by Jean Oram
“You don’t?”
“I don’t.” It took all his conviction not to explain himself to her.
Jill studied him for a beat before tucking her e-reader into her bag and asking, “Did you find the place okay?”
“No.”
She inhaled as though about to speak, giving him a thoughtful look.
“It doesn’t say ‘Mandy’s’ on the sign out front,” he pointed out. She’d asked him to meet her at Mandy’s café. After passing down Main Street enough times to start collecting stares, he’d finally stopped for directions. Turned out Mandy’s was actually part of the chain sandwich shop Wrap It Up which had gone independent a few years back. But because it was owned by local waitress-turned-business-owner Mandy, everyone called it that.
Go figure. Small towns.
Directions around here probably sounded a lot like, “Turn left where Polk’s barn used to be, then go down almost as far as you can, then turn at the big rock. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Sorry,” Jill said. “Do you want some coffee?”
The place smelled like fresh baked brownies and Burke glanced toward the front counter. “It smells like something delicious was just made.”
“Those would be Mandy’s whiskey-and-gumdrop brownies. I don’t recommend them.”
Burke quirked an eyebrow. “Why’s that?” They smelled incredible.
“They’re highly addictive.”
“In that case—” he patted his flat stomach “—I’ll pass. I got your spreadsheet for your products and prices this morning before I left. I think we need to charge more.”
“There is no ‘we,’ remember?”
“They’re specialty, handmade formulas, not just small things to add into your cart to reach the free shipping threshold. You can charge a lot more for that. Especially since Gulliver tried that eczema cream sample and is over the moon about it.”
“I sell more at a lower price, and make more money overall.”
“My market isn’t about volume, it’s about people feeling as though they’re making a difference and doing the right thing with their purchasing choices. They don’t mind paying more.”
“Is that why you have cash flow problems?”
“I don’t have cash flow issues.” He crossed his arms over his chest. When she continued to give him a questioning look, he reminded her, “I need money for that expansion you mucked up.”
“Here they are!” A woman with a white-streaked bob came over, hands clenched together.
Jill stiffened like a rabbit trying to blend into her surroundings so she wouldn’t be spotted. Burke would suggest it was too late for that. And seeing as his whole purpose of being here was to put a face to the “new husband,” he turned, playing his role.
“Burke Carver,” he said, standing to shake the woman’s hand.
“I’m Wini, the manager at the bank here in town. What a surprise to find that Jill—” She glanced at her, her mouth snapping shut.
“It’s okay,” Jill said quietly. She looked up, trying to act casual and failing spectacularly. “Our marriage is no longer a secret.”
Seriously, did she have to cringe while saying that?
“So you’re the woman who gave my lovely wife a loan without me having to cosign?” Burke asked.
Wini smiled warmly. “We keep things easy out here! I’m so excited for the two of you. Congratulations.”
“In the city it’s customary for both parties to sign.”
She waved a hand, still smiling. “Small towns are much more personal, Burke, sweetie.” She gave his arm a friendly squeeze. “I can’t believe she’s kept you hidden away for so long. You’ll love living here.”
“His business keeps him in the city,” Jill said, remaining in her seat, “and he’ll be keeping his home there, as well. We have an independent partnership. A marriage that allows us to—”
“You’re leaving town?” Wini asked, so aghast that Burke found it amusing.
“No, we have a modern marriage where we are independent from each other,” Jill said patiently. She was delivering her lines awkwardly, like an actor performing live for the first time and slightly freaked out by having a real audience.
“Long distance won’t work.” Wini tsked as she took the seat across from Jill. Burke took the one beside Jill, wondering if he was supposed to sling his arm across the back of her chair. What type of man did she go for? Possessive? Indifferent?
Wait, why did it matter? He was in town for five minutes, to give everyone a smile and a wave before sailing out, never to be seen again.
“We thought our Jill was never going to find someone again,” a woman cooed as she hustled over, eyes dancing. She shook Burke’s hand, then took the seat across from him. “I’m her mother, Jenilee Armstrong. Jill’s sister, Jodi, is the one who gets all the men.”
“Is that so?” he said, when it seemed as though she expected him to comment.
Jenilee reached over to pat Jill’s clenched hand. “With her teenaged years full of shooting competitions, then the boxing and lifting weights with her father… Well, we thought she might be more than a tomboy, if you know what I mean. We’re so pleased you’ve come along and married her. It’s so difficult to find a soulmate when you’re living in a small town and prefer women.”
“I’m not gay,” Jill said.
“Well, we know that now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian,” Wini added supportively.
“I assure you, Jill is not a lesbian,” Burke said, making certain his voice was extra deep, rough and manly. He shot Jill a smile that made her cheeks grow pink.
Jenilee cleared her throat. “Well, dear, I’m glad you found someone who accepts you for who you are. Especially after pining after Devon for all those years. That was so horrible to watch.” She glanced at Wini as though seeking support.
