That Thing Called Love (15 page)

“You guys planning on standing around out here all night?” Braced against the doorjamb, Austin leaned into the small enclosed porch. His gaze went to the container in Jake’s hand. “Oh, good. You remembered the milk.” Releasing the jamb, he came over to relieve him of the gallon he’d picked up at the General Store. “I’ll throw this in the freezer to get it real cold, then I gotta get back to my cooking.” He cocked his brows. “If you wanna give yourselves a treat, you’re welcome to come watch the master at work.”

Jake’s grin had no agenda this time as he looked at Jenny. “He always so modest?”

She rolled her eyes. “Pretty much.”

“Hey!” Austin protested. “I don’t think I’m half as good as I really am. But wait until you taste my grilled cheese—never mind my Campbell’s soup. The Food Network begs me—
begs
me!—to ditch Junior high and host one of their shows. You think
you
two are gonna be able to resist demanding my recipe?” His laugh scoffed at the very idea.

It was the first time Jake had ever seen him completely at ease in his company. They’d had a good time Friday night, but Austin hadn’t been anywhere as easy in his own skin as he was this evening.

He had to admit he was charmed. He’d already harbored a fierce desire to get to know his son better. But
this
kid—

Man, he
really
wanted to get close to the boy in front of him tonight.

And he’d never regretted more deeply all the years he’d let slip by without bothering to do so.

He discovered during dinner that Austin was riding high on the performance he and Bailey had put on for Nolan after they’d left his place this afternoon. The thirteen-year-old had Jake in stitches as he reenacted not only his own tricks—complete with the ones he’d messed up—but Bailey’s ringmaster announcement and flips and leaps, as well. He even attempted to duplicate the circus music in a falsetto.

“Have you ever
heard
music so lame?” he demanded in conclusion and took another huge bite of his second grilled cheese sandwich.

Jake glanced over at Jenny, who was beaming at the teen as proudly as any mother. Her expression made his heart give a funny quickstep,
tha-thud.
And something deep in his gut hitched tight.

But he shook it off as Austin pushed back his empty plate and belched.

“’Scuse me,” the teen said and shot the adults a pleased-with-himself smile. “I cooked. That means you guys gotta clean up.”

Jenny groaned. “Great,” she groused, turning to Jake. “He might make the best grilled cheese sandwich in Washington state—”

“Or maybe even the continental United States,” he interjected.

“Try the universe,” Austin said.

“In any case, that’s the upside. The downside is that when he cooks, he manages to use every plate and pot and pan in the house.”

“A gifted chef is only as good as his tools,” Austin sassed and pushed back from the table. “And while you tools clean the kitchen, I’ll go get the stuff we’re taking over to Nolan’s.”

Her delicate brows drew together in confusion. “What are you taking over to Nolan’s? You can’t have contact with him yet. You’re getting your new vaccination on Tuesday, and we’ll have to see what Dr. Janus has to say about the timeline after that.”

“That’s right, you don’t know.” He looked at her. “I’m not going in. I’ve just got some books and things to give Mrs. D to help him pass the time while he’s still in quarantine. I would’ve taken it in my backpack this afternoon, but I’m going to lend him my starfish collection, too. And there’s no way that’ll fit.”

Her expression went all sentimental-soft. “You’re going to lend him your prized starfish collection to cheer him up? That’s really nice, Austin.”

“I know.” He shot her a cocky smile. “I asked Jake to take me over this afternoon, but he was developing photos and stuff and couldn’t leave right then. But he said he’d drive me over after dinner. So you guys go clean, and I’ll put the stuff in his car.” He turned to Jake. “I assume it’s open?”

“Hell, no.” He dug the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Austin. “Nobody in their right mind would ever leave their car unlocked in Manhattan.”

“You’re not in Manhattan anymore, Toto.” Austin shook his head. “I don’t know how you live like that.”

Jake’s heart dropped a little at the sentiment, but he managed to say lightly, “Oh, now you’re just trying to piss me off by talking like Max.”

“He’s got good taste, too, huh?”

“Go get your stuff, Austin,” Jenny directed, climbing to her feet and reaching for the boy’s abandoned plate to stack atop hers. “You,” she said, pointing at Jake. “Come with me.”

He gathered up what she didn’t and followed her over to the sink. “You want me to wash or dry?”

“I’ll have you dry,” she said. “You’re taller—it’ll be easier for you to put the stuff away.”

