The Pursuit of Jesse (3 page)

Mentally, she kicked herself.
Snap out of it!

The irony of the fact that she’d even dated a couple of felons a long time ago wasn’t lost on her, but no one here on Mirabelle knew about her wild days. She’d moved to Mirabelle to get away from all that, to put the past behind her and start over, start fresh.

She turned back toward Garrett. “I don’t think—”

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Please, Sarah. This is the best opportunity I’ve had yet to get my furniture business going. Give Jesse a chance. For me and Erica.”

Garrett had never asked her for anything, and he’d given so much back to this small community, to her. Could she really turn her back on him simply because she was worried that one man was all it would take to ruin the good life she’d built here on Mirabelle? “The Setterbergs need me out of my apartment by the end of May,” she said. “If this house isn’t ready, I’ll have no place else to go.”

“It’ll be ready. Even if I have to drop my furniture order and do it myself.”

Suddenly, she was sick of looking into the faces of men like Jesse and having to fight the urge to run like hell in the opposite direction. She had a good life here on Mirabelle. It was time to prove to herself once and for all that she wasn’t going to risk it all over a man, any man. “All right, Garrett. For you. I’ll give Jesse a chance.”

J
ESSE CLIMBED OFF
the snowmobile and stared at the log home sitting in the middle of at least an acre-size lot bordered by massive evergreens and bare-branched hardwoods. The structure was old, but clearly solid as a rock. Whoever had taken the time to restore it had done a good job. “Did you do the work on this place yourself?” he asked Garrett.

“Naw, it was mostly finished when I bought it. Did some of the interior work, though.”

This setting was a far cry from the inner streets of Chicago where they’d grown up, but somehow this rustic lifestyle seemed to fit the new, settled Garrett.

“My woodworking shop.” He pointed to a standalone building. “I have duplicates of all my tools, so take whatever you need to work on Sarah’s house. With one condition. I want everything back when you’re finished. Okay?”

That stung. “What? You think I’m going to skip the island with your tools?” Jesse may have pulled a lot of stunts through the years, but he’d never stolen a damned thing in his life. Well, except for those couple packs of bubble gum he’d snitched from Wolter’s candy shop when he was ten.

“Come on,” Garrett said, letting the issue hang between them. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”

Feeling more than a little out of sorts, Jesse followed
his brother up the steps and onto the wide porch. Though the wind had let up a bit, the snow was still falling steadily and the sun had all but set, leaving behind frigid temperatures. The moment the front door opened, a blast of warm, garlic-and-meat-scented air hit Jesse square in the face.

Quickly, he glanced around. A mudroom combination laundry room was positioned to their left, and a large kitchen opened in front of them with a family room off to the right. Pots and pans bubbled on the stove, a fire sizzled in a stone hearth and a kid’s video game quietly played out on a wide-screen TV.

An attractive dark-haired woman came toward them from the kitchen and Garrett grinned as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a nearby hook. “Hey, you.” Garrett planted a kiss on his wife’s lips.

Jesse would’ve expected a quick peck on a closed mouth given the couple had been married for a while, but, no. This contact was instantly intimate. The petite woman nearly disappeared when Garrett wrapped his big arms firmly around her.

Caught off guard, Jesse found himself staring. What would it feel like to be welcomed home that sweetly? Hell, it’d been so long since he’d been kissed, he’d surely forgotten what a woman’s lips felt like. Although the exchange lasted only a second or two, it was long enough for Jesse to feel as if he were intruding.

Garrett stepped back, his arm still draped over his wife’s shoulder. “Jesse, this is Erica.”

Jesse nodded and reached out to shake her hand. “Nice to finally meet you.” Per Jesse’s orders his family and friends had not been allowed to visit him while he’d been behind bars, and suddenly, he felt awkward and shy, meeting for the first time this woman who’d
become so important to his brother in such a short amount of time.

Chuckling, she glanced at his hand. “That’s a joke, right? We’re family.” Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re finally…here.”

Jesse made an attempt at hugging her back, but it didn’t feel right. After so many years of holding the world at arm’s length, he wasn’t sure he remembered everyday niceties.

“Daddy, Daddy!” A toddler sat in a high chair near the kitchen’s center island, his arms impatiently outstretched toward Garrett.

“And this is David.” Garrett kissed the cheesy-sauced cheek of his young son and scooped him out of the high chair.
Cute kid.
Reminded Jesse of baby pictures of Garrett. His brother sure did seem comfortable around all this domesticity.

“Zach?” Erica called. “Come and meet your uncle, kiddo.”

