Jenson (Wild Men Book 4)

by Melissa Belle

  I flush with heat as I open the passenger door and start to step out backward, my eyes never leaving his.

  Jenson glances out the window past my head. “By the way,” he says in a low tone. “I need to tell you something. I don’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

  Those words.

  I freeze, my leg halfway to the ground. The last time Jenson said those words to me, they were followed by “shocked” and “unexpectedly pregnant.”

  “Olive.” He says my name so quietly I almost don’t hear it. “It’s okay.” His eyes fix on mine.

  “Oh. What is it?”

  “I’m moving back home. To Liberty Falls.”

  I lose my grip on the handle, and my leg, which is still hanging out the open door of the truck, buckles underneath me. I go tumbling to the ground, and suddenly I’m staring up at the sky.

  Jenson’s around to my side in a flash.

  But so are the cameraman, Cindy, Kyle, and Connor.

  “Oh, it’s the stress from your divorce!” Cindy cries out. “Jenson, pick up your cousin!”

  Jenson’s hands are on my waist, helping me to a standing position while the cameraman shamelessly photographs the scene.

  “Let me drive you home,” Jenson says as I brush myself off.

  “I swear, I’m fine.” I fake a smile for the camera and Cindy, and then say to Jenson in a whisper, “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “You’ll be okay, Livia.” Kyle puts his chubby hand on my arm. “Maybe you need a hug from Daddy. He gives good boo-boo hugs.”

  Jenson’s hand tightens on my back, and I make sure to keep my expression smooth in front of the cameraman who’s still capturing every moment.

  I lean down and kiss Kyle’s cheek. “I’m sure he does. But I’m really okay, sweetie. I’m just going to go home and get some rest.”

  I step toward my car and unlock it. Jenson holds the door open for me until I’m in the driver’s seat, and then he leans in close as I start the engine. “I’ll call you.”

  I shake the entire drive home.

  Jenson. And me. Both single. After so many long-ass years.

  I pull into my driveway and step out of the car.

  Everything about Jenson Beau—what I know and what I was told—rushes through my mind.

  When Cindy got pregnant with Jenson, she was alone and young. In our rural hometown, being unmarried and pregnant wasn’t exactly accepted. She was criticized, and she was shamed.

  Cindy and Dee used to date, and even though they’d since broken up, my dad and Dee were best friends, and Dad knew Cindy like a sister. My father’s always been a saver, and as a rising politician in town, he wanted to make Cindy feel included again in Liberty Falls, a part of something “bigger than herself.” So he unofficially made her part of the Graham family.

  The Grahams go back six generations in Liberty Falls, and being made a part of our large extended family meant instant approval in town. So when Jenson was born, he was thought of as one of us, and my father’s hopes were realized. Jenson was able to grow up like every kid should be allowed to—with love and acceptance.

  When Jenson was two and half, Mom found out she was pregnant with me. From the moment I was born, Jenson was a part of my life. Three years older than me, and a million years wiser, he became my everything. My best friend, my comrade, my hero. He was at every family birthday party and every holiday.

  Meanwhile, Cindy and Dee were dating again, and by the time Jenson turned five, they married. Dee was an orphan and had been an unofficial member of the Graham family since he and Dad became friends as teenagers. With that marriage, any line between the Grahams and Cindy and Jenson disappeared.

  I learned Jenson’s backstory when I was young, but my parents were careful to explain that while he may not be blood, he was just like a cousin to Daphne, Sheldon, and me. He had been born into our family as an unofficial Graham, and Dad never wanted him to feel like an outsider. Eventually, a lot of people in Liberty Falls seemed to forget that Jenson isn’t actually related to us.

  When I got to be a teenager, Dad sat us down.

  “You two may not be biologically related,” he said, “But you’re family all the same. That means, Jenson, you need to watch out for Olivia like a big brother would—take care of her. And Olivia, remember how much Liberty Falls needs to see that Jenson is part of our family. He’s no different than Sheldon.”

