It was easier to blame the blended smells.
Jenna cleared her throat. “Anyway, you probably need to help your friend. I’ll bring out anything we have that might be useful. Is there anything else—”
“Jen.” She was right, and he ought to be taking her not-so-subtle hint, but they had maybe twenty seconds and he’d be damned if he didn’t take it. At least to ask. So, he moved forward and rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing firmly. “Are you all right?”
Her breath hitched. “I’m fine.”
He frowned.
Jenna laid her fingers over the back of his wrist, hesitated, then pushed his hand from her shoulder and took one step back. “Don’t misunderstand,” she said, quieter. “I really am happy to see you, and to know you’re not … you know.” She swallowed visibly. “But it’s beenseventeen years, Jon. We’re effectively strangers. I’m not who I was in high school, and neither are you, I’m sure.” Her gaze swept over him. “I can tell, just by looking at you. You look good.” She lifted a smile to him. “I don’t know what’s brought you into town, and I’m sure it’s none of my business, but I’m glad … that I don’t have to think of you in the past-tense anymore. So, yes, Jon. I’m all right. I didn’t get hurt today, my business didn’t get robbed or shot up, and I didn’t watch anyone die. Honestly, five seconds of staring down the barrel of some jerk’s gun isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me. I’m good.”
He might have been willing to back off and accept the logic she’d led with, if she hadn’t ended it where she did. But when he had known her last, she would have freaked the hell out to have a gun in her face. For her words in that moment to be true meant some fucked up shit had happened in between, and he didn’t need to think about it to know he had a problem with that.
But he wasn’t an idiot, nor was he trying to be an asshole. She was feeling overwhelmed and trying to create space for herself.That was respectable. And if she did own a business in town, then odds were he had time to reintegrate himself into her life at a slower pace. Because apparently he wanted to.
That was probably also fucked up.
Jon inclined his head. “Not gonna lie and say I don’t have questions,” he said, “but I recognize they’re not my place.” He let that hang for a moment. “I hope you won’t be opposed to saying ‘hello’ next time I come in.”
A short, soft laugh slipped from her lips. “The big, strong Marine is going to make a pit-stop at my little bakery while he’s in town?”
Jon shrugged. “I’m not allergic to sugar.”
The words were barely past his lips when Eric returned, holding a plastic tub of assorted colorful shit Jon wouldn’t ordinarily label ‘supplies’. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I didn’t know what you meant for sure,” the kid said, “so I threw all the twine, ribbons, glue, staples and pins, the sewing kit, and some medical tape into one tub.”
A younger girl poked her head out from behind him. “Um, what’s going on? Are we crafting?”
Jenna couldn’t get her heart to settle down. She didn’t know for sure if Eric had actually requested an ambulance, let alone if one was coming alongside the deputies they were waiting on, but she was starting to worry she was the one who’d need it.
In her defense, a lot had happened in a very short time.
She'd gone from a totally normal morning to finding herself facing down her first burglary—and who the hell robbed a bakery, let alone before noon? Then she’d thrown herself infront of the gunman like she thought she was Wonder Woman, not wanting to watch an innocent old man take a bullet. Only for two ninjas who turned out to be Marines—which might make them actual ninjas, she wasn’t sure—to swoop in from the shadow of the building and disarm the burglars like it was child’s play. And bonus, one of those Marines was her dead ex-boyfriend. Obviously not as dead as she had been told.
And wasn’tthata great way to see someone she’d missed more than was reasonable or even sane for the first time in seventeen damn years?
No. No, it was not.
She still looked like hot shit. Only instead of being tired for ordinary reasons, she was tired from the adrenaline crash of everything after. Both, probably. Not that it mattered what she looked like. She was sure Jon didn’t care. Just like how she shouldn’t care that her well-meaning, utterly oblivious employee had had to go and inform her high school boyfriend that she was single. Or, at least, that she was unmarried. The use of her maiden name would imply she’d never married, and Jon still had the manners he’d learned mostly from his grandfather, so he hadn’t asked for more details.
Granted, she had also made it clear she didn’t want to have that sort of conversation. Because she didn’t. Having that kind of conversation would mean telling him things that would only cause upset, for both of them in different ways, and none of those emotions were necessary. Whatever else was going on, eventually Jon would drift away from Misty Glades again.
Letting him go the first time had hurt like hell even though she’d known from the start the day was coming. Jenna refused to put herself through that a second time.
It’d be easier if he hadn’t evolved into some kind of Grecian god.
The man was outside, standing guard alongside his friend over their would-be burglars, looking like he’d been carved from stone and sculpted by angels. It really wasn’t a surprise that his lean form had filled out in the years he’d been away. He’d gained a couple of inches, she was pretty sure, and he had muscular definition his simple t-shirt couldn’t hide. Her memories no longer did him justice. She understood why, but it made her ridiculously curious about inappropriate things.
For all she knew she had massively misinterpreted that concerned touch earlier, and he had a wife somewhere waiting on him. He’d said he wouldn’t marry at least until after he retired, but she understood perfectly well how plans changed.
She understood less why the idea that he might have a wife that he touched with those hands, kissed with those lips, and openly focused his natural protective instincts on made her want to break something. So, she blamed the agitated feeling that sparked inside on her exhaustion, and the fact that she was stuck waiting on the damn deputies.
Jenna attempted to busy herself with readjusting the display of pastries that remained, hoping the mindless task that would occupy her hands might for once also keep her thoughts from wandering. But soon her youthful employees’ murmured conversations carried all too easily to her.
Steph let out a giggle in response to something Eric had said. “God, they’re so hot,” she sighed, not particularly quietly.
Jenna pulled both lips between her teeth to keep silent. She didn’t usually intrude unless she saw something that needed correcting, and there weren’t any customers in the shop.
Eric made a laughing sound that nearly obscured the tell-tale swish of a fresh sleeve of disposable cups being set out in the coffee area. “They are, though. I might need to make my boyfriend get a haircut.”
