But with the few things she’d said about her son and the lodge indicated that she wasn’t anywhere ready to be dating again.
But she said it was a date, he told himself. And she didn’t have to do that. He’d made his position vibrantly clear, what with saying their dinner was weird, and then asking her point-blank what the label was. And the hand-holding.... If she hadn’t known his intentions by then, that gesture was a dead giveaway.
But oh, how wonderful her fingers had felt between his. Just as magical as he’d imagined for all these years. Her skin was just as soft, and he wondered if he could just ask her to go for a walk with him after dinner so he could hold her hand again.
It was probably overly hopeful to think she could ever love him the way she’d loved Matt. To his knowledge, she hadn’t gone out with another man since the accident, and he had a lot of people around town he could ask.
But his hopes wouldn’t be dashed, especially because Janey’s eyes glittered when she met his gaze across the table. “What are you gonna get?”
“The soup, of course.” He closed the menu and set it aside. “How’s your mom?”
The waiter appeared, and Adam ordered a bowl of every soup on the menu. When he said, “Every soup?” Adam nodded like he took soup incredibly seriously.
He made a note and looked at Janey. “And I’ll have the French onion soup and the surf and turf.” She handed him her menu, confirmed she wanted a medium cook on her steak, and folded her hands in front of her on the table when he walked away.
“My mom’s deaf, but she won’t get a hearing aid. Annabelle’s tried. JoJo’s tried. Even Sami called from Florida and yelled at her to get something so she could hear her kids when they call.” She shook her head and laughed.
Everything in Adam tightened, his craving for her in his life so strong, he couldn’t contain his desperation to see things through to the end this time.
“So, tell me about you,” she said.
“You know all about me.” He took a drink of his water, the lemon a bit too tart for him.
“I used to know all about you. You’re...different. You’re the—”
“Excuse me, Chief?”
They both turned toward a woman standing at the end of their booth with her little boy.
“See, Mom! It is him.” The boy bounced on the balls of his feet and grinned at Adam like he was Santa Claus.
The woman smiled, clearly uncomfortable but willing to interrupt his dinner nonetheless. “My son is obsessed with being a cop. He insisted it was you, even though you’re not wearing your uniform.”
Adam smiled at the boy, who couldn’t be older than five. “Hey, there, bud. Being a cop is a great thing.”
“He came to my school!” The boy’s whole face was lit up, and Adam couldn’t help getting infected by his enthusiasm.
“Let me guess....” Adam cocked his head and pretended to think. But he didn’t really need to. He visited all the schools in Hawthorne Harbor each year, and there were only two elementary schools. Only one of those had a preschool.
“Lower Lincoln?” Adam said.
The boy clapped and said, “Yes!”
Adam laughed and reached for the child. He brought him close so he could look right into his eyes. “So you work hard in school and stay out of trouble. Then you could be a cop too.”
“Like you,” the boy said with wonder in his voice.
“Sure, like me.” Adam didn’t want to tell him how many years he’d put in doing anything but fun police work. Or about the dozens of trainings and classes he’d taken to qualify to become Chief of Police. Or how the timing had to be exactly right to get the job he wanted, where he wanted it.
“Take my picture, Mom.” The boy turned back to his mom, who snapped a picture and scurried her son away.
“Wow,” Janey said once they’d gone. “I didn’t know I’d be out with a real celebrity.”
Adam scoffed and waved his hand. “Everyone recognizes me. It comes with the job.” He watched her carefully, hoping that wouldn’t be a deal-breaker for her.
She lifted her water to her lips and sipped. Adam had never been jealous of a glass before, but he was in that moment. “And how do you feel about that? As I recall, seventeen-year-old Adam Herrin wouldn’t even get on the stage for the choir concert.”
He blinked, his thoughts completely vacating his brain for a moment. Then a laugh bubbled out of his chest and he wondered if now would be a good time to admit to her that he’d had a crush on her since his seventeen-year-old days.
