Putting Out Old Flames (21 page)

“I know.” She gave Jane a wicked smile. “You work fast, girl. Didn't he just move to town?”

“Four weeks ago,” one of the women at the next table said helpfully. Jane glared at her, and the woman went back to pretending not to listen. The total lack of conversation at her table indicated otherwise.

“Well, that's pretty quick, but not slutty fast.” Allison poured herself a cup of coffee. Waggling her eyebrows, she asked, “So?”

“So what?” Jane had a pretty good idea what Allison wanted, but no way was she going to talk about how Chance was in bed. She didn't want to make the other woman jealous. “Besides, it wasn't fast at all. I've known Chance since we were kids.”

“They were high school sweethearts,” Edith said. “Kind of a boring couple. Her father and I never got a call from the cops telling us to pick up our daughter, never caught them dancing naked in a mud pit like my father caught me and hers. Frankly, it was a little disappointing.”

“So sorry I wasn't the outlaw you wanted.”

“Still,” her mother continued, “Chance was a sweet boy who always treated our Janey right. Well, almost always.” She patted Jane's hand. “But because of one mistake, Jane isn't willing to envision a future with him.”

“Ooh, drama.” Allison placed her hands on the counter and leaned forward. “What—”

“No,” Jane said firmly. “No drama. We were both stupid kids and that's all I'm going to say about it.” She paused. She really didn't want to talk about it, and not just because it was private. It no longer mattered.

She took a deep breath, her chest feeling light as a helium balloon. She was finally past it. Chance had been an ambitious eighteen-year-old, and Jane had been putting way too much pressure on their young relationship. It was over and done. Anything that happened between her and Chance now was on them, what they did in the present, and not what they'd done as teenagers.

Turning to her mom, Jane said in a low voice, “I'm leaving it in the past. I'm not saying anything will come of me and Chance, but . . . I'm willing to try.”

A whiff of patchouli and a billow of chiffon swept around Jane as her mother hugged her. “Good for you, baby. It takes a strong woman to forgive.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Edith pushed back and grabbed another pastry. “Besides, it's time I had grandchildren.”

Jane's jaw dropped.

“Whoa,” Allison said. “I hear that enough from my mom, I don't need to hear other mothers saying it to their kids. I'm going to head back to the kitchen. Any changes you want to make to the catering menu?”

“No, it was all delicious,” Edith said. “Thanks, Allison. The dinner will be fantastic. And we'll sample your desserts tomorrow, right?”

Allison agreed and walked along the counter, picking up empty plates as she went.

As soon as the door to the kitchen swung shut, Jane turned to her mom. “We've been on one date.” She tilted her head. “Maybe two. I'm not sure if the other one counted as a date. But still way too early to talk about grandkids.”

“You've been on a lot more than two dates with Chance. You've known him almost your whole life.” Edith took a sip of water. “Besides, none of us are getting any younger.”

“When did my untraditional mother start sounding so conventional?”

Edith ignored her. “Just think. If you and Chance got married, I'd have a grandson ready-made. And I adore Josh. I'm happy to babysit anytime.”

“You're not just putting the cart before the horse, you're putting a whole wagon train in front.” Jane tapped her fork against her plate. Her hormones had been so eager to fall into bed with Chance that Jane hadn't thought through the implications of dating a single dad. Or soon-to-be single dad. She pursed her lips. Yeah, she still wasn't happy with that not-quite-divorced status.

If she and Chance got serious, she would be a big part of Josh's life. She tapped the fork a little faster. She cared about Josh. He was a sweet kid and a lot of fun to be around. But she'd be lying if she said the idea of being a substitute mother didn't freak her out a bit. She didn't know what she was doing. She could totally mess up a kid.

Her mother covered her hand with her own. “Breathe, Jane. You're going an odd shade of purple.”

Jane let out the breath she'd been holding, sucked in another. And another.

“Whatever you're worried about,” her mother said, “don't. Just let things happen naturally and you'll be okay. No one knows what they're doing. We're all just winging it. You'll be fine. I've seen it.”

“Seen it?”

“You know I inherited my great-grandmother Nonni's third eye. I've seen you in the future, happy and well.”

Yes, Jane's dad and Jane had seen “evidence” of Edith's third eye all throughout Jane's childhood. Every time Edith had pointed to a prediction no one could remember her making, her father had smiled indulgently and told his wife that she was amazing. Of the predictions that they did remember hearing, none had come true. Edith would shrug, say the future was never over and they'd just have to wait.

