Mr. February (12 page)

“I don’t want to get hurt,” Jillian admitted. She let out a strangled laugh. “Get hurt? I’m already there.”

“So you
are
in love with him.”

“As it turns out, I have been for weeks.” A ladybug landed on her thigh. Weren’t they supposed to symbolize good luck?

“What makes you so sure he doesn’t love you back?”

“Because when I admitted I have feelings for him, he reminded me that he doesn’t do love.”

The ladybug spread her wings and flew off, taking her luck with her.
Figures.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I knew the score going in.”

“Did you at least enjoy being together?”

“A lot.”

“That’s something, right? Have you heard from him?”

“No, and I don’t expect to. I think he got spooked by my confession.”

“You never know. It’s only been four days. Give him time to process the whole thing.”

“Okay, but I won’t hold my breath.”

A siren wailed in the distance.

“I can hear that through the phone,” Shannon said.

Chelsea stepped through the door in her PJs. At her side, Pooh began to howl. “I think it’s coming from Rafe’s property,” she said, twisting her hands together.

Oh, dear God,
JR.
Jillian’s heart stuttered in her chest. “I have to go, Shannon. I’ll call you later.”

Chapter Sixteen

‡

T
he fire, which had started in the engine of the bulldozer, was out, leaving a nasty burnt smell in the air. After tethering Calvin to a nearby tree, Rafe, Hank, and Gus chatted with the firefighters who had taken care of the problem in short order. This crew worked a different shift, and they didn’t get the chance to fraternize often.

A few yards away, Zach shook his head at the blackened of blackened equipment and chewed JR out.

As the firefighters stowed their equipment and prepared to leave, Calvin barked in excitement.

Rafe turned to see Chelsea and Jillian moving quickly across the field. As they drew closer, Chelsea ran straight for JR. As soon as she reached him, she hugged him.

Jillian hung back, but the relief on her face was hard to ignore. Once again, her brother had caused her grief.

But, then, so had Rafe.

“I’m fine,” JR said, eying Zach and untangling Chelsea’s arms from his waist.

With that, Jillian joined the couple and Zach. Rafe and his buds followed suit in time to hear her question. “What happened?”

JR hemmed and hawed, stumbling around the story, causing Rafe and Zach to swap incredulous looks.

“I’m not about to explain your shenanigans to your girl and your sister,” JR’s boss told the kid. “That’s on you.”

JR shifted nervously. “Uh, Zach left to scope out a future project he wants to bid on. He was gone for a while. He didn’t come back until around the time the fire trucks showed up. When you’re all alone, digging up tree roots is boring. I decided to spice things up a little, by putting the pedal to the metal. Like a race car driver. I was only fooling around—dozers can’t go very fast.”

He smiled, but when no one else did, he quickly sobered. “Somehow the front of the dozer ended up in one of the tree-root holes. I drove backward and forward and backward again, trying and trying to maneuver the thing onto level land. Instead, I created a deep rut I couldn’t get out of. I must’ve ground the engine a little too hard. It caught fire.” He grimaced. “I guess I really fuc—messed up.”

Zach looked disgusted. “You can say that again.”

Tight-lipped, JR scrubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll get my stuff and leave.”

“Stay right where you are,” Rafe ordered. The kid froze. “I need to have a word with Zach. Then you and I will talk.”

Hank cleared his throat. “Gus and I are going to head back, hit the showers, and grab lunch at The Rogue.”

The popular Denny’s style restaurant served good food and killer curly fries. Wishing he could go with them, Rafe nodded. “Catch you later.”

He motioned for Zach to follow him out of earshot from everyone else. They conferred and then rejoined JR.

“Every job has its boring moments,” Zach said. “But that’s no excuse for what you did. I ought to fire your ass.” JR hung his head. “Would, too, if not for Rafe and the insurance I carry on the dozer.”

With Rafe paying JR’s wages, the tree-removal expert had little choice but to keep the kid on.

“I convinced Zach to give you another chance,” Rafe said. “On two conditions. One, from now on, if you’re tempted do anything you’re not supposed to, no matter what the situation, consult Zach or me. Otherwise, don’t do it. And, two, I get to teach you how to do mindful observation, the mental trick I mentioned a while back.”

