Still Waters (11 page)

Jake laughed, the sound bursting past the tension and frustration he felt. “You’d really want a big, ugly monster living with you?”

“It’d be better than being alone.” Though Tiffany’s voice was light, Jake could sense the truth behind her words.

“Being alone isn’t so bad. There’s lots of benefits to it.”

“Like what?”

“Like freedom to do what you want when you want. Never having to worry about someone else worrying about you. No one around to tell you what to eat or when to eat it. Watching TV until two in the morning, eating ice cream out of the carton, leaving dishes in the sink—none of those things are a problem when you live alone.”

Tiffany smiled at Jake’s assessment of single life. She had to admit she enjoyed her freedom. “True. Ice cream out of the carton tastes better, but living alone can still be tedious and lonely.”

“I’ve found that some of the loneliest people live in houses overflowing with life.”

“That’s true. Besides, I’m not the marrying kind.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t think marriage and family are in God’s plan for me.” She’d meant to sound flip. Instead she sounded sad.

Jake was silent for a moment, his gaze so intent Tiffany felt the heat of embarrassment spread across her face. When he spoke, his words were gruff, almost grudging. “You’re not going to be alone forever. You’re the kind of woman that
should
be married.”

“So, you think some people shouldn’t be?”

“Without a doubt.”

Jake’s words were so emphatic, Tiffany couldn’t help but
wonder if he was thinking of himself when he spoke them. She was tempted to ask him but decided against it. “Well, I’m probably one of them.”

“No. You’re the marrying kind. You just have to be willing to wait on God’s timing.”

“Great, so I might be 105, walking down the aisle with Bandit the fourth limping along behind me.”

Jake laughed. Not just a chuckle, but a full-bodied, warm laugh that shivered up Tiffany’s spine and sent her heart racing. “I doubt it. But at least in the meantime, you won’t be completely alone.”

He gestured to the mudroom, where Bandit had appeared. “Looks like the mutt has been doing his Houdini routine again.”

They both watched as Bandit made his way across the floor and curled up near Tiffany’s feet. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears. “I suppose having him around
is
some consolation. How’d you get in here, boy?”

“Probably the mudroom door. Which reminds me, I need to rig some kind of lock to keep the door secure for the night. Why don’t you go rest while I take care of it?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“The migraine is gone?”

“It’s negligible. If I catch them before the pain gets intense, the medicine usually works quickly.”

“Do you have any tools?”

“Yes, there’s a small box under the sink.”

Jake quickly located what he needed, grabbing a hammer and a handful of nails from the toolbox. “How about plywood? Or, better yet, a couple of two-by-fours?”

Tiffany’s lip twitched at the thought of her door barricaded shut. “You’re not serious? You don’t think that’s overkill?”

“It’s up to you, but the lock is completely destroyed and the entire mechanism needs to be replaced. I couldn’t get the door to latch shut properly when I tried earlier. I can probably get it to close, but rigging a replacement lock won’t be any more effective than the one you had before.”

Tiffany pictured a masked intruder skulking in the shadows outside her house waiting for Jake to leave so he could break in and finish what he’d started. “There are some boards in the basement.”

“Good.” Jake opened the door that led into the basement—a dark, dank area of the house that Tiffany seldom entered—and disappeared down the steps.

W
hile Jake searched for the boards, Tiffany brewed some coffee and set out a plate of cookies. Then she went into the powder room and tried to scrub the mask off her face.

“I’ve got the boards.” Jake’s voice drifted out from the kitchen. “I’ll just hammer a couple onto the door and wall. That should keep you secure for the night.”

“Thanks.” Tiffany dried her face and hurried out of the room, then followed the sound of hammering to the mudroom. Jake held a two-by-four in one hand and pounded a nail into the wood with the other. He glanced up as she walked into the room, his gaze drifting across Tiffany’s partially scrubbed face.

