Always Our Love Page 11

  “This is so good, Mrs. Sutton.” He lifted a huge sugar cookie in one hand and mumbled around crumbs. “Thank you for letting us eat with you.”

  I was proud of my boy’s manners, even more so when Jenna’s mother hugged him to her. “You just eat as many of those cookies as you want, honey. You are so very welcome.” As Oliver ran off, grinning, she looked up at me. “You have done a wonderful job with those children, Linc. You ought to be proud of them.”

  I shook my head. “I am proud of them, for sure, but I can’t take credit. My in-laws had them for the last six years. I had to travel so much for my job that it was just more sensible to have Becca and Oliver in one place, steady. I’m very grateful to Sylvia’s parents, for the love and energy they gave their grandkids.”

  “Still. You can tell things about a child’s raising, and you have a part in that.” She patted my arm, and I worked hard to keep a smirk off my face. Millie Sutton had spent the better part of the day trying to make up for what she’d said when we’d just met. I could tell she felt horrible about it, and I’d tried to be gracious, to put her at ease. I didn’t know why she’d acted like she had, but I was willing to let bygones be bygones and give her another chance. Hell, I was all about the second chances.

  I cast a glance around the part of the green that the Suttons, Wallaces, Reynolds and Evans had claimed as theirs for this day, my eyes seeking Jenna. By the time I’d come back with her dad that morning, both of us loaded down with chairs, she’d been busy helping Rilla and Mason wrangle their kids. I’d watched surreptitiously as she’d held their little boy, who looked to be about a year and a half or so. She dipped him down, and as the little guy squealed in delight, she blew raspberries into his neck, making him giggle. I was struck by this new Jenna, open and glowing, so different from the work Jenna, when she was smiling and pleasant but contained, and even from the flustered Jenna I’d encountered when the kids and I had first arrived.

  I hadn’t been looking for her, at least, not consciously. Becca and Oliver, revved up by the signs they’d seen around town advertising the big Independence Day celebration, had been up since just after sunrise, nagging me to get ready so that we could go. Once we’d arrived downtown, their eyes were round as they took in all the sights, heard the music coming from everywhere and encountered the crowds.

  “Where will we sit, Daddy? Is there a spot where we can lay out a blanket?” Becca had tugged at my arm.

  “Yeah, and what’re we going to eat? I’m hungry.” Ollie had rubbed his stomach.

  “When are you not?” I’d tapped the bill of his ball cap. “I don’t know, guys. Remember I’ve never been here for the holiday either. I’m figuring it all out, too.” We’d reached the edge of the green and paused. “Let’s see if we—” I’d broken off as movement caught my eye. Across the grass, a familiar figure had stood on the highest rung of a step stool, her arms extended. The basic male in me had immediately admired the length of tanned legs under denim shorts and the way her ass filled out said shorts. On the heels of those not-so-pure thoughts came the realization that the legs and ass belonged to Jenna Sutton. Before I could decide whether or not to approach her, to say hello, something else happened. In a split second, I’d taken in the situation: the girl standing up on the small ladder, reaching up to attach one side of the flag decoration, had overestimated her ability and balance and was about to tumble onto the ground.

  Without saying anything to the kids—there wasn’t time—I’d sprinted toward her, my heart thudding in fear that I might not make it in time. My hands had caught her by the waist just as she completely lost her footing.

  And then . . . something else occurred. I’d touched Jenna before, here and there, since that first handshake. It was never serious, just casual brushes as I handed her something or pointed out a part of the house. Nothing had stirred in me before. But now, with her firm body in my grasp, plenty was stirring.

  My fingers spanned her small middle, and then, as I held her tighter, my hands slid around to rest just above that very fine backside, pressing her to me under the guise of keeping her steady and safe. The rack I’d judged at our first meeting to be pretty nice was now smashed against my chest, and her hands were like vice grips on my arms. The heat of her entire body burned into me and started a fire I didn’t want to extinguish . . . unless it was with her mouth on me and mine on her body.

