Putting Out Old Flames (13 page)

Chance circled his arms around her, tried the window himself. “Now you've got me trying to break and enter.”

She smiled. The role reversal was fun. She could understand why he'd always tried to push her into going outside her comfort zone in high school. Being the devil on someone's shoulder held a definite appeal.

For a worthy cause, of course.

“Maybe we should call the police,” she said. “He had hip surgery last year.” That Flower Ranger visit still sent a chill down her spine. Crotchety old men amped up on pain meds were just mean. “He really could have fallen. Or had a heart attack. Or a stroke.”

Chance put his hands on her shoulders, turned her to him. “You don't need to list every possible cause of death. I'll walk around the house, see if there's any way I can get in. You keep knocking. If he still hasn't answered by the time I get back, we'll call the police.”

Her shoulders released the tension she didn't know she'd been holding. That was why she'd gone along with his teenage schemes, why she felt comfortable clambering into someone else's backyard with Chance around. Whether it was skinny-dipping in Bonner's Pond or participating in Senior Cut Day, if Chance was by her side, she knew everything would end up okay. He could calm her with just one touch.

She watched him walk around the corner, trying to keep her eyes off his firm butt.
Focus
, she told herself.
Mr. Harraday
. Still watching the corner Chance had disappeared around, Jane raised her hand to knock on the door. The door that swung violently inward. She shrieked.

A cane that branched into four rubber-tipped ends poked out at her. She skittered back, stumbling off the cement slab.

“What the hell ya doing, poking round my backyard?” Mr. Harraday yelled.

Chance pounded around the corner. “What's wrong? You made your girly shriek.”

“Nothing's wrong.” She smoothed her hands down her sides. “Mr. Harraday just startled me. And I don't have a girly shriek.”

Both men raised eyebrows.

Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the heat creeping up her neck. “Mr. Harraday, we brought you your meal from the Pantry. Why didn't you answer the door?”

“Huh?” He cupped his ear.

She gritted her teeth. “I know you have excellent hearing, Mr. Harraday.”

He wrinkled his face like he'd just sucked a lemon. “None of your business why I didn't answer. Could've been on the crapper. Or maybe I just didn't want to see your ugly face.”

“What?” Chance stepped forward. “What did you just say?” He sounded more perplexed than angry.

Jane patted his arm. The first experience with Mr. Harraday was always the hardest. “Judge Nichols asked that we deliver the food and make sure you're all right. The food is on the front porch and we can see you're just as . . . spirited as ever. We'll head out now.”

“Sure. Breeze in, breeze out,” the old man grumbled.

Jane hesitated. “Would you like us to stay for a bit? Keep you company?”

Chance's brow drew down and he shot her a look. He needn't have worried.

“Hell no! I don't need no damn babysitter.” He shook his cane.

“You have a daughter in Ann Arbor, don't you, Mr. Harraday? Does she get out to visit you often?” She looked around the yard. If the daughter did come, yard work obviously wasn't on her agenda. Not that there weren't better ways to spend time with your father.

“What do I want her out here for?” Harraday asked. “Just another person bothering me, telling me what I can and can't do.” He snorted. “All she does is pester me. Wants me to move in with her.” Poking his cane in the air for emphasis, he hollered, “Well, I ain't gonna.”

Putting a hand on her elbow, Chance pasted a placating smile on his face. “We'll get out of your hair.” He leaned down to Jane. “You didn't tell me the guy is nuts.”

“Not nuts,” she whispered. “Just mean.”

“I heard that!”

She sighed. “And definitely not deaf.”

Harraday turned and smacked a button on a plastic box by the door. Odd. He didn't seem like the type to have a security system.

“Don't come back,” he said over his shoulder. “Or I'll set the dogs on you.” The door slammed shut.

“Does he have dogs?” Chance asked.

They moved toward the front gate. “Not that I've heard,” she said. “But for us, I'm sure he wouldn't mind getting a couple of Dobermans.”

