Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) (12 page)

As for his steadfast refusal to engage with the rest of the world, that was no mystery to anyone who knew his background. Jeb was like a dog that had been kicked so many times he growled even when well-meaning people tried to approach him.

The Graces were under no illusions; it was solely for Laney's sake that Jeb had tolerated their shenanigans for all these years. But that wounded, bewildered boy was now a man, and men had their pride.

"Millie's right," Caroline said. "We'd better not push him too far. The consequences could be disastrous."

The trouble with the Three Graces, Jeb decided as he pulled open the glass front door of the tearoom named in their honor, was that they weren't malicious. If they
had
been, he'd have glared them out of his life years ago. But they were merely mischievous, and Laney adored them. So here he was, showered and shaved and carefully attired in black pants and a dark blue button-down shirt,
bracing himself to have his manly pride sliced and diced like mincemeat for a Christmas pie.

He paused just inside the door and surveyed the familiar dining room. With its lace-curtained windows and its rosy pink walls adorned with English garden prints, the place was decidedly feminine. Only occasionally did men cross this threshold; the few who dared always looked distinctly uncomfortable as they perched on the lady-size bamboo chairs and pinched the handles of china teacups between their large, clumsy fingers.

It was different for Jeb. Laney had decorated this room, and Jeb couldn't be uncomfortable in any environment that had Laney's personality stamped all over it.

She was busy with some customers, but she'd noticed his arrival and aimed a distracted smile in his direction. He acknowledged her greeting with a slight lift of his chin. Then he squared his shoulders and made for the Graces' table.

They were still as plump as pumpkins, with finely spun clouds of white hair that reminded Jeb of the cotton candy he used to buy Laney when he took her to the pig races and lumberjack shows at the Steele County Fair. They still wore shapeless print dresses and wire-rimmed glasses and sly, knowing smiles.

Jeb had never been able to tell them apart except by looking straight into their eyes. Caroline's gaze was sharp and intelligent.
Aggie's
eyes glinted with mischief. And Millie always looked a little worried, as though she wanted to apologize for whatever torment she and her sisters were about to inflict on him.

He greeted each of them by name, took a seat at the table set with riotously mismatched floral china, and dragged a starched napkin over his lap.

"So, isn't your hair a little long, there, Jeb?" Aggie smiled with friendly disapproval.

"Laney will take care of it when she has time," he said.

Millie leaned toward him and patted his arm. "You still clean up real nice, though."

He did his best to look gratified by the compliment.

"Will you be in town long?" Aggie asked.

"Not sure." Jeb wondered again why they were so eager for him to leave. "But the hockey tickets were a nice surprise. Thank you."

Caroline placed a silver strainer over his cup to catch stray tea leaves as she poured him some fragrant, steaming Earl Gray. "It was our pleasure, Jeb."

Was it? If they wanted him out of town, why give him tickets for a game more than three weeks away? If not for those tickets, he might think they were trying to get rid of him so they could fix Laney up with some man they knew. Because certainly the Graces realized, even if Laney didn't, that most men wouldn't appreciate their love interest's having another man for a best friend.

Millie slipped a transparent slice of lemon into his cup. "You should come by the house and meet our new cat."

Jeb just looked at her. His memories of the Graces'
old
cat were still uncomfortably vivid. How many times had he climbed the oak tree in the Graces' front yard to rescue stupid Frankie, who always repaid him with a vicious scratching?

As far as Jeb had ever been able to tell, the Graces had made it their mission in life to keep him humble. They twisted him like a pretzel, but for Laney's sake he pretended to be about ninety percent less annoyed with them than he actually was at any given moment. He had even forgiven them—well, almost—for tricking him into wearing that pink rabbit suit.

"Too bad you weren't here in August," Aggie said. "We could have used you at the county fair."

The Graces were always up to their dimpled elbows in charitable fundraisers, and until he'd moved to L.A., Jeb had been their favorite sucker whenever they
'd
needed a booth manned. Seeing her great-aunts happy always put a warm glow in Laney's blue eyes, so Jeb had allowed the triplets to inconvenience and humiliate him on a fairly regular basis.

"What did you sell?" he asked, showing polite interest and wishing Laney could witness this proof that he wasn't entirely lacking in social skills.

"Hotdish-on-a-stick," Millie said.

Jeb was as familiar as any other Minnesotan with hotdish, which was essentially any casserole involving meat or poultry paired with noodles or potatoes in a binding sauce, typically canned cream of mushroom soup. But—

"Hotdish-on-a-stick?"

"You slide meatballs and Tater Tots onto wood skewers," Aggie explained. "Then you batter and deep-fry them and serve them with a cup of mushroom gravy for dipping."

"They look like lumpy corndogs," Millie added. "Laney says they're revolting, but they made us some good money for the church ladies' aid society."

"We'd have done even better with Jeb in the booth," Aggie opined. "Women love buying things from dark, dangerous-looking young men."

"Yeah, that's for sure." Millie nodded eagerly. "Put a gold hoop in Jeb's ear and dress him in one of those billowy white shirts and he'd make as good a pirate as Errol Flynn in
Captain Blood
." She looked at Caroline. "Remember that for next time."

