Geronimo (A Songbird Novel) (8 page)

I snickered and watched him leave, my erratic heart desperately trying to find its rhythm. Troy’s words sank into me, working like a soft balm to take the heat from my fears and maybe help me believe that there was room enough for two.

Chapter Twelve

Harry

Jane left ten days ago and it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I was bloody miserable without her. She was in my dreams at night. Memories haunted me while I worked. It didn’t help that I couldn’t stop playing “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.” I’d become obsessed with the song. It fueled my memories of her, and I was trapped in this vicious cycle of torment.

Even buttering my toast for breakfast, I remembered how she liked to spread her jam all the way to the edges. It was like watching an artist paint, the way she’d glide the knife over her bread and get it just right. She’d then cut two perfect triangles, and I’d be mesmerized by her mouth as she ate. Thank God it’d been summer and I was able to hide behind a pair of dark shades.

Did she sense me watching her?

Did she know how much she’d really captured me?

I guessed not.

She hadn’t tried to call or track me down, and I didn’t feel right about pursuing her. I didn’t want to be some kind of stalker.

We’d made a deal:
Adios. Thanks for a good time. Go our separate ways.

No one warned me she’d linger after it was done.

But I guess I should have known better. Tammy was still nestled into a corner of my heart, wedged in tight and not going anywhere.

With a heavy sigh, I walked up Mum’s front path and curved around the rose bushes. Since turning our house into a bed and breakfast, I’d gotten into the habit of using the back door. Guests would sometimes read in the living room, and I didn’t like to stride through and disturb them.

As soon as I’d moved to London for design school, Mum had reformed our house. Dad had re-entered our lives by that stage. Mum refused to take him back, in spite of all his groveling, but they seemed to have found this weird kind of happiness between them. He lived a block away in a tiny studio apartment and spent most days at the house doing maintenance, garden work, and being the husband he should have been fifteen years ago.

I nudged the door open with my arm and was welcomed with the smell of roasting beef, frying onions, and Mum’s mashed potatoes. Peas and carrots were boiling in the saucepan on the stove, and I had to give in to a little smile. I loved Mum’s roasts.

“Darling.” Mum turned from stirring the gravy, her round cheeks red from the heat. “How are you?”

“Good.” I pecked her cheek, staying low so she could give me a proper kiss on my dimple.

She patted my cheek. “You need to shave.”

“It’s called stubble, Mum.” I ran my fingers through my short bristles. “It makes me handsome.”

“It makes you spiky and un-kissable.”

I made a face behind her back, pulling a beer from the fridge as Dad wandered in.

“Hello, my boy. How was Spain?” He slapped my arm as he walked past, nicking the beer out of my hand. I rolled my eyes and opened the fridge for another one. It was actually the perfect excuse to avoid the question.

I’d told Nan everything, of course, but I didn’t really want to dish it out to my parents. They wouldn’t get it the same way Nan did.

I opened my beer and threw the cap at the rubbish bin. It bounced off the rim and landed near Mum’s feet. With a sigh, I grabbed it and threw it away before Mum told me off.

“So, Spain good?”

Of course he didn’t drop it.

“Yeah, Dad. Spain was great. Good weather. Great food. It was fun.”

“Well, if you were that girl’s tour guide, of course it was.” Mum winked and smiled at me, her eyes skimming past Dad before returning to the gravy. 

They shared a look I could easily interpret—worry for their youngest child. A boy named Harry who couldn’t seem to find his way back into love.

I glared between them, but Mum just gave me a rosy smile and asked, “How’s Nan?”

“Yeah, she’s doing well.” My voice was tight to match my smile.

“She missed you while you were away, but Renee popped over with the kids to entertain her.” Mum paused, the way she always did before telling me something I needed to hear but probably didn’t
want
to hear. “She did quite well without you, Harry.”

Meaning: you’re a grown man. Stop using your grandmother as an excuse not to join the world again.

I patted Mum on the shoulder and avoided responding by following Dad out of the kitchen.

“So, why am I meeting these guests for dinner?” I took a swig of my beer and perched on the arm of the sofa.

