talk to her about it later, but customer service isn’t easy. It requires a lot of patience.”

  “Definitely,” she agreed.

  “Good.” He nodded quickly. The sooner this was over, the better. “So we’re agreed, then.”

  “About what?”

  “That working in your chocolate shop probably isn’t the best solution for Jenny,” he clarified. He had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t going as planned.

  Isabel blinked, then shook her head. “I didn’t agree to that.”

  James smothered a sigh. To his knowledge, Isabel hadn’t worked in customer service, either. She’d worked in marketing, but grass-level sales were a different experience altogether. Jenny aside, did she know what she was getting herself into with her business?

  “Look, Isabel. You’re a kind person—”

  “Kindness has nothing to do with it. It’s what’s right. Jenny deserves a chance, and if people don’t want cheese in their face, maybe they should treat others with respect.”

  “A noble sentiment, until you start losing sales,” James pointed out.

  She was silent for a moment, then shrugged weakly. “It hasn’t happened yet. I’m willing to give her a chance.”

  “She’s had chances. About
a dozen.” James gave her a tight smile. “I might sound too tough on her right now, but she doesn’t need another chance. She needs the right fit. The last thing we need is for her to get fired. Again.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “That you take back the job offer.” He shrugged. “It’s better to do it now before she starts.”

  “And what reason would I give?” she asked.

  “That you can’t afford to hire anyone yet?” he suggested.

  “But I can afford it, and I do need someone.”

  “This is about sparing her feelings,” James said.

  “I’ll tell you what.” She sucked in a breath, narrowed her eyes in thought, and then met his gaze again. “If things don’t work out, I’ll call you. We’ll find a way to end the arrangement without hurting her feelings.”

  It was a solution, he had to admit, but not the one he’d been hoping for. The Baxters were a powerful family, and Isabel didn’t seem to recognize the awkwardness of it all. Was she really oblivious, or just being willfully so? Maybe this was her way of getting back a little bit of power after he’d kissed her.

  “Can I level with you?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Your dad has already done a lot for us. He’s provided a home for Jenny and her roommates to live in, and given me a great position. It’s enough already. I don’t like being beholden.”

  “Oh.” She frowned and pushed her fingers into her jeans pockets. “I see.”

  The blush rose in her cheeks again, and she cleared her throat.

  “It’s a pride thing for me,” he added.

  “It wasn’t about pride for me,” she said quietly. “I thought we were...friends.”

  James inwardly grimaced. What was it about Isabel that she could slip right past his defenses? She was a Baxter, for crying out loud, and she had money and status backing her up. She had more privilege than anyone else in this town, and yet when he looked into those clear, brown eyes, he still felt like she needed him. Why couldn’t he think straight when he was with her?

  “Since we’re being honest,” Isabel added, “I just wanted to help out somehow. This is going to be a Haggerston business, and I want to employ locals. People here haven’t fully forgiven me, but if I can provide some jobs, I’ll be contributing.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Izzy,” he said softly, the nickname flying out of his mouth before he could stop it. If she wanted to make up for Andrew or for anything in the past, she didn’t need to do it. Not with him. He’d been wrong to cross that line with her, and in a way, he was trying to shuffle back.

  “This company is going to be different. I’m not going to hurt Jenny’s feelings. You have my word.”

  She wasn’t backing down, and he wasn’t sure what else he could say. “Fine.”

  “Yeah?” A smile lit up her face. “You trust me on this?”

  No, he didn’t. Not completely.

  “Let me know if things don’t work, okay? We’ll sort something out.”

  “I promise.”

  James let out a pent-up breath and pushed himself to his feet. “I guess I should get going—”

  She stepped closer to him, reaching to open the door just behind him, and the soft lavender fragrance of her perfume tugged him closer still. Again. He couldn’t do this—he couldn’t let himself kiss her a second time, knowing full well this would only hurt him if he did. She wasn’t looking at him, though. Her gaze was turned toward something in her hand. Her long, silky lashes brushed her cheeks with each blink, and he found himself mesmerized. One cheek was soft and smooth, and the other was marred by puckered lines of scar tissue, but she was still stunning.

  She’d always managed to rouse those feelings of manly protectiveness in the young men around town, but whenever he saw Isabel, he was reminded of Andrew, and that left him immune. Yet being in this close space with her was fueling some feelings that weren’t in his best interest. She was his boss’s daughter, and more than that, she was a Baxter. Things that burned a regular person didn’t even singe a Baxter. He was most certainly playing with fire.

  Isabel straightened, and when she looked up, he found their faces only inches apart. Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath of surprise.

  “Oh...” she breathed.

  “Not much space in here,” he attempted to joke, but it fell flat as neither of them moved.

