That was fair. "All right." Brook Lynn allowed herself a final glance at Jase--those dark eyes were still locked on her. She shivered, cursed herself and her apparent weakness for the forbidden and left the house.
*
BROOK LYNN PARKED her car in a lot a few blocks from Rhinestone Cowgirl. Edna claimed the spaces in front of the shop needed to remain free for customers, but the truth was she considered Rusty an abomination.
She wasn't wrong.
As the sun glared, Brook Lynn raced down the sidewalk. People she'd known her entire life waved and hollered out greetings.
"Running late?" Virgil Porter asked from his rocker. Though he owned Swat Team 8--we assassinate fleas, ticks, silverfish, cockroaches, bees, ants, mice and rats--he often sat with the owner of Style Me Tender Salon across the street from the jewelry store, playing checkers.
"Unfortunately," she replied. In a town this small, everyone knew everyone else's schedule.
"Explains why Edna was pacing the sidewalk, telling everyone who passed you'd broken her heart," Mr. Rodriguez said. He gave the best buzz cut in a twenty-mile radius. His only competition, Rhett Walker, gave what Mr. Rodriguez referred to as "bootleg butchers" in his mother's garage.
"Edna's going with a broken heart?" Peachy. Usually, whenever Brook Lynn messed up, she went with betrayed trust.
Brook Lynn flew through the shop doors so late she'd missed more time than she would actually work, a horror of horrors for a perpetual early bird.
"I'm so sorry, Edna."
The owner of the RC leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.
Brook Lynn expected to be scolded, wanted to be--deserved it--but in the ensuing minutes Edna somehow made her feel as if she'd dropped an H-bomb on the town.
Oh, the guilt trip.
"Do you know how many frantic calls I had to deal with this morning, people wondering if I was going out of business?" Edna asked.
"No, ma'am."
"Two!"
Wow. That many?
"It ruined my entire morning, Brook Lynn--you ruined it. And after everything I've done for you."
"I'm sorry, Edna," she said again. "I promise to bring you a Swiss enchilada casserole tomorrow. Your favorite."
Edna dabbed at eyes that weren't even close to watery. "You were once my favorite, too. I loved you like the daughter I never had." Edna had always been one of those people who craved the sympathy hardship bought her and milked every situation to her advantage. "It's like my heart is breaking right inside my chest."
"You actually have a daughter," Brook Lynn pointed out.
"Yes, but she's such a disappointment. You never were...until today."
Ouch.
Edna puttered around the shop, dusting display cases that didn't need to be dusted. She was a short, round woman with miraculously unlined skin and a pretty crop of silver hair. Her cheeks were always rosy, and to be honest, she could have passed for Mrs. Santa Claus...until she opened her mouth.
"Caroline moved to the city to attend massage school, you know," Edna continued, stuck on the topic of her daughter. "Never mind the fact that I have back pain and could use a healing touch every now and then."
Brook Lynn faded in and out of the ensuing lecture about giving being better than taking, offering the occasional "Mmm-hmm" and "You're so right." Heard this a thousand times before. But at least they were back on familiar territory.
Then the words "If you're serious about buying this shop one day..." caught her attention.
"I am," she rushed to reply.
"Yes, but if you're truly serious--"
"I truly am."
"I mean truly, truly serious, then you'll show up on time," Edna said with a sharp stare. "Every. Single. Day."
"Absolutely." Brook Lynn would offer no excuses for today's tardiness. She'd heard too many over the years and had learned to hate them.
They had it coming, baby girl. Always courtesy of Uncle Kurt.
Dude. I had to. That beer was calling my name. Always courtesy of Jessie Kay.
So, even though this was one of Brook Lynn's first official offenses at the RC, she made no effort to defend herself. "I promise you it won't happen again."
Edna released a long-suffering sigh. "We'll see."
"I'd be happy to stay super late to make up for it."
"That might be a start." Edna gathered her purse and strolled to the front door, saying, "I'm headed to my new book club. We're deciding whether to call ourselves The Strawberry Bookcakes or Strawberry Fields of Books." She gave another heavy sigh before saying, "I'm not sure I'll recover if I missed the vote."