“They’re old friends from when you were a kid. Renee remembers them. Anyway, they moved to London and are just down for a catch-up. Mum wanted a family dinner, so here we all are.” I looked around the empty living room and Dad chuckled. “Here we all
will be
, if your sister ever gets here.”

“Apparently having children makes you late to everything.”

“Renee’s been running late her whole life.” Mum bustled in with a basket of freshly baked dinner rolls. “I should have told her to be here at six.”

“It’s all right, Mum. Dad and I can keep the guests happy while we wait.”

“Well, that’s good to hear!” a voice boomed from the stairwell, followed by a hearty laugh.

I stood and put on a smile, extending my hand when my father introduced me to Mr. and Mrs. Fairweather.

“Look at you. You’re like a pine tree.” She chortled, nudging her husband with her elbow. “I remember when you were this high with mud on your knees and a rip in your shirt. You were the scruffiest little munchkin.”

“Yes, well not much has changed.” Mum appeared again, winking at her friend, who immediately offered to help her in the kitchen.

I raised my bottle and asked Mr. Fairweather, “Can I get you a beer?”

“Let me do that.” Dad disappeared, leaving me to chat with the older man on my own.

“So…” I tipped back on my heels. “Are you retired like Dad…or just on holiday?”

“Retired last year after a long and illustrious career at the American Embassy.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Feels strange after working there for over twenty years. End of an era.”

“The American Embassy?” I nearly choked out the words, my heart picking up pace as my brain computed what he’d just said.

“Yes, in Kensington.”

“Twenty years?” I raised my eyebrows, hope flying through me like rockets.

“That’s right.”

“I don’t suppose you, ah, ever worked with a…Mr. Buford?”

“Reggie Buford? Yes! I remember him well.” The man grinned. “He left maybe eight, nine years ago, took his British wife and daughter back to America with him.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding so hard I could barely ask the question. “I don’t suppose you know where.”

“Los Angeles, I think it was. Not sure if they’re still there, but…he was a good man. We were sad to see him leave.”

“Los Angeles,” I repeated, no doubt sounding like a dumb fool.

“Yes.” Mr. Fairweather nodded, his thick eyebrows dipping as he stared at my face. “You all right there, son? You’re looking a little pale.”

I jerked up straight and forced a happy grin. “No, I’m fine. Would you excuse me?”

Dad strode in as I ducked out of the room. Their conversation turned to white noise as I shakily yanked out my phone and started a search.

I told myself I wasn’t going to do it, but meeting Mr. Fairweather was like a sign. I mean, fancy talking to a person who had actually worked with Jane’s father. Surely the fates wanted us together. I mean, didn’t they?

My phone had never worked so slowly as I waited for Safari to open. I started Googling
Jane Buford, LA
then quickly deleted the text and wrote
Georgiana Buford, LA.
The name was rare. I’d have a much better chance.

Nothing obvious popped.

There were a couple of Facebook pages with people who had names kind of similar but not quite the same. The surnames were different or the spelling wasn’t right.

Spelling!

Jane said her name was spelled differently.

Holding my breath, I tried again with
Georjana Buford, LA.

I got a hit.

One beautiful, glorious hit for a private school in Pasadena, LA—Strantham Academy. Following the Staff List link, I found a picture of Jane. Her red hair was combed back into a tight, neat ponytail, her green eyes were calm and emotionless, and she wasn’t smiling. I recognized her, but I didn’t.

I wondered if the photo was taken around the time of her non-marriage.

Browsing the website, I took a screenshot of the address before sliding the phone back into my pocket.

“We’re here! Sorry we’re late!” Renee burst through the door with her young tribe. “Oh, hello, Mr. Fairweather… Yes, I remember you. How nice to see you again.”

I walked into the living room as she kissed the man on both cheeks.

“Uncle Harry!” my nephew shouted, jumping over his sister to reach me. I hoisted him up in the air and then got tackled around the legs by his twin brother. “Oi!” I laughed, stumbling back and taking the scuffle away from sweet little Emeline, who was sucking her thumb and clinging to her mother’s skirt.

I tamed the boys relatively quickly, and they settled down after a barking order from their father.

“Sorry, Dad,” they mumbled in unison before shuffling over to the toy box.