She thought he would comment. Instead, he gestured toward the door. “A hard kick from the outside might be enough to loosen the board, so I’m going to hammer in a couple more, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. I brewed some coffee. Would you like a cup?”

“Sounds good. I’ll finish this first, though.”

“Want me to hold one end of the board for you?”

Jake hesitated and Tiffany was sure he would turn down her offer of help. Then he shrugged and nodded. “That would make things a little easier. Thanks.”

They worked in companionable silence, Tiffany holding the boards as Jake hammered. At times his shoulder would brush against her arm, or the warmth of his breath would fan her cheek. If Tiffany’s skin tingled a bit, if warmth spread from each point of contact, she told herself what she felt was a reaction to stress and the sudden waning of the adrenaline that had been pumping through her system.

By the time the last board had been hammered up, her nerves were on edge. Backing away from Jake she tried not to acknowledge how much his presence affected her. “I’ll go pour the coffee. Do you take cream or sugar?”

“Black is good.” Jake looked up from the tools he was replacing, his expression so intense Tiffany was sure he knew the feelings he evoked in her.

She turned away, hurrying into the kitchen and busying herself with the coffee. Even then her mind jumped from thought to thought, her brain refusing to accept what her body was telling her.

Chemistry. That’s what she felt when she stood near Jake. A deep, visceral response to his presence that was unlike anything she’d felt for Brian. She’d never worried that it was missing from their relationship, assuming that friendship and mutual respect were more important than gut-level attraction.

Now she wondered if she’d been wrong.

She both respected and admired Jake. The attraction she felt for him enhanced those feelings and she imagined if they were dating the combination would be powerful.

Was
that
what romantic love was about?

Hot coffee splashed onto the counter, overflowing from the mug she’d been pouring it into. Tiffany grabbed paper towels and wiped up the mess. Then took a sip of the scalding liquid, hoping the caffeine would jolt some sense into her.

She’d dated enough men to know that her reaction to Jake was unusual. But love? Even thinking the word in conjunction with Jake made her blush. She barely knew the man. Yet she couldn’t help believing that with a little encouragement love was exactly what she would feel.

“The coffee smells good. Do you plan to share?”

Startled, Tiffany sloshed coffee from her over-f cup, and turned to face Jake. “Sure. Grab a mug and I’ll pour you some.”

He did as she suggested, then leaned against the counter, sipping the hot liquid. A shadowy beard colored his jaw, and fatigue pulled at the edges of his eyes. Still Jake seemed content to linger despite the late hour.

Tiffany didn’t mind. It was nice having someone to keep her company. If that someone happened to be strong and capable of discouraging would-be intruders, all the better. Smiling a little at the thought, Tiffany slid the plate of cookies in Jake’s direction. “Have a cookie.”

Jake raised an eyebrow at Tiffany’s tone. “You seem cheerful all the sudden.” He grabbed a cookie and bit into it.

“I was just thinking how handy you are to have around.”

“Yeah?” Jake grabbed another cookie.

“Yeah. You know how to use a hammer and you’re good at scaring away the bad guys. Not to mention companionship potential. That’s a heady combination. Someday you’ll make someone a fine husband.”

Tiffany had meant it as a joke but it was obvious from
Jake’s expression he didn’t find her words amusing. “I tried that before. It didn’t work out.”

“I didn’t realize…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The words were terse, designed to cut off any discussion before it got started.

Tiffany knew she should take the hint, but curiosity got the better of her. “Did you manage to stay friends? So many people do, nowadays. I suppose that might make it easier.”

“I doubt anything could make it easier.” Jake ran a hand through his hair and took another sip of coffee, eyeing Tiffany over the rim. When he spoke again his voice was less harsh. “And no, we didn’t stay friends. Maybe we were never friends to begin with.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yeah. It is. Which is why I’m not planning to go down that road again.”

“Did she?”

“Sheila? Get married again? No. She was a party gal. Liked to play hard and drink hard. Eventually that caught up with her. She was killed in a car accident a few years ago. Got drunk and ran her car off the road.”