He grinned. “A little height challenged, are you?” he asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re such a card,” she said in a voice that suggested he was anything but—even as the corners of her mouth curved up. “Dishes go in the cupboard here and the glasses in that one,” she directed, turning on the faucet and squirting dish soap into the sink. “The pans go in the drawer under the stove.”

“Got it,” he said crisply and tossed the towel she handed him over his shoulder. “You want me to put the milk in the fridge?”

“Yeah, that would be good.” Plunging a hand into the water she swished it around to increase the soap suds.

They conversed easily as they cleaned up the kitchen, and Jake let his guard down all the way with her for the first time since she’d opened the door. Keeping it up had probably been overkill, but he’d been caught by surprise and that tended to slam his defenses in place. Chances were he’d gotten a little carried away exaggerating the attraction between them.

Then he reached across her to stow the final dried glass in the overhead cupboard. He’d done the same thing with the last two glasses, but this time Jenny simultaneously leaned to wipe down the counter and he found himself snugged up to the resulting thrust of her round little ass.

And even as they both froze, he quit fooling himself. Because he wanted her. He wanted her bad.

Then she straightened and he eased his own hips back. But he was still stretched over her and he inhaled a slow, deep breath through his nose, drawing in the scents of dish soap, herbal-smelling shampoo—and woman.

Damn. She always smelled so good. He didn’t think it was perfume, either. He thought it was just...Jenny.

His testicles drew up, and he shoved the glass in the cupboard and took a granddaddy-size step back, slinging the towel onto the counter. “Well, hey,” he said, damning the husky note in his voice as she slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. “I’d better go see if Austin’s ready to take his stuff over to Nolan’s. Thanks for dinner.”

And calling out his son’s name, he blew out of the kitchen so fast he was surprised he didn’t leave friction marks.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M
ONDAY
MORNING
,
J
ENNY
STOPPED
by Tasha’s on her way out of town. She raced up the outside stairs to the apartment over Bella T’s and gave the door an impatient rap. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait?” she demanded the moment Tash opened the door. “I don’t have much time.”

“Get in here.” The strawberry blonde stepped back to make room for Jenny to pass. “I checked the ferry schedules—you have fifteen minutes to spare.”

She blew out a breath but knew better than to argue with her friend. With ill grace, she stomped past her. “Look, I’m in no mood—”

“I know, sweetie. You never are when you’re going to see your father. And you never feed yourself properly, either.” She led her over to the breakfast bar. “Sit. Eat.”

On the counter sat a cobalt Fiesta-ware plate that held a heap of steaming scrambled eggs, two sausage links and several beautiful strawberries. “Oh. Tash.” Jenny’s lower eyelids welled with quick tears.

She hated these trips to the penitentiary but knew that Tasha understood she couldn’t be talked out of them. Instead, her friend had found a way to make it a little bit easier. Jenny watched Tash round the breakfast bar and pick up the coffeepot. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do—just like you know I love you back. Here.” Tasha handed her a tissue. “Blot your eyes, blow your nose, then eat your breakfast.” She filled an orange Fiesta-ware mug, which she set on the had-seen-better-days-twenty-years-ago countertop by Jenny’s plate. “You’ve got less than fifteen minutes now, so eat. Drink. If you’re going to stew all the way to the pen, you might as well do it on a full stomach.”

Jenny picked up her fork and dug in.

Tasha returned to claim the chair next to her. Swiveling to watch Jenny, she sipped at her own coffee. “I don’t know why the hell you put yourself through this.”

Jenny couldn’t honestly say either, so she gave her friend the only answer she had. “It’s only twice a year. And he’s my father.”

“Who didn’t give a good goddamn that he was destroying your life when he—” She cut herself off. Shook her head, which made her vibrant curls quiver. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t help.”

Jenny hooked her inner elbow around the back of Tasha’s neck and nearly hauled her off her stool, meeting her halfway to plant a noisy smooch squarely on her friend’s lips before turning her loose. “This breakfast does, though. And I love that you care enough to be concerned.”

Tasha made a rude noise. “Yeah, like
that
makes your life any easier.
I
love that at least you’re cranky about the whole ordeal.” She gave her a smart-ass smile. “And people think you’re such a sweetheart.”

It was Jenny’s turn to emit a rude noise of her own. “I know. How did that get started? When I told Jake I didn’t just jump into bed with guys I barely knew, he said he didn’t find that hard to believe at all. Because I’m so
sweet.
And this despite the fact I’d nearly jumped into bed with him.”

Tash, who had heard the story of their encounter the morning after it happened—and was all for it—nodded. “Men can be such idiots sometimes. Even the so-called smart ones.”

“Amen to that, sister.”

