Caught Between a Lie and True Love (Caught Between series Book 1) (22 page)

So she focused on the Mayor’s race and her granddaughter.

According to the latest coffee shop poll, Jeb was beating the pants off Brody. Smug, Matilda left the coffee shop and walked the short distance home. Once she reached her street, she decided to rub Brody's nose in the numbers. But as she entered his yard, walked up to his front door, and raised her hand to knock, Hope’s voice came through the screen door.

“Grandma left a bunch of messages.
Again
.”

Brody voice drifted on the breeze. “You should call her back.”

“
You
call her back.”

“She’s your grandma. She doesn’t want to talk to me, she wants to talk to you.”

The sound of messages being deleted from the answering machine was clear as a bell. “She’s always trying to get me to try on my mom’s old clothes.”

“Why not do it? You’d make her happy.”

“Not interested, Dad.”

“She’s your grandma, Hope. She misses your mom. You’re all she has left.”

“She smells funny, too.”

Matilda let her arm drop to her side. She took a single step back, then another, until she stumbled down the steps and around to the driveway where she stopped and forced herself to breathe.

In and out.

Like she’d been doing all of her life.

Hope had called that man
dad
. While Matilda had been busy trying to get Harry’s attention, her granddaughter had formed a relationship with the man who’d destroyed Matilda’s daughter. How long would it take for him to destroy her granddaughter?

Across the alley, she saw Delores open her back door to let in the morning breeze, and she headed that way.

They’d had an agreement and Delores wasn’t holding up her part of the bargain. She was supposed to convince Brody that he didn’t want his daughter.

As she reached the door and grabbed the handle to let herself in, the younger woman marched regally up and down the hallway, head held high to support the a bridal headpiece and veil pinned into her hair. She was muttering what sounded like, “The moment I marry Brody, Hope is going to a boarding school.”

Matilda stopped breathing and pressed her ear to the screen door.

“I don’t care what that old bat Matilda says. She’s too old to take care of a girl Hope’s age. Besides, Brody would never let her have the twit. But boarding school I could get him to agree on.”

Matilda backed down the steps, careful not to make a sound. She scurried home, ran into her house, and slammed the front door shut behind her. Leaning back against the cool wood, she let the tears fall.

She’d trusted Delores and Delores had played her for a fool. Somehow, she’d make her pay, but first she had to focus on Hope.

A knock on the door interrupted her pity party. She swiped at the tears, checked her face in the mirror, and decided she didn’t look any different than she normally did. Old and ancient. Ready to be retired.

Maybe Harry was right.

Pulling open the door just the slightest bit, she peeked around the edge and saw Jeb on the other side of the screen.

“Good morning, sweet thing. I brought you coffee. Double cream. Double double sugar.”

“Go away.”

He leaned his head closer to the screen, squinting as though to get a better look at her. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” She released a breath and let her shoulders sag. “Just a little family problem.”

“I have a good ear, Matilda, and a strong shoulder to lean on.”

The tears welled up in her eyes again, and she looked away, blinking furiously to hold them at bay.

The screen door squeaked open. “Let me in. Talk to me.”

She backed up and allowed him entrance. She did need someone to talk to, someone to tell her side of the story to, someone who would support her.

Even if he thought her idea was perfectly idiotic.

It should’ve been Harry offering her solace, but the man had proven he was selfish and a jackass.

She took the cup from Jeb’s hand and led him to the couch, where she sat down and sipped at the strong, sweet brew.

Jeb handed her a tissue. “Tell me what happened, honey.”

“Oh, Jeb,” she sighed. She leaned forward, opened the drawer in the coffee table, pulled out two coasters, and set them side by side on the wood surface. Setting down the cup in her hands, she took a moment to wipe at her eyes and blow her nose. With another sigh, she peered at him from the corner of her eye. “I must look a mess.”

“You look beautiful, even when you cry.”

He was so sweet and gentle and kind.

She tucked the used tissue in her dress pocket and leaned back against the couch.