Not inspiring proof that Jane's future was a bouquet of roses.

“Come on.” Edith stood. “We both have to get back to work. Walk with me back to my shop so you can pick up the other auction items.”

Jane waved goodbye to Allison through the open kitchen window and followed her mother onto the sidewalk. Flipping her sunglasses down from their perch on her head, she breathed in the fresh air. Pete, their local tow truck driver and owner of their sole taxi service, was parked in one of the new electric car plug-in spots, looking at the meter and scratching his head. Jane eyed his diesel truck, bit back a smile, and called out a greeting. Pete pointed at the new meter and shrugged before clambering back into his truck, and moving to a new spot.

Turning, Jane trailed after her mother, the sun warm on her face. From the moment she'd set foot in Pineville, she'd felt more grounded. Centered. The people might be a little nosy, but Jane knew they truly cared. The same women who almost fell out of their seats eavesdropping would be the first ones to drop a box of chocolates at her door if they found out a man had hurt her. And they'd make sure that man was the pariah of Pineville.

Her mom crossed the street, and Jane trotted to catch up. The geraniums were in full bloom in their baskets hanging from each light pole, and Jane brushed the fuchsia flowers from her face as she passed underneath.

“It's really nice of you to donate more stuff for the auction, Mom.”

Edith pulled out a set of keys. “When I heard we were short, what else could I do? Also, I managed to get that cheapskate next door to donate a gift certificate.”

Jane glanced at the line coming out of Soup's On. Even though she'd just eaten, the smell of pumpkin soup wafting out the front door beckoned to her.

“How did you get him to donate?” She followed her mom into her store. Several new bouquets of dried lavender hung from the ceiling, and Jane breathed in the floral scent.

Edith turned her back on Jane and went behind the counter. “Well, I, uh, appealed to his better nature.” Lifting a large bag, she placed it on the counter. “I'm sure he has one somewhere,” she muttered.

“Mom, what did you do? Did you threaten him?” Jane could just see the headlines now: Pineville FD Fundraiser Strong-Arms Citizens into Giving. “You didn't, did you?”

“No.” Edith sounded genuinely shocked. “I just, might have, helped him out a little bit.”

“You bought the gift certificate?” The income her mother earned from the Apothic Garden wasn't huge, and with her store shut down for almost a week, Jane knew things would be tight this month. “You didn't need to do that, Mom. We'd have made do.”

“I didn't buy the whole thing. Mr. Kane did pony up some of the money.”

“Uh-huh.”
Five bucks tops
, Jane thought. She brushed a kiss on her mother's cheek. Jane had thought about bidding on the spa day as a treat for herself. Now she knew who deserved the little luxury more. “Thanks, Mom.”

Turning to the bag, Jane pulled out a square frame, about two feet across, wrapped in a white T-shirt. “What's this?”

“That's a painting by someone in my class down at the community college.” Edith carefully uncovered it, trailed her fingers over the wood frame. “He doesn't want to be identified, but I think he's really good. I bet it will sell for quite a lot at the auction.”

Jane stared at the landscape. It was at a lake, Lake Travis if Jane had to guess, and the play of sunlight over the waves and through the trees on the shore was extraordinary. The painter had included some bathers in the distance, but their forms were indistinct. “It is good.” She peered at the signature in the bottom corner, but the initials were an illegible scrawl. “Is he sure he doesn't want his name listed as a donor to the fundraiser?”

Edith pinched her mouth tight. “He's not sure of anything. But I think it will be best if it's anonymous. Hopefully, when he sees how many people like it, he'll come forward.”

Jane looked at her mother curiously. “He's going to be at the ball? Are you and he . . . going together?”

“No.” She wrapped the painting back up, placed it in the bag. “He and I are currently
not
doing anything together.”

“Are you dating?” Jane couldn't smother the twinge of disappointment that shaded her words. She'd hoped her mom and the chief would come to something, but her mom had gone for an artist-type instead. It shouldn't surprise her. Her mother was artistic. Jane's father had been, too. Of course Edith would seek out someone similar.

Not wanting her mom to think she was disappointed in her, Jane quickly added, “Just so you know, I'd be okay with you dating.”

