my God, since when did you become such a perv?”
“What’s perverted about me being a trained observer?” His gaze zeroed in on the erratic pulse in her throat. He tipped his beer to her. “Consider it a sign that your tax dollars are hard at work.”
“You know what I mean...” Her eyes pooled with tears as she pulled in a deep breath.
“Damn straight, I do. But tell me, Jess, if you’re so happy, why aren’t you married with four kids, so no one has to ride alone on roller coasters? Isn’t that what you always wanted? What we wanted?”
Her expression hardened. “Don’t go there.”
“Why not?”
“You’re an ass.”
He shrugged.
Yes, he was. But she’d hurt him so damned bad. Up until joining the Navy, all he’d ever wanted was to buy his own ranch, marry Jessie and start their family. He’d never sought wealth or glory—she was all he’d ever wanted. And that fact killed him. Hell, he’d been back in town less than twenty-four hours and already he felt crazy. It was downright embarrassing.
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
Everything. But mostly, the truth. “All I want is for you to finally be straight with me. Why did you break things off? I get it if you thought we were too young, or you fell for someone else, or I just didn’t do it for you in the sack, but this is a small town. Folks talk. My own mother has told me you’ve never been serious with another guy.”
“Just like you’ve never been serious with another girl?”
“Exactly. I’m the logical sort. Every day I deal with black-and-white facts. Look at us—we have jobs, all our teeth. Why haven’t we moved on? Haven’t you ever asked yourself that question?”
She looked away. “No.”
Sighing, he took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Fine. If that’s how you want to play it.”
“Grady...”
“What?”
“You know how much I care for you. You were my best friend. Why can’t we just go back to that?”
“No, thanks.” The friend card had long been off the table. Didn’t she remember all those lazy summer days down by the creek? He’d kissed every inch of her, and it wasn’t just his ego telling him she’d liked it. “For the sake of our parents, I’ll be polite, but you can’t go back in time and erase what we shared. I’ve been with other women since, and it wasn’t the same.”
She paled. “Gee, thanks. Good to know you’ve slept around.”
“Can you honestly tell me you haven’t?”
Again, she avoided his gaze. “You don’t have to make it sound so dirty, but yes. I—I’ve had a few other committed relationships that turned physical—if that’s what you mean.”
“And...” He urged her to get to the heart of the matter. Had she shared a fraction of the chemistry with those other guys as she had with him? Obviously not, or she’d be with one of them now. “True love?”
“I’m not even dignifying that with an answer.”
“In other words, business as usual?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Eyes narrowed, she drew in her lower lip. “You never used to be this cruel.”
“I’m not cruel, Jess, but direct. There’s a difference.”
“Semantics...”
“So, in summary, you want me to buck up and play nice?”
“Would that be so hard?”
More like impossible.
He rubbed his jaw, searching for the right thing to say when all he wanted was for her to tell him the truth. That day in the Dairy Barn that no longer existed, there’d been so much more to their story. There still was. Only, for whatever reason, she’d refused to end it. Oh—she’d verbally ended it. But in his heart—where it mattered—he couldn’t help but feel as though they still had a long way to go before he, at least, found closure.
“I know this is tough, everyone.” The next morning, Jessie’s school principal looked strangely out of character in his plaid shorts, Rock Bluff Elementary T-shirt, ball cap and sneakers. “But again, I need you to sift through this rubble for anything salvageable. Our budget is nil, so every pencil and pair of scissors counts. I fear most textbooks will be water damaged, but maybe a few made it out all right. Questions?”
When no one seemed unclear as to their mission, they got to work.
For safety reasons, no students were invited to help, but many faculty members and parents who lived out of the storm’s path and whose homes were unaffected had come out to lend a hand.
Though the work was hot and messy and mostly unproductive, it did get Jessie away from her depressing apartment wreckage and her parents’ house—or, more to the point, away from Grady.
Some of the things he’d said had been horrible. The only reason she hadn’t lashed out at him had been the knowledge that her lies had created his animosity. Meaning she essentially had no one to blame for his derision but herself.
She remembered every second of their time together. Above all, she cherished the moments after they’d made love, when he’d held her warm and secure in his arms. They’d talked for hours about their shared future. Neither had had college aspirations. They’d both wanted to lead simple, happy country lives like those of their parents.
She knelt to pick up the tin-can pencil holder one of her favorite students had made for her. Paul was now in fifth grade. It made her heart ache to think the only children she’d ever have were her students, but that was okay. At least she was lucky enough to have a career she loved, where every day other people shared their smart, cute and funny kids with her.
“Your mom said I’d find you here.” Grady stood near what used to be her students’ cozy reading nook. He wore desert-camo cargo pants, heavy work boots and a blue Navy T-shirt that made his chest look broad enough to need its own zip code. She instantly yearned to touch him, which only made her resent his presence more.
“This is where I work,” she snapped, “or at least it used to be. I can’t argue with you.”
“Who said I wanted to argue?”
“Then, why are you here?”
He shrugged, then shoved one hand into his pocket and took a sip from a jumbo drink from Ron’s Hamburgers. It was strange how the storm had played God—selecting who got to keep their lives and who had to start over. Maude Clayborn—the owner of the burger joint—had drawn the lucky straw. Knowing Grady like she did, Jessie suspected he was drinking sweet tea. “Partially, I’m here because my mom made me. Mostly, because I owe you an apology for last night.”
No, no, no, her heart cried. Don’t you dare be nice to me. Hating you is much easier than the alternative.
“You’re right, I was an ass, but you have to admit to leaving me in the lurch. You even kept my damned ring. That thing cost three summers’ lawn-mowing money. Do you even still have it? Or did you pawn it?”
The very idea incensed her. “Of course I have it—somewhere.” I wear it on a chain every day to remind me to never settle for anything less than real love. It was on now, dangling between her breasts.
“Great. Then, I want it back.”
“You can’t be serious. And