A young boy popped up from the family-room floor and came toward them, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. “Hey.”

“Hey, Zach.” Jesse reached out and shook the boy’s hand.

From what Garrett had written in his infrequent emails to Jesse, Garrett and Erica had adopted her nephew after Erica’s sister had been murdered by her husband, Zach’s dad. Damn. And Jesse thought he’d had a tough childhood. The kid’s real name was Jason, but he went by Zach or Zachary, the name he’d chosen when he and Erica had first come to Mirabelle to hide from her abusive brother-in-law. Sounded to Jesse like a way to evade the past and all its pain, but who was Jesse to judge? The kid looked as if he was doing okay.

“You look like you’re about Brian’s age, huh?” Jesse said. “Sarah’s son. You two friends?”

“Yeah.” Zach’s eyes lit up. “Best friends.”

“That’s cool. He seems like a nice kid.” For a moment, Jesse stood there, unsure of what to do next.

“Well, settle in quick,” Erica said, heading back to the stove. “Dinner’s ready in a few minutes. Hope you like pork chops. Mashed potatoes and gravy.”

Jesse’s mouth watered at the thought of his first home-cooked meal in almost four years.

“Come on, Jess.” Garrett started toward the back of the house. “I’ll show you to your room before we eat.”

Jesse picked up his bag and followed Garrett down a hallway off the kitchen. “Erica and I are upstairs with the kids,” he said. “You’re in the spare room down here. We’d been using it for storage, so it’s nothing special.”

Jesse walked through the doorway and flicked on the light. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was sparse and plain. There was a bed, dresser and bedside table. The closet was still full of boxes, camping gear and luggage.

“I know it’s basic, but—”

“It’s clean,” Jesse said. “It has a bed.” He threw his bag onto the mattress. For years, he’d dreamed of this moment, he’d dreamed of being free, but now that he was out it all seemed terribly wrong. He didn’t belong here. This was all too perfect. Too nice. Too good for the likes of him.

“And there aren’t any prison bars,” Garrett said softly.

“Nope.” Jesse glanced out the window into the dusky early evening, saw the snow falling more gently now
and felt sweat break out on his brow. Most of the men he’d gotten to know in prison would’ve been leaping for joy right about now. An open window. Open door. A couple of open bars down on Main Street. And from what Garrett had said a few ready-and-willing single women.

Women like Sarah with her long, straight black hair, piercing blue eyes, made almost fierce with those thick arching eyebrows and dark lashes. And those lips with their dramatic fullness. It’d been almost four years since he’d touched a woman, four long years since he’d been touched with anything even remotely resembling tenderness.

Abruptly, the look on Sarah’s face as she stared at him through her window just a short while ago flashed through his memory. He glanced back at his brother. “You told her about me, didn’t you?”

Garrett held his gaze. “You mean Sarah?”

Jesse nodded.

“If you’re going to be working in her home, she deserved to know.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. That’s fair.” Jesse was going to have to live with being a felon from here on out, so he might as well get used to it. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“What we agreed on. Only that you’d gotten out of prison.”

“She was okay with that?”

“Not entirely, but Sarah’s one of our best friends. She trusts me.” He sighed. “Erica’s the only one who knows the whole truth. I haven’t told anyone else on this island anything about you. Now that Sarah knows you came straight from prison, that’s bound to get out.
It’s up to you how much more you want to tell anyone else.”

Jesse looked away for a moment. “What about Zach?”

“He doesn’t even know the prison part. Kids ask a lot of questions, Jess. I thought it best you told him when you were ready, but I wouldn’t wait too long. He’s bound to hear rumors, and it’s probably better if he hears the truth from you.”

“Look, if me being here is going to cause you too much trouble, I’ll go someplace else.” Already his feet were itching to hit the road. All he needed was an excuse. On second thought, maybe what he
wanted
was an excuse.

“You don’t have any place else to go and you know it.”

“I can find a job someplace else.” Someplace where no one knew him. Where no one knew what he’d done.

“Don’t you dare start thinking about cutting and running,” Garrett said. “I stuck my neck out for you. Promised Sarah you’d finish her house.”

Jesse hadn’t made any promises, so he sure as hell couldn’t break any. All he wanted—all he needed—was some traveling cash. Just enough to get him a long, long way from Wisconsin. Hell, before he’d gone to prison the longest he’d ever stayed in the same town had been three months. He gave Mirabelle two months, tops. As soon as spring hit he was history.

“Jesse, I mean it. She needs that house finished before the end of May.”

“Don’t worry about it, bro.”

