Damn Debbie. Again.
Debbie Swan was curvier, heftier, and all dark hair with blue eyes that shone like the devil lived in them. She wanted out of this town, and I offered an escape to her without thought. I should have been thinking better.
“Time to go,” I bark out, and Emily drops the hose, the water making a puddle in the grass. She stands, her knees covered in wet grass blades. Her hands have lost some of the dirt from earlier, but now it seems to be on her face. She’s a wreck, and I want to roll in the mud with her.
Jesus.
I lower my head for a second, willing away the thoughts of her in that wet T-shirt and those water-stained shorts. It’s been twenty-four hours and I can’t get her out of my head.
Go home, I mentally shout at her, knowing this isn’t her house.
Elizabeth Parrish is an esteemed member of this community and an accomplished icon. Rumor has it she hasn’t had family here in over five years. Of course, I wasn’t here five years ago either, but I’m back now.
This is my home. I didn’t think I’d ever live here again once I’d left, but now that I’m back, I know I’m in the right place for me.
A woman like Emily, though? This town would never fit her, and yes, that makes me someone who judges a book by its cover, but I can read. She has it written all over her—temporary.
I watch Katie slowly walk to the edge of the bushes lining the back of Mrs. Parrish’s lot. They’re scraggly and dangerous, and I hold my breath as my child crawls under them like some rodent in the night. She’s drawn to this woman for some reason, and I see it even now. Moving so slowly toward me, it’s like she’s magnetically connected to the beautiful stranger behind her. She can’t seem to break the force.
Speaking of force, what the hell was that when I helped her with the spigot? I realize by quietly sneaking up on her I startled her, and she spun too fast, catching herself on my chest, but holy hell. When her hands slid down my body and landed near the waist of my jeans, I nearly detonated. The circuit rippling through my body was like a live wire, dangling after a storm. The rush intense. The result dangerous. I had to get away from her before she could see what she’d done to me.
Then I saw her watching me speak to Katie as I warned my daughter to use her manners, be respectful, and do as Miss Emily Post of Chicago said.
I don’t know anything about this woman so it’s even more shocking I left my child with her, but something told me Katie was safe. Emily is Elizabeth’s granddaughter, and I like to think that speaks for something.
Maybe not common sense, given she danced around her yard like a pole act.
Maybe not cleanliness, given she has more dirt and grass on her than this lot.
But still, I vaguely remember hearing about her in the past. A writer or something.
It doesn’t matter. I’ve given up all concern for what a woman does or wants.
The only girl for me is my daughter.
+ + +
Of course, hours later after I’ve been invited to dinner by the Muellers as a thank you for the roof job, there Emily is again. Only this time, she’s all cleaned up.
A summer dress. Strappy sandals. Hair long and loose and wavy. I want to run my fingers through that silk and then fist it at the nape and kiss the crap out of those soft pink lips.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
It’s been a month since I’ve been with Sami Knight, my go-to friends-with-benefits, but she’s been wanting more than the friends portion of those three words, and I’m not feeling it. She’s another one who’s temporary, but for some reason, I don’t mind. I need to get myself off somehow, and a fist in the shower only tides a man over for so long. She calls. I hop. It sucks to be a hungry man sometimes.
As I’d lived in this town most of my life and then recently returned, it’s safe to say there aren’t many eligible women who aren’t relatives or who don’t know me from my past. Anyone new is already taken. Not that I’m looking to be taken because I don’t have time for a woman in my life.
Katie is a handful.
Her silence is rough.
If only I had answers. So many questions, but nothing to explain what happened.
One day she spoke. The next she didn’t. Although I’m pretty certain her mother was the catalyst, I just don’t know for certain.
“Sue, can I speak to you for a moment?” Emily’s voice finds my ears, and I can’t help but listen. I’m standing on the raised deck of the Mueller’s home while Emily shuffles Sue Carpenter to the side, just below my elbow. Sue Carpenter is at least ten years older than my mother with short, still-dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses. She’s also Elizabeth Parrish’s neighbor.
“Sue, what is going on? I can’t believe how confused Nana is.” The concern in Emily’s voice does funny things to my chest. I want to retort by saying maybe she should have been present more often, been around her grandmother, but it’s not really my business. I just think family should take care of family, and it’s apparent Mrs. Parrish’s family has not been caring for her.
“That’s why I called you. All this business about John.” There’s a pause from Sue, and I rack my brain to decipher who John is.
“He’s been dead for over a decade, but she acts like he’s living in the house.” Emily’s response isn’t only exasperated. She’s frightened. “She made cookies this afternoon, saying they were John’s favorite. Only she never set the timer, and I didn’t know she’d done it until I heard the smoke detector going off.”
Jesus.
“She could have burned the house down.” Emily’s voice wavers, and my brows pinch. I shouldn’t be hearing this. I should be walking away, but suddenly, I feel like my daughter. I can’t seem to break away from the distress in Emily’s voice.
“That’s what worries Joe.” Joe Carpenter is the fire chief for Elk Lake City and Sue’s husband. I imagine he is concerned. Elizabeth shouldn’t be touching a stove. “We had to take her keys just so she wouldn’t drive,” Sue adds.
Oh God, Mrs. Parrish on the road would be equally dangerous.
“What am I going to do, Sue?” The terror in Emily’s voice, as though she truly doesn’t have an answer, riddles me.
Stay, whispers through my head, and I shake the singular thought. That’s ridiculous.
“I’m no expert, but I’d say it’s time for alternative placement.”
“A home?” Emily whisper-shrieks. “I can’t do that to her. She’ll never leave this place.” My head turns in the direction of the Parrish house. It’s original to the area, passing from one generation to another as only a few places have. The house of my best friend, Gavin Scott, was like that. The cherry farm should have gone to him, only he’d set his sights bigger than Elk Lake City. So many of us did, and now we’re trickling back.
“Maybe I could take her home with me?” Emily suggests hesitantly. I’m sure her grandmother would fit in real nicely with a city slicker’s lifestyle. Not.
“Whatever you decide, Joe and I are here to support you.”
For a moment, there’s no response, and then I hear the thickness in Emily’s throat. “Thank you, Sue. I appreciate that.”