More guilt. "Which one are you voting for?"
"Not sure yet," she replied and disappeared outside.
"If you don't know," Brook Lynn muttered, knowing Edna would never hear, "why do you even care which name is picked?"
The next few hours passed without incident...or a single customer. As Brook Lynn gathered her tools to create a spectacular necklace for the window display case, sure to draw the eye of those passing by, she phoned Kenna to tell her about Jase's job offer, keeping her phone on speaker to save herself from having to press the device against her implants.
"Are you going to take it?" her friend asked.
"Yes. No. Oh, I don't know."
"He's offering a lot of money."
"Yes." She could be debt free in a little over two years. The impossible finally made possible.
"So what's the problem?" Kenna asked. "Do you think there's more to the job than he told you?"
"Like washing and ironing the clothes his myriad lovers leave scattered on the floor? Yes."
Crackling silence over the line before Kenna chuckled softly. "What is that I hear in your tone? Is that jealousy?"
"What? No!" More calmly she repeated, "No. I've been battling indigestion today."
"Indigestion. I see."
"You see? What do you think you see, Miss Starr?"
Sweet, tinkling laughter echoed. "I see fun times ahead--for me. By the way, I've booked an appointment at some place in the city for you and Jessie Kay to try on bridesmaid dresses. And I will, of course, reimburse you for any time off work--" A gasp. A low, needy moan. A giggle. "Dane. Stop."
Well, well. Her fiance had arrived. Never far from her side.
A pang of envy as the man whispered, "I'll stop when you've given me everything I want," and oh, wow, his voice was so low, so hot, even Brook Lynn shivered.
I want a happily-ever-after like theirs. Surely I've earned one.
"Brook Lynn," Kenna said, breathless.
"You've got to go. I know. Love you."
"Love you, too. But oh, oh. Wait a sec. I meant to tell you I would be eternally grateful if you would make me a smoked chicken salad sandwich with fresh-baked bread...like, tonight for dinner, maybe? Because you love me and want me happy. I've got a craving."
"You've always got a craving." When they'd lived together, Kenna had left little sticky notes all over the house, begging for this or that sandwich.
"She meant to ask for two sandwiches." Dane's voice shot over the line.
"I meant two sandwiches," Kenna said. "I can have the ingredients waiting at your house and pick the sandwiches up later..."
"You know I can't resist your pleas," she said.
"You're the best!"
"I know." Click.
Brook Lynn sighed, wondering if she should rethink her plan to stop by Brad's auto shop after work and just do it, live a little. Her shoulders drooped. No, he still didn't rate higher than her conversation with her sister. Or, for that matter, Jase's job offer. Or her sister's lack of employment. Or past-due notices. Fingers crossed she and Jessie Kay discussed everything without a single argument.
She still wasn't sure how her sister would react to finding out her lover--her onetime lover--had asked Brook Lynn for help. As if she'd been rejected by him--again?
Can't do that to her.
Well, then, decision made. As easy as that
.
Tomorrow, she would find another second job. Virgil at Swat Team 8 had just lost Kenna and might be willing to take a chance on Brook Lynn. He wouldn't pay nearly as much as Jase, but killing bugs might be better for her state of mind than killing the hopes and dreams of his scorned lovers. Plus, the job wouldn't hurt her sister's feelings. It also wouldn't test Brook Lynn's resolve to avoid the most delicious of temptations.
And he was delicious, wasn't he? Still wrong for her, and nothing her life needed, but 100 percent melt-in-your-mouth delicious. And kind of emotionless. What was up with that?
Doesn't matter. Not my problem.
At the end of her shift, she drove straight home, more convinced by the minute that she'd made the right decision. But Jessie Kay's car wasn't in the driveway, and she wasn't inside the house.
Brook Lynn baked the sandwiches for Kenna and Dane, and chatted with the pair for half an hour when they came to collect the food.