There wasn't going to be a next time, Jeb promised himself as he drank some tea. Not even if Laney said pretty please and baked him an enormous batch of seven-layer bars without nuts. A man had his limits, after all. A man—

Oh, who was he kidding? He might wander off for a while, but all Laney had to do was tug on that invisible string she'd tied around his heart and he'd come spinning back to her like a human yo-yo, ready to do the Graces' bidding or anything else that would make her happy.

"Jeb?" Caroline held a napkin-lined basket containing several small, heart-shaped scones in front of him.

He hesitated. Laney had seen to it that he knew more than the average rock musician about the rituals of afternoon tea, so he expected a selection of diminutive sandwiches to comprise the light meal's first course. The scones were supposed to come next. And after that, the dainty sweets.

"We didn't have any leftover sandwiches today," Caroline explained. "But we didn't want any, and Laney told us not to make any for you because you're going out to supper."

Jeb accepted a scone, then took a spoonful of strawberry-rhubarb preserves from the bowl Millie offered and a dollop of thick Devonshire cream from the dish Aggie pushed toward him. He broke off a bite-size piece of the scone and used his knife to dab preserves and cream on it, all nice and correct. Then he popped the crumbly morsel into his mouth and savored the blended flavors and textures.

A few minutes later, Millie was easing a miniature lemon tart onto his plate and Caroline was pushing a selection of fancy cookies at him when he felt Laney's hand on his shoulder.

"Don't let them stuff you full of sweets and spoil your supper, Jeb."

Don't
let
them? She knew perfectly well that it was beyond a mere man's power to prevent the Graces from doing whatever they wanted. He turned in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn't appear to notice.

"I have to return a call about an etiquette seminar at a bridal fair in the Cities," she said, "and then I need to make another call to finalize the menu for a baby
shower tea." Tangling her slender fingers together, she looked as nerved-up as she'd sounded on the phone earlier. "Do you mind waiting?"

"No, I'm fine here." If it would contribute to Laney's peace of mind, he'd sit here all night and let the Graces unravel him like a badly made sweater.

"We're concerned about that girl." Caroline said when Laney had gone.

She had Jeb's full attention, but instead of explaining her remark, she bit into a cookie and chewed thoughtfully. When neither of her sisters jumped in to elaborate, Jeb threw caution to the wind and asked.

"Why are you concerned about her?"

"Because she's unhappy," Caroline said.

Millie's head bobbed. "That's for sure."

Jeb stared at the pink roses on his teacup and waited.

"And you know why," Caroline said.

Yes. But did the Graces know, or were they just fishing?

"We need to get her married," Aggie said.

Her God problem was more urgent. But the Graces didn't go to the same church as Laney—something about wanting to encourage a young pastor up in Faribault who wasn't popular because he stuttered—so they might not be aware that Laney had stopped attending.

On second thought, someone in their vast network of friends was sure to have informed them.

"That bothers you, doesn't it?" Caroline eyed him speculatively. "The thought of Laney getting married."

Avoiding her penetrating gaze, Jeb fingered the handle of his teacup. "Why would it bother—"

"Jeb." Caroline's sharp tone sliced off the end of his question. "Stop pretending you're a stupid man."

Who was pretending? He
was
a stupid man. What other kind of man would sit down to afternoon tea with the Three Graces?

"Hey, how about those Twins?" he asked brightly. The Graces loved baseball, so maybe he could distract them. "Can you believe they ended the season with—"

"Jeb." Like a stern schoolteacher, Caroline peered at him over the metal rims of her glasses. "We need to talk about Laney's future. Now, we've given this a lot of thought, and—"

"
No.
" Jeb's backbone snapped to attention and hardened like steel. "I won't help you scheme against her."

"We're not scheming against her," Aggie said. "We're scheming
for
her."

Millie patted his arm. "She wants to get married, Jeb."

"But she doesn't want you interfering," he retorted. "And you know better than to talk to me behind her back."

Caroline's annoyed expression gave way to one of apparent satisfaction. "Yeah, those Twins were quite the deal this year," she said as she reached for the teapot. "Ready for a refill there, Jeb?"

He thanked her and held out his cup and saucer. As she placed the strainer over his cup and poured, her gaze flicked up for an instant and her wrinkly mouth curled into a smile that sent a shiver of apprehension up his spine.

H
ungry for some of Willie's famous onion rings, Laney was dismayed to find all ten of the diner's red vinyl booths occupied. When she looked at Jeb to see whether he wanted to wait for a table or go elsewhere, he pointed out two empty stools at the counter.

"Fine," she said. "Let's grab those."

As they moved in that direction, the buzz of conversation in the diner swelled like an ocean wave. All eyes had turned to Jeb, but other than a slight firming of his lips, he gave no sign of having noticed.

Laney was about to sit down when she felt his hand against the small of her back. Without a word, he steered her away from the stool whose cover had split down the middle, showing an inch-wide strip of foam padding. He settled on that stool as Laney took the good one beside it.

"I've never seen this place so busy." She pitched her voice to be heard over the jukebox that had just powered up to blare a high-energy rock song.

Jeb glanced at her to indicate he'd heard her but had nothing to add. Still willfully oblivious to the attention of his fellow diners, he plucked a dessert menu from its standing metal clip.