She couldn’t kid herself; she was tempted. Like she had been several times before. But unlike before, she was determined to find her own way out of this.
Jenny assured her mother that she had everything handled and not to worry. After enduring a few minutes more of her mother’s advice, the call ended.
The moment she hung up, the phone rang again almost immediately. This time she had the presence of mind to check the caller ID.
“Morning, Paul,” Jenny said.
“Mother called.”
“Surprise, surprise.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”
Jenny couldn’t disagree more.
“We’re just worried about you, Jelly Belly,” her brother continued. “You have to know that.”
The familiar nickname and the concern in her brother’s voice was her undoing. Her throat clogged with a week’s full of stress and strain. “Don’t be. You know Steven couldn’t even stand to live with me full-time.” She tried to hide her hurt behind a teasing tone.
“That’s not true.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away. “You’re right. He only kept the apartment above his parents’ garage to escape my family’s early phone calls.”
Paul’s laughter was a little too loud and a little too forced, but Jenny loved him all the more for it. “Could you blame the guy?”
Jenny felt herself start to get back onto even ground. “Heck no.” She drew in a breath, then confided to her brother, “Jared’s the Ghost, Paul.”
There was a pause while the impact of her words sank in. “You’re sure?” Paul finally said.
“Yes.”
“Wow.” Paul paused. “The way Steven used to talk about that guy. Remember that time we were at Steven’s parents’ house and Steven couldn’t stop talking about how amazing the Ghost flew and Steven’s dad finally interrupted and said there was no way anyone could be that good. Steven was silent for the longest time, and then he said the Ghost was.”
“Yeah, I remember.” She also remembered how Steven’s voice had taken on an almost reverent tone when he spoke of the Ghost . . . of Jared. Steven had all but worshipped at the tips of Jared’s wings.
“Hey, have you . . .”
Paul didn’t even have to finish his thought for Jenny to know what he was asking. “No. Steven’s parents are still down in Arizona. Half-here, half-there, remember?” She hadn’t seen them since the funeral. A part of her had been relieved that they’d left so soon after the funeral. Bumping in to them would be another painful reminder of everything she’d lost. Everything they’d all lost.
All of a sudden, Jenny couldn’t stay in bed a moment longer. “Listen, Paul, I’ve got a full day. I really need to go.”
It wasn’t the complete truth, but she had to get off the phone and now. She didn’t want to talk about Steven, about his living and not living here. Or his parents and how Jenny hadn’t found the courage to face them since the funeral.
“I’m here for you, Jelly Belly. Just say the word, and Jared is gone.”
“Sweet, but slightly overprotective. You can back off, Paul. I have it handled. Really,” she said, not sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.
Now, an hour later, Jenny sat the edge of her yard and buried her feet into the sand. Tiny pebbles and rough grains filtered through her bare toes and over her feet. It wasn’t even nine in the morning, but already the lake was alive with activity. A bright Saturday in May that promised unseasonable warm weather would do that.
Shielding her eyes from the sun, she could make out several of her neighbors from her spot on the shore. A handful of fishing boats speckled the large lake as they trolled near the shorelines, while a group of teenagers braved the cold water for a few hours of waterskiing. Their rock music and loud voices echoed across the water. Each time they sped past Mr. Wilcox, their wake tipped and rocked his shallow aluminum boat. Grabbing the boat’s side with one hand, he raised the other, fist clenched, and shouted out an obscenity that was thankfully obscured by the music.
Bracing her hands behind her in the thick grass, she tilted her face upward, closing her eyes against the sharp rays. Warm sun beat down on her, and the heady fragrance of her grandmother’s flowers surrounded her. Not for the first time did Jenny wonder what her grandmother would say about the mess she was in.
Spilled milk don’t clean itself
.
Her nana’s voice came to her swift and clear. How many times had Jenny heard that old saying? But even Nana had to see that this mess wasn’t so easily taken care of. For days she’d been trying to figure out a way to improve the business’s bottom line. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t figure out a way. And then there was her other worry: one very large, very intimidating, heartbreakingly handsome worry working in the hangar behind her.
With a small shake of her head, she tried to concentrate on anything other than Jared. She listened to the music blaring from the kids’ boat, she listened for Mr. Wilcox’s raised voice, she strained to hear the lawn mower coming from next door, but none of it did any good. No matter how hard she tried, she could not force him from her mind.
Everywhere she went,
he
was there, making her feel like an intruder in her own house, in her own yard. In her own business. Whenever she turned around, she saw him watching her . . . judging her. She wasn’t sure what unsettled her more: the watching or the judging. Her whole life she’d been judged by her family and had been found lacking; she should be used to it by now. But there was something different in the way Jared looked at her. His gaze held an intensity she’d never seen before. Like he could look deep into her soul and see her every doubt, her every insecurity. And her every mistake.
Then there were the other times when those looks had nothing to do with uncovering her darkest failures and everything to do with uncovering her deepest secrets.
He crowded her mind, made her forget—and worse—made her remember. And each time her body responded to him, she felt so much guilt. As if Steven were alive and she was cheating on him.
A part of her wanted to pack her bags and run away like she had as a child. Except, back then, she’d always escaped to the safety of Nana’s house. But the reality was, she still felt safe here. Even with Jared here. Maybe because he was here. And that was definitely not something she wanted to examine too closely.
After Steven had died, all Jenny had wanted was to be left alone. When her family kept showing up, trying to comfort her, she had been quick to push them away. She told them she was happy living by herself on the lake. And she was. She
still was
. But as much as she hated to admit it, sometime during this last week, she had started to find solace knowing someone else was in the house. There was a strength about Jared that she couldn’t deny. He possessed an air about him she’d never sensed in another man. Not even Steven. It was there in the way Jared walked, the way he spoke, and the quiet restlessness that seemed to keep him on alert at all times.
