“Well, I sure as hell haven’t been going to one of those tanning salons.” He looked at his wife. “Alice wants a shed for all her quilting and sewing supplies. Problem is the man I hired to help me fell off a ladder and hurt his back. I’ve been doing the best I can.”
Jake looked up from his plate. He directed his attention to Alice. “I think I may have died and gone to heaven. This is delicious.” Then he shifted his attention to Henry. “I put myself through college working construction. Maybe I could help you.”
The roast beef suddenly tasted like glue. Alice had always been the matchmaker, so Tara was confident that Henry’s comments had been innocent and that he wasn’t looking for a way to push Madeline and Jake together. However, was Jake looking for a reason to spend more time with the Fentons? Was he attracted to Madeline?
“Why Jake,” Alice practically cooed. Clearly her plan was working even better than she’d dared to hope. “That’s so nice of you. We promise not to take up too much time.”
Jake smiled at her. “I’d be glad to help.”
She turned toward Tara. “So tell us about the picnic.”
Tara was happy enough to do that—at least she could focus on Alice and Henry and ignore Jake and Madeline, whose breasts were about to jump out of her shirt. Tara told them about the parade and the dunk tank and even the sack races. Of course, she left out the part where she and Jake had become tangled. She didn’t want to give Madeline the impression that she was competition. The woman might really get angry, puff out her chest even more, and there would be a wardrobe malfunction of great magnitude.
They were almost finished when Tara asked about Bill. She felt it would be rude not to.
“Oh, he’s fine. Just fine. He’s getting married, you know.”
She did know. Alice had told her at least five times. “Did you get a chance to meet his fiancée?”
“Oh, yes. She’s a lovely girl. So smart. Has a good job.”
“Did Bill find a job yet?”
Alice looked at Henry. He was staring down at his empty dinner plate.
“Why, he’s in business,” she said. “Sales. Same as before.”
Madeline leaned forward in her chair. “Yes, Mother. What is it exactly that darling Bill does?”
Alice pushed back her chair and briskly started clearing the table. The atmosphere was acutely charged. Madeline got up and threw her napkin on the table. “I’ve got a prior engagement,” she said. She braced her arms on the table and leaned toward Jake, and like a good banker, gave him an even better look at her assets. “Maybe another time?” she said, her tone suggestive. Then she left the room without a word to her mother, father or Tara.
Alice stacked dishes with sharp, almost jerky movements. Henry shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Tara wanted to say something to make them feel better, to make the situation less awkward, but she was speechless. It was one thing for Madeline to be rude to her but quite another for her to snub her own parents in the presence of guests. That was something a thirteen-year-old pulled, not a grown woman.
The moment passed when Alice delivered big pieces of peach pie with vanilla ice cream along with cups of steaming coffee. They ate their dessert and made small talk. They stayed another twenty minutes before Jake pushed his own chair back.
They said their goodbyes and went back outside. Tara looked off to the west, where the sky was starting to darken with lovely shades of purple and streaks of red. It was still very warm.
Jake unlocked his squad car and opened the door for Tara. She hadn’t expected that and stumbled over her thank-you. “It’s good there’s a breeze,” she added hastily, aware that Alice stood on the porch and could likely hear their conversation.
Jake didn’t answer. He started the car. She rolled down her window. “Don’t forget that you need to drop me off at Nel’s. My car is there,” she said, more loudly than normal.
He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Okay.” He put the car in Reverse, made a quick turn, and they were on their way. Tara took a quick look over her shoulder and saw that Alice was still standing on the porch. Watching.
“Is there a reason you’re yelling?” he asked.
“I wasn’t really yelling.” She took two deep yoga-style breaths. “It’s just that I don’t want Alice thinking the wrong thing.”
“Which is?”
She resisted the urge to sigh. He was deliberately pushing her buttons and she was too tired to do the dance. “She obviously is hoping that you’ll have some interest in Madeline. Alice is not just my landlord, she’s my friend, too. I do not want her to think that there’s something between the two of us.”