“How horrible.”

Jake nodded. There was sadness in his eyes, and regret. Tiffany thought he might put down his coffee and leave. Escape her and the conversation she should have left well enough alone. Instead he reached for a third cookie.

“The cookies are good. Did you bake them?”

For a moment Tiffany considered ignoring the blatant change of subject, but the set look on Jake’s face warned her to let it go. “Actually, I didn’t. My mother did.”

“Lucky you, having a mom who still bakes cookies for you.”

“She is pretty great.” Tiffany smiled, remembering her
mother’s excuse for bringing the cookies. “She insisted she’d made them for my nieces and just thought I might enjoy a few.”

“And you don’t believe her?”

“No.” Tiffany picked up a cookie and bit into it. “The girls hate raisins. As a matter of fact, I’m the only one in the family who likes them. Mom made these cookies for me. Guess she figured I could use some comfort food.”

“Can you?”

“Not for the reasons she thinks.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, she thinks I miss Brian.” Tiffany finished the cookie and brushed crumbs from her hands. “I don’t.”

Jake’s face softened, the lines of tension easing as he relaxed against the counter. Apparently he was more comfortable talking about Tiffany than he was talking about himself. “Really? According to at least six women who were chatting at the diner, you’re pining away for McMath.”

A bit of humor curled at the edges of Jake’s mouth and Tiffany felt her own lips curving in response. “That’s exactly what they were saying at the Cut’N’Dry when I was there earlier.”

“You had your hair done today?”

Tiffany saw surprise in Jake’s eyes as he surveyed the mass of lacquered hair plastered to her head. “Actually, no. I managed this” Tiffany reached up and touched her stiff hair “all by myself. I was at the Cut’N’Dry installing a new computer system. The owner wants to keep up with some of the fancy salons in Lynchburg.”

“And the women just chatted about you to your face?”

“Of course not. They waited until I went into the back office. They just didn’t realize how well their voices carried over the sound of the hair dryers.”

Jake smiled, his gaze steady on Tiffany as she sipped coffee.

Flustered by his unwavering stare, Tiffany reached up and touched her hair. “I’ve got to get this stuff out of my hair before it sets permanently.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you about that all night.” He reached out and rubbed a finger against the side of her face. “And this.”

“This?” Tiffany tried to pretend the touch of his warm skin against hers had nothing to do with the sudden increase in her heart rate.

“The green stuff you had on your face.” He lifted his finger, showing Tiffany a smudge of green. “I’ve been wondering if it’s part of some female beauty ritual.”

“More like cucumber and avocado. The jar said it would ‘lift and tone and add elasticity.’” Tiffany ran a hand over her face, feeling the dry spots where bits of mask remained. “It didn’t mention it would stick like glue. I think the only thing that will get the rest of this off is a hot shower.”

Jake nodded, straightening to his full height. “Guess I’d better leave you to it.”

The words sent fear shooting along Tiffany’s nerves. Surprised by the intense emotion, she turned away from Jake, trying to pull herself together. Placing leftover cookies in the jar and rinsing out the coffeepot did little to still the frantic pounding of her heart. She’d never had cause to fear being alone, but now she questioned her safety. Someone had come into her sanctuary and ripped to shreds the contentment and security she had always felt there.

Jake saw fear in the brightness of Tiffany’s eyes and the too cheerful way she tidied the kitchen. Despite his determination to keep his distance, he moved beside her and laid
a hand over hers, stilling its motion as she moved to wipe the counter for the fifth time. “You’re scared.”

Tiffany didn’t look at him, just ran a weary hand across her eyes. “I shouldn’t be. But I am.”

“You have a right to be afraid.”

“I feel like a fool.” Tiffany finally met Jake’s gaze, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “But I’m scared out of my mind. I keep thinking I’ll get in the shower and when I come out, he’ll be waiting for me.”

“He won’t be. Your house is secure.”

“How can I know that? I thought it was secure before.”

