by Jean Oram
Mary Alice pushed the bag into the crook of Jill’s elbow. Jill’s hands slid down Burke’s arms as she broke contact, trying to save the wrapped item from hitting the floor.
“Forgive the gift. I thought you two would be breaking up after hearing about that floozy.”
“She’s no floozy,” Liz declared, coming alongside her sister. “She’s the governor’s girl.”
Jill stepped in. “It’s just a misunderstanding—”
“That’s what all con men say,” Liz snapped.
Mary Alice and Liz turned as one to glare at Burke.
“Jill,” Liz said, “blink twice if you need our help with this one.”
Jill didn’t blink. “It’s fine. Thank you for your concern.”
“I always had a feeling about Hayes, and I have a feeling about this one, too.” Mary Alice jabbed a finger in Burke’s direction.
“You also tried to run our kind doctor Nash Leham out of town, once upon a time,” Jill reminded her gently. The man had been on the wrong side of a romance with Beth Wilkinson—now Reiter—according to the women.
“Nice to see you both again,” Burke said, hoping to get the festivities back on track.
Mary Alice angled away, saying, “We’re keeping an eye on you. One wrong move and we’ll run you out of town, you hear?”
“Loud and clear, ladies.”
“I’m sorry,” Jill said under her breath as the gossips moved along. She set the gift on a table, peeking at the bag’s contents. A guidebook to divorce, by the looks of it.
“Nice women,” Burke said mildly.
Jill chuckled. “A bit protective, but well-meaning even if they do tend to remind people of their past mistakes as frequently as possible.”
The small restaurant had filled with people, and the noise was nearly deafening. He quickly scanned the crowd. He’d temporarily satisfied the two gossips, but he could still see chatter rippling through the room, people turning to give them slightly skeptical looks when they thought it would go unnoticed.
He straightened his spine. Sure, their divorce papers might be ready to be signed, but in the meantime he and Jill were partners.
He grabbed a chair and stood on it so he was a head above everyone who’d gathered. Then, thinking twice, he climbed down, slid over another chair and pulled Jill onto it so they were both raised.
“Excuse me!” he called. The room started to hush. “Thank you for coming today. If we haven’t met yet, I’m Burke Carver. You all know my lovely wife, Jill Armstrong, who I managed to woo a few months ago.” He turned to give her a smile. She looked like she wanted to hide from the world.
Burke lifted Jill’s hand, pushing back the sleeve so he could raise her flesh to his lips, giving it a kiss. “Take off your bracelet,” he whispered.
She tensed, clutching her fingers around the leather.
“Trust me,” he murmured.
She had her eyes locked on his, and after a beat, she hesitantly unsnapped the bracelet. He pushed up his sweater sleeve, then took her left hand in his right. He lifted their joined hands, revealing the way their commas formed a heart when they were together.
The room filled with the sound of tenderly spoken “aww’s.” Just as he’d thought, the tattoos felt like a serious indicator of their devotion to each other.
Jill inhaled deeply, then said, “I know Burke and I don’t have a traditional marriage, and our work keeps us apart. I also know there are a lot of rumors going around, but I want you to know I trust him. He’s family.”
Burke had to swallow over a lump in his throat. He caught Jill in his arms and kissed her, so deeply that nobody would ever have any doubts about him and his wife.
Jill couldn’t stop kissing Burke. She knew they were putting on a spectacle. Knew she should stop. But the cheering from her friends and family was as heady as the feeling she got tucked in Burke’s arms. And the way he’d stood up for her once again made her heart feel so warm and full she was afraid it was going to burst.
“What are you after, Burke Carver?” she whispered breathlessly when they broke apart.
“Just you.”
He kissed her again.
“Okay, quit rubbing it in,” Amy said. “Come on down. We have gifts for you.”
“We don’t need gifts,” Jill said, stepping off the chair. Gifts were a whole different problem.
Amy lowered her voice so only she could hear, but Burke leaned in, too. “With Liz and Mary Alice talking about Burke playing the field, we thought maybe we’d messed up with gifts, but after that kiss…?” She shook her hand as if she’d touched something hot. “Wowie-zowie. Those two old biddies are off their rockers.”
Burke laughed and Jill placed a hand gently on his cheek, rubbing a spot on his chin with her thumb. “He is easy on the eyes.”
“Is that all I am? A good kisser and eye candy?”
She winked and followed Amy to the pile of gifts before she got to thinking about how she should be at home filling orders.
And sorting out that horrible one-star review she’d received on Burke’s site. She knew negative feedback was inevitable, but that one had felt personal and as though it was an attack from Autumn. Jill shook off the thought. That would be a pretty low and vindictive thing to do, and her mind was probably just going nuts because it was her first bad review.
She pulled her mind from her thoughts to find Liz and Mary Alice, heads bent together, whispering and watching her and Burke.
Jill turned her back, only to find Burke right there, sliding an arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t,” she whispered, carefully sidestepping him. He wasn’t looking for the same thing she was. This wasn’t reality to him, it was a game. A PR move.
