I fully expected her question, and I'm ready with an answer. "That," I say, taking a sip and passing her the bottle. "Is what I like to call outlaw logic."
Jo gives me a reproachful look. "You're a scoundrel."
I smile and wink. "No, darlin', I'm an outlaw."
Jo throws up her hands. "You're also a flirt."
"Me?" I point back at myself. "I don't know what you're talking about. But," I stand up. "Since you leveled such an accusation, I might as well ask you to dance." My voice is calm, my furiously beating heart is anything but.
She stares at the hand I've extended. "You know I have a boyfriend."
"Yes, I know. Jeff, was it?"
She shakes her head at me. "You know his name."
I nod at the hand I'm still holding out. "It's just a dance Jo. I'm not asking you to run away with me."
But if you want to, let's go.I'd drive her right out of this storm, to whatever destination.
She sets the bottle beside her and stands. "I wouldn't even if you did."
"I'm aware," I tell her, as she places her hand in mine.
She lets me pull her in, our clasped hands resting on my chest. My other arm wraps around her waist. A crack of thunder causes both of us to jump, she presses herself into me, then pulls back.
"I don't even like you," she asserts, keeping her eyes trained on my neck. It's the safest place for them to be. If our gazes met right now, I'm not sure what might happen.
"I know," I answer. If it wasn't for the hitch in her voice, maybe I'd believe her.
"Where did you learn to dance?"
I push her out, pull her back in. She's surprisingly good at letting me lead. "My mom. She gave me dance lessons in the living room when I was growing up."
"You're good."
"It's not hard." Not when you have the right partner.
The rain bullies the house, pelting it relentlessly, and though the roof holds up, everything inside me is collapsing.
I'm falling for Jo, and isn't it just like me to find the person who's already taken?
Maybe I am a scoundrel like she said, because right now, with Jo in my arms, her relationship status is the last thing I'm thinking about.
15
Jo
I've metwith four different roofers over the past two days, and they all say the same thing. Total replacement. Between the main house, the sleeping quarters, and the stable, I'm so far over my budget. There isn't much left in my savings for renovations, and there's no way I can take out a personal loan, even if they would loan me the amount I need, which they probably wouldn't.
There's one more possibility, a last ditch effort to save my dream.
Jared's on his way over now. I've made spaghetti and meatballs, his favorite, in an attempt to smooth things over. He wasn't happy when he learned I waited out the storm with Wyatt. I reminded him I had no choice. The storm was powerful enough to uproot three of the mature trees that line High Street. He changed the subject after that, telling me about a man who'd come into the bank that day and opened a checking account. He was dressed in a well-cut suit, and told Jared he’s thinking of moving some business to Sierra Grande.
Tonight, my plan is to find out that guy's name. If he's thinking of moving 'business', whatever that consists of, to this town, maybe he'd also be interested in investing in a local business. Bonus points if this business partner would prefer to remainsilent.
Jared arrives at seven precisely. He wears a light blue button-down tucked into crisp khakis, and a contrite smile.
"I've missed you the last few days," he murmurs into my hair when he hugs me.