Their father kept his stern face on until they were past him, and then he winked at me and grinned. I laughed and patted my back pocket. My phone was still tucked safely inside. My heart warred with my head as I decided what to do about Jane.

My nephews got busy building a wooden train track in the corner. Emmi toddled over to them and sat down, picking up a train and sucking on the wooden wheel.

Renee’s husband, Greg, leaned forward and whispered something in my sister’s ear, pointing out the children. She turned and watched the boys build their track around Emmi while she made excited squeals and flapped her arms. Renee laughed and gazed up at her husband. They shared a little moment before he kissed her, and I was struck by the beauty of it all.

That was what Tammy had wanted—a marriage, a family, a life together.

I’d refused, and lost her because of it.

I didn’t know exactly what Jane wanted, but as I stood there watching my sister’s family, I started to figure out what
I
wanted.

Jane.

I wanted to be with Jane.

To see her smile, hear her laughter, dive into an in-depth conversation about art, history, movies, travel…
Star Wars
.

I wanted to dance with her again.

I wanted to kiss her.

And whether she’d appreciate me turning up on her doorstep or not, I knew it was the only way to do it. I
had
to see her again. I had to tell her, to her face, how much she meant to me and how I wasn’t ready to let her go.

Chapter Thirteen

Jane

“Brandy, can I see you before you go, please?”

She huffed, her shoulders slumping forward as she let her peers pass her then headed over to my desk. I put on the kindest smile I could. I’d read her entire file, plus had another meeting with Troy. I hadn’t met her parents, but I had a decent picture of what was going on, and I could imagine how hard it must be for her.

“So.” I threaded my fingers together. “How’s your first week been?”

She gave me a blank glare and pursed her lips.

I inwardly winced but somehow managed to keep my smile intact. “Okay, look. I know you’re going through a tough time right now and school is probably the last place you want to be, but it’s safe here. And I just want you to know that if you need anything, I’m here for you. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me.” I glanced to her desk, then put my stern voice on. “Drawing artwork on your desktop would usually score you at least one lunchtime detention. I’m going to let this one slide if you agree not to do it again. I don’t want to send you to the principal’s office after only three days at school.”

She rolled her eyes, her pretty face dipping into a surly frown. “Fine. Whatever. Can I go now?”

I sighed. “Sure. Have a nice weekend.”

“Like that’ll happen.” She gave me a cynical frown before stalking out of the room, her thick boots thumping on the floor.

Resting my butt against my desk, I gazed across the empty space and crossed my arms. The kids had started midweek, and the three days had gone by in a flurry of welcome activities and pre-assessments. I glanced over my shoulder at the pile of grading I had to do. I was teaching English to grades six and seven, plus had a homeroom to manage. Brandy was in my homeroom as well as my seventh-grade English class. I could already sense she was going to make my year a tough one.

So far, she’d done nothing more than graffiti her desk. I walked over to it and ran my fingers into the deep groves. There was no picture, just jerky lines and deep loops. With a sigh, I shuffled back to the front of the room.

My shoes sounded loud in the empty space. As soon as I reached my desk, I flicked on my music and rested my phone in the corner. The soft tune “Wherever You Go” played over me while I reached for the sixth-grade summer vacation recounts and started assessing.

As I read over their summer stories, my mind kept traveling back to Europe and my perfect summer. It had been the most amazing two weeks of my life. It felt wrong to think that. My best moments should have been when Blake was alive. I had so many happy memories with him.

But those two weeks in Europe…

My lips curled with a smile as I recaptured different moments with Harry…and his sweet smile and charming sense of humor. Those kind eyes. Those strong arms.

“I miss him,” I whined, dropping my pen and wishing I’d had the courage to acknowledge what he’d whispered to me when we hugged goodbye.

But I shouldn’t have missed him.

I couldn’t pursue it.

It didn’t make sense! We had two very separate lives. Long distance never worked. I just had to let him go and move on. At least he was alive. I wasn’t mourning a loss, just missing a magical time in my life.

That was all.

Shuffle play selected “Wherever You Go” again as if it were trying to tell me something.

I grabbed my phone and went to skip it but then changed my mind, suffering through the song and lamenting the fact Harry wouldn’t be following me anywhere, because I ignored his sweet words and cut him off before anything more could develop.