Chance paused. “What's that sound?”

Jane cocked her head, heard several clicks. “I don't know. It sounds almost like . . . oh shit! Run!”

But it was too late. The sprinklers dotted around the yard had already popped their heads up and started spraying. Jane ran for the gate, felt water jet across her back.

Chance was right behind her. They pulled at the gate, not seeing the closed padlock in their rush to escape.

Jane flung herself at the fence. “Lift me over!” The back of her jeans clung wetly to her thighs.

“There's cement on the other side.” Chance grabbed her around the waist, pulled her off the fence. “You'll split your head open.”

He pulled her across the lawn to the back of the house, right into the eye of the sprinkler storm. Jane plastered herself to his side, got hit on the right by an arcing spray. Ducking under his arm, she dodged to his left.

“We're already wet,” Chance yelled. “Stop bobbing and weaving. Let's just run for it.” His hand slipped off her shoulder, and he stumbled. His legs caught in hers, and they tumbled to the lawn in a sodden heap.

Pressing up to her hands and knees, Jane turned to see if Chance was okay and got hit in the face with a spurt of water for her trouble. Chance's laughter drowned out the
snick-snick-snick
of the sprinklers. Jane glared at him, and he rolled on his back, laughing harder.

“Real nice.” Jane pushed her hair off her face. “We're filthy and—”

Her sentence ended in a gasp as Chance wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her under the stream of the returning sprinkler spray. She landed on his chest, her hand slapping into the earth beside him with a squelch. A slop of mud darted across his cheek.

This time Jane laughed.

Chance shook his head. “Be careful what you laugh at, Janey-girl.” He trailed a finger down her face, and Jane felt the ooze of mud trickle down the path he made.

Digging her hand into the ground, she came up with a clump of dirt and crabgrass. Before she could make him eat it, Chance rolled and grabbed her wrist, pinning her hand to the ground. “Uh, uh, uh.” His smirk dropped when she flicked mud at him with her other hand.

The maturity level went downhill from there. Jane shrieked when Chance shoved cold sludge down her shirt. She laughed when her own wiggling sent who-knows-what down the back of her jeans. They only stopped tussling when Harraday shouted out the window, “I'm calling the cops if you two don't git. Indecent is what you are!”

Chance grinned down at her, his chest brushing against hers with each breath, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You heard the man.” His gaze darkened when he looked at her wet shirt. “Wonderfully indecent.”

His scrutiny heated her despite the wet and mud. Her pulse galloped, and the scent of grass swamped her senses. She'd forgotten how he made all her senses awaken, made her aware of the tingling in every nerve-ending in her body. When she was with Chance, she felt truly alive. She was a more exciting, interesting person when they were together.

Her fingers itched to reach up, thread in his thick hair, tug his head down to hers. She parted her lips in anticipation. Chance lifted one corner of his mouth in a move so familiar, it was a knife to her gut. This was Chance. The man who'd literally loved her and left her. Just because her body wanted him back didn't mean her mind was on board with that idea.

So she snorted, shook her head, and pushed at his shoulder. “You're a riot.” She infused her words with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

He sat back on his haunches. “I like to think so.”

Water slapped him in the face.

Jane laughed all the way around the house until they reached the sidewalk. Chance dripped next to her, tufts of chestnut hair sticking out in every direction. She only stopped laughing when he smiled evilly down at her and said, “I'm glad we took your car.”

Looking at her filthy body and at the clean tan interior of her car, she sighed. No good deed went unpunished.

“O
kay, everyone. I need ideas.” Jane looked at the fundraiser committee, her hopes sinking at every blank face she encountered. They were all assembled at the Pantry, having agreed to make that their official meeting spot. Jane forked a flaky bit of cranberry-apple pie into her mouth. The desserts were just too damn good to go anywhere else.