“Not much of a singer, that’s all,” he said.
“Mm hm.” She watched him with those gorgeous eyes, and Adam—who had studied for twelve weeks in Washington D.C. to learn how to read people, their body language, their emotions—saw mirrored in her gaze what he had rioting inside his chest.
Hope. Desire. Wonder.
Fear.
Their meal arrived, and Adam stared at the five bowls of soup the waiter and a helper placed before him. “All right.” He grinned at Janey, wishing he’d gotten a steak and lobster too. “French onion, you say?”
The bowl was beautiful, with gooey, browned cheese covering the bowl, hiding what was underneath. She had a bowl of it too, and she smiled as she broke through a corner of the cheese and said, “Oh, yeah. This stuff is like gold.” She took a sip and moaned, her eyes closing in bliss.
Adam copied her, getting some cheese with his beef broth and caramelized onions. The taste was delicious—salty and oniony, rich and deep. “These are definitely the best onions I’ve ever had in French onion soup,” he admitted. Usually he disliked the texture of the onions, but the lodge had really perfected this soup.
The real question was: Could Adam do the same?
Adam woke to a sloppy, warm tongue on his face. “No,” he moaned, shoving Gypsy back. The dog was relentless though, and finally Adam chuckled and sat up. “Fine. I’m up.” He pushed her away again. “I’m up.”
She barked and trotted out of the bedroom, her claws clicking on the hard floor once she left the carpet. Adam yawned and stretched and looked up to make sure there was a ceiling above him. Because he felt like he was floating, on a high from the walk along the lake with Janey’s hand in his.
There had been no kiss, and Adam was actually glad about that. He didn’t want to push Janey past where she was comfortable, and while she hadn’t said Matt’s name, there was a spot near the curve of the lake where she’d paused, started to tell a memory, and then sort of...stalled. Got lost.
Adam was sure it had something to do with Matt, but he hadn’t asked. The fact was, Janey’s past was filled with Matt, and he’d have to deal with it one piece at a time.
Gypsy barked again, and Adam padded down the hall and around the corner into the kitchen to let her into the backyard. Fable followed, and Adam turned to make his weekend coffee. He didn’t typically work weekends, and his plans for the day included grocery shopping and experimenting with French onion soup recipes.
His phone dinged from in the bedroom, and he practically sprinted toward it. Janey had mentioned dropping Jess off before she went to work, and Adam had agreed that the boy could come help him cook that day.
Janey had classes and tours going on today, and part of Adam wanted to sneak into the back of the theater just to hear her talk about the trees and wildlife in the Olympic National Park.
The message wasn’t from Janey, unfortunately, but his mother. Jess is staying here for the day. Hope that’s okay. Janey said she was going to bring him to you, but he’s out with Drew in the fields and it seems silly to drive him back to your place.
Adam read and re-read the message, his frown growing. He didn’t like that his brother was the one bonding with Janey’s son. Sure, it made sense, as Jess and Dixie were good friends, and Dixie’s mother was Drew’s fiancée.
Still, Adam wanted to spend time with Jess. Learn more about the boy. Develop a friendship there beyond that which they currently had, if he could. He’d tri
ed not to be over-eager to do such a thing in the past. Janey was very protective of her son, and Adam understood why.
He had a grandfather and three uncles and now Drew and Joel, Adam’s stepfather.
Adam didn’t know how to respond, at least not to his mother. He typed out a message to Janey instead, hoping he wasn’t being too forward but also tired of keeping his feelings for the woman secret. Dormant. Bottled up.
So no Jess today? It’s fine, really. Maybe when you get off work, you’ll bring him to taste my soup attempts.
Before he could second-guess himself, he sent the text and stepped into the shower. When he got out, she’d said, Yeah, sure. Around 4?
He confirmed and went to the grocery store to get the ingredients he needed to try to replicate the French onion soup at the lodge, as well as a chicken and wild rice soup that might be a hit.