She waited for him to respond but he didn’t seem inclined. Nervous with the silence, she plunged ahead. “Look, this is a ridiculous conversation. Let’s talk about something else.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, then he smiled and pressed a hand to his firm, flat stomach. “I’ve always heard about roast beef that melted in your mouth but I’ve never actually experienced it until tonight.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “And, yes, Alice is a wonderful cook,” she added in her normal voice.
“I got the impression that Madeline and her twin brother aren’t close.”
Tara looked out the side window. “I’m not sure what happened. Bill rarely talked about Madeline but when he did, it was pretty apparent that there was a whole lot of resentment. I don’t know about what. He never said.”
“Families. Hard to figure out sometimes.”
“True. It was nice of you to volunteer to help Henry with the shed,” she said. “I didn’t realize that you had those skills.”
“I get by. Good enough for shed building anyway. I like working with my hands. My dad is an amateur carpenter, and I’ve helped him on several projects.”
Now she understood the calluses on his palms. She’d shared a love of words with her dad. He’d been a newspaper editor and she’d been proud to follow somewhat in his footsteps. She’d expected to have lots of time to learn from him. Then life had taken a very unexpected turn when her parents, coming home from a social event, had both been killed in an automobile accident, victims of a drunk driver. The shock had paralyzed Tara. She’d somehow managed to arrange their funerals. Two months later, she’d met Michael. Now, in retrospect, she wondered if her judgment had been impaired.
“Well, hopefully, the two of you can make a dent in it during the six weeks that you’re here.”
He kept his eyes on the road. “If it takes a couple extra weeks, I don’t think Chase will mind me staying at his place.”
What kind of arrangement had he made with his current employer? “You must have had a lot of vacation time built up in order to take that much time off.”
She didn’t think he was going to answer the question. Or move at all. They were stopped at the first intersection past the Fentons. There was no reason he couldn’t go. There wasn’t another car on the road.
“Jake,” she prompted.
He turned to look at her. “I’m on a leave of absence. I got shot in the leg about three months ago.”
Shot. He’d been hurt. Her dessert rumbled in her stomach. “I had no idea. I mean, no one could tell. You’re not limping or anything.”
He smiled. “I paid attention to what the physical therapist told me to do.”
“Did they catch the man who did it?”
“Woman. She was my partner. I returned fire and killed her.”
His partner.
The cops she’d known in D.C. were closer to their partners than to their sisters and brothers. It was a tight bond. “That must have been horrible,” she said. She reached out and touched his arm. “What happened?”
Jake stared at her hand, then slowly lifted his eyes until they were staring at each other. “I don’t talk about it much.”
It was the same thing he’d said about his divorce. “I…I’m just so sorry that happened to you. You must have trusted her a great deal. And it would have felt like such a betrayal, like a piece of you had turned bad.”
He tilted his head ever so slightly and seemed to consider her words. “You know,” he said finally, “you’re the first person to say it exactly that way. How did you know?”
She knew a lot about trusting the wrong person. About the bone-deep pain of being connected to someone and being terribly wrong about that person. “I…” Could she tell him? Could she take the chance? She just didn’t know. “I’m not sure,” she lied.
He shoved the car into Park and leaned across the seat. “Tara,” he said, very quietly. Then he cupped the sides of her face with his palms, and kissed her.
Gentle at first. His lips were warm and soft, and she could taste coffee and peaches. It had been so long and it felt so good. She opened her mouth, and he didn’t hesitate. The kiss went deep, his tongue in her mouth, consuming, possessing, owning. And just when she thought it would end, it didn’t.
When he finally pulled back, he was breathing hard.
Yikes.
The man’s mouth is a weapon. He should carry a permit.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first night I met you. And if it matters,” he added, a smile in his brown eyes, “you’re the first girl I ever kissed on a gravel road in the middle of nowhere.”
The absurdity of the situation hit her. They were parking, or rather in Park, in a police car, and necking like high school kids. What the hell had Alice put in that peach pie? “I’m not looking for a relationship,” she said.
“And I’m only here for a few more weeks.”
It was the perfect arrangement. No strings. “That’s fair,” she whispered.