Their shoulders touched.

Desire, urgent and distracting, raced through her body. She ignored it as best she could. “I stopped by the coffee shop this morning, heard you were up in the polls, and wanted to share it with you. Instead, I found myself at Brody's front step.”

He laughed, a soft soothing rumble that jumbled her insides and threatened to scatter her thoughts. “You went there to gloat, didn’t you?”

Her face heated. “You must think I’m a terrible person.”

He set his coffee cup down and clasped one of her hands in both of his. “I think you’re adorable.”

Her skin tingled where her hand made contact with his. Some instinct told her to pull away and break contact, but the pleasure of making body contact with someone else silenced the little voice in her head, and she stayed where she was.

“Before I could knock, I heard Brody and Hope talking. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Her voice grew small. “And she thinks I smell.”

Jeb leaned into her, pressed his nose against her neck, and inhaled. His breath whispered across the bare flesh. “You smell pretty good to me. What’s that perfume you’re wearing?”

“I’m not wearing perfume.”

“Ah, eau de Matilda.” He inhaled again and shivers of delight pressed into her abdomen and lower. Then he straightened, still maintaining contact with their hands. “She’s a teenager, Matilda. They don’t like anyone over the age of twenty-one.”

“She called him
dad
.”

“And so she should.”

“But—”

With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his arms and she let him. She needed human contact because she’d never felt so alone as she did right now.

As she snuggled against Jeb, Harry popped into her thoughts and she couldn’t help but compare the two men.

They may have been comparable in size, but where Harry was hard because he worked out daily, Jeb was soft. In the shoulders, in the chest, in the arms.

But he was here, right now when she needed him. She knew he was attracted to her. She knew it wouldn’t take much to convince him to take their relationship to the next level.

Did she want that? Would she feel like she was betraying Harry, like she’d believed she’d betrayed her late husband when she first took up with Harry?

Yet when Jeb caressed one hand down her back, she couldn’t suppress the shiver that arched through her body.

He whispered in her ear. “Am I being too forward?”

Harry was a neanderthal in comparison. He would never have asked for permission. Instead, he would have stormed her defenses, overcome her objections, and kissed her until she screamed yes.

Jeb, on the opposite side of the scale, was thoughtful and considerate. He’d probably make sure she was sexually satisfied
before
he sought his own release.

She turned her face into his neck and kissed a path toward his mouth. “Make love to me, Jeb.”

He inhaled sharply, obviously surprised by her response. His arms tightened around her briefly, then he relaxed and turned his head and met her mouth with his own.

Their breaths mingled and the sexual awakening she’d denied since she’d walked out on Harry opened like a cavern. Greedy with desire, she pressed closer and reached for his crotch.

As she cupped his erection, she felt his sharp intake of breath against her lips. And then he laughed softly, breaking the tension and their kiss in one smooth move.

He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his body. “Slow down, honey. We have all day.”

“It’s been a long time.”

His eyes turned to liquid lava. “For me, too. I’ve wanted you since I saw you standing on the ladder, raking those leaves out of your gutter. I’ve thought of little else but getting you naked and into bed.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and the image of Harry, naked and hard and poised for entry, washed through her thoughts and heightened her desire.

But she was with Jeb now and she was pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate her fantasizing about another man.

Without looking at him, she grasped his hand and pulled him up after her, leading him across the living room, down the hallway, and into her bedroom.

The drapes were closed—thank God—and the glow of the sun in the sky illuminated the window and gave the room just enough light so they wouldn’t have to operate blindly.

Reaching the bed, she turned to face him, meeting him eye to eye as she popped open the buttons on her blouse.

As the material opened into a wide V, his gaze skimmed down her face, past her neck, toward her chest.

She closed her eyes, unable to watch him look at her, and then she felt the warmth of his hands as he cupped her breasts through the material of her bra.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said as he slid the material off one breast.