  His point was clear—don’t cross the romantic line. To do so would be a betrayal to everything my father and his mother had worked so hard to forge—a safe life and new family for a single mother and most importantly, for her little boy.

  So Jenson couldn’t be a romantic option. That didn’t stop me from falling in love with him.

  I let myself into my house, remembering Jenson’s rough, strong hands on my face earlier. I still want him. He still wants me. I wonder if we could possibly make it work…

  I shut off the thought as I shake my head at myself. I vowed to never pin my hopes on Jenson and me. Not again. Not after the way he broke my heart the last time. He didn’t break it on purpose, but I’m still picking up the pieces. And I can’t take a second heartbreak like that in one lifetime.

  Chapter Four

  “Oh, wow.” The cheerful young woman standing at the teller window smiles at me bright and early the next morning. “Senior Branch Manager and Vice-President. You must be the right person to talk to here.”

  Being vice-president in a small-town bank is nothing like working for a big bank in New York City, but I’ll take the compliment. “I hope so. What can I do for you?”

  “We’re interested in opening a joint account.” She hugs the man next to her and nearly squeals with enthusiasm. “We’re moving in together this weekend!”

  They both have smooth skin and clear eyes. And they’re beaming. Clearly naïve to the perils of love. But then the guy grins back at me, suddenly looking less naïve and more like a young college grad who’s in way over his head with this commitment and joint account business. He looks far too much like Nate for me not to notice. This could be a hard sell. But this is why I still love to run the teller window for a few hours each day; I enjoy the customer contact, and I love the challenge of converting non-customers into customers.

  From her teller station next to me, Cassandra glances at the guy, and then scribbles “you got this” on her pad, shoving it close enough so I can read it.

  I lock the cash drawer as I straighten the nametag on my blazer and grab my favorite pen.

  “You’re the best deal closer at Union,” Cassandra whispers to me. “This should be a walk in the park for you.”

  I smile at her and step around the teller station. “If you would please follow me,” I say to the couple.

  When we arrive at my desk in the corner of the platform section, I direct the couple into chairs and then take a seat across from them behind the desk.

  “Oh,” the woman says, sounding disappointed. “No private office for the vice-president?”

  “Only the president has a private office at Union Bank,” I say. Vivian has been the president for over twenty years, and she doesn’t believe in offices for anyone but her. She says it leads to laziness and chit-chat behind closed doors.

  I pick up a brochure that highlights the different checking accounts. “Shall we begin?”

  Despite my lack of a private office, being a bank manager has its benefits. I like money. I like being around money, and I like making money. Getting the reputation as the branch’s deal closer was easy for me. I focus on the end result, visualize it in my mind, and I’ve been able to convert a ridiculously high percentage of non-customers to new customers.

  So yes, my financial health is great. I am gainfully employed, fiscally stable, and my money is in good hands, all the way from a strong 401K and several stable stock funds to a savings account I hardly touch. But having all of that economic security didn’t fix my personal problems. With Jenson off-limits, I got engaged to a guy I didn’t
love, and even though I managed to come to my senses enough to break it off, I then married another man impulsively. I tried to rectify all of it by reaching for a killer job on Wall Street. But the man kind of came with the job, and when I filed for divorce, there went Manhattan.

  I guess I thought being inside a bank all day would help to insulate me from the outer world, the world of relationships. But not always.

  Right now, for example, a relationship is sitting right in front of me. I exhale behind the paperwork I’m riffling through as a means of stalling. When I finally hand the pamphlets to the couple, they barely notice. They’re too busy kissing, being all mushy and lovey-dovey.

  I clear my throat.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” The woman giggles. “I almost forgot where we were!”

  “Love can do that to you,” I say, remembering being in Jenson’s truck with him last night.

  My desk phone rings as I’m reviewing the options with them. “The basic checking account is no charge,” I say. “But if you’re willing and able to pay a small monthly fee for the premier account, the benefits can really be worth it.” The phone stops ringing as it goes to voicemail, but then it begins again insistently. It’s too distracting to ignore. “Excuse me while I take this call,” I say to them.