It seemed like every eye gravitated to his as he parked and strolled into the grocery store. He was used to it. So used to it that sometimes he didn’t notice as he went about being a human being in the town of Hawthorne Harbor. Sometimes, like today, he felt the weight of each glance, each look, each blip of recognition.
He felt like an outsider in his own town, where he’d grown up. But he pushed his cart through the aisles, collecting the whole chicken he’d need to make broth, and cheesecloth for the spices and herbs he’d use to flavor the rice.
“Hey, Chief,” someone said as they passed, and Adam caught a fleeting look at a man he probably should recognize. But he turned the corner before Adam could fully identify him.
“Hey,” he said, way too late. He sighed as he turned back to his cart and ran smack dab into his groceries, which had been nudged closer to him.
He grunted and a truckload of embarrassment flowed through him, especially when he heard a woman say, “I’m so sorry. I was just moving it to get to the—”
His eyes met hers, and horror replaced the humiliation. “Anita,” he managed to say.
“Adam.” Her surprise was only matched by his. She giggled and lifted the peanut butter jar his cart had obviously been blocking. “Just getting the all-natural stuff I like off the bottom shelf.” She tucked her auburn hair behind her ear and ducked her head.
Adam had once found the gesture so sweet, so adorable. Now, he didn’t know what to make of it. They’d broken up a few months ago, and he’d texted her to find out the reason she’d broken up with him, but this was the first time he’d come face-to-face with her.
She surveyed his cart while he tried to find something to say. “Looks like you’re making soup.”
He nodded, some thoughts finally coming together. “Yes. The theme for the Fall Festival is soup this year.”
“What are you making?” She tucked her peanut butter jar into the basket hanging on her elbow.
“Oh, just this new chicken noodle recipe.” He didn’t want his ideas out in the open, and two women walked by, noting the exchange.
“You have no pasta.”
“Not there yet,” he said, his annoyance starting to drive his need to get away from Anita. He had, in fact, been down the pasta aisle, but he wasn’t making chicken noodle soup. So he’d told half the truth. He wasn’t going to have one of his officers arrest him over it.
Anita tucked that same lock of hair that hadn’t come loose yet and stepped almost past him. “Well, it was good to see you, Adam.” She touched his bicep, a feather-light touch that was there, then gone. “Call me.” She walked away.
Adam stared at his arm where she’d touched him, wondering why it felt like ice, and then spun, sure he’d just hallucinated. “Call me?” he whispered to himself upon finding himself alone in the aisle.
There was no way that was happening. He turned back to his cart for a second time and gripped the handle, angry at Anita’s toying ways. She wasn’t hard to clear from his head, and he finished his shopping and got on home to start the French onion soup—which reminded him of Janey, the woman he really wanted to focus on.
Chapter Seven
Janey pulled into Adam’s driveway, Jess still chattering about the triple chocolate chip cookies from last night, and the day on the farm. She loved that Jess had this place where he could go, where he could experience such different things than she could provide for him.
At the same time, the burden of guilt that came with his excitement always stuck with her for days and was hard to shake. And every time she took him out to the lavender farm and let him have any experiences there, it took a little longer and was a little harder to purge herself from that negative emotion.
She simply couldn’t give him the life he was meant to lead. Without Matt, she’d had to work since the time Jess could roll over. She’d taken him up to the National Park as often as she could, and she knew of his love for the outdoors, for animals, for hiking, and fishing, and canoeing.
But she didn’t have eighty acres of lavender, or goats, or a wishing well. She flashed her son a smile as she put the Jeep in park.
“What are we doin’ here again?” Jess asked, peering out the windshield to Adam’s house.
“He made a bunch of soup for the upcoming Fall Festival.” Janey tried to make her voice light, easy, conversational. “He wants to win again this year, and he wanted you to taste it and tell him what you thought.”
Jess turned toward her, a dubious look in his dark eyes. “I don’t believe that.”