“Oh, honey.” Edith cupped her cheek. “That's nice to hear. But if I wanted to date, your disapproval wouldn't stand in my way.”

Jane rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh. Just when she thought she and her mom were having a nice moment.

“I'm my own woman, and I'm going to do what's best for me regardless of anyone else's opinion,” Edith said.

“Okay, I get it.” Jane picked up the bag.

“I mean, I'm always happier when you're happy,” Edith continued, “but if I only lived my life the way you approved of, I wouldn't get much done. Nothing fun, that's for sure.”

Jeesh. Really pound that nail in. “Really. I get it. You don't have to say anything else.”

“Just like you need to live your life regardless of how I feel about it.” Edith followed her to the door. “Just because I see you with my grandbabies and a certain hunky fireman doesn't mean you should do anything differently. Although, maybe you could wear sexier clothes. Men do appreciate it when you try a little for them.”

“Oh good God.” She pressed a hasty kiss to her mother's forehead, right where Edith claimed her third eye was, and escaped out the door. Lugging the bag of auction items across the street to her car, Jane thought about her mother's alleged sixth sense.

She knew it was all a part of her hippy-dippy persona, and there was nothing to the idea of a second sight.

But her mother's vision of Jane's future sounded wonderful. Chance and a houseful of babies.

Maybe just this once Edith's prediction would come true.

C
hance threaded the strap through the buckle at Jane's waist and pulled it tight. Running his fingers along the harness that circled her thighs, he tested to make sure it was neither too snug nor too loose.

“I think it's good,” Jane said, her voice low, breathy. “Please stop doing that in public when I can't do anything about it.”

Satisfaction flooded Chance. He liked knowing he got to Jane as much as she got to him. “It's only fair.” From his position on his knees in front of her, Chance's eyes were level with the quick rise and fall of her chest. He looked a little lower. This was a great position to be in.

“How's that?” she asked.

“That I drive you as crazy as you drive me.” Keeping his hands on her outer thighs, he stood, dragging his palms up and over her hips and resting them at her waist.

She fiddled with the strap at her hip. “Maybe we should just forget this whole rappelling thing and go find an empty closet.”

And that's when Chance realized that her rapid breathing and flushed skin weren't solely due to his touch. Jane was scared.

He moved his hands to her shoulders, massaged away the knots. “There's nothing to be nervous about. There's no way for you to fall, even if you tried. I've double-checked all the equipment, and Martinez is going to monitor the belay from up here while I rappel down beside you. You're completely safe.”

Jane snorted. “I think your idea of safe and my idea of safe are two different things.” She shuffled to the window of the cement training building, poked her head out and looked down. “Oh, holy crap. You really go down this thing?”

“
We're
really going to go down this thing.” Grabbing her biceps, he tugged her away from the opening. “Do you think I'm a good fireman?” he asked, stepping into his own harness.

“I don't know,” she said, brows drawn low. “I've never seen you in action.”

He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Do you think I'm the kind of man who'd take chances with your safety? With my son's? Because I promised him I'd let him do this next week.”

“No.” She stared up at him, the gold flecks in her caramel eyes shimmering. “I trust you.”

God, he was an idiot. Because those three little words slayed him. Rubbing his chest, Chance tried to think of something witty to say, something to lighten the mood, make her smile. He wanted a lifetime of making her smile. And for the first time, he thought that maybe they had a shot.

She trusted him. She'd forgiven him. He could see it in her eyes.

He pulled her close. The buckle in her harness dug into just the wrong spot, but he didn't care. “Thank you.”

“Chance,” she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

“Mm-hmm?”

“I still don't want to do this.”

He chuckled. “But you're going to.” Peeling her body off of his, he looked down into her worried eyes. This was familiar territory. Convincing her to go along with his harebrained schemes. “You can tell me what I can do to improve the experience before Josh gets in that harness. You do want him to have the best and safest experience, don't you?” He ignored her narrowed eyes. “Plus, do you want to hear from a five-year-old that he was brave enough to rappel down a little wall and you weren't? Because my son will mock you. He excels at that.”

“I wonder where he learned it,” she muttered.

A dark head followed by a navy uniform rose up from the stairs behind them. “We ready to get this show on the road?” Martinez asked. “A crowd's gathering down below. The guys don't want to miss this.”

“A crowd?” Jane poked her head out the window, peered down. “What are they all doing here?”

