Turn My World Upside Down: Jo's Story (6 page)

A soft wind danced across the lake and swatted at them as it passed. Blinking, Jo finally forced her gaze from the amazing house and turned to look at him. “Grace always said you lived in a ‘cabin.’ ”

And actually, Jo thought, even that wasn’t accurate. Grace Van Horn had told Jo that Cash lived in a shack on the back edge of her property.

Shack.

Only Grace, queen of the mini-mansions, would think of this place as a shack.

Still stunned, Jo realized that all the time she and her sisters had spent working on the tiny guest cottage for Cash, they’d never seen his house. Never known that this incredible place was here, just a few hundred yards farther along that beaten track.

If the man wanted privacy, he’d sure gotten it.

Cash shrugged and started walking again. “It started out a cabin. I’ve made some changes.”

“
You
did this?” she asked, stopping again because shock does tend to immobilize a person. “
You
built this house?”

His lips quirked. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

She couldn’t help it. She
was
surprised. Oh, she knew Cash was a good carpenter. But she never would have guessed that a man like him would have so much
artistry
inside him.

And damn it, she didn’t like the flush of admiration she felt for his skills. His vision. Jo didn’t want to think of Cash as having
depth
.

It would be so much easier on her if she could keep considering him as just a shallow womanizer.

“Sorry,” she said, shifting her gaze back to the wood and glass glory spread out in front of her. “I just never would have guessed that you could do something like this.”

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know me as well as you think you do,” Cash said, his dark gaze fixed on her with a heat that seemed to sear the very air separating them.

Her heartbeat jittered and her mouth went dry. For just a moment or two, Jo felt . . .
possibilities
fluttering around her like drunken butterflies. And that was more than enough to bring her to her senses.

“Maybe not,” she said firmly, whether to convince herself or Cash that she meant business, she wasn’t really sure. “But I know you as well as I’m
going
to.”

He shook his head at her as if even he were amazed at her stubbornness. “You might want to ask yourself sometime, Josefina, why you’re so determined to keep me at a safe distance.”

Oh, she
knew
why. Knew it all too well. And that reason reached up from the pit of her stomach and grabbed at the base of her throat, just to give it a good squeeze. Air pumped thinly into her lungs and she had to swallow hard to be able to talk past that tight throat.

“I don’t owe you a reason, Cash,” she said, lifting her chin until their gazes locked. “But if you’re in the mood for some soul-searching, maybe you should ask yourself why you keep beating your head against a
brick wall. Why you’re so damn eager to break down my defenses instead of moving on to someone more . . .
willing
.”

She stalked off then, headed for the house and the backyard beyond, leaving her words hanging in the air like a challenging banner.

“She’s got a point,” Cash muttered when he was sure she couldn’t hear him.

If he had any sense at all, he’d back away from her. But somehow or other, she kept drawing him in. In the year or so he’d known her, he’d seen the many different sides of Jo Marconi—and every damn one of them fascinated him. He’d seen her furious, watched her laugh with her family, and seen her so vulnerable and hurt after the blowup about her father’s affair that it had torn at him.

She held nothing back. A man always knew where he stood with Josefina. He watched her throw herself into life, giving everything she had. He’d seen her heart.

What he couldn’t see, was him ignoring her anytime soon. And that was just something both of them were going to have to live with.

“You’re
here
!” Jack Marconi raced up to his older sister, excitement blistering in his eyes and dancing across his features. She hadn’t seen him that happy in well . . .
ever
. “You have to see. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and Jo let herself be dragged across the neatly tended backyard.

She refused to be impressed any further.

She absolutely would
not
look at the incredible flower beds, in rioting colors, ringing the sweep of manicured grass. She would
not
admire the length of
deck spearing off the back of the house, or its hand-carved railings.

But damn it, she was forced to notice the difference in her little brother.

For the first time in days, Jack was
grinning
. Gone were the drooping shoulders, the scowl, and the slouching walk. He was laughing, happy. And somehow or other,
Cash Hunter
had pulled off another miracle.