JR started to argue, but Rafe silenced him with a look. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, sir.”

Rafe extended his arm and shook hands with JR.

Next, JR shook Zach’s hand. He frowned. “How are we supposed to work without a bulldozer?”

“A loaner is on the way,” Zach explained. “While we wait, we’ll deal with the tree roots you dug up earlier.”

“Okay. What about mind thing, Rafe?”

“Let’s meet here tomorrow, before you start work. It’ll mean an earlier morning than usual for you.”

“But tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“Yep.”

After a brief hesitation, JR gave a grudging nod. He murmured something to Chelsea, then engulfed her in a warm hug that made Rafe’s heart squeeze.

JR joined Zach, and they tromped toward several massive tree roots.

“My brother has no idea how lucky he is to still have this job,” Jillian told Rafe in a voice only he could hear.

“He’s not a bad kid, just needs some guidance and to think things through. The focusing tools I’m going to teach him will help. I’m going to push him to go for his GED, too.”

It was good to see her soft smile. For some reason, he had to swallow past a lump in his throat. “I doubt Zach will hire him again, but the owner of the construction company building the house might. I’ll ask.”

“You’d do that after what he pulled?”

“He’s been showing up on time and works hard. That counts for something. How are you?”

Her gaze flicked away, to something over his shoulder. “Between prepping for the last pottery class and getting ready for the Arts Festival, I’m busy. You?”

“Doing okay.” Rafe kicked the dirt with the toe of his running shoe.

After a brief pause, Jillian brushed her hands together, as if she’d had enough of their conversation. “I’d better get back the studio.”

With a hollow feeling Rafe didn’t understand, he watched her join Chelsea at the edge of the field and walk away.

*

Ten days later, spring was in full swing. Tooling along with the Beemer’s top down at eight-fifteen a.m., Rafe smelled the flowers and heard the rumble of heavy machinery even before he pulled onto the dirt lot near his property.

Having just come off a crazy busy forty-eight-hour shift, he needed to collect Calvin from the dog-sitter’s, go home and grab some Zs before heading to Adam’s to help install a fence around the back yard. But Tim Marx, the builder Rafe had hired, had broken ground yesterday, and Rafe couldn’t wait to take a look.

Half a dozen vehicles filled the lot, as well as the trailer Marx dubbed his traveling office. Rafe pulled to a stop and exited the Beemer. As he strode through the trees, he noted an idle grader waiting to level the area Zach and JR had cleared. Men in hard hats were stacking two-by-fours, while an excavator scooped dirt from a rapidly growing hole soon to become the foundation and basement.

At last, his own house on his own land. A dream come true that should have had him jubilant. Instead, Rafe felt even worse than when he’d met with Sonia to review the blueprints.

Chalk that up to a nasty case of woman blues. He missed Jillian—her company, her contagious smile, her laughter. But he couldn’t give her the love she wanted and deserved, and needed to keep his distance.

He walked around, searching for Tim Marx. Instead, he spotted JR. Rafe had convinced the builder to hire the kid on a trial basis. He ambled toward JR. “I’m looking for Tim.”

“He’s out, picking up supplies, but he should be back soon.”

Rafe nodded. “How’s it going?”

“This is only my second day, but okay, so far. I’m practicing those mind tricks. They help with the sore muscles. I won’t screw up this time.”

“I have faith in you.”

JR’s chest expanded. “Chelsea and I opened a bank account to put away money for our own place.”

He seemed to be growing up at last. Jillian must be relieved. “Good man. Did you think any more about your GED?”

“I called about it after work yesterday. There’s a class this summer I’ll probably sign up for.”

“Smart thinking.” Rafe clapped his shoulder. “Is your sister ready for the Arts Festival this weekend?”

“Finally. Miller and Chelsea are helping her load Miller’s truck right now.”

“Two days early?”

“You wouldn’t believe all the stuff she’s bringing. It’ll take hours to pack everything into the truck. She wants to go tomorrow so she and Chelsea can get the booth set up and open with a bang on Friday. Miller offered to sleep over. That way, they can leave first thing in the morning. Chelsea will follow them in Jill’s car.”

Stuck on the fact Miller would spend the night, Rafe paid no attention to the rest. “With you and Chelsea in the spare bedroom, where will Miller sleep?”

