Chapter5
Jack gazedat the dog sitting on the floor, ears flattened and eyes widened. “Buck up boy, I ain’t that bad.” Am I? He glanced at the screen of his iPad. Over two hours ago, Lola stormed out of the house and ran to the cottage he’d been bugging her about.
Fuck. A string of doubts poked him, preventing him from jetting to his room, taking a shower and going to bed. Every five minutes, he turned his head and faced the door, wondering when she’d come to her senses and return home. His home, naturally. Not hers. Nightime had fallen, and it had to be an oven inside the cottage with no air conditioning.
Exhaling didn’t help. He surged to his feet and strode around the living room, then headed to the stairs. He caressed the stair rail, his fingers gliding over the polished oak. Pepper followed him, his paws scratching the wood floor, and whimpered. How would he be able to sleep if the damned dog scratched his door all night, looking for its crazy owner? Or worse, continued the annoying whimpering it’d been making on and off for the pasthour.
He clasped his palm around the top of the rail. The realization that, right or wrong, she had a valid point about his behavior sank in and destroyed any possibility of a good night’s sleep. A part of him clung to the stairs, to going upward, and not lookingback.
For a while, he thought Mel would be the perfect wife for him one day. After a failed marriage, why not settle for a good woman? A woman who shared his view of the world, love of the country life, and family values? A woman who didn’t bring out the worst in him… that didn’t make his emotions overrule his good sense just because she made his pulse race. A woman who didn’t make his pulse race every god damn second.
Emotions would never rule him again.
Then why did the insistent throbbing in his temples tell him otherwise? He lifted both hands and massaged the problem area, seeking relief. The real relief he’d feel once the divorce papers were consensually signed, and he’d earned the right to move forward. And now… to get his guilt-free sleep, he needed Lola to return to the house.
“I’ll get her,” he promised the dog before darting out of the house, slamming the door behindhim.
During the quarter of a mile path leading to the cottage, a thread of sweat coated his forehead. The humidity didn’t help, of course, but he blamed the stakes of the impeding conversation. How was he going to talk to Lola? They’d never been good at talking. He’d never been good at talking.
Besides, he hated to give her the upper hand. Shit. He should have thought this through. Diving head first in situations—conversations—without practice and thought was not his style. Especially where Lola was concerned.
He reached the entrance and brushed the old door handle that was dampened by humidity. Sweat trickled from the back of his neck down his shoulders. Too late to change his mind. With frogs and crickets buzzing in the background, he swung the door open, and found her sitting on the floor, next to the wicker chair and coffee table, surrounded by dozens of boxes, big and small. Some closed, someopen.
“What are you doing here?” She rose to her feet, arms folded, determination lighting her dark eyes. A cloud of dust filtered through the air, and he coughed.
“What the heck are you doing? It’s miserable in here.” He wiped the sheen from his forehead.
A pattern of sweat started on her face and traveled down her neck, wetting the top of her light green shirt, and disheveling her hair. Still, she was hotter than the room temperature. But it didn’t matter. Her looks would only push him into the abyss at this point.
“I thought I’d get started on going through Daddy’s boxes. I also couldn’t take one more moment of listening to your hypocrisy.” The pang of sadness in her voice made his chest contract.
He stared deep into her inquisitive eyes, and a wish to shake off the sensation surging through him. The hum sweeping over him. “You just drive me crazy sometimes.” Putting it mildly.
She shrugged.
I suck atthis.
He scratched his head, giving his fidgety fingers something to do. The sigh he let out slowly filled the static of the room—her eyes held his, without wavering. A trace of vulnerability flicked in them, provoking a lump to grow in his throat.
She stepped forward, letting her arms drop to her sides as if they weighed loads. “We don’t have to be at each other’s throats every second, Jack. There’s another F we haven’t tried besides fighting and fucking.”
“What?” he managed to say casually, hiding the riling up of his nerves at the mere mention of what they’ddone.
“We could be friends.”
“Friends,” he repeated, having a harder time pronouncing it than a foreignword.
“Yes.” She fanned herself, the evidence she was turning into a burnt toast. “Until one of us gets their way, most likely me, we have to find a common ground and respect each other.”
Friends. The idea sounded stupid, but he could no longer deal with the spikes in his blood pressure because of her. And like her other botched ideas, who knew how long this one would last? Just in case, and to prevent yet another fight, he decided to agree. “Okay.” He stretched out his hand, which she took without hesitation. He clasped her hand with his, and the businesslike handshake he’d planned turned into a touch searing him to the bones. She started to let go first, the tip of her fingers trembling as they glided over his skin. Until… she withdrew herhand.
“Great.” After a snappy clap, she perched her hands on her waist. “Now that we’re friends, I might need your signature to get the zoning permit for my B&B.”
Of course she had an ulterior motive. A cold shiver ran down his spine. The upside of her one sided friendship was he’d be remembering her manipulative personality front and center. “You mean the B&B I don’t want you to open?” He was pleased at how lighthearted he sounded. How could he not mention it though? Even if they got along— they both wanted different things. He wanted to buy her share, and she wanted to open the B&B and have a shot at buying his. If that happened, his issue of needing the river crossing this property to the other ones would still exist. Unless…
“I mean the one you told me you’d give me a chance to try. I can’t get all the paperwork in order if both owners don’tsign.”
He scratched his chin. “I don’t know, Lola. This so-called friendship seems a bit one sided.” He’d be damned if he gave her something without getting something in return… and he knew exactly what he wanted. “I’ll sign under one condition.”
