Jesse's Girl Read online

  “You gave that up?” To take care of his dad? Maybe she had completely misjudged this guy. He taught her son how to ride a bike and he put his family first. Maybe the bad boy thing was an act? Or maybe it was simply who he used to be.

  “Scaled back. I have a business partner. I’m going out on the road this weekend to help him out. Hit a few tracks on the East Coast.”

  “Can I help you with anything here?” she asked.

  “Lynne has it covered. But thank you.” Jesse pulled his hand away and playfully placed his cool beer bottle against her leg.

  Mary Clare yelped. Okay, maybe he still is a pain.

  “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

  Mary Clare scooted to the far side of the glider. “Always trouble.” She had a feeling he was trying to change the topic of conversation, much as she had done, but she didn’t let him. Not until she got more information out of him. “You plan on returning to your business in California at some point? Full time?”

  “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to do it all. It’s not fair to my business partner when he’s doing all the traveling. We’re missing a lot of opportunities on the West Coast. I’m able to do some of the online orders and website stuff. But if we want to grow the business, we both have to be out there.”

  “That’s really cool. How many people can turn their passion into a career?”

  “Yeah. But my first priority is my dad.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Have I shattered my bad boy image?”

  Mary Clare bowed her head and swiped her bangs out of her face, a little embarrassed that he had read her mind. Was she that transparent? “You’re doing a good thing.”

  “Enough about me.” He pointed at her. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you changed the subject.”

  Mary Clare tucked in her chin and pursed her lips. “What subject?”

  “You.” He tapped the back of her hand, his touch reigniting the fire. Heaven help her.

  “What about me?”

  “You’re one big flirt.” He leaned in, stopping inches from her face. Her lips. His clean scent filled her senses. She buzzed with an overwhelming jolt of attraction.

  “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a flirt.” She had been with Chip a long time; she thought she had forgotten how. Maybe she had never really known how in the first place.

  He dragged his finger up her arm and stopped at her elbow before trailing back down.

  She yanked her arm away and laughed. “I can’t focus when you’re doing that.”

  His eyes sparked. “Good to know.”

  “I believe we were talking about my future career.” She needed to redirect the conversation to something safe. Something not personal.

  “Exactly. I asked if you’ve considered finding a job here?”

  She held up her palms. “I hadn’t realized jobs were plentiful in little old Mills Crossing.”

  He slid one hand up her palm and threaded her fingers. As if in slow motion, he pulled her hand toward him and softly kissed the back of her hand. “Oh ye of little faith.”

  They locked eyes for what seemed an eternity. She gently slipped her hand out from his grip. “Maybe my focus should be on hitching my star to some wealthy man’s wagon. Happen to know anyone?”

  Jesse shook his head as if her words had pained him. “Don’t say that, even to joke. My mom always talked like that. Then one day she left us. As a kid, I always imagined her sitting in the back of a limo, surrounded by shopping bags.”

  “I didn’t mean it.” A sadness replaced the lightness she had felt only moments ago. “Do you ever hear from your mom?”

  “Not in years.” He said it as if he didn’t care, but she could tell he did. Probably more than even he’d admit. Her mind drifted to her own son. She’d have to be careful not to let her divorce damage him any more than it had.

  The back screen door creaked open. Mary Clare startled as if she had been caught in a compromising position. Henry was standing at the open door. “That was the best episode ever. Can I use your cell phone to call Zach and see if he watched it?”

  Mary Clare shot up from the glider. “Your program’s over. Okay, then. Guess it’s time we left.” She glanced down at Jesse. A wide smile split his face. He reached out and took her hand, pretending she was helping him stand.

  He stood, but didn’t let go of her hand right away. “Don’t forget to have a little fun in your life. There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun this summer.” Heat shot up her arm as she gleaned his deeper meaning.

  Mary Clare cleared her throat. “It’s kind of hard to think of fun when you have more important things to consider.” Her gaze wandered from Jesse to her son standing in the doorway.

  Jesse dropped her hand and turned to Henry. “You’re going to be a pro one day out there on the motocross track.”

  “You really think?” Henry’s enthusiasm was contagious.

  “If you work hard at something, the opportunities are unlimited.”

  Mary Clare brushed past Jesse. “You should have that made up into a plaque.”

  Jesse caught up to her and playfully tapped her forehead. “And I’ll tack it up right here. You’ll see it every morning when you look in the mirror.”

  Mary Clare laughed. Jesse escorted them around the trailer to her vehicle.

  “Night,” Mary Clare said again as she climbed inside and buckled up.

  Jesse drummed his fingers on the window. “Night.”

  Mary Clare couldn’t help but wonder if their goodnight would have played out very differently if not for their little chaperone in the back seat. Glancing over her shoulder, she made sure Henry was buckled up, too. Ah, it’s just as well.

  “I had a great time tonight, Mom. Thank you.”