  “Hello and welcome to Liberty Falls Union Bank,” I say. “This is Olivia. How may I help you?”

  “Let me think.” Jenson’s voice comes through the phone in a flirty tone, and I turn toward the windows so the couple I’m working with won’t see me blush. “Um…” He draws out the next four words. “I have an idea.”

  “J, I’m working.”

  “Me too.”

  Loud voices on the other end of the line get my attention. “Wait. Where are you?”

  “On a football field.”

  “Really?”

  I remember how hot Jenson always looked when I watched him play quarterback for state, and I smile. “What are you doing on a football field?”

  “I’ll tell you tonight. Let me take you to dinner,” he says to me.

  “I’m not sure…”

  “I missed you, Olive.” His voice is soft.

  “J. Are you seriously moving back here?”

  “Tonight,” is all he says. “I’ll tell you everything. You walked to work, right? I’ll come pick you up.”

  “I did walk, but I can’t do it tonight. I have to meet my mom.”

  “Let’s meet at the bridge later then,” he says.

  I knew he was going to suggest that. It’s July, and it’s hot, and it’s light out until about eight p.m. And while my body is fully on board with this plan, I’m still reeling from our near-kiss last night in his truck; and the idea of being alone with Jenson in the place where we last kissed—it’s a lot to take in.

  But I detect the slight hint of tension in his voice, and it soothes me just enough, knowing I’m not the only one who’s overwhelmed by what’s always been between us.

  I pause before saying, “Okay.”

  “How about ten o’clock?” he says. “The boys will hopefully be asleep, and my mom will be home with them.”

  “It’s dark at ten,” I say.

  “I know.” I can feel him smiling through the phone. “I’ll see you then.”

  I swallow hard as I hang up and turn back to my customers.

  Jenson

  “So what you want to do here is go through your progressions like always, but pay extra attention to the left side of the field,” I say as I address my new team for the first time. “The first two games we’re in this year—the left side will be our opponents’ weak side.”

  I’m in my element, standing out here in the middle of a football field. And being able to come home and coach at a local college—it’s a dream come true.

  As practice picks up, the quarterback throws three straight incompletions. And they’re all his fault.

  “Hey!” Head Coach Hughes calls out. “Focus, Smith!”

  Coach Hughes comes over to me, shaking his head. “Don’t know what’s up with him today.”

  “He’s not into it,” I say as I watch Smith throw another high ball. “What I saw of him on tape looked great. This—not so much.”

  “Coach Beau, are you replacing the quarterbacks coach?” one player asks me as he jogs by.

  I shake my head. “I’m more behind the scenes than that. I’ll be here every day at practice, but Coach Hughes hired me to study film and design plays. That’s my main job.”

  The kid nods and returns his attention to the scrimmage.

  “You look good in our school colors.” Coach Hughes nods approvingly at the gold and maroon team sweatshirt I’m wearing.

  I grin. “Thanks. Fits perfectly.”

  We chat for the next few minutes about protocol and what plays I’m thinking of drawing up for our next practice.

  But when the quarterback throws an interception, and Coach Hughes curses next to me, I step onto the field.

  “Hey, Smith!” I call out.

  The quarterback looks past the huddle at me.

  “Give me the ball.” I hold out my hand.

  He smirks. “I think I’ve got it. Coach,” he adds bitingly.

  “Smith,” I say warningly, “give me the damn ball and step back.”

  He mumbles something about me not being a player, but he hands me the football.

  But that’s where he’s wrong. I may not have played in college, but it wasn’t for lack of talent.

  I give the ball to the gaping center guard standing in front of me.

  “On three,” I tell him as I position myself behind him.

  He immediately turns and hikes me the ball. I take it in my hand and drop back. I scan the field, nimbly stepping around a flying lineman trying to sack me. I find an open receiver downfield, and I bring my arm back and let the ball go. It zips through the air in a perfect spiral, hitting the receiver right in the hands. He catches it, turns, and bang—easy touchdown.