He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “At the risk of moving way too fast and you jumping out of this car, I’ve just got to ask—when we get to town, will you come to Chase’s house?”
They both knew what the real question was. And she desperately wanted to say yes. For one night to forget that he was something she couldn’t have. To forget that she’d made choices that couldn’t be undone. To be young again.
“My house is closer,” she whispered. She pointed to the right. “Turn that way.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and accelerated. When they crested the next hill, they saw the smoke.
“Oh, my God. My house is on fire,” she said, just as the squad car’s radio crackled to life.
Chapter Eight
He and Tara arrived from one direction at almost the exact same moment that Wyattville’s volunteer firefighters arrived from another. It was the garage, not the house, that was burning.
“Stay back,” he ordered and jumped from the car. The breeze Tara had celebrated earlier wasn’t helping them now. The garage was fully engulfed in flames and the house would go next.
Unless they could work very quickly. He watched the men scramble down from the truck and efficiently move to get hoses connected. While this was a volunteer unit, Jake could immediately sense that they knew what the hell they were doing. He was grateful. Tara did not deserve to lose her home.
Once the water was pouring on the flames, he turned to find her. He had a moment of panic when she wasn’t standing by his squad car. Then he saw her, standing next to Alice, who had arrived along with a steady stream of what must be other neighbors. The older woman had her arm around Tara’s shoulder, but Tara wasn’t hiding her eyes, hoping that it would all go away. She was scanning the crowd, looking.
She was expecting to see someone. Who, damn it?
It took thirty minutes to extinguish the fire. Once the ruins were simply smoldering, the fire chief made his way toward Jake. “Evening, sir,” he said. “I’m Chad Wilson. Toby is my dad. He said he’s been doing some repairs for you.”
Jake shook the firefighter’s hand. “What do you think, Chad?”
“I think we’re damn lucky that her van wasn’t parked inside with a full tank of gas. It would have made it tough to handle in this wind. The building is a total loss.”
“Is there an arson investigator in this community?”
Chad nodded. “I’m a trained investigator. We’ve got some additional resources we can call in Minneapolis if we need to. However, this one isn’t that tough. There’s no question that this fire was deliberately set.”
“How do you know that?”
Jake whirled around. He hadn’t seen Tara approaching. Her face was pale, her skirt was dirty from the blowing soot, but she didn’t look surprised to hear that it had been arson.
“Hey, Tara. Sorry about the garage. But at least we saved the house.”
“Thank you, Chad. I’m grateful. Really. Can you tell me how you know it was arson?”
Chad looked uncomfortable. “I really shouldn’t be saying much more, Tara. Not until…that is…until you’ve made a statement.”
Oh, boy,
he thought. Her face colored red with frustration or anger or a mixture of both. “A statement,” she said between clenched teeth. “
I
have to make a statement.”
Now Chad was looking at the ground. “Chief Vernelli here should take your statement. Make sure your whereabouts in the last hour are accounted for. Hell, Tara, I’m doing this for your protection.”
“I did not burn my own garage down,” Tara said. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And if you had any sense…” She started to point her finger in Chad’s face.
Jake decided to save the man. After all, he and the other firefighters had saved the house. “I don’t need to get a statement from Tara. I know where she was for the last hour. With me.”
That got Chad to raise his head. And his eyes were full of interest.
Jake held up a hand. “We were dinner guests at the Fentons’.” His tone said it all:
Stop your speculation. This part of the discussion is over.
“Now why do you think the fire was deliberately set?”
“Multiple points of origin, and somebody cut a damn hole in the roof to make it spread faster.”
“I want to take a look,” Jake said. Maybe there would be something that would lead him to the arsonist’s identity.
“We’ve got to wait for it to cool down. Tomorrow morning, when it’s daylight, I’ll be back. If there’s anything in there that will help us identify who set the fire, you’ll be the first to know. Right now, though, I’m going to secure the area with some crime scene tape.” Chad turned toward Tara. “A couple of my men will stick around for a few hours. Sometimes there can be ash hot enough to reignite, and with this wind you might be in danger in the house.”