Her mother wiped a smear of chocolate mousse from her lips with her napkin. “Are you sure the Regency can't host us? It was a big enough ballroom.”

“We're sure,” Chance butted in. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the table in front of him, the only person to forego a dessert. He'd been one of those freaks of nature who didn't really care for sweets, and Jane supposed he still was. If the trade-off was a chiseled set of washboard abs, it was probably worth the loss of Allison's baked deliciousness.

Jane laid a hand over her own softly rounded belly. She could make that trade-off, get in better shape. The half-eaten piece of pie beckoned, the tart cranberries a sharp contrast with the sweet apples. She shoveled in another mouthful, her eyes sliding shut. Nope. She'd just have to learn to live with the softness.

Chance kept talking, and she let him, because, pie. “The Regency had to close many of their public rooms for emergency renovations. At the time of our event, that ballroom will be torn down to the sheetrock.” Frowning, he took a sip of coffee. “I'm not surprised they have a mold problem. With their lax attitude toward elevator maintenance, they probably make a habit of letting things slide. All in all, I think we're better off not holding the fundraiser there.”

Jane paused, fork at her lips. She hadn't realized the problem at the hotel was so extensive. She'd just been told by the manager that the ballroom was no longer available. Chance must have called for more information. She chewed on her lip. Maybe his wife told him about it. Was she still in town? Had she been kicked out of the hotel, too, and if so, where was she staying?

Sneaking a sidelong glance at him, Jane thought about the encounter with the soon-to-be-ex at the Regency. Chance hadn't seemed pleased to see Annette. But she was Josh's mother. It would only make sense to let her stay at his house. She put her fork down, her stomach no longer a happy camper. Maybe they'd reconcile.

Which was a good thing. It was best for kids to have their two parents together. Placing her palm over her abdomen, she willed her intestines to stop twisting. The apple pie sat in there like a lead ball.

“. . . don't you think, Jane?” her mother asked.

“What?”

Edith shook her head. “Your chakras are still all messed up. I said, what about the front foyer of city hall?”

“For the ball?” Jane asked. Her mother nodded. “It's not a big enough space. And there's only that one unisex bathroom. That would lead to problems.”

“Okay.” Edith raised her hands. “One reason was enough.”

Judge Nichols brushed some crumbs off of his short-sleeved button-down shirt. Even though his clothes were hidden under a black cloak when he worked, he always wore pressed shirts and trousers underneath, the creases so sharp they looked lethal. No casual Fridays for this judge. “I was talking to the owner of Great Lakes Winery about their gift package for our auction. Jim over there mentioned their new cave. He said his daughter is going to hold her wedding reception there. If it's nice enough for a wedding, it should be nice enough for our ball.”

“The Great Lakes Winery?” Jane had only been there once, when it had first opened. The grounds had been lovely, green fields with wildflowers next to the grapevines, a manicured area for bocce ball and croquet. But the actual tasting room had been tiny. But if they'd expanded...

“I'll check it out,” she said. Next to her, Chance coughed. Rolling her eyes, she said, “We'll check it out.” Jane lowered her voice. “Happy?” she asked him.

“Ecstatic,” he replied, his voice as dry as Great Lakes Syrah. “But if I'd been along when you'd first looked at the Regency, I would have seen they were overdue for inspection. We wouldn't have wasted time assuming we would hold the event there.”

“I'm sure the winery will love it if you go in there and act as a fire inspector.” Jane tapped her fork against her plate. “They'll be just thrilled to offer us the space.”

He leaned in close, his breath brushing across the side of her neck. The airy caress sent tingles all through her body. “I don't care if they like it or not. I'm not going to hold a function, especially one for the fire department, if the place isn't up to code.”

Jane leaned back in her chair, needing to create some space before her body combusted. “I used to be the one who was a stickler for rules. What happened to you?”