“Who’s Devon?” Burke asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He couldn’t imagine Jill pining over anyone.
“Mom,” Jill warned, standing up.
“Her ex-boyfriend. He lives here in town.”
“He does?”
“She’d get this sad look, as though wishing he’d notice her.” Jenilee turned to her daughter. “You deserve a man who adores you. Especially after the whole café thing with that no-good—”
“Mom,” she said sharply. Jill looked as if she didn’t know whether to grab Burke and run or stand her ground. Maybe stand her ground while tackling her mother to the ground with a cloth soaked in chloroform.
Burke could kind of see that last one playing out. Jenilee had a way about her that made him want to stay in town and be the best husband for Jill just to get the woman to shut up and quit putting her gorgeous daughter down.
“Oh, honey,” Jenilee said. “Worrying is what moms do. Just ask your sister.”
Wow. Ouch.
“Well, we have to run along,” Burke said, standing up, taking Jill’s pleading, darted glances his way as a hint.
Mrs. Armstrong stood, coming around the table, clutching Burke’s arms as she sized him up. “You are so handsome. Jill has done well.” She released him so she could give her daughter a quick squeeze. Jill stood like a statue, not moving to reciprocate as her mother whispered, just loud enough that Burke could make out what she was saying, “Try a bit harder with this one. Ask your sister for advice on how to keep a man. Maybe lose some weight and leave your hair loose. I have curlers if you need them.”
She released her dejected-looking daughter, and Wini squeezed Jill’s arm in sympathy.
“We don’t have that kind of marriage,” Jill said weakly. “It’s a modern, professional partnership that allows us independence so we can focus on our careers.”
For all her preparedness, Burke could see it wasn’t working despite what he was certain was a color-coded, multistage war plan. He stood, taking a step forward so he was shoulder to shoulder with Jill, and gave the other women his most winning smile, hoping it didn’t look like
a grimace.
“Did you know how long I had to chase Jill and these dangerous curves of hers?”
He pulled her so they were hip to hip.
“At conferences all the men want to talk to her. And why not? She’s gorgeous, intelligent and articulate. She can talk sports or business.” He allowed his gaze to linger on her. “Not only that, but she has products she’s obviously put her heart and soul into. My company is excited to be partnering with hers. We’re going to put her products on the map just like they deserve.” His arm was around Jill’s shoulders and he pulled her closer. “Aren’t we, honey?”
Her expression said Oh puh-lease. Yeah, yeah, he was breaking his own rule. But it was for a worthwhile cause. Her.
“Oh, Burke, darling, that’s just a fun hobby,” Jill’s mom said, giving him a serious look. “Now that she has a husband she can focus on other things.”
“A so-called hobby that will soon make her rich.” He let that sink in for a moment. “I fully support Jill and her dreams.”
“We support Jill,” Jenilee said quickly.
“Good. Because anyone who doesn’t will be speaking to me.”
Jill’s eyes widened and Jenilee tucked her chin in, shooting Wini a look of surprise.
“Right, honey?” he said.
Jill was uncharacteristically silent, and he wasn’t sure if she was dreaming of running him down with her SUV, or considering keeping him.
He kind of hoped for the latter.
Jill hurried her problem husband from Mandy’s café. He was being sweet and supportive and acting like the real deal—a catch. The kind of man she could fall for in a way that, if he ever left her, would shatter her heart and trust forever.
“Why did you defend me?” she demanded, once they were on the street. He could not stick to the plan, could he? There was no room for improvisation. They were supposed to act as though they’d intended to get married all along. Eloped. But not in a romantic way. No “honey,” no love. Just business. Dry, boring and problem-free, making it possible for the town to forget he even existed.
Instead he’d stood up for her and tugged on her heartstrings like he’d been snuggling a puppy.
She sighed, torn. She wanted what he’d pretended they had. But they weren’t going to have that, and the embarrassment of another failed marriage was going to hurt.
The gossips would offer their sympathy and support—all the while trying not to act too excited over the speculation going on behind her back. What had she done this time to lose her man? How had she been wronged? Why did she keep choosing the wrong fella?
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“Relax. We’ll figure it out.” Burke appeared unaffected by her concern, as well as pleased with himself.
“Burke…”
“Seriously. Life always has a way of working out.”
She rolled her head to the side, tired of arguing. It was too late to change the way he’d acted, anyway.
She rubbed her temples. Why did it seem as though she was always having to change course when he was around?
“Boxing?” Burke asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
She felt as though he was two steps away from laughing at her and her hobbies. She rested her hands on her hips. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Did you compete?”
“In boxing? No.”
“Show me.” Burke had begun walking backward down the sidewalk, palms open as though he expected her to punch them.
“I’m not going to hit you.”
“You said your dad owns a gun range, and your mom mentioned shooting. Do you prefer guns?”
Jill summoned a dirty look, but she secretly appreciated that he remembered that tidbit.
“Did you compete in shooting?” he asked.
