Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) (9 page)

She looked surprised by the question, and no wonder.

"There's a singles' Bible study on Tuesday nights," she said. "I went a few times before Mom died. Why do you ask?"

"We're hunting for a good Christian man," he reminded her. "Wouldn't that be the place to find one?"

Her expression turned stony. "Right now I wouldn't be comfortable at any church function," she said as she scooped up some more ice cream. "I'm too depressed."

"Maybe if you went to some church functions you'd stop being depressed." Instantly regretting the way exasperation had sharpened his tone, Jeb offered her a lopsided grin. "Tell you what. I'll go with you. How's that for incentive?"

"
You
?" She fumbled her spoon. As it clattered on the table, its load of ice cream flew off and plopped onto Jeb's thigh.

"Why not?" With his finger and thumb, he picked up the frozen blob and transferred it to his mouth. "It won't kill me." With studied nonchalance, he licked his fingers and rubbed the ice cream smudge off his jeans before adding, "I'll even go to church with you on Sunday."

Careful not to smile at her soft gasp of surprise, he waited another heartbeat before lifting his gaze to her startled face. He'd hooked her; now all he had to do was reel her in.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

She had every reason to wonder. Unless Hannah's funeral service counted, Jeb had never been inside a church in his life.

"I'm serious." He was also a genius. There was no way Laney could reject this plan, but he endeavored to look resolute rather than exultant. "Church on Sunday, then. What time?"

Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "We'd have to leave here at nine. The service starts at nine-fifteen."

So early? Jeb was no good at mornings. But he was a Christian now, and he figured church attendance was part of the deal.

"Okay. I'll be here for coffee at a quarter to nine."

"Hah." Amusement danced in her eyes. "Remember college? You always ended up dropping your early classes because you could never—"

"I'll be here at a quarter to nine," Jeb repeated. "And don't worry about how you're going to break the ice. When people see me at church, they'll be too stunned to ask why you haven't been around lately."

"You don't have to do this, Jeb." She gave him a wistful smile."But it means a lot to me that you offered."

"We're going to church and to the singles' thing," he said firmly. "We'll get your faith back, and then we'll find you a nice Christian guy to m—" He was interrupted by the chiming of Laney's doorbell.

"I'm not expecting anyone." Her gaze shifted past him to the corner windows, and then her eyes widened in alarm.

Jeb swung around to look.

His rented Explorer was no longer the only vehicle in her driveway. Just behind it, he could see the front end of a black-and-white police cruiser.

And Laney had gone deathly pale.

H
ad something happened to the Graces on their way home from the tearoom? All kinds of frightening scenarios involving crumpled cars and broken bodies flashed through Laney's mind as she raced to the front door. When she flung it open and recognized the big blond police officer smiling at her through the glass storm door, her trepidation receded. This was no emergency call.

She basked in that relief for about two seconds before it dawned on her that the cop must be following up on Tuesday night's burglary attempt. That was a problem because she hadn't yet told Jeb about it—and he was standing right behind her.

She'd planned to get a good supper in his belly before breaking the news. And she'd meant to avoid disclosing that she'd chased the housebreakers and ended up hurt. She didn't want Jeb driving himself crazy imagining how much worse it all might have been.

So this was going to be tricky. He wasn't good with strangers to begin with, and things could go downhill fast if Laney was forced to give her carefully edited account of the break-in in front of a third party who knew every detail and who might say something awkward.

"Officer Sayers." She fixed a bright smile on her face and opened the storm door. "Come in."

"Evening, Ms. Ryland." The cop stepped inside, glanced at Jeb and nodded politely, and then returned his attention to Laney. "I just stopped by to—" His head whipped back toward Jeb.

Wonderful.

"What can I do for you?" Laney asked, still smiling determinedly.

"Uh
 
.
 
.
 
." With an obvious effort, he dragged his gaze away from Jeb. "I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd make sure you haven't had any further trouble."

Laney's smile slipped, but at least she refrained from rolling her eyes. So he'd stopped by to flirt with her some more, had he?

He'd certainly turned on the charm the other night, but only after he'd learned who owned the house next door. Laney hadn't been fooled; it was hardly the first time someone had attempted to further an acquaintance with her in the hope of scoring an introduction to Jackson Bell.

Predictably, the words "further trouble" had galvanized Jeb. He'd just moved to her side like a well-trained attack dog.

Their arms were almost touching, so Laney eased back a little and extended her elbow to give his ribs a surreptitious poke. When he frowned down at her, she murmured, "I'll explain later" before turning back to beam at Officer Sayers.

"We're just fine here," she said. "But it was nice of you to stop by."

"No problem." He darted another look at Jeb but made no move to leave. "So how's that injured shoulder doing?"

"Injured?" Jeb rumbled like an awakening volcano. "I thought you just pulled a muscle."

Laney swallowed a groan of pure exasperation. "I did, Jeb. And it's no big deal." Trying for a nonchalant shrug, she ruined the effect by wincing at a stab of pain. Seeing his ferocious scowl, she hastily added, "Okay, it hurts. But it'll be better tomorrow."

"You were lucky," Officer Sayers said. "I just hope you understand that confronting those guys with a baseball bat wasn't your best move."

"What's he talking about?" This time Jeb's rumble was loud enough to reverberate in the high-ceilinged entryway.