He raised an eyebrow, looked thoughtful. “I became a father and a firefighter. Rules are important for both.” Turning in his seat, he crossed one leg over the other. “What about you? When did Janey-girl learn to color outside the lines?”

She looked around the table. Now that a plan had been put in place, everyone was chatting and finishing up their desserts. Her mother nodded her head at Chance, then winked at Jane. Frowning, she scooted as far away from Chance as her chair allowed. She didn't want her mom to get the wrong idea.

“Jane?” he asked.

“I usually follow the rules.” She took a sip of her iced tea. “But if no one gets hurt, I don't see the harm in doing what works best.”

Chance smiled, and her heart stutter-stopped. He should be required to register that smile as a lethal weapon. “Your mom must be so proud.”

A laugh burst out of Jane. “She still tries to press herbal remedies on me for my control issues, as she calls it.” Jane smiled at her mom fondly.

Resting his arm on the back of her chair, he lowered his voice. “You and your mom. You're happy here?”

She knew what he was really asking. “Yes, I'm happy.” His arm against her shoulder blades was warm. Solid. She eased away. “Getting dumped by my high school boyfriend didn't ruin my life.”

Chuckling, he shrugged sheepishly. “Of course. I didn't mean . . .”

Jane thought he was too embarrassed to continue. But when his arm tensed behind her, she followed his gaze to the front door of the restaurant. Annette stood at the entrance, her gaze searching. Her eyes landed on Chance, and she made her way over. The belted wrap dress she wore clung to her slim curves, the strappy stilettos with their blood-red soles click-clacking across the linoleum.

“There you are.” She stopped beside Chance, ignoring the rest of the table. “Your coworkers said you might be here.”

“You stopped by the firehouse?” He stood and frowned down at Annette. “What did you say to them?”

“Just that your wife was looking for you.” She bared her teeth. “They were ever so helpful.”

“Great. Let's go outside.”

Annette finally deigned to notice the rest of the table, every other conversation falling silent. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, Chance?”

He took her elbow. “No.”

Shaking out of his grip, Annette put both hands on the back of his chair and leaned forward. “Hi, everyone. I'm Annette. Chance's wife.” At the collective inhale of air, she smiled. “Soon to be the ex–Mrs. McGovern, so you all can keep your panties on. Chance can still be a part of the bachelor auction.” She shot her husband a malicious grin. “The boys at the fire station filled me in on that, too. Wish I could see it.”

“It's in two weeks if you're still in town,” Jane said. Chance was so clearly uncomfortable with Annette there that Jane felt almost friendly toward the woman. It was easier to keep poking at Chance than to analyze everything he stirred up in her. More fun, too.

“Jane, isn't it?” Annette asked. “You just keep popping up everywhere.” Jane's warm feelings toward the woman turned tepid at the sarcasm in her voice. “You
good
friends with my husband?”

Jane didn't miss the innuendo, and she didn't particularly care for it.

Neither did her mother. From the end of the table, Edith said, “Chance and Jane have known each other forever. I caught that boy sneaking in her window more times than I could count.” In the subtle game of one-upmanship, Edith obviously thought she'd scored a zinger. Crossing her legs, she waved a hand in dismissal.

“In her bedroom?” A furrow creased Annette's forehead before her mouth fell slack. “Oh my God. You're that Jane.”

“Annette.” The warning in Chance's voice was unmistakable.

His soon-to-be ex ignored it. “Is this why you came to this Podunk town? To be with her?”

“Uh . . .” Eyes wide, Jane wanted to shut this, whatever this was, down fast. “We just ran into each other a couple weeks ago. If he'd known I was here he probably would have chosen another town to settle in.” The truth of that statement dug a little crater in her heart. She might never have seen Chance again if the Pineville FD hadn't been hiring.

“Oh, I doubt that.” Annette shook Chance's hand off her elbow. “An opportunity to reunite with his one true love? My husband wouldn't miss that for the world.”