Jake understood her fear. He’d seen it many times in the aftermath of crime. “What you’re feeling is a normal reaction to what happened tonight. I’d be worried if you weren’t scared.”

“Well, I suppose I should be thankful I’m not the only coward in the world.”

It was as natural as breathing for Jake to lay a hand against the back of Tiffany’s neck, kneading muscles gone tight with tension. “You’re not a coward.”

“I feel like one.”

“You’re exhausted. You can’t rely on your feelings.” Jake could feel Tiffany relaxing under his firm ministrations. “Look, go take a shower. I’ll wait here until you’re done and then we’ll walk through the house together. Make sure everything’s secure.”

“Jake, I appreciate your offer, but I’ve taken up enough of your time in the past few weeks. I’ll be fine.”

“I may not be husband material, but I do know how to be a friend. Go take your shower.”

For a moment Jake thought Tiffany would argue but in the end she nodded. “Okay. Thanks. I won’t be long.”

Fifteen minutes later Jake heard the soft creak of wood
and the faint thud of Tiffany’s feet on the stairs. True to her word, she hadn’t taken long. Jake stood and stretched, waiting for her to enter the room.

When she did, he caught his breath in surprise. Dressed in denim shorts and a well-worn T-shirt, damp hair curling around a face devoid of makeup, she shouldn’t have been so attractive.

She was.

A light berry scent drifted on the air as Tiffany moved across the room. Her skin, still pink from the heat of the shower, glowed with health. When she spotted Jake, the tiny frown that creased her forehead eased and her eyes lighted with a smile seconds before her lips curved upward.

And Jake knew he was in trouble.

He’d never known a woman like Tiffany. She had a combination of strength, intelligence and persistence that might have been overpowering if it hadn’t been tempered with compassion and love for those around her. And beneath all those things, hidden by layers of confidence, was an intense desire to be valued for who she was, to be accepted and to be loved. This vulnerability, as much as Tiffany’s strength, drew Jake to her.

Strength and vulnerability. Jake had grown up believing one to be exclusive from the other. His father had the strength in their family, his mother the vulnerable neediness. Only after becoming a Christian and reading about the life of Jesus, had he realized a man could be both strong and gentle.

Perhaps if he had learned that sooner, he might have been a better husband to Sheila. As it was, the past lived too vividly in Jake’s mind for him to ever risk a committed relationship again.

Especially not with someone like Tiffany. Someone who
deserved love, respect and commitment. Not emotional distance and little attention. Swallowing down regret, Jake grabbed his coffee cup and drank the last of the cold brew.

“Is something wrong?”

Jake shook his head. “No. Just gathering wool.”

“I doubt that. You seem like the kind of person who’s always thinking, planning ahead, laying out his next course of action.”

Amused by Tiffany’s assessment of his personality, Jake smiled. “That about sums it up.”

“I thought so.” Tiffany walked past him and sank onto a wood chair.

“Why?”

“My father is a thinker and planner, too. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen him wearing almost exactly the same look you just had on your face.”

“What look?”

“The look that says, ‘There’s a problem here and I plan to fix it.’”

Surprised by her insight, Jake didn’t comment.

“So, want to share? You’ve helped me plenty, maybe I can give you a hand solving whatever problem you’re having.”

Tiffany’s words were spoken with such sincerity and enthusiasm, Jake didn’t have the heart to brush her off. “I’m just wondering who broke into your house.” The statement was true, if not precisely what he had been worrying about.

He could tell by the look in Tiffany’s green eyes she didn’t believe him. “Oh, well, that is definitely something I can’t help you with.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

The words elicited a laugh from Tiffany, as they were meant to.

“Which begins with me walking through your house with you.”

Offering a hand, he pulled Tiffany to her feet. Only when she turned to push in the chair did he notice the bluish purple lump behind her ear. Partially hidden by hair, it looked to be the size of an egg, round and hard and painful looking. Reaching out a hand, Jake smoothed damp curls away from the area and took a closer look.