And that was okay, but she needed a bit more space to help her remember that. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be telling the town she’d ended things between them.
He pulled his arm back. “I thought—”
“This isn’t real and in a few short months I’ll be leaving you…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, imaging the way everyone in town would pussyfoot around her, all the while crowing about how they’d known all along that it wouldn’t last.
Because it never did.
But this time, she’d thought she was going in with eyes wide open. Their marriage was intended to fail, but it was starting to feel like something she wanted to preserve.
And that was an even bigger conundrum than the pile of gifts before her.
Burke went through the motions of cutting the cake with Jill, desperately trying not to inhale the strawberry scent of her shampoo. But as soon as he stopped doing that, he noticed the way her curves felt pressed against his body as they worked together.
It was too easy to believe it was real.
Too easy to hear Jill’s words sliding over him like knives.
This isn’t real and in a few short months I’ll be leaving you.
Their marriage wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was doing it again. Making things feel real where they weren’t.
But she felt different than anyone else he’d ever been with. She made him relax, smile, and he never wanted to let her go. He needed to find a way to settle his head back on his shoulders and get over himself.
This was all just business, and a way for her to save face.
Jill had a piece of plated cake in hand. She was watching him. And he wasn’t sure if her look was playful or vengeful.
“Jill,” he warned, as she lifted the piece in her fingers.
“What?” she asked innocently.
“Don’t you dare smash that in my face.”
“It’s tradition to make a mess while sharing the first slice of cake. Don’t be a party pooper.”
“This isn’t a wedding.” His chest felt tight, but he wasn’t sure why. “And the tradition is to feed each other nicely.”
“Make a mess!” Amy called.
“Do it, do it!” Amy and Moe chanted, slapping the top of their table in time with their chants. Th
e entire room joined in.
Jill giggled, angling closer, her earlier tension forgotten.
“You wouldn’t,” Burke said. “This is my favorite sweater.”
“I know a good cleaner.” She was inches away.
Burke ducked right, but Jill was there with him, the cake’s icing brushing his lips.
“Open up, baby!” she cooed.
He straightened, thinking he could move beyond her reach. He couldn’t.
He was fairly confident there was now icing up his nose. With one quick step he was at the cake table, grabbing a slice, then pursuing his bride who’d broken loose.
She was laughing, trying to skirt his moves, sliding in the cake she’d dropped on the floor. But there were too many people and chairs in her way, and he quickly caught her with one arm around her waist. She was cringing, laughing, barely looking at him as she awaited the messy disaster.
When he didn’t do anything, she opened one eye, watching him. He gently offered her the piece. “Bite?”
“You’re going to smush it in my face.” She had both hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to prevent the cake from moving closer to her.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Around them people were watching, waiting. It was quiet, the stereo between songs.
“You said you trusted me,” he said.
“Maybe I lied,” she replied mildly.
He held his slice between them like an offering. “Bite at the same time?” he asked.
Her eyes softened, as did her body. She leaned her head in at the same moment he did, and together they shared a bite from opposing ends, as though in a scene from Lady and the Tramp.
A chorus of sighs filled the room.
“Nobody else,” he whispered.
She didn’t reply, simply lowered her gaze before bringing it back up to meet his again.
“Nobody,” he repeated. “And you have icing on your nose.” He reached out with the hand still holding the cake. “Let me just get that for you.”
She squealed and ducked, but she was too late.
“You look good in blue icing.” He hugged her tight as she laughed, planting a kiss on her cake-free cheek.
“You two are wonderful,” Amy said with a sigh. “Open bar! Who’s thirsty?”
“Shh! I don’t have a liquor permit,” Mandy said loudly.
“It’s okay, Scott’s not here,” someone called. It sounded an awful lot like Officer Scott Malone. In fact, it was, and in full uniform no less. But he was grinning, and the crowd moved toward the sound of popping corks.
As Burke handed Jill a napkin so she could wipe her fingers and face, his cell rang. It was his aunt Maggie.
“Sorry,” he said to Jill, excusing himself. “Aunt Maggie,” he said as he picked up, pushing his way outdoors.
“I saw on social media that you’re having an anniversary party with your lovely wife and didn’t invite me.”
There was a group of smokers laughing and puffing away just outside the doors, and Burke moved farther down the street to gain more privacy.
“It was to show solidarity.” He winced. That was almost a lie. “It became something more.”
Kind of like that warm feeling inside him whenever he was with Jill. He loved playing with her, and he wanted to find another excuse to kiss her again.
“It was a surprise party. Totally impromptu.” He lowered his voice. “You know Jill and I aren’t spouses in that way.”
“Did you file for divorce?” His aunt was using that stern tone she’d used when filtering through his selective offering of information as a teen in hopes of avoiding trouble.
Burke faced a store window and rubbed his chest, a flash of dull pain reminding him that he still had a bruise from when Alvin’s truck had hit his car almost three weeks ago. His chest was going to hurt in a whole new way when they broke up, a little voice inside his head told him.
He shifted, facing the street as though that would block it out.
“Burke? Have you?”
“Not yet.”
“Why’s that?”