  She was so close that he could have reached out and pulled her against him, run his fingers through her long, glossy hair. Her dark eyes met his, and he dropped his gaze down to her pink lips. He could kiss her again, regret it later, but allow himself this one last...

  Bad idea, he told himself firmly, but the rest of him didn’t seem to be listening. With a concerted effort, he tore his mind from dangerous territory.

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve got to stop doing that.”

  “Thanks for coming.” She took a step back, colliding with the edge of a table.

  “Careful.” James grinned and put a hand out to steady her. “I’d better get going.”

  “Yes, you should.” She laughed and shook her head.

  “Look, Izzy, about last night,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I overstepped. I made things really weird for us now, and—”

  “It’s okay,” she said with a small shrug. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, either.”

  What did she mean by that? Had she wanted that kiss? Was there more to this than he’d thought? How much had he messed this up?

  “Seeing as we’re attracted to each other...” he began slowly.

  “We should be careful,” she finished the thought, and he felt a rush of relief. They were on the same page.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Probably for the best.”

  They were silent for a moment or two, and then James reached back and turned the doorknob, pushing it open.

  “Have a good night, Isabel,” he said quietly.

  She waved wordlessly, and he stepped out into the night. As James trotted back toward his truck, a memory rose of his cousin sitting on the front steps of his house, scuffing his shoe against the ground. He could still see his cousin’s grease-stained fingernails from working on his car, see the way he picked at a hangnail on his thumb.

  “I’m leaving early,” Andrew had announced.

  “How early?”

  “Right after my exams.”

  The news had been like a punch to the gut. “Why so soon?”

  “I’ve got nothing to stay for.”

  “What about our road trip? We’ve been planning that since tenth grade. Come on, man. You can’t bail on the road trip.”

  He’d been pleading at that point, and it wasn’t entirely about the road trip. He’d sensed that something deeper, something more desperate was happening here, and he didn’t know what it was or how to stop it. And in that moment of helpless certainty that this was wrong, he’d also been entirely certain that this was Isabel Baxter’s fault.

  “Sorry, man,” Andrew had said. “I’ve got to get out of here. For good. We’ve got a few weeks still. I’m going to soak up all the shade I can before I go to boot camp.” Andrew shot him a look, pleading for understanding. “That’s what the boys over there say. Don’t take the shade for granted.”

  Don’t take anything for granted. James had taken that to heart. Life was short, happiness could be fleeting. People were fragile.

  “And I’m playing with fire,” he said to himself as he yanked open the door and hopped into the cab. Andrew hadn’t been half as stupid as James had thought. Isabel had a way of making a man feel like the center of the world, if only for a few moments, and that could be intoxicating. Except James was no high school kid, and he knew better.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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  “ISABEL? ISABEL, ARE you here?”

  Isabel looked up from the pot of milk chocolate she was tempering on the stove in her store kitchen. Was that who she thought it was? She closed her eyes and winced.

  “In here!” she called.

  Britney came into the kitchen, her Coach bag on one shoulder and pinched under her arm. She wore a cream-colored Chanel suit, her hair pulled up into a twist at the back of her head. She looked more mature in that outfit, Isabel realized. She liked it better. Britney looked around the kitchen, her lips pressed together into a prim line.

  “So this is it?” Britney asked.

  “Sure is.” Isabel eyed her stepmother questioningly. “How did you get in?”

  “It was open.”

  Isabel nodded. She must have forgotten to lock the door behind herself this morning. She wouldn’t do that again. She stirred the chocolate slowly in the pot with a wide paddle, the lumps of chocolate slowly melting into the liquid.

  “What are you doing?” Britney asked after a moment.

  “Tempering some chocolate. I’m going to make some cream-filled chocolates with those molds over there on the counter.”

  Britney stepped to the side to look but didn’t move any closer. She just nodded.

  “What can I do for you?” Isabel asked. “Just wanted to see the place?”

  “I was curious,” Britney replied. “So are you sure it’ll work?”

  “You mean make money?” Isabel asked blandly.

  “Yes, exactly.” There was a flicker of something more intelligent in Britney’s gaze, even though she seemed to be trying to hide it under a mask of bored indifference.

  “That’s the big question, isn’t it?” Isabel replied with a small smile. “That’s the thrill.”

  “Hmm.” Britney’s high heels tapped against the tiled floor as she ambled around the kitchen. She peered into a couple of cupboards, then turned back. “And if it fails?”

  The question irritated Isabel. Was Britney afraid that Isabel would pump her father for more money? Was she already staking her claim on the Baxter fortune?

  “I’ll just have to take it one day at a time,” Isabel said at last.