She had made sandwiches for Jessie Kay and herself, as well, and wanted to eat them together, but as she waited for her sister to return, one hour bleeding into two, hunger got the better of her and she caved, devouring her own.
She watched two old episodes of The Walking Dead. She paced the living room, watched another episode of The Walking Dead and practiced severely cool head-chopping moves. And...still there was no sign of her sister.
Finally she could stand it no more and texted:
Where R U?
Duuuuude, her sister replied. Lost my phone. Will call U when I find it!
UR srsly telling me U can't find UR phone? she texted back, wanting to scream You're using it right now! How drunk R U?
Only had a few, swear! But sis! Sis! My liver was a bad girl 2day & NEEDED 2 B punished.
Attached was a photo of Jessie Kay and her favorite partner in crime, Sunny Day.
Sunny's parents had probably thought "so cute" when they'd come up with the name. Brook Lynn's verdict? So not.
The two were in quintessential selfie mode--Jessie Kay was bent over, lips parted in a perfect O, while Sunny held a paddle at her bottom. Sweat dotted both of their brows. From dancing? Probably. Men stood all around them, practically drooling.
Another text came in, the misspellings out of control.
Knw eve prom 2 all bt came we postpo? Plese?? Pleas???????
Translation: know we promised to talk, but can we postpone? Please? Please?
Beads of anger rolled through Brook Lynn. From the moment their father died, she'd done her best to protect her sister from any sort of emotional pain. She'd even upped her already stellar efforts after their mother died. And this was the result?
Brook Lynn had known she needed to change her ways, but this just cinched it. If she wanted different results, she had to do something different. And she would start by refusing to coddle Jessie Kay.
Yay! a part of her cheered. Finally.
She wouldn't feel guilty about this. She wouldn't! She'd had enough.
She scrolled to Jase's number in her address book. After only two rings, he answered, the roughness of his voice greeting her, bypassing the usual hello, how are you and getting right to business. "Nice to hear from you, Brook Lynn."
Shivers danced through her. This is stupid, dangerous for my peace of mind. But she said, "I'll take the job," before she could talk herself out of it. "Most days I can be there shortly after noon, but tomorrow I can't make it till two. After my shift at Rhinestone Cowgirl I have a personal errand." Her doctor was good about getting her in whenever she had a spare hour. Because yes, she was sticking with the birth-control part of her plan no matter what.
"Two is good." His breath crackled over the line. "I'm looking forward to seeing you." Something about his tone...
It was deep as always, but it sounded like...a promise? Or a warning?
"Me, too," she whispered.
CHAPTER SIX
JASE MIGHT HAVE made the biggest mistake of his life. Then again, he'd done nothing illegal and wouldn't end up in prison, so...
Nope. Somehow this was still a top contender for Worst Mistake Ever.
As another knock sounded at his front door, this one faster and louder, he trudged into the entryway. He knew Brook Lynn waited on his porch, eager to begin her first day as his "assistant." Eager...dreading--little difference.
What the hell am I going to do with an assistant?
It was the last thing he needed or wanted. Until she'd mentioned the loss of her second job. He'd hated the thought of her struggling to find another, one that might not pay as well, then working herself to the bone and slogging her way into an early grave.
He'd tried to prepare himself for his first boss-employee encounter with her, but a man couldn't ever really prepare for torture. And that was exactly what the situation would be. Somehow, she made him feel as if he'd been stripped and strapped to a rack, his chest carved open and his every nerve ending exposed.
And I signed myself up for a daily dose.
Tense, girding himself for impact, he opened the door--the sight of her utterly stole his breath. Silky hair hung around her shoulders in gleaming, platinum waves. Wide, baby-doll eyes that should only ever sparkle with passion were now hardened with determination, but no less arresting. She wore no makeup, and he found he liked the natural rose flush on her cheeks, the golden tips at the ends of her lashes. Liked the sheen of moisture left on her lips as she traced her tongue over the plump bottom one.
That deep, throbbing ache kicked off in his chest, and he gnashed his molars in annoyance.
Feel nothing. Want--
Screw that. He wanted something. He wanted her.