* * *

Hands gripping the steering wheel, Chance risked a glance at the woman in his passenger seat. Jane's lips were still pressed into a hard line as she sat, elbow up on the window, head resting in her palm, radiating pissed-off.

Which he didn't get. Just because Annette ran her mouth off and said some stupid shit, he didn't understand what Jane had to be angry about. Still, he was happy enough that their trip to the winery included a detour to pick up Josh. She couldn't tear him a new one if he had his kid with him, right?

The silence in the SUV was oppressive. Tugging at the neck of his shirt, he shot her another look. “I never told Annette you were the ‘love of my life.'” He snorted, but it came out sounding like the snuffling of a dying pig rather than the derisive exclamation he'd intended. “The few times your name came up, I might have said you were my first love. She misunderstood.”

Annette had always seemed to have an attitude about his former girlfriend. Her snide little retorts had never failed to both irritate and bewilder Chance. For the first time he questioned his part in her petty jealousy. Had he mentioned Jane more than he should have? Jane had been such an integral part of his young life that any childhood story he told would of course include her.

Continuing to face front, she shrugged. “I really don't care what your wife”—at his growl she held up a hand—“your soon-to-be ex-wife has to say. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Right.” He nodded, feeling like a bobblehead. “Of course.” Then why did she look as though it mattered? Jane held herself as stiff as a board. Blowing out a deep breath, Chance gave up. He'd never understand women.

Silence descended again. He beat his thumbs against the steering wheel until her narrowed gaze stopped it.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “Josh shouldn't be a problem. I told him if he's a good boy today we'll have pizza tonight. Unfortunately, bribery is my most reliable parenting tool.”

“I told you, it's fine.”

Chance waited a beat. “Katie has a doctor's appointment so she can't watch him.”

Jane finally looked over. He wished she hadn't, not if she was going to purse up her pretty lips like she'd just tasted day-old fish. “Yeah, I got that the first time you said it.”

Chance's shoulders slumped with relief when he turned onto his street. If there was anyone who could relieve awkward silences, it was his son.

Josh stood on the front porch, bouncing up and down in his red sneakers. Warmth spread through Chance's chest, just like every time he saw his son. The kid was just so damn cute. When he wasn't driving Chance nuts.

He pulled into his driveway, and Josh raced to the SUV, a small pack slapping against his back. Stepping out of the car, Chance grabbed Josh in a bear hug. “Hey there, buddy. How's it going?”

“Aunt Katie made me grill cheese for lunch, and we builded a moat for my castle, and . . .” Josh chattered away as Chance strapped him into his car seat.

Testing the belts, Chance said, “Can you take a breath and say hello to Jane?”

“Hi, Jane,” Josh said. Like a rocket, he was off again, describing his day, minute by minute.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at Chance. “Hi, kiddo.”

Josh didn't hear her. Chance shut the back door, enjoyed a moment of silence before getting in the SUV, and waved goodbye to his sister at the front door. Settling himself behind the wheel, he wondered if perhaps he'd been too hasty in wanting to escape the awkward silence with Jane.

“Buddy, why don't you show Jane your new action figure?” Chance looked in the rearview mirror, watching his son root around in his backpack.

Jane leaned over to him. “I don't need to see—” she whispered, then broke into a big smile when Josh shoved a green turtle-man between the seats. “Hey. That's cool.”

“Yeah, he is.” Josh ran the figure over the seats and up onto the window, making kung fu fighting sounds in his imaginary battle.

“And that's why I told him to show you his toy,” Chance said in a low voice. “That should keep him occupied for a good ten minutes.” It kept Josh occupied the entire drive to the winery, about twenty minutes outside of town. The rows of vines bordering the dirt drive came as a surprise to Chance. He knew a winery must grow grapes, but it seemed out of place in Michigan.

“I wonder how good the wine can be here.” Chance parked next to another car in front of a small building designed like an Italian-style villa. “This isn't exactly prime wine country.”