“No? He wanted you to come cook with him today. Seems Donna has been talking you up.”
A glimmer of light stole through Jess’s expression, and he turned back to the house. “All right.”
“What?” Janey laughed as she reached over to tousle his hair. “You’re too cool to be a soup taster?”
“No, it’s....” Jess shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
But Janey noticed how he looked up and down the street before practically sprinting to Adam’s front door, which was more protected by the awning and deep porch.
“Heya, Jess,” Adam said when he opened the door. “You made it.” He searched for Janey as she came up the steps, and she gave him a small smile she hoped would convey to him not to indicate anything about their date the previous evening.
Jess ducked inside, leaving the two of them on the porch, and Adam glanced at the boy’s retreating back and then to Janey. “So...what’s goin’ on?”
“He didn’t really say,” she said. “But I get the feeling he doesn’t want anyone to see him here.”
A cloud overtook Adam’s face, and he practically growled, “Well, come on in,” before striding back into the house. No sly touch while they were alone. No, “You look great, Janey,” whispered so Jess couldn’t overhear.
She sighed. What did she expect? Bringing her son here without properly telling him where she’d been last night, who she’d been with, and what they’d done.
Not that they’d done anything wrong. She wasn’t married anymore. Adam was available. She’d liked holding his hand, and listening to him laugh, and hoping he’d kiss her later.
He hadn’t, and she hadn’t really quantified “later” anyway. He could kiss her now and it would be “later.”
The scent of something salty and savory filled Adam’s house, along with the tell-tale smell of freshly baked bread. Janey had never been so happy in her life to have been so busy, she’d worked through lunch.
A golden retriever trotted toward her as she shut the door, and she paused to give the dog a pat. “Oh, she looks so happy,” she called toward the kitchen, really burying her hands in the dog’s fur now.
“You pet her, she won’t leave you alone,” Adam called to her, adding a laugh to the end of the statement. So maybe tonight’s tasting would go just fine. Janey entered the kitchen to find Jess at the stove, stirring a pot of soup.
“Oh, well, you’ve put him to work already.”
“He just added the cream to the chicken and wild rice soup,” Adam said. An alarm sounded, and he added, “Oh, that’s the bread. Look out, Jess.”
<
br /> Jess stood back while Adam pulled a round loaf of bread out of the oven and set it on the counter beside the stove. “So there’s three kinds,” he said with a sigh. “That chicken and wild rice Jess is finishing up. The French onion, which I will cheese up in just a minute, and a more traditional beef stew.”
“I’ll take one of each,” Janey said, a secret nod to their date last night she hoped he understood.
Adam held her gaze for an extra heartbeat and said, “Right, well, you heard your mom, Jess. Let’s get the bowls out. What do you want?” He pulled bowls from the cupboard and told Jess where to get the spoons.
Janey stood back and watched them work in the kitchen, marveling at how Jess looked like he could easily belong to Adam. Her pulse stuttered, and she blinked to try to put Matt in Adam’s place. But her husband had been a horrible cook, unable to even scramble eggs.
Adam had the same dark hair as Jess, the same brooding jawline. Adam’s had a couple day’s worth of scruff on it, and she wanted to feel his face with her fingertips. Startled, she turned away from the kitchen and looked out the French doors that led to the backyard. Of course, it was trimmed and neat—everything about Adam seemed to be in order. Nothing out of place, which made her wonder what in the world she was doing there.
“French onion,” Adam said, and Janey turned back to the bar, where nine bowls of soup now sat. How long had she been staring out the window? Neither Jess nor Adam seemed like they’d tried to get her attention, so she moved to sit on the middle barstool, the Swiss cheese perfectly melty and browned on top of the French onion soup.
“This smells divine,” she said as Adam put a butter dish on the counter in front of her.
“Mom, can I invite Thayne to the beach next weekend?” He sat on the stool next to her, his spoon already poised to dive into the chicken and wild rice soup.