Her hands bunched in the grass as she fought against the wave of guilt that rolled over her. How could she be so disloyal? She fought for and found a mental picture of Steven. In her mind she saw his sandy blond hair, his smiling face. But then his hair changed color, turned an ebony black. And his green eyes became hard blue sapphires.
Water skiers roared past, startling her. Waves slapped angrily against the beach and splashed across the sand.
She sat up and looped her arms around her bent knees, trying to stop her trembling.
Steven
her mind begged, looking for forgiveness.
A loud bang came from the hangar, but she didn’t turn around. Jared was inside doing heaven only knew what. Over the last week, he’d laid claim to the space, and Jenny seemed to be the only one who had a problem with that. Zeke took it all in stride, acting as if he enjoyed having another guy around the place. Several times Jenny found herself working up her courage to confront him, to remind him that this was her business, and she was in charge. But whenever she was near him, he threw her off balance and made her forget what she wanted to say.
She picked up a rock and tossed it in the water. Maybe her family and friends were right. Maybe she did need to get out. For so many months, she’d gone out of her way to distance herself from friends and even her family to the extent they’d allow it. Being around people only reminded her of everything she had lost. Living had been replaced by mere existing. Living meant you laughed and you loved. Existing was just basic survival. You could be numb when you just existed. Numb was good. Numb kept her from feeling a pain so crippling it would destroy her.
She needed Jared to leave. And it wasn’t just because of the business. There was more: an awareness of him that scared her like nothing else since Steven’s death.
He could not stay here for the next four months. She wouldn’t survive.
A tall shadow fell over her, blocking out the sun. She tensed, not needing to turn around to know who it was.
“We need to talk.” His deep voice with a hint of roughness was becoming all too familiar. So was the perpetual look of irritation in his hard blue eyes. She didn’t need to be facing him to know it would be there. His tone said it all.
“Ignoring me won’t work.”
She’d beg to differ.
“It’s about your Beaver.”
She whipped her head around so fast her neck twinged in protest. From her spot on the ground, her eyes leveled on the five-button fly of a pair of worn Levi’s. Embarrassment tinged her cheeks pink, and that was before she forced her gaze up. She swallowed hard. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Taking up her whole line of vision was his bare chest and a set of broad shoulders, tanned by the sun and defined by muscles. A T-shirt dangled from the back pocket of his jeans. “My wh-what?”
“Beaver.”
Pink turned to bright red. “I don’t—”
“The
piston
Beaver.”
She looked up at him. “The
plane
?”
“Of course the plane. What the hell did you think—” He broke off as a slow grin curved his lips. “You have one dirty little mind.”
“I do not.” That was the truth. Or it had been until a week ago.
He shifted his weight and crossed his arms across his chest.
His grin was worse than anything he could have said.
She felt like a fool, sitting on the ground at his feet. Standing, she kept her eyes off the fly of his Levi’s and off his bare chest.
She ducked her head and took her time brushing off the seat of her white shorts. God, please let him blame her red face on the sun. Unable to face him, she stalled, searched for the flip-flops she’d kicked off when she’d first gotten to the beach. She found them in the sand, right next to where she’d been sitting. Picking them up, she brushed off her right foot and was just about to put her flip-flop on when she lost her balance and wobbled. Jared’s hand instantly closed around her arm, steadying her. Heat that had nothing to do with the sun infused her.
Unnerved by his touch, she turned all thumbs. She fumbled as she tried to put on her shoe . . . tried not to think about how long it had been since she’d felt the strength of a man’s hand on her.
With more force than necessary, she shoved the second flip-flop on. The hard plastic bit the soft skin between her toes.
The minute she had both shoes on, he let go of her arm. “Now, can we talk about the Beaver?”
She finally met his gaze. While her insides were tied up in knots and her arm still tingled from his touch, Jared seemed completely unaffected. She should have been relieved. “Can you stop calling it that?”
“What should I call it?”
“Anything but . . .” She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, say it.
“The Beaver?”
She glared at him. “You needed something?”
“The
plane
is due for an oil change, and during yesterday’s flight, Zeke noticed the hydraulic flaps seemed a little slow to respond.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Big surprise.”
His comment pissed her off. He had no idea how she and Zeke divided the responsibilities. “Zeke handles the maintenance on the plane. He’s the one you need to speak with.”
“I would, but he’s not here.”
“He has the day off. Not everyone deems it necessary to work seven days a week.”
“Five would be nice. Hell, at this point I’d settle for four.”
She clenched her jaw. “We don’t have any charters scheduled for today—”
“Big surprise,” he said again.
“We don’t have a charter, so there’s no need for Zeke to come in.”
“And we wouldn’t want to be ready in case someone called out of the blue.”
That had never happened before, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Then I would call Zeke.”
“Listen, sweetheart.”
God, she really hated it when he called her that.
“There’s a lot more to this business than just flying the plane. I don’t give a damn what you and your handyman do when I’m gone, but while I’m here, you’ll run a business like a business should be run. The plane will be maintained. And sunbathing”—the look he gave her made her feel like she was wearing the tiniest of bikinis instead of a pair of shorts and a tank top—“is not part of the job description.”
She hadn’t been sunbathing, and he knew it. And more importantly, the plane was impeccably maintained. Immediately following yesterday’s flight, Zeke had consulted with her about the hydraulic flaps. They’d both agreed that tomorrow, during the regularly scheduled oil change, he would also inspect the flaps. “At least I keep my clothes on.”
The moment she said the words, she wished them back.
He rocked back on his heels and rubbed a hand across his bare chest. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Then I’d suggest a hearing test.”
“What?”
“I said you need a hearing test.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”