Martinez grinned. “No one wanted to miss Dispatch Jane on her first rappel. Some of the guys are running numbers on it. Five has you wussing out, ten has you crying, and my personal favorite, twenty has you flipping ass over teakettle and going down Australian-style.”

She lifted her chin. “I don't even know what that means, but I can assure you, none of those things will happen.” Slapping Chance's chest, she nodded to the window. “Come on. Let's get going.”

Like he was the one who'd been stalling. Chance smiled. Leading her to the opening, he instructed her on what to do. “Martinez will be watching your rope up top, as an extra safety measure, to make sure you don't descend too fast. Any questions?”

Taking a deep breath, Jane swung one leg over the sill. “Just one.” She darted a glance at Martinez, leaned in close. “What's Australian-style?”

“It's when you rappel headfirst.” Straddling the windowsill facing Jane, he patted her leg. “Don't worry. That usually doesn't happen.”

A string of filthy curse words slipped past her pretty lips.

“Come on.” He leaned into his rope, pulling it taut. “I put money on you rappelling like a champ. I'll buy you lunch with my winnings.”

“You bet on me?” She looked at the ground far below, at Chance, and back again.

Putting a finger under her chin, he brought her around to face him. “I bet that you would succeed, and that's a bet I'll always make.”

“Oh my God,” Martinez muttered. “It's like I'm watching a chick-flick.”

Jane squared her jaw. “Okay. Let's do this.”

Chance couldn't resist. He knew the guys down below had a good view of them up in the window, would razz him later, but he leaned down and took her mouth. She was just so damn cute when she was being all kick-ass. He swallowed her little hum of pleasure, delved in for more.

Okay, new plan. When he'd accepted the job in Pineville, his idea for the future had been to work hard, take care of his son, and maybe in a couple of years, when Josh was old enough to understand, start dating again.

Threading his hands in her silky hair, he gently tugged her head back to a better angle.

But then he'd stumbled across Jane. His first love. A woman with heart, determination, and who was so damn sweet he'd have to start checking his blood-sugar levels like his sister. A woman he could build a lasting future with.

So, new plan. Date Jane for a year. There would have to be a lot of sneaking around so they didn't confuse Josh with another woman in Daddy's bed. But no way was he giving up Jane in his bed. Or in her bed. Or her kitchen table. He could even make the wall work.

She gripped his waist and scooted closer. Yeah, he wasn't giving this up. So a year of sneaking her into his bedroom. Then ask her to move in with them. Josh should be comfortable enough with her by then. His divorce would be final. And by the second year, marriage. His first marriage had been so awful, Chance couldn't believe he was already contemplating his second.

But with Jane, it didn't seem like a gamble. Marriage to her felt like a sure thing.

A solid plan. A sensible plan. One that would bring him and his son happiness and stability. He pulled his mouth from hers, lungs working like a bellows. So why did he feel like tossing her over his shoulder and driving to Atlantic City? Like if he didn't pin her down, she'd slip away?

“Wow,” she whispered. She smiled up at him, all traces of fear evaporated. “That was quite a send-off.” Lifting a hand, she rubbed her thumb over his lips, presumably to wipe off her lipstick since she no longer wore any. “I can't believe I'm going to say this, but let's go fall out of this building.”

And just as he'd taught her, she leaned back, let the rope support her, and pushed out of the window.

Side by side, step for step, they dropped down the side of the building together.

* * *

“Say it again,” Chance demanded.

Jane rolled her eyes. Jeesh. She never should have said it the first time. Once a man heard those words, it was all downhill from there. They got cocky. Smug.

Grabbing her around the waist, Chance tickled her side, holding her writhing body firmly in place until she gave up.

“Fine!” Jane wiped at her streaming eyes. “You were right. I was wrong. Rappelling was a lot of fun.”

The tickling stopped, but he didn't release his hold. “I'm glad you're big enough to admit that, Janey-girl. Now if you'd just remember it for all future reference—”

Digging a knuckle into his kidney, Jane slipped from his grasp. She ran a hand through her hair and looked around Pineville's central square, hoping nobody had seen their undignified clinch. She and Chance had been wandering around the weekly farmers' market. He'd managed to lead her behind a clump of maple trees, giving them some semblance of privacy.

“For future reference,” she said, “
I'm
rarely wrong. Like only point-zero-zero-one percent of the time. You'd do well to remember that.”