He simply wasn't going to do anything about it.
Her T-shirt read Math Problems? Call 1-800-{(10x)(In{13el)]-[sin(xy)/2.362xl. A pair of faded jean shorts displayed the spectacular length of her legs to perfection. So did the scuffed, dirt-caked cowgirl boots.
Was his tongue hanging out? The girl could probably rock a garbage bag.
"Reporting for duty, sir," she said, the words flippant...but the little tremor in her voice betrayed her agitation.
He remained in place, blocking her from entry. "First things first. What made you change your mind about working for me?" He'd wondered all night.
Her eyes narrowed, her lashes practically fusing together. "Maybe I used the eenie meenie miney moe method."
"Do you also settle arguments by sticking out your tongue?" I shouldn't be thinking about her tongue. "Never mind. Don't answer." He waved her inside.
She stopped in the living room and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Are West and Beck here?" How hopeful she sounded.
Did she not want to be alone with him? Not irritated by that--thrilled. "West is in the city for business. Beck is out trying to find a place in town for him and West to set up shop."
"And probably sleeping with his real-estate agent," she mumbled. "What do West and Beck do, anyway?"
"Create different kinds of computer programs and games." Jase was as far from tech savvy as possible. Being cut off from society for so long meant everything digital that was so commonplace for everyone else was alien to him. He wasn't even sure how to use some of the apps West had put on his phone.
"Why don't they just work from home?" she asked, her tone now reverent, as if working from home was a dream everyone entertained. "I mean, it's not like they're going to drum up a whole lot of business in Strawberry Valley."
"They drum up business all over the world, wherever they are, but they aren't their most productive while I'm making repairs on the house. Or so I've been told." He motioned to the peeling wallpaper. "The boys are part of the reason so little has been done."
Beck, far more than Jase and West, hated change--which was surprising, considering he changed lovers almost every night. Jase had to ease him into each and every home improvement. And West, well, he liked to plan every detail down to the studs--which usually took months.
"Ah." Caught up in their conversation, Brook Lynn f
orgot to be leery and smiled up at him. The amusement brightened her entire face. "Gave you a verbal spanking for your noisemaking, did they?"
So bright...blinding me to everything else. Making the ache a thousand times worse.
"Nah, they know better than that," he managed, rubbing the spot just over his heart. "I finally kicked them out so I could get started on the larger tasks." Not because he'd wanted to be alone with Brook Lynn.
"Why don't you work with them?" she asked. "Considering how close you guys are, I mean."
"Cubicles and computers aren't my bag."
"Are you a silent partner, then? Is that how you guys met? Business?" She blinked and shook her head, as if she'd just realized something important. "You know what? Forget it." She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. "We might as well get started. What's my first assignment?"
Good question.
He looked around, considering his choices. Something easy. Maybe something that required very little bending over--or a lot of bending over.
He must have taken too long to reply, because she added, "How about I give you a detailed history of your house? It's been in the Glass family for a million generations, but there is now only one Glass left. Harlow. She refused to get a job when her mom died, which is how you guys were able to snatch it up, I guess. She was the town bully once upon a time, before becoming a recluse. She's a year older than me and still hangs around town, though no one knows where she's living right now."
Detailed history...or cautionary tale?
"I promise not to bully you. Now, start with the living room," he said, "and end with the kitchen." That way, she'd feel as though she'd contributed something to his day without actually straining herself. And he could make himself scarce so that he wouldn't have to see any bending or not bending.
"You mean...clean them?"
"Spotlessly."
She pursed her lips. "So I'm a maid, as suspected."
"You're an assistant."
"An assistant who cleans your house."
"Good for you. You catch on so quick." He patted the top of her head and tried not to marvel at the silky softness of her hair--or to think about twining a lock in his fist and angling her head for better access to her lips.
What the hell was wrong with him? Since his release, he hadn't kissed a woman. Not even the handful he'd bedded. Not because he thought kissing was anything special. It wasn't. The less distraction, the better, especially while already vulnerable.