Damn it, what was it about the man? Not just women responded to him, but little boys and probably dogs and cats, too. What ability did he have that she so clearly lacked?

Ouch.

She winced as that thought trotted through her brain, but how could she avoid thinking it? She’d been in charge of Jack for three days and the kid hadn’t cracked a smile. He spends a couple hours in Cash’s company and he’s practically
dancing
across the lawn.

And it didn’t help any to have Cash walking along just behind her, probably enjoying the hell out of this whole situation.

Trying to take back control, Jo said, “You shouldn’t have come here without telling us, Jack.”

“Yeah, I know, but—”

Jo stopped, digging in her heels and bringing Jack to a sharp halt along with her. “No buts. You worried everybody.”

“Didn’t mean to.” He dipped his head, and his hair, the same brown color as her own, fell across his eyes. Probably would have blinded him if he hadn’t suddenly jerked his head to one side to blink up at her. The frown was back. “But you wouldn’t understand and Cash did.”

Ouch again.

She glanced over her shoulder at Cash and noticed that he was practically whistling and rocking on his heels, trying to pretend that he wasn’t listening to the conversation. Fine. She’d do the same.

“Wouldn’t understand what?” she asked, dropping to one knee on the sun-warmed grass.

Jack blew out a breath that ruffled his hair, then rubbed the back of his hand under his nose. “The kids at school say I throw like a girl.”

“What?”

Jack rushed on. “Justin Shepard says I can’t throw cuz my dad is old and all I got is sisters.”

Temper flickered inside her. “Justin Shepard.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, and glanced at Cash before looking back at his sister. “And he wouldn’t pick me to be on the baseball team at school and I had to stand there like a girl and do nothing while everybody else played and stuff and I just thought that maybe Cash could show me how to throw like a guy because I have to know how, all the guys know how and . . .”

He was still talking, showing absolutely no sign of stopping or even, hell, slowing down. Regret bubbled through Jo. She should have been able to figure out what was bothering the kid. Should have
made
him tell her.

Threw like a girl because he only had
sisters
?

Poor kid had come to Cash out of desperation. Because his own sister hadn’t known what to do. Or maybe because she hadn’t cared enough to look closer. To really listen to what Jack needed.

And that stung.

Shame rippled through her as she acknowledged, at
least silently, that “taking care” of a kid required more than just making sure he showed up at school and brushed his teeth after dinner. She should have been paying closer attention. Should have gotten past her own discomfort with the fact of Jack’s existence to understand that the little boy was really lost.

And somehow, Jo pledged, she’d make that up to him.

When Jack finally ran out of breath, she stood up and winked. “Justin’s father went to school with
me
,” she told him. “And Tom Shepard couldn’t catch a ball if someone had handed it to him and stitched it into his glove.”

Jack laughed.

Cash moved up closer.

But she focused on her little brother. “You know, the guys are right, you do only have sisters.” She wouldn’t touch that “old father” thing at all. “But every one of your sisters plays ball better than Justin’s father ever did.”

“Really?”

“Really. I could have helped you. I played shortstop on every school team and I still play softball.”

“Yeah,” he said, swiping the toe of his shoe across the grass and watching as every blade went down, then sprang back up again. “But it’s still not the same. You’re not a
guy
, Jo.”

“Ah.” And that was the real problem. He hadn’t just needed to know how to throw, he’d needed a
guy
to teach him. She really tried not to mind that the guy he’d chosen was
Cash
.

“Now watch,” Jack said eagerly, and sprinted for one corner of the yard, where a sheet of plywood with
a hole cut dead center of it was propped against a tree. “I’ll show you.”

“The Testosterone Club is very exclusive,” Cash whispered from just behind her.

“So says its president,” she murmured, keeping her gaze locked on the boy who was winding up and letting a baseball fly.

“We all have our strengths.”

“And shortcomings,” she pointed out.

“Are we really going to talk about size before our first date?”

Jo snorted, amused in spite of herself.

“Did you see?” Jack called, crowing and doing a silly little step-dance in celebration of the pitch that had gone straight through the hole in the plywood.