  She was breathing hard, from the near-miss of falling, I assumed. And then something shifted, and she relaxed against me, sagging in my arms, and for a moment, it was perfect. It was the missing piece I hadn’t known I needed, sliding neatly into place.

  “Jenna! My God, are you all right? Are you hurt?” A diminutive woman with long blonde hair rushed toward us, her hand on her heart. Jenna pushed away from me slightly, but she was still trembling.

  I glanced up, forcing my eyes away from Jenna even as I kept her close. “I think she’s all right. Probably just a little shaken. Maybe got the breath knocked out of her.” I lowered her to stand on her own, but I couldn’t quite make myself let go of her yet, my fingers still gripping her hips.

  Jenna must’ve still been a little shaky, since she kept her hands on my arms until the other woman pulled her away, wrapping her in a quick hug. I only half-listened as Jenna stuttered out an apology for scaring us, not paying close attention until she raised her gaze to look me fully in the eyes. There was something there, something akin to terror and fire and raw emotion—more than a little almost-fall off a ladder should’ve caused.

  “Thank you for catching me. I really thought for a minute that I was going to end up broken on the ground.”

  I spoke the first words that came to my mind. “You’re not broken, Jenna.” My mind flew back to my conversation with Mason the week before, when we’d talked about Jenna and how her family and friends treated her. As though she could read my thoughts, vulnerability and surprise flashed across Jenna’s face.

  I finally forced myself to look away and introduced myself to the other woman, who I’d figured out was her cousin Rilla, Mason’s wife. Within a few minutes, she’d invited the kids and me to their celebration. Accepting hadn’t been a hardship, not when it would mean hanging around with Jenna.

  Rilla had left us not long after that, and my kids, who’d given their enthusiastic endorsement to partying with the Sutton and Wallace clans, had run off to check on the horses Ollie had seen earlier. Jenna had seemed flustered once we were alone, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she was still getting over her near-fall or whether she wasn’t comfortable being on her own with me . . . which was stupid, because we’d been alone together plenty of times at work. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Maybe she’d felt the same thing I had when I’d held her against me.

  I hadn’t meant to go all confessional on her, telling her about my past and my drinking, but it had come pouring out. She’d reached out to touch my hand, and it had felt as though every nerve in my body was focused on the small spot where we were connected. It had taken a ridiculous amount of nerve for me to flip my hand beneath hers, so that our palms pressed together. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this turned on, which was ridiculous, because Jenna was sitting a solid two feet away from my body, and we were barely touching each other.

  She’d jerked away from me when her mother had arrived, and I hadn’t missed how she’d held the hand that had been under mine, as though it burned. Everything had gotten weird after that; I’d heard wonderful things about Millie Sutton from everyone in town, but she certainly didn’t seem happy to meet me. She was stiff, nearly hostile, and then she asked about my wife, which floored me.

  Still, I’d managed to maintain an even tone as I’d explained to Mrs. Sutton about Sylvia’s death. The lady’s face had gone red, and I’d seen regret and embarrassment there. Offering to go help her husband carry chairs had given us both a chance to recover, I’d figured.

  But from the time I’d come back with Boomer and the chairs, I’d realized that Jen
na was avoiding me. She positioned herself at the opposite end of every group, and when I sat down at the picnic table, she jumped to her feet and mumbled about checking on something. She and Ollie had played a game of lawn darts, and I had smiled at my son’s trash talk as well as her answering jibes. Becca stuck with Bridget most of the day, but the two girls had accompanied Jenna to the far end of the green to check out the Daughters of the South, who were apparently allowing pictures with visitors now that the parade was over.

  As the day wound down, I was aware that Jenna had separated herself not only from me but also from most of her family. I’d met her three older sisters and the husbands who belonged to two of them, as well as Jenna’s nephew, who had been Ollie’s companion most of the day. I’d seen the same expression in every eye when Millie Sutton had introduced me as the contractor on the Oak Grove job—or as Mrs. Sutton put it, “Jenna’s plantation project.” It was a mix of surprise and wariness, as they took measure of me, and it made me wonder about what Jenna’s family really thought about her.