“Although you gotta admit, your default nature is pretty damn sweet.” She gave her an elbow in the side and a repeat of the smart-ass smile. “More often than not.”

“Yay for me. But would it kill a guy to see me as the last of the red-hot mamas occasionally instead of Polly-fucking-anna?”

Tasha tipped her chin in a judicious nod. “A valid point.”

Jenny finished her meal a few minutes later, climbed off her stool and, when Tasha did the same, gave her BFF a fierce hug. Pulling back, she looked into her face. “
Thank
you. Most helpful fifteen minutes ever.”

“Good. Here.” Tasha reached for a brown paper lunch bag on the counter and shoved it into her hands. “I packed you a couple snacks. Drive careful, you hear me?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Tasha smacked her on the butt. “Get out of here, you fool kid.”

Jenny appreciated her friend’s thoughtfulness even more than usual as she hit the road the second time and realized she didn’t feel nearly as pissy as she had when she’d started the day. It was a long trip from the peninsula to Monroe, however, and by the time she’d taken a ferry, driven several hours, gone through processing at the penitentiary and been escorted to the visitors’ room by an armed guard, she was right back where she’d started. Tense as a hungover bomb-disposal specialist.

And that was before her father was ushered into the room.

She’d come by her lack of stature honestly. Lawrence Salazar was barely five and a half feet tall, but he strode into the visitors’ room as if he were six-six. His dark hair had turned a distinguished silvery salt-and-pepper, his cheeks gleamed with the closeness of his shave and one could be forgiven for wondering if his prison jumpsuit was fashioned by Armani, such was the confidence with which he wore it. He strutted over to the table as she rose to her feet.

“Hello, Jennifer.” He gave her the allowed hug and took a seat across from her.

“Dad.” It had been twelve years since his arrest and conviction, but staring at his still-handsome face she was overwhelmed by ancient sentiments.

Once upon a time she had idolized him. He’d been Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny combined—a glitter man who, even though they lived in the same big mansion, seemed to pop in and out of her life like magic. He’d showered her with gifts, if not a lot of one-on-one attention. But he was so charming and charismatic that the attention he
had
given her made her feel like a Disney princess. She’d thought he was the most brilliant man in the world.

When she’d discovered at sixteen that not only did he have feet of clay but was a
crook
whose largesse had been financed through the financial destruction of a horrifying number of people, it had threatened to tear her apart. Crushingly disillusioned, she’d longed to indulge in the drama of ranting and railing and committing rash acts to display her rage and mind-numbing fear.

But since her mother had suffered a so-called nervous breakdown and opted out of her parental responsibilities at the same time, Jenny had been too damn busy just trying to keep them afloat to indulge her emotions.

Maybe it was not being able to afford a good, solid teen meltdown that had left her with these painful love-hate feelings for her father. Or the guilt born out of the five years he’d been incarcerated before she’d finally saved enough money for an old but reliable car to come visit. Whatever the reason, she found herself going through the same emotional turmoil every time she visited. And while she hated what he’d done and the arrogance that not even prison life could eradicate, he was still her father. For that fact alone and because she couldn’t seem to forget those rare moments when he’d seemed to be aware of only her, she loved him.

“What did you bring me?” he demanded.

Even if I don’t always particularly like him,
she thought and swallowed a sigh. “The usual.”

“Excellent.” He flashed her the smile that had separated millionaires from their discretionary income and little old ladies from their pensions. Then he sat forward, reaching a hand across the table. As if catching himself just in the nick of time, however, he stopped short of actually touching her.

It would have warmed the cockles of her heart if they weren’t sitting in a minimum security facility where the rules were much more lax than, oh, say, the maximum security building, where the gesture would earn him a swift reprimand from one of the guards.

Well, that and the knowledge that even there it likely would have been a gesture geared to soften her up.

“My parole hearing is coming up,” he said.

“Dad!” She gave him her first genuine smile. “That’s wonderful!”
Okay, not cool that you’re mostly thrilled you may never have to visit a state penitentiary again.

“I’ve been an exemplary prisoner, so I should be released, no problem. But I’ll need you to attend the hearing to tell them I have a job waiting at your little inn.”

“Oh.” She sagged back in her plastic chair, awash in yet more conflicting emotions. The dutiful daughter wanted to give him anything he wanted.

But her instincts were screaming, screaming, screaming. And she’d learned the hard way that she ignored them at her own peril. She slowly straightened. Blew out a quiet breath. And said, “No.”