“I saw,” Jo yelled back. “Way to go!”

“You didn’t answer me,” Cash said.

“Ignoring you
was
my answer,” Jo said.

“Haven’t you figured out yet,” he asked, “that ignoring me just isn’t working?”

“What will?” she countered, turning around to look at him.

His mouth curved. “Kiss me.”

Her stomach did a slow dip, but she managed to keep sarcasm in her tone as she answered, “In your dreams.”

“Every night, Josefina,” he whispered, his gaze locked with hers. “Every night.”

When her cell phone rang, Jo grabbed for it gratefully. Stepping away from Cash, she flipped it open, checked who the caller was, and then said, “What is it, Mike?”

“Jack okay?”

She shifted a glance at the boy, who was throwing another pitch at the target Cash had provided. Burned her butt to have to admit even to herself that Cash had done a good thing for her brother. But true was true.

“Yeah,” she said, through gritted teeth. “He’s fine.”

“Good. One problem down, one to go.”

“Huh?”

But her sister was already talking again. “I figured out why Papa suddenly agreed to go on that cruise with Grace.”

A yawning hole opened up in the pit of Jo’s stomach. She closed her eyes against that sinking sensation as she said, “That sounds ominous.”

“Oh yeah.” Mike paused and snapped at someone else, “I’m getting to it. Jesus, Sam, why don’t you go puke some more and let me handle this? Jo? You still there?”

She gritted her teeth. “And waiting.”

“You’re not gonna believe this.”

Jo’s gaze shifted from her little brother, playing in a splash of sunshine, to the dark-eyed man standing way too close to her. “Just spit it out, will you?”

“Guess who just called like five minutes ago?” Mike asked, then didn’t wait for her to answer.
“Nana.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Mike said, then spoke to Sam again. “If you give me five lousy minutes, I will tell her. God, how does Weasel Dog live with you, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be the calm one?”

Her sisters’ arguing did nothing to close that gaping chasm in the pit of her stomach. In fact, she was pretty sure sharks were now swimming down there. She could almost hear that foreboding music from
Jaws
.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Dum-dum-dum-dum
. . .

Jo’s nerves jittered and she sucked in a deep breath. She shifted her gaze from Cash to something less dangerous. Less distracting. She stared blindly at a wall of trees and absently watched as a slight breeze ruffled the new leaves, brushing them against each other in a quiet little dance.

It should have been relaxing.

It wasn’t.

“Will you talk to
me
, not Sam?” she muttered darkly, trying to keep her voice down, despite the sudden, almost overpowering urge to shriek.

“Fine, fine,” Mike snapped. “I get chewed on by both of you. That’s fair.”

“Mike,” Jo grumbled, “if you make me hunt you down like a dog I’m going to—”

“Nana’s already on her way here.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Honest to God, does nobody
listen
in this family?” She huffed out an impatient breath and said, “No, I’m not giving you the phone, this is my phone, if you want to talk to her, call Jo on your own damn—”

“Jo?”

“Sam,” she muttered, sighing. “Sanity. Thank God. What’s going on?”

“Just what Mike said—hold on—”

In the background, Mike was shouting and Sam was telling her to be quiet and not get upset, that it wasn’t good for the babies.

Jo counted to ten.

Then twenty.

Before she hit thirty, Sam was back on the line again.

“What the hell is going on over there?” Jo demanded.

“Mike tried to take the phone back, so I had to get up and move out of her reach. No way can she lever herself off the couch without Lucas to pull her up.”

“Oh,” Mike shouted, “that’s
really
nice.”

Jo felt a headache blossom between her eyes. And she also felt Cash’s gaze pinned on her. Strangling the impulse to shout and throw the cell phone through the target he’d made for Jack, she finally asked, “Will one of you guys tell me about Nana?”

“She just called. Apparently,” Sam was saying, “Nana talked to Papa three weeks ago. Told him she was coming for a visit. She wants to see her newest great-grandchildren born.”

“And make Papa’s life miserable,” Jo added.