  “Fuck.” The center turns to stare at me like I’m an alien who just dropped onto the field.

  Smith’s scowl has disappeared. “Nice throw,” he says to me.

  I tap his helmet. “You can do that too, if you quit zoning out.”

  Coach Hughes steps forward, his dark beard not quite covering his smiling mouth. “Jenson Beau was all-state in Pennsylvania. Could have gone pro if he hadn’t thrown out his knee. You’d do best to listen to his advice, Smith.”

  Smith gives a quick nod, and I walk back to the sidelines with Coach Hughes.

  “Good to have you back home, Jenson,” he says to me. “We’re gonna have one hell of a fall.”

  I think of Olivia and how close I was to her mouth yesterday. My pulse picks up, and I answer, “I sure hope so. I’m really glad to be back.”

  Olivia

  At six on the dot, I leave the bank and step outside. Mom’s already at the curb, waving at me wildly from her truck even though nobody else is parked within a block of the building.

  I open the passenger door and step inside the cab. “Hi, Mom.”

  “How are you, honey?” She puts the truck into drive and presses on the accelerator so fast I jerk forward. “I didn’t want to miss the green light,” she explains as I grab for my seatbelt.

  We drive three streets over to the Liberty Falls Senior Center. As soon as we step inside the front doors, Bea’s walking toward us. Her long gray hair is tied up in a pretty bun on the top of her head, and she’s dressed casually in blue jeans and a “Getting Old Sucks” t-shirt.

  Bea is a first cousin of Mom’s mother. Grandma and Bea were super close their whole lives, and when Grandma passed away last winter, Mom was afraid Bea would take it too hard, so she set up weekly get-togethers for the three of us.

  “If Bea keeps busy,” she said to me. “She’ll live longer.”

  Bea leads Mom and me over to the sign-up table for the Adult Education sculpting class, and then we head into the classroom down the hall. The Senior Center holds Adult
Ed classes every Wednesday, and this week, it’s sculpture. Usually, more people Bea’s age than mine show up for these classes, but thankfully tonight, I’m not the only lonely twenty-four year old in Liberty Falls. There are eight people in the class, and as I look around the room, I notice a man and woman about my age. The man’s wearing sunglasses, even though we’re indoors. The woman has her arms crossed over her stomach and she’s staring down at her feet. I glance down, suddenly self-conscious of my navy blue blazer and matching skirt suit. I just came from work. At least I’m making good money doing something I enjoy. So what if the majority of my closet is filled with suits just like this? Not everybody is fashion-conscious.

  The teacher introduces herself as Denice, and then tells us the model’s almost ready. I glance over at the back corner of the room, which is partitioned off by a dark curtain.

  I flick my gaze over to Mom. “We’re going to sculpt a live person?”

  She shrugs, looking as confused as I am.

  When an older naked man steps out from behind the curtain, I suppress my scream. Mom doesn’t quite succeed. A noise escapes her mouth, but she sucks it back just as fast, so it ends up sounding almost like she choked on air.

  “I find it best if we sculpt a real live body,” Denice explains with a glance at my mother. “Clothing tends to distract.”

  From the look on Mom’s face, I’d say the no-clothing idea is a hell of a lot more distracting. But Denice isn’t asking what I think.

  Bea giggles as we follow Denice to the plastic bags of clay at the front.

  “Well, this is something new, Nora,” she whispers to Mom.

  Mom smiles weakly. “Something to tell Dad about when I get home, I guess,” she says to me. “I saw a naked man tonight, and it wasn’t you, honey.”

  “Mom, please.” I reach into the bag and wrestle with the clay until I’ve successfully broken off a large piece.

  But once we’re all back at our desks, with the naked man perched on a table in front of us, I feel weird sculpting him. I pretend to be sculpting, but really I’m stalling. My cell phone saves me with a beep.