She felt his hot mouth against her skin, anticipated his tongue against her nipple. When he nipped lightly at the rosebud, she had to swallow back the scream of desire working up her throat.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered instead. The moment the words were out of her mouth, she forced her eyes open and met Jeb’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I know it’s you here with me.”

He brushed her nipple with his thumb, then tucked her breast back into the cup of her bra, and began doing up the buttons on her blouse. “You’re not ready for this, Mattie.”

This time she didn’t correct the use of her name because she couldn’t say a word in defense.

As she watched him turn and walk out of the bedroom, straightening his clothes as he departed, she swallowed back the urge to scream for him to come back and finish with what they’d started.

Damn you, Harry Malone
, she silently cursed.

Because of him, she was hornier and hungrier than she’d ever been in her life.

And because of him, she’d just insulted the only man who’d been willing to scratch her itch.

Damn Harry. If she wasn’t such a lady, she’d take care of the job herself.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The flowers had arrived first, a dozen long stemmed soft pink roses in an exquisite crystal vase.

And the card had simply been signed with a
B
.

Paige touched the baby soft petals and inhaled the sweet fragrance.

Something was up.

Ever since yesterday, Brody had been in whispered conversations with Starr and Hope and Jeb and Lisa. Even Gram was involved, and whatever was going on had taken the starch out of her normal testiness.

There were mouthwatering smells coming out of the kitchen, with Lisa and Gram working in—almost—harmony.

But no matter how much Paige poked and pried at her family, not a single one of them would spill the beans.

And in-between all the not-quite-secret preparations, Lisa had been busy typing at the kitchen, using the old manual typewriter that she’d found up in the attic. Paige desperately wanted to ignore her, like Lisa had ignored her for years, but she was curious.

Had her mother really taken her advice? Was she really writing?

Somehow, despite the growing activity in the kitchen, the older woman managed to slip in and out of writing mode, and the pages began to pile up on the table beside her.

Paige stopped behind her.

Lisa covered the paper in the typewriter with both hands, and laughed nervously. “Oh, you don’t want to read this. I’m just vomiting on the page.”

She moved around so she could see her mother’s face. “Vomit on the page?”

“It’s a technique I read about. Whatever’s in here—,” she pointed to her head, then held her hands up in the air and wiggled her fingers. “—is coming out here. Which is why I decided to use this old typewriter instead of a computer. No going back to fix anything.”

“I wondered about that.” Paige glanced down at the sheets of paper turned facedown. “Since everyone refuses to talk about what’s really going on around here, can I at least read what you’ve written?”

Lisa covered her heart with one hand. “I would be honored if you would, but let me finish first. That way if you tell me it’s awful, I won’t be tempted to burn the pile.” She squinted down at the papers. “Maybe. I dunno.” She buried her face in her hands and whispered, “It’s awful, Paige, I know it is. What was I thinking that I could write anything?”

Paige patted the other woman’s shoulder, then went to get a cup of coffee. “Just keep at it. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“Mmmm, we’ll see.”

There was silence behind her, but this time it was a comfortable silence. The kind of silence that friends and confidants shared. Feeling pretty good about the changes in her relationship with Lisa, she turned to go outside to see if she could find Gram and Starr. “I’ll leave you alone so you can get back to work.”

“Wait.”

With one hand on the doorknob, Paige stopped.

Lisa pulled the sheet of paper from the typewriter roll and placed it upside down on the pile with the others. “You’re a good mom, Paige.”

“Thank you.”

As she rolled in a new sheet, she sighed heavily. “I’m a terrible mother. From the moment I discovered I was pregnant, I knew I would be. I’m selfish and inconsiderate, even though I try so hard not to be. But Brody is proof I’m a terrible person.”

Confused, Paige stared at her mother. “What are you talking about?”

Lisa tapped her long fingernails on the edge of the table and raised her gaze to Paige’s face. “I want to apologize to you for flirting with Brody. If I’d realized you were in love with him, I never would have put the moves on him.”

In love with Brody
?

Smiling gently, Lisa pushed to her feet. “Do you want to talk about it?”