"It was just a couple of boys," Laney said dismissively. "High school kids."

"What did they do?" Jeb demanded.

"Hardly anything. They broke into your house, but I scared them off. So they didn't—"

"You went after a bunch of burglars with a baseball bat?"

Laney's patience unraveled. "It wasn't a 'bunch of burglars', Jeb. It was two skinny teenage boys who were probably just after your guitars and some other souvenirs. They broke one of the bay windows, but I had it replaced and—"

"I don't care about the window!" he bellowed.

Officer Sayers stiffened visibly. When he opened his mouth, Laney forgot her manners and signaled with a sharply upraised hand that she didn't need protecting from Jeb.

"What did they do to you?" Jeb's voice had gone ominously quiet.

"When they were running away, one of them knocked me down," Laney said. "I fell on the bat and wrenched my shoulder."

Like a man suffering agonies, he pressed a hand over his eyes and groaned.

"I'm fine," Laney insisted.

Muscles twitched in Jeb's lean jaw as he lowered his hand and impaled her with a look. "It was a stupid thing to do. Why didn't you just call the police?"

"I think she's learned her lesson," Officer Sayers ventured.

"I have." Laney nodded emphatically. "I can't believe I did something that dumb."

Jeb just stared at her, his jaws flexing in a way that couldn't be good for his molars.

"Bob Sayers." Wading into the tense silence, the cop thrust his right hand toward Jeb. "I'm a huge fan."

"Thanks." Jeb's tone was dismissive, but instead of nodding curtly, his usual response to an introduction he hadn't sought, he shook the proffered hand.

Officer Sayers beamed like a kid at Christmas. "So, it's 'Jeb,' then?"

"No," Jeb said shortly. "It's Jackson."

He never allowed anyone but Laney and her family to use the name she'd given him. He loathed his real name because it had been his father's, yet anyone who dared to call him Jeb or even Jack received a flinty stare for that presumption. It was just one of the ways he kept the world at arm's length.

Officer Sayers didn't appear to be fazed by Jeb's chilly demeanor. "Last summer a friend and I drove to Des Moines and Chicago to catch your shows," he enthused. "When are you going to play the Twin Cities?"

"No idea." Jeb folded his arms across his chest and glared down at the much shorter man. "Shouldn't you be out looking for the thugs who hurt Laney?"

"Jeb." Laney flung him a look of disgusted reproach, then smiled an apology at Officer Sayers. "We'll let you know if we have any more trouble," she promised, moving closer to the door and hoping he could take a hint.

Under normal circumstances, nobody left her home without being offered a cup of coffee at the very least. But she could practically hear Jeb's nerves buzzing like high-tension wires, and she had to get him calmed down.

"Thanks for stopping by," she added.

"You bet." The cop's gaze swung back to Jeb. "You folks take care, now."

Laney opened the storm door. "You, too. 'Bye." She watched him descend the porch steps, and then she closed both doors and looked at Jeb, who was still frowning fiercely.

"I was going to tell you after supper," she said.

"You went after them with a baseball bat," he repeated incredulously.

"Don't make it sound so gruesome, Jeb. I just yelled and swung the bat to scare them off."

His head fell back in obvious exasperation. "Great plan," he said to the ceiling. "Because who wouldn't be terrified by a sweet little blonde with a baseball bat?"

"They
did
run away," Laney retorted.

His hard gaze snapped back to her. "What if they had attacked you, instead? What were you thinking, Laney?"

"I
wasn't
thinking, all right?" She hated the sudden shrillness of her tone, but made no attempt to moderate it. "I woke up in the middle of the night and saw them breaking into your house and it made me mad!"

Why couldn't he just accept that she'd made a dumb mistake and drop the subject? Shaking her head in disgust, she turned back toward the kitchen.

He captured her arm as she tried to walk past him. "Laney, you know I don't care about anything in that house," he rumbled. "You had no business risking your life to save a few stupid guitars."

She stared up at him in wordless frustration. How could she explain that she was fiercely protective of his house and its contents because sometimes it seemed they were all she had left of him?

She tugged her arm from his grasp and stumbled to an overstuffed armchair. Sinking onto its marshmallow-soft cushion, she burst into tears.

"Ah,
don't
." Dropping to his knees beside her, Jeb curved an arm around her shoulders. "Please don't, princess. I'm sorry for yelling."

"It isn't that." Ashamed of her childish display, she wiped her eyes with her fingertips and rubbed her cheeks dry.

"I'm still sorry." Jeb's big warm hand smoothed the curls back from her forehead. Laney was tempted to close her eyes and lean into the caress, but she pushed his hand away.

"Jeb, don't sell your house," she blurted. "It's not like you need the money."

His dark eyebrows slanted even more sharply inward. "Have I said anything about selling my house?"

"The Graces think you're going to."

"The Graces." Jeb again lifted his gaze to the ceiling, this time like a man praying for patience. Which of course he wasn't, since he didn't believe in God.

"Laney, I am not selling the house."

"I know there's no reason for you to keep it." The property he'd inherited from his father had no claim on Jeb's heart. "And I know you think it's too much work for me." Her voice had begun to wobble, so she drew a steadying breath. "But if you sell it, you might never come back to Owatonna."