He was probably getting on with his life, working hard and charming some other lucky lady with his sweet smile and adorable sense of humor…those hard abs and strong biceps…

Snatching the next recount off the pile, I scowled at the paper and forced myself to read it. I spent the next hour and a half trying to read, assess…and convince myself that I was right about Harry and our Europe utopia.

Needless to say, by the time I’d finished grading, I was in a foul mood and pretty much depressed. It was nearly five o’clock on a Friday afternoon, and all I had to look forward to was going home to an empty apartment and cooking a meal for one.

Then what?

A romantic chick-flick?

No, thank you.

But watching some awesome sci-fi wasn’t going to make me feel better either. It’d just make me miss Harry all over again.

The list I’d started to motivate me out of my rut sat by my bed waiting for me to cross off some more, but I wasn’t sure I could do it without Harry.

Pulling down the blinds, I did a final scan of my classroom before locking up and heading to the parking lot. I couldn’t help thinking I was right back to square one, except now I had no engagement ring. I still sensed Blake with me, but was that more because I was willing him there? Desperately trying to cling to something that was passing?

So where did that leave me?

Alone again.

Blake-less.

Harry-less.

Joy-less.

I was worried I’d fall into robot mode again, and I could not let that happen. I couldn’t do that to my students again, to my family and friends.

A dull headache started in the back of my brain as worries skittered through me. The hallways were vacant, making the clip of my heels echo off the empty walls. I was usually one of the last to leave, which never normally bothered me, but that day it just felt like another reminder of how lonely and pathetic I was.

Lifting my chin, I put on a brave face as I rounded the corner into the main entrance. If Principal Rogers still happened to be there, I didn’t want him reading my mood. Instead, I was surprised to find Gabby still on reception.

“Oh, hi!” She nearly giggled. “I was just about to call you through the intercom.”

“Hi.” I gave her a confused frown. “You’re working kind of late for a Friday.” I leaned my arm against the counter while her round, merry face tinged red.

“Yes, well, the beginning of the school year can be a very busy time.” Her gaze darted over my shoulder like she was trying to tell me something.

My eyebrows dipped into a V and I started to ask, “What were you going to call me ab…?” The words evaporated as I turned and spotted Harry standing in the waiting area. His hair was tousled, his whiskers a little longer than normal.

He flashed me that classic smile of his, showing off his slightly crooked front teeth and filling me with a sense of warmth I couldn’t even start to deny.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hi.” He waved then tucked his hand into his pocket. “Jane.” He said my name like it tasted sweet on his lips.

“What are you doing here?”

I knew. I mean, of course I knew, but it made sense to ask for some reason.

“I’m sorry to just show up like this.” He swallowed, running a hand through his messy curls. “I’m not a stalker, I promise. It’s just my dad knows a guy who knows your dad and we got chatting. LA came up and I thought, well, how many Georjana Buford’s could there possibly be in LA? And there’s one.” He held up his finger. “Just one.”

I think I stopped breathing for a moment. All I could do was gape at him.

He was there. I thought I’d never see him again…and he was standing right there.

“I know we said adios and we’re supposed to go our separate ways, but the thing is, I can’t stop thinking about you. And I just had to come and see you before I turned away for good. I just had to try…”

I pressed my lips together, emotions raging through me so thick and fast, it was a struggle to find the right words. Blinking a couple of times, I let out this weak, breathy laugh then sputtered, “You—you tracked me down and flew all the way here on the off-chance that I was lying when I pretended not to hear you say ‘I think I’m in love with you’?”

His eyes narrowed as he caught up with what I’d just confessed.

“Right.” I bobbed my head, still kind of dazed.

“Right.” He repeated my squeak in a deep voice that sent tendrils of desire racing through my core. I glanced over my shoulder. Gabby was leaning in, listening to our every word with an excited grin.

If I wasn’t careful, the staffroom on Monday was going to be a hotbed of gossip.

I gave her a weak smile, already knowing I was too late to stop that from happening. But she didn’t have to see everything.

I transferred my weak grin to Harry, who gave me a doubtful frown.

“So…am I keeping the backpack on or slipping it off to hug you?”

I swallowed and dipped my head. “Keep it on.”