“For business reasons.”
“Business?”
He heard the doubt in her tone and added, “Nothing more.”
“Are you sure?”
He once had been certain, but he wasn’t any longer. He liked being a part of Jill’s life, having her at his side to laugh and hang out with, and he liked being a part of her family, too. Part of her world. He wanted to be wherever she was, doing whatever she was doing.
Maybe it was just a feeling of obligation after upturning her life, a need to protect her. But whatever it stemmed from, all he knew was that he wanted to be back in that party, receiving everyone’s congratulations and feeling that hope. He wanted that easy feeling of belonging and acceptance he had with Jill.
“We aren’t playing house, having babies and living happily ever after,” he said gruffly.
“Oh, Burke.”
“It’s not like that. I’m not doing it again. I’m not putting too much into something that’s…”
This isn’t real and in a few short months I’ll be leaving you.
He was doing it again.
But when he’d spoken the words from his heart, when he’d told her “Nobody else…”
And the way she’d looked at him…
She wanted this, too. He’d felt it.
“Does she love you?” Maggie asked.
Will she leave you?
Burke sighed. It was inevitable that she would. It was part of the agreement, as much as them staying together until after the meeting with Tiffer next month.
“Do you love her?” his aunt pressed.
“What if none of that matters?”
Maggie said nothing for a long moment. Then she said, “What if it does?”
11
Jill let Burke into her home after the party. The lights were on at her sister’s, but she hadn’t come to the event, as her girls had been busy at gymnastics. Jill had half expected Jodi to drop by to see about this “cheater” she’d married.
Although they seemed to have quelled the idea of Burke having his eye on someone else, given the way he’d kissed her.
“That was actually quite a bit of fun,” he said. “Blueberry Springs knows how to put on a party.”
“You should see the surprise birthday parties we put on. We can usually convince Scott to play along and get the birthday person all worried they’re in trouble, before popping the surprise on them.”
“That sounds…fun.”
“It is, actually.” She smiled and turned to him in the small entry, kicking off her shoes. Her dog stood like a panting sentinel, watching them with his big eyes before heading off into the house to have a nap.
“Do you think the party will help?” Burke seemed worried, the lines around his mouth deepening.
“Oh, sure. Everyone thinks we’re deeply in love now.”
He cracked a half smile and brushed her cheek, sending shivers through her. “Icing.”
“Thanks.” She cleared her throat and took a half step back. She knew their game was only going to lead to trouble, but she’d enjoyed pretending it was a little bit real tonight. Kissing. Sharing cake. Being silly. But most of all, having a man willing to enjoy it all with her with a twinkle in his eyes—a twinkle for her.
It was an act, of course. A show.
“You said your aunt heard about it from the city?” Jill asked.
“Because she stalks me.”
“Liz grudgingly offered to send photos to the papers in the city, as well.”
“Isn’t she the mean one?”
“That’s Mary Alice. Liz works for the local paper.”
“Fitting.”
“What else can we do to help your image?” Jill picked at a torn fingernail.
“I think your parents were right about us acting as a united front.” He’d crossed his arms across his broad chest, his shirt bunching at the shoulders. “Let’s wait and see if it h
elps everything die down.”
The doorbell rang and Jill went to answer it. There was a deliveryman on the step, half hidden by a giant bouquet of flowers. He was someone she didn’t recognize.
“What’s this?” She turned, glancing at Burke for a clue. He raised his hands in question.
“Sign here,” said the man.
Jill signed. “Are you new in town? I didn’t realize Blueberry Springs Floral delivered this late at night.”
“I deliver from Dakota. Twenty-four/seven.”
“Wow.” Jill took the bouquet, studying it. Lilies, hydrangea and roses, with an adorable, beady-eyed teddy bear settled among them. She searched for a card. The deliveryman was already retreating down the walk toward his car, which was idling on the street in front of Jodi’s house. “There’s no card. Who’s it from?”
“Enjoy the flowers,” he called.
Jill frowned and brought the bouquet inside, setting it on the kitchen table. “Who am I supposed to thank?”
Burke search through the blooms for a card, coming up empty-handed. “Maybe they’re from Mary Alice.”
They laughed.
“They’re probably from someone who came to the party, but didn’t have time to get a gift.”
Jill went to the freezer to pull out a tub of frozen cookies. Jen Kulak, the local nature guide, had made them for a fundraiser a few weeks ago and they were so delicious Jill had frozen them so she didn’t eat them all at once. So far she’d just about broken all her teeth by noshing on frozen cookies.
“Want one?”
“Sure.” Burke sat at the kitchen table with her.
“I’m going to miss hanging out with you when you move on,” she said to Burke.
“Maybe you’ll move on first.”
“It never happens that way.”
“You’ve never left anyone?”
“Not even when my ninth grade boyfriend said he got my sister and I mixed up and kissed her ‘by mistake.’”
Burke winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. Good times.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
She didn’t know whether to look at him or not, wasn’t sure what he was getting at. He knew she’d been married before, which made it a stupid question. One meant to get her to talk about what, exactly? Her feelings for him?