Garrett studied him for a moment. “I’m not going to lie to you. Mirabelle’s a small island. This whole place
is going to be buzzing with the news about you coming. Why you’re here. Where you came from. This place is just like any other. Some will cut you some slack. Some will hate you on sight. But if there’s ever a place that’ll give you a chance to start over, start fresh, Mirabelle is it.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Erica called from the kitchen.

His chest tightened. The last thing in the world Jesse could stand in that moment was sitting around a cozy table with Garrett in his perfect house with his perfect family. Maybe starting over, starting fresh wasn’t at all what Jesse deserved. Besides, four years of sucking it up while guards told him what to do and when was enough.

“You know what?” Jesse said, smiling. “I think I might head downtown.” Just because he could. “I’m feeling a little antsy. Figure I’ll get the lay of the land. Check out Main Street.”

Refusing to look at Garrett’s face, knowing all he’d find in the depths of his brother’s eyes was disappointment, Jesse put his head down and walked toward the front door. “I won’t be too late. Don’t bother waiting up for me.”

He tugged on the coat Garrett had lent him, walked through the kitchen, keeping his gaze averted from Erica and the kids, and slipped out the front door. He was halfway down the hill before he felt as if his chest wasn’t going to cave in on him.
Breathe, Jesse. Breathe.

The rush of cold air recharged his senses and he went on his way. Having absolutely no idea where he was going, Jesse let his feet take him wherever they wanted to go. Before he knew it, he’d passed the pier,
hit Main and headed down the middle of the deserted, snow-smattered cobblestone street.

He walked a few blocks, passing stately black lampposts and the picturesque storefronts of Main Street Mirabelle businesses, a few even trimmed with understated but colorful winter lights. Everything was neat and tidy.

Hell, even the snow seemed to understand it had better behave on Mirabelle. Every sidewalk had been shoveled clean, and just enough of the picturesque white stuff had accumulated on windowsills, signs and bare tree branches to give all of Main Street the appearance of a holiday greeting card. This place really had to be something in the summer. Too bad he wouldn’t be around to see it.

He glanced up and saw Duffy’s Pub scrolled in large brass letters across the front of a brick building. That was Erica and Garrett’s place now that they’d bought it from the previous owners. Not what Jesse wanted tonight. What he needed was the peace of at least one night of anonymity.

Pushing himself onward, he passed a bright red candy store, a gift shop that looked as fanciful as its name Whimsy implied and a flower shop.
Weddings and Flowers by Sarah.
Garrett had explained that Sarah needed to get into her house before her wedding season started. This had to be her store.

With a display of the trappings of a wedding—photo albums, a towering cake, sample invitations, floral bouquets, even a pair of lacy bridal gloves and glittering sandals—it was clear Sarah had an eye for pretty innocent things. She’d taken one look at him and had known he didn’t fit in her world. She’d been right.

He was about to call it a night and head back to
Garrett’s when he glanced down a side street and noticed light emanating through frost-covered windows a couple blocks down. There just might be a bar or restaurant off the beaten path that better suited him and his mood.

Making his way down the sidewalk, he read the sign out front swinging in the bitter wind. The Rusty Nail Tavern. Either the place had fallen on hard times, or the owner preferred a low-key, somewhat tacky appearance. In any case, Jesse had something in common after all with at least one establishment on this island fantasyland.

He opened the door and hesitated. Immediately, his senses were assaulted by the sounds of rock music, laughter and conversation, the slight scent of stale beer and even more stale cigarette smoke. He hadn’t been in a bar, let alone around people drinking, since…

Go back to Garrett’s, idiot. You don’t need to do this. Things can be different. Better.

Yeah? How? This is what you do. This is what you always do. I’m not going to drink, anyway. Even if I did there are no cars on this island, so what could possibly be the harm?

He plastered a smile on his face, stepped inside and headed right for the bar. The first thing he noticed was a cute blonde sitting a few stools away and nursing a tall pink concoction. She honed in on him like a hunter with a twelve-point buck in his sights.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

Even on a cold evening like this a beer sounded damned good. Then again, screwing things up the first night in Dodge probably wasn’t a good idea. There’d be plenty of time for that later. “Cola, please.”

“You visiting Mirabelle?” he asked, filling a glass with ice.

“Here for a couple months. Some construction work.”

“Tom Bent,” he said, setting the soda in front of Jesse.

“Pleased to meet you. Jesse.” Just Jesse tonight. Even whispering the name of Taylor was bound to put a damper on the evening.

“Well, don’t be a stranger.” The owner wandered off.