When I looked back up, his sad eyes nearly tore my heart out.

I quickly stammered, “But…f-follow me.”

Tipping my head back toward my classroom, I left Gabby behind. She wouldn’t be ballsy enough to follow us, and I didn’t want her watching me hug Harry either. I couldn’t wait to wrap my arms around him, which was why I was walking him back to my classroom rather than leading him to my car. My apartment was a half-hour drive away, and in rush hour, I wouldn’t be able to feel his arms around me until after six.

I couldn’t wait that long.

He didn’t say anything as he followed me down the deserted hallways. I walked quickly, my heels sounding like machine gun fire. His sneakers squeaked on the tiles behind me.

With trembling fingers I unlocked my door and held it open for him. He gave me another sad, uncertain smile as he walked into the room.

I shut the door and locked it before turning to watch him scan my classroom. With the blinds down, the light was dim, but I didn’t want to switch on the lights and alert anyone to our presence. Morris, the janitor, would have done his final lock-up round already, but still. He probably wouldn’t have left the school yet.

“Um…” My heart thundered as I tucked my bangs behind my ear and slowly approached him. “Sorry about that. The school secretary, bless her, is a total gossip and I just didn’t want her to…”

Harry turned to face me and my words dried up.

I couldn’t believe he was there. He’d come all that way because he couldn’t stop thinking about me.

The thought made a smile grow on my lips. Nerves made me bite at it and scratch the side of neck. Harry’s gaze drank me in as he slowly slid the pack off his shoulders.

It thumped onto the floor and jolted me into action.

I surged across the room, grabbing his face and kissing him with everything I had. His strong arms encircled my waist, lifting me off my feet as his tongue lashed against mine. Our kisses were hungry and loud as whatever pent-up passion we’d had locked within us could no longer be contained.

He lowered me to my feet, his hand traveling up my back and holding the nape of my neck. I deepened the kiss even more—somehow it was possible—yet I still couldn’t kiss him hard enough. He moaned into my mouth, igniting the dormant embers within me. They sparked and flamed as I tugged at his shirt.

“I’ve missed you too,” I murmured between desperate kisses, yanking off his shirt and throwing it onto the ground. Running my hands up his naked chest, I kissed his pecs, then lightly sucked all the way up to his shoulders. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“All the time,” he puffed, flicking up the bottom of my summer dress and palming my thigh. “It was crazy.”

I giggled into his mouth. “Perfect for us, then.”

His laughter hit my neck, sending my senses into overdrive as he kissed the tender skin. He lifted me off the floor and spun me around so I could sit on my desk. This was when being a neat-freak came in handy. My desk was basically bare, allowing plenty of room for sexy little trysts. Not that I’d ever had one on my desk.

Giddy excitement made me smile as I wrapped my legs around his hips and my breasts squished against his rock-hard chest.

I was already pulsing with desire, but it skyrocketed the second my wet cotton briefs brushed against his erection.

Common sense left me for good at that point.

I completely forgot that I was in my classroom. It didn’t even occur to me that having sex on my desk wasn’t the most natural thing in the world. My frantic hands went for his trousers, unbuttoning them and yanking them down. His impressive manhood, so hard yet smooth, brushed against my thigh, and I nearly came on the spot.

It’d been over a year since I’d had sex, and Harry’s touch ignited me.

“Please tell me you have protection,” I whimpered into his mouth.

Pulling away from me, he bent down and dug into the pants around his ankles, rising with a foil-wrapped square and a triumphant smile.

“I was being optimistic.”

I laughed and snatched it off him, unwrapping it with my teeth and sliding it on. His breaths were heavy in my ear, sending even more sparks flying through me. The second he was wrapped, his lips hit mine again. The kiss was the most intense yet, his hot tongue plunging into my mouth as he held my head with a trembling hand.

I raised my hips, bumping against him with an urgent need that was borderline embarrassing. He snickered and pulled back, removing my underwear with a painful slowness. His eyes were on mine as he flicked the panties off my ankle and dropped them to the floor. Lightly brushing my skin with the backs of his fingers, he drew a line from my knees to my center. His hazel eyes were bright with desire as he ran his fingers around my opening then plunged inside.