“Beats me. I don’t pry into my sister’s private life.”

According to JR, Jillian and Miller were friends. Now Rafe wondered whether their friendship included benefits.

The thought of her in bed with another man was too much. He let out an unhappy growl.

JR’s eyes widened. “Chill, Rafe. As I said before, Jill and Miller aren’t into each other that way. The living room couch makes into a bed. He’ll probably bunk there.”

Rafe could live with that.

“I don’t know why you care,” JR went on. “You say you aren’t into her.”

Rafe wasn’t supposed to be, not anymore.

JR’s eyes narrowed. “You
are
.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

Despite Rafe’s scowl, the smart aleck had the gall to grin. “Later.”

In a foul mood, Rafe stalked around, waiting for Tim. When the builder showed up some quarter of an hour later, Rafe spent all of two minutes talking to him before he grew antsy and left.

He knew exactly what he ought to do—forget Jillian and move on. But how in hell did he do that?

Chapter Seventeen

‡

A
round noon Thursday, Jillian, Chelsea, and Miller transferred the last of the crates from Miller’s truck to the booth where Jillian and Chelsea would spend their waking hours for the next three days.

Over a hundred artists and craftspeople milled around the fairgrounds, chatting with each other and working to create tempting and welcoming spaces for tomorrow’s opening day. Jillian and Miller greeted old friends and made new ones. Chelsea fit in well and seemed to enjoy meeting everyone.

Forty-something Miller, tall, with thinning hair and smile creases around his eyes, checked his watch. “I’d best get back to Guff’s Lake. I promised my assistant manager some of the afternoon off.”

“It’s lunchtime. Let me buy you a sandwich first,” Jillian offered. Nearby, an enterprising restaurant had set up a food stand for hungry artists.

Miller shook his head. “You sprang for dinner last night, fed me this morning, and filled my truck’s gas tank. That’s enough. I’ll grab something on the way out of town.”

“Okay. Thanks for lugging everything down here and helping us unload it. I owe you.”

“Just keep sending those pottery students my way for their supplies.” Miller kissed her cheek. “May you sell out and come home with a bunch of new orders.”

Jillian held up her crossed fingers.

“You’ve been talking about and working on this festival since I first met you,” Chelsea commented as Miller strode toward the parking lot and disappeared. “Now it’s finally here… I guess I thought you’d be more jazzed.”

Lately, working up enthusiasm for anything wasn’t easy. Determined to shake off the blues, Jillian forced a smile. “I’m super excited. It’s going to be a great festival.”

Running the booth would keep her too busy to even think about Rafe. “I am running low,” she added. “I need food, and I’ll bet you do, too. Let’s get sandwiches. We’ll eat, then organize the merchandise, lock up, and check into the motel.”

*

Taking a break from fence building in the late afternoon, Rafe and Adam reached into the cooler for a couple of beers and settled into lawn chairs on Adam’s backyard patio. Overhead, chattering birds flew back and forth, building nests, and a couple of squirrels chased each other up a tree.

Adam popped off the screw-top, tilted the bottle Rafe’s way in a silent salute, and drank. “That Arts Festival in Medford is this weekend.”

“Yeah.”

“You could drive over there and talk to her.”

No need to say her name. They both knew who he meant. “What for?” Rafe said.

“Because you’ve barely cracked a grin in weeks, and I’m tired of looking at your gloomy mug.”

“Lay it on me, why don’t you.” Rafe sipped his own beer. “There’s nothing for Jillian and me to discuss because there’s nothing between us. Not anymore.”

His bud snorted. “Get real, man. This thing between you two is unlike any of your past relationships. It’s serious.”

No point in denying that. Rafe blew out a heavy breath. “I can’t give her what she wants.”

“So you keep repeating. If you remember, I used to sing the same song—until I woke up and realized I wanted to be with Sam forever.”

“Your issues are totally different from mine.”

“True, but I have some doozies, stuff I’m still wrestling with.”

They both went quiet for a while, sipping beer and enjoying the afternoon sun, before Adam swiveled his head Rafe’s way.

“Answer me straight from the gut—do you trust Jillian?”

“I would trust her with my life,” Rafe replied without hesitation.

Had he actually said that? While he was still reeling from the realization, Adam gave a sage nod.