  Now, in the gathering dusk, I finally spotted Jenna sitting in a lawn chair, apart from the rest of the group, on the other side of the gazebo. I meandered in her direction, trying to keep it casual, so that no one would guess that I was seeking her out. I didn’t care for myself, but the last thing I wanted to do was to make things more difficult for Jenna with her family.

  She was sitting in the low chair with her knees pulled up and both arms wrapped around them. I knew the moment she spotted me, because her shoulders went stiff, and she glanced away. I ignored that and dropped to the ground next to her seat, stretching out my legs in front of me.

  “Hey. You kind of disappeared.” I bumped lightly against the chair. “Everything okay?”

  She was guarded, I could tell, with all her shields up and every defense at the ready. The smile she gave me was forced. “Sure. It just gets to be too much, sometimes, and I need a little space. A little quiet. Some alone time, you know?” Those last words were pointed, and I knew they were meant to push me away.

  “Yeah, I get it.” I settled myself down, just so she would know I wasn’t going away. “You’ve got a big family to start with, and then you add in Meghan and Sam, Ali and Flynn and all the Evans, Rilla and Mason . . . it’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

  “It can be.” She sighed, and I sensed a little corner of the wall crumbling away. “It’s hard when you’re the different one, too. Everyone else can handle the crowds, the loudness and—well, just everything. I’m the one who can’t deal with it.” There was bitterness and not a little frustration in her tone.

  “Well, that right there is some bullshit, Jenna.” I spoke matter-of-factly. “There’s nothing wrong with you or how you deal with things. And you need to stop listening to anyone who tries to tell you that.”

  She gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. It’s not so much what they say. It’s how they act. How they treat me. I’m not stupid. I might be weak sometimes and maybe a little unstable, but I know what they’re thinking, and what they probably say when I’m not around.”

  “Of course you’re not stupid. Remember, I’ve been working with you for over a month now. You’re probably one of the most astute and capable project managers I’ve ever known. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. I hope you know me well enough by now to realize that I don’t lie and I don’t sugarcoat. If you were fucking up the job, I’d be the first one to call you out.”

  Her lips twitched. “Thanks.”

  “Sometimes the people who’re closest to us are the least capable of seeing the truth about who we really are. I don’t know all the history of you and your family, Jenna, but I know who you are now. And I like what I know.”

  Jenna snorted and began to answer me when a shadow fell over both of us. A man stood on the other side of her chair, hands in the pockets of his shorts. He had light blond hair, cut short, and wide brown eyes that made him look like a startled cow. I didn’t like the way he was checking out Jenna, in that predatory, proprietary manner.

  “Hey, Jenna. Thought I’d find you around here.”

  She flickered up a glance at him but then stared straight ahead. “Hey, Nick.” Her voice was curt and dismissive. Inside I was cackling with relief.

  “Haven’t seen you around much this summer. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been busy with work. I have a huge new project for the historical society, out at Oak Grove.” She still didn’t look at him.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about that. You probably know your uncle Larry made me the weekend manager.” He paused, obviously waiting for her congratulations or some other positive reaction.

  Jenna lifted one shoulder. “Hmm. I didn’t know. I haven’t seen Uncle Larry in a while.”

  “Oh.” The word hung there for a minute. “Well, we were hoping that the contractor on the plantation project might come to us for some of the supply orders. We were kind of thinking maybe you’d suggest they use us.”

  “You’re in luck. This is the restoration contractor right here.” Jenna inclined her head toward me. “But I’m not suggesting or recommending anyone or anything. That would be unethical. You’re welcome to talk to him, though.” One side of her mouth curled. “Linc, this is Nick Hoffman. Nick, Linc Turner.”

  He spared me a quick glance. “Hey. Ah, tonight’s probably not the time to talk business—”

  “You’re the one who brought it up,” Jenna pointed out.

  “—but maybe we can get together next week and talk about your needs and how Wexler’s Hardware might be able to help.” Nick finished up without acknowledging Jenna’s interruption. He dug into his pocket and handed me a card. “Give me a call.”