“Excuse me?” His already flawless posture somehow managed to snap even more militarily erect. And if his voice were a visible entity, it would have been formed of ice crystals. “What do you mean, no?”

Did I say no, Daddy? I didn’t mean it!

The thing was, though: she did. Gathering her composure, she met his gaze with a level one of her own. “I can’t in all good conscience do that.”

“Of course you can. I’m going to need a job.”

“And you would be happy being, say, part of the grounds crew at The Brothers?”

The look he gave her was Lawrence Salazar at his arrogant best. “Don’t be ridiculous. The first rule of business is to place employees where they can be most effective. In my case, that would be in accounting. Or sales. I’m brilliant at both.”

“And yet the last time you did both, people lost their life savings.”

His voice chilled even further. “I’m being released because I’ve paid my debt to society for that, Jennifer.”

“And that’s wonderful, Dad, it really is. But are you the least bit
sorry
about all the people whose lives you destroyed?” She studied him closely.

And knew damn well that he was lying through his pearly white teeth when he replied smoothly, “Of course. I’m profoundly ashamed of all the harm I have caused.”

“Well, good for you,” she said. “But as I said, I can’t in all conscience hire you at The Brothers.”

He slapped a hand down on the tabletop so hard the sullen teen visiting at the next table jumped. “I’m your father!”

“Oh, trust me, I’m well aware of that. That’s all anyone remembered—that I was your daughter—when you were jailed as a crook and left me to fend for myself.” She kept her voice low, but years of repressed rage abruptly crowded her throat. “Your
sixteen-year-old
daughter! You and Mom were both too self-absorbed to even notice I was the only one doing anything to keep the wolf from the door. And let me tell you, having your reputation hanging over my head like my own personal rain cloud didn’t help!”

Whoa.
She dragged in a deep breath. She’d thought she was long past the pain—and shame—of those days of sideways glances, distrustful stares and kids unafraid to use her father’s reputation to beat her over the head. Apparently not.

“I was hardly in a position to do anything for you from prison, Jennifer.”

“Maybe not, but you were in a position to use your talents to make an honest living so you didn’t end up in prison in the first place.

“But you know what?” She waved an impatient hand. “Screw that, it’s water under the bridge.” She leaned forward with a little arrogance of her own. “Because I
did
fend for myself and for my mother as well, since she couldn’t seem to get off her butt to do a little fending of her own. But I’ll tell you something,
Daddy,
it wasn’t easy and it certainly wasn’t thanks to either of you that I didn’t sink like a rock beneath the weight of my responsibilities. The
Pierces
taught me how real families function, and gave me the skills to make a decent living. Damned if I intend to allow you to come waltzing into the inn they built and do God-knows-what to it while you work your own agenda. And
double
damned if you’ll ruin the excellent rep I spent years of hard work building.

“I love you, Dad, and I always will.” She shoved to her feet. “And I wish you luck. If you’d like to come visit me when you get out, I’d be happy to comp you a room for a couple days anytime you care to visit. But other than that, you’re on your own.”

He shook his head. “You’ve become so hard. What on earth happened to my little princess?”

“She had to scrub toilets and pick up other people’s messes. She had to overcome a reputation as a felon’s daughter.”

“Which you have. So what’s the big deal about helping your dear old dad out?”

“Was I not clear? Did you miss the part where I said I have no intention of jeopardizing what I’ve built?” She signaled the guard, then turned back to her father as the uniformed man wove through the tables.

“Stop by if you’d like to have a more equitable relationship with me. I know I’d enjoy that. But find a way to take care of yourself—preferably a
legal
way. Because I’m done providing for people who should have made it their job to care for me.”

Good girl,
she kept telling herself as she went through the sign-out process and made her way to her car.
Good girl.
She’d been strong, and she was
right,
dammit. It was too late, of course, to have a mother who’d take up the heavy lifting when things fell apart. And God knew it was past time to stop hoping her father might show interest in anyone but himself. So she’d finally done what she should have years ago: demonstrated once and for all that she no longer expected it.
Go, me.

Reaching her car, she unlocked it, climbed in and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. She buckled her seat belt.

Then looked at her shaking hands and burst into tears.

* * *

T
RAFFIC
WAS
A
NIGHTMARE
—silly her to have expected any different when everything else had gone so goddamn swell today. She was exhausted and running on empty by the time she reached Razor Bay and oh, so grateful moments later when she finally pulled into the small parking area behind her bungalow. Collecting her purse, she climbed out of the car and let herself into the mudroom. All she desired at this point was a tall, cold glass of water, a couple aspirin and maybe an hour in the prone position in a dark room.