“Using that math, you won't be wrong again until we're ninety years old.”

“Uh-huh.” She circled around the maple and headed back toward the impromptu stalls that covered the square's wide lawn. She'd seen jars of lavender-infused honey, and she wasn't going to let Chance distract her from her purpose again.

Falling into step beside her, he heaved a sigh. “You know—”

Jane walked a few more steps before realizing he was no longer keeping pace. Turning, she cocked her head. “What's wrong?”

The tendons running the length of his neck bulged. Jane followed his narrowed gaze. Blowing out a breath of relief, Jane shook her head, walked to Chance and patted his chest. “Jeez, I thought you'd seen a serial killer or something. Not Katie with the man I presume is Carter.”

Whipping his head around, he nailed her with a glare. “You know who she's dating?”

“She told me a bit about him.” Jane started walking to the market. “If you didn't get so bat-shit crazy about her dating life, she'd probably tell you about him, too.”

“I don't like the look of him.” His legs ate up the ground to catch up to Jane. “He put his arm around her!” A low growl mushroomed up from his chest.

Jane eyed the pair. “In a very sweet, non-creepy way. You need to calm down. Katie's a beautiful young woman and she's going to date.” Waving at Allison and Judge Nichols across the way, she tugged Chance to the honey booth. “I only have two bucks in my purse. Buy me a jar.”

He reached into his back pocket, removing his wallet without taking his eyes off Katie and Carter. “Does he look older than her to you?”

Jane peeled a ten out and handed it to the girl behind the booth. She gave Carter another look. “Maybe. But not by much.” She cocked her head. “He's cute.”

Chance scowled at her, but facts were facts. The man was tall and toned with caramel-colored skin and a thick crop of dark chocolate curls that just brushed his ears. Jane didn't recognize him, and with a face like his, she would have. He probably lived in one of the surrounding towns.

Carter stopped and bought a bouquet of daisies and handed them to Katie. Cradling them to her chest, she looked up into his face, her own smiling with delight.

“Isn't that sweet?” Jane asked. “He just bought her flowers.”

Chance shoved his wallet in his pocket and grabbed the white paper bag from the girl behind the booth. “I bought you honey,” he grumbled.

“And I really appreciate it.” Rising up on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Looking slightly mollified, Chance wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his hand on her hip. Jane glanced around, caught a few knowing glances. Not that she thought she'd been fooling many people before by saying she and Chance were just old friends, but that pretext was now definitely finished. She and Chance were officially a couple.

She sneaked a glance at him. To the public anyway. To Chance . . . no. She forced the doubts away. He was serious about their relationship. He wasn't playing her. But he wasn't even divorced yet. Was she his rebound woman? Would he regret jumping into another relationship so soon after his marriage imploded?

Jane rubbed her temple. Her mother was right. She was wound too tight. Time to relax. Have fun. With Chance by her side, it wouldn't be hard.

“Look.” Jane pointed. “They're holding hands now.”

“Why would you point that out to me?” Leading Jane after the couple, Chance squeezed her to his side. “Are you punishing me for something?”

Jane steered him in another direction. “No. It's just fun to mess with you. And you're not going to introduce yourself when you look ready to rip the poor man's head off. Maybe we should get a beer or two into you before you meet Carter.”

“If he gets scared away by a couple dark looks from me, he's not good enough for Katie,” Chance argued. But he let her pull him to a booth selling sourdough bread.

Jane agreed, but it was up to Katie to determine whether Carter was good enough. It would only cause a rift between the siblings if Chance got involved.

Picking up a paper-wrapped loaf, she inhaled the ripe yeast aroma. “It's a good thing you have a son. I don't think you'd survive a daughter. Not once she turned into a teenager anyway.”

Chance took the loaf from her, handed it to the baker along with some cash. “I hope to have a daughter someday.” He looked down at Jane, eyes serious. “I'd like to have a couple more kids, if I'm lucky enough.”

Jane sucked in a quick breath. Yep, he was serious about their relationship. Was
she
ready for such a life-changing relationship?

Their gazes held. Flecks of gold in his dark eyes caught the sun. Warmth started low in her belly, spread outward. She tucked her hand in his, tilted the corners of her mouth up. Chance wedged the loaf of bread under his other arm, nodded his thanks to the baker.