  I shoved the cardboard rectangle into my own pocket without looking at it. “Sure. Thanks. My company negotiates our supplies for all of our ongoing jobs, but I can let them know about your store.” That was kind of not the truth. I had a lot of leeway to make my own calls about supplies, but I didn’t like this guy, and until I knew what he was to Jenna, I wasn’t going to commit to anything.

  “Okay.” He nodded and then turned his focus back to Jenna. “So, Jen, want to come over with me and watch the fireworks? I’ve got a sweet spot. Very private.”

  “No, thanks.” She shifted in her chair, angling her body toward me. “I’m watching them with Linc. I’ll see you around, Nick.”

  He didn’t move right away, but stood staring down at her, his jaw clenched. Finally, he growled out, “Whatever.”

  As he stalked away from us, Jenna’s body slumped down in the chair. “Sorry about that. I kind of used you to get rid of him. But you don’t need to stay here with me. I’m fine on my own.”

  “I know you are. But I’d like to watch the fireworks with you, if that’s okay.”

  She looked over at me, the difference in our height negated by the lift of her chair so that our eyes were level. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

  For a few minutes, we sat in companionable silence. I picked up a blade of grass and began peeling off its fibers one by one. “So . . . Nick. Who’s he?” I was pretty sure he wasn’t the guy Mason had told me about, the man who’d slept with Jenna and then blown her off. I hadn’t gotten that vibe from Jenna or from him. Plus, he didn’t fit the image of a man-whore.

  Jenna rolled her eyes and blew out a breath. “Nick is a mistake. One of several in my past.” She flashed a glance over to me. “It’s a long story, and not a fun one.”

  I squinted up at the sky, which still was mostly pink, painted with the colors of the setting sun. “They won’t do the fireworks until it’s full-on dark, right? My kids are roasting marshmallows over at the fire pit, with Rilla and Meghan. I’ve got nothing but time.” I paused. “If you want to tell me, you can. You don’t have to. We can talk about something that makes you more comfortable, if you want. The weather. The plantation. Recite the Declaration of Independence.”

  She gnawed the edge of her lip. �
�You might not like me much after you hear it.”

  I spread out my hands. “Earlier today, I told you that I was a recovering alcoholic who’d abandoned his kids to their grandparents for six years, because I couldn’t fucking man up when I lost my wife. Believe me, sugar, nothing you have to say is going to make me think less of you. Judgement isn’t my thing.”

  The crickets and cicadas chirped over the undercurrent of voices and songs and laughter. Jenna was silent for so long that I assumed she’d decided against telling me when she began to speak.

  “I was a flighty kid. I didn’t take anything seriously, not school or boys or my parents. I think I was probably a little spoiled. I dated some in high school, but not any one guy for long, mostly because I didn’t want to spend the time or energy on any of them. My best friend was Lucie, and I was close to her, but ultimately, I threw her away, too. That’s another ugly part of the story.” She swallowed. “After graduation, I started going to the community college because I didn’t know what else to do. I babysat for Rilla and for a few other people. And then the fall before I turned twenty-one, I started working for my uncle Larry, at the hardware store.”

  “Ah. That’s where you met Nick?”

  She shook her head. “No, he wasn’t there yet. Uncle Larry just had one full-time, year-around employee and then he hired me part-time, and . . . there was another guy who’d been there on and off for a few years. He did seasonal farm work, but when that was over, he’d stay in town and work for Uncle Larry.”

  This was the guy. I could hear the cautious, raw tone in her voice. My hands curled into fists. I wanted to pummel that man. I waited for her to say his name.

  “Trent—that was him—he was older than me, but he never treated me like a kid. We joked around a lot, and I thought we were friends. No, we definitely were friends.” She nodded. “But I was young and stupid. Naïve. I thought we were more than friends, or that we could be. In my head, I built up this elaborate fantasy about what Trent felt for me and what our future would be. Everything he did, every little gesture or smile or whatever, I took to mean so much more than it was.” She took another deep breath. “It wasn’t his fault. Trent had no idea what I was thinking. He probably thought I was a little bit silly and immature, but he never led me on. With distance and a lot of therapy, I can see that now.”