She sighed. “Why the sudden interest in me and my life?” She really didn’t want to talk about her old competitions or she’d find herself telling him about how it had all ended when she’d lost the scholarship for riflery. Lost everything, it felt like. All because her dad, who was also her coach, was still on his “once in a lifetime” trip that had turned into a several-months-long gig. Jill had shown up for the biggest competition of the year with her grandmother as her stand-in coach, naively thinking she was prepared. She hadn’t been.
Everything had gone wrong from not having a back-up rifle in case hers jammed—which it did—to arriving late for the first heat, to her period starting three days before she’d expected it, and staining the white shorts her grandmother had insisted she wear as they were more feminine than the usual track pants she wore to meets. That had been the last time Jill had ever competed. It was soon after that that she’d met Rebecca and begun hanging out with the Ute instead of at home where the pressure to be someone other than herself felt like it was always mounting.
“You’re interesting,” Burke said.
“We have business to attend to. Business you messed up by breaking our ‘no lovey-dovey’ deal.”
“Are you a sharpshooter?” He gave a small bounce and began walking beside her again. “You were good, weren’t you?”
“Does that intimidate you if I was?”
“Are we talking skeet shooting or biathlon or to-the-death combat?”
“Why are you so excited about this?” Most men didn’t think her skills were cool unless they were from deep in the woods and figured she might be able to bag an elusive mountain lion.
“I love hard core.”
“It’s not very feminine.”
“I happen to admire strong women. It doesn’t matter if your favorite hobby isn’t one you do in a skirt and full makeup.”
“Maybe I shoot better in high heels.”
He bit back a grin. “That’s a sexy image.”
Jill sighed. “Can we talk about business and how you rerouted our whole entire strategy for dealing with our messy lives back there?”
“I thought you liked talking about the personal side of things?”
“Don’t act like that around my family and friends.”
“You want me to act unsupportive?”
“No. Yes. No.” It would look worse if she’d married some guy who didn’t stand up for her—that would be like Hayes all over again. “Just…you’re complicating things.”
He’d stopped walking. “How does supporting you complicate things?”
“This isn’t for forever.”
“You don’t need to keep reminding me that you aren’t keeping me.”
She rolled her head again, feeling its weight. “Burke…”
“You’re complicated. You know that?” He looked miffed. “I did what was right back there.”
“And I appreciate the sentiment, just maybe not the timing and the ‘honey’ part.”
“Why can’t this be easy?”
“Because we had a plan and you deviated from it. That makes things complicated and messy.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Fine. How’s Autumn?”
“Seriously?”
“Okay. Then how soon will my products be on your site? How soon do I need to start filling orders?”
“I’m planning to talk to Ethan Mattson today even though he usually doesn’t work Sundays. He’s my tech guy. You know him? He lives in town.”
“I used to throw sour cherries at him when we were kids. This is Blueberry Springs. Of course I know him. In fact, he’s probably already heard that you and I are married and that you’re all lovesick over me, honey.”
Burke smirked at her dig and said, “Well, hopefully he doesn’t hold a grudge, because he’s going to be adding your products as a pop-up add-on when consumers check out from my site.” He rubbed his hands together. “Any more family for me to meet today?”
“You’re liking this, aren’t you?”
“Live in the moment, honey. I’m an expert at putting too much into relationships like this one—doomed from the start.”
“Nice.”
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“What? It’s true.”
“I think we’ve done enough damage for the day,” Jill said with a sigh.
They’d inadvertently stopped one block off Main, where the closed, abandoned Johnson’s small café still sat, its windows thick with years of accumulated grime, the newspaper lining them yellowed and falling down.
Just like Jill’s current plans involving keeping her life together and Burke at bay.
Burke was still surprised by how they’d ended up at Jill’s father’s shooting range after his meeting with Ethan. He’d been pretty certain Jill was going to run him out of town after meeting her mother. With Jenilee he’d gone a bit off script, acting like a real husband. They were supposed to keep it light and easy—his specialty—so that when they divorced things would just keep ticking along like they’d simply taken out the week’s trash. Nothing more.
But her mom was a real piece of work and no man worth his salt—fake husband or not—would have stood by and let her keep talking to her daughter like that.
When he’d finished meeting with Ethan over at the techie’s home office, Jill had been waiting out on the driveway, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket to keep them warm, the late afternoon sun streaming over her dark hair. For a moment he’d wondered if he should have invited her into the meeting, even though it was about the structure of his online store.
She’d stood awkwardly, surrounded by the melting snowdrifts edging the driveway, looking like a schoolgirl waiting for her crush.
Okay, maybe that was him projecting his hope a little bit.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who muddied the waters for you.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. I overreacted, and I do appreciate you standing up for me.”
“I stepped out of line by acting so…” He had studied her as he searched for the right word “…dedicated.”
Their eyes had met and a flash of something indescribable had rippled through him.
She’d held out her hand. “Truce?”
“I was never mad,” he’d replied, taking her hand and feeling that same warm wave move through him again.