  “I did, too.” She put the car in Reverse, then lifted her fingers in a quick wave.

  “I really like Jesse,” Henry said.

  Me, too.

  Mary Clare’s SUV bobbled over the ruts on the driveway. What was she doing? How would her son react when Jesse was no longer part of their life? She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Living in the moment was for people who didn’t have responsibilities. Not her. Whatever she was doing with Jesse wasn’t fair to anyone. She had to put some distance between her and Jesse. She didn’t want to break her son’s heart.

  Or her own.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Mary Clare came out of the bedroom, surprised to find the ladder to the attic extended. She had spent more time in the attic this week than she had her entire childhood. A creak sounded from above her head. “Mother?”

  “I’m up here,” came her mother’s clipped voice.

  Mary Clare climbed the ladder and poked her head into the attic. Her mother was holding a frame in her hand. Mary Clare climbed the rest of the way up and wiped her hands on her PJ pants.

  “It sure is hot up here. I can’t believe you were able to sort through all these things already.”

  Mary Clare had made pretty good progress this week as her mother had requested. She held her breath, waiting for the backhanded “but” that was sure to follow. “You’re all set for an open house, then?” Mary Clare studied her mother’s face, surprised to see her mother seemed fragile. “What is it, Mother?”

  Leaning back on a newly packed box, her mother pressed the pads of her fingers under her eyes as if to hold the tears at bay. Unsuccessfully. “I can’t believe I’m going to sell this house.”

  Mary Clare froze. She didn’t know how to respond to her mother’s tears. Her mother wasn’t an outwardly emotional person. The only time Mary Clare ever saw her cry was at her father’s funeral. And even then, it was followed by a few quick swipes to hide the tears.

  “I can’t believe it either.” Mary Clare had lived in this house her entire life until she left for college. This house was home. A hint of regret clawed at her throat. Why had she been in such a hurry to grow up and move away?

  “The house across t
he street took almost a year to sell. I figure if I get a jump on it, I’ll be able to head south with Aunt Carol next winter.” Her mother pushed off the box she had been going through and turned toward the ladder as if she had just settled something in her mind.

  “Are you sure you want to move?”

  “I can’t put things on hold for you.” Her mother’s sharp tone made Mary Clare clench her jaw.

  “I didn’t mean…” Why is she bringing this up again?

  “It’s time for me to retire. I won’t be around forever, you know.”

  Mary Clare swallowed around a lump in her throat. “I appreciate your letting Henry and I stay here for the summer. We both appreciate it. But you’re right, you need to do your thing now.”

  Her mother picked up a framed photograph and seemed to bristle at the expression of gratitude. It seemed her mother had been hankering for a fight. “Of course, I love spending the time with my grandson. I never got to see him enough before your divorce.”

  Mary Clare bit back her reply. How could she argue? Chip had dictated their schedule and it rarely included a trip to Mills Crossing, a place he called backward and boring.

  Her mother drew in a deep breath, as if composing herself. She held out the frame she had been holding. The photograph revealed a smiling Mary Clare on the day she graduated from high school in her white gown, carrying a dozen roses, a tradition of the Catholic school she had attended. Next to her, her mother and father’s smiles reflected all the dreams they had pinned on their only daughter. “I was very proud of you. I had such high hopes for you.”

  A hot flush settled on Mary Clare’s shoulders. “You’re not the only one who’s disappointed at how things turned out.”

  “Oh, I didn’t…” Her mother let her words trail off.

  “I know you didn’t want me to get married to Chip so young.” She lifted a shoulder. “And you were right. But now that I made my bed, I have to lie in it. Isn’t that what Dad would have said?”

  “People in our day stuck things out. We didn’t give up easily.”

  “You think I gave up easily?”

  “I hardly knew Chip. It was like he thought he was too good for us.”

  Mary Clare didn’t know how to respond to that. Chip had a knack for looking down his nose at people. Was she a little guilty of the same thing? Ashamed, she shoved the thought aside.

  “I hate that things turned out like this, but I couldn’t suck it up anymore.” She dragged her hand along the top of a cardboard box, drawing a line in the dust. “But please, don’t talk negatively about Chip in front of Henry.”

  “I would never.”

  Oh, she would. Her mother lacked a filter. “Thanks, Mother. I appreciate it. Because no matter how things worked out for me and Chip, he’s still Henry’s father.”

  Her mother shrugged, as if she might be able to do something about that. Suddenly her face lit up and she leaned behind her and pulled out a big flashlight. “Are you camping overnight at the track with your brother next week?” Her brother worked odd shifts and days, making a trip only possible midweek.

  “Yeah.” Mary Clare tried to muster some enthusiasm but came up empty-handed. “Henry’s been bugging me to go.”

  “Here.” She handed her the flashlight. “You might need this.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And you might want this, too.” Her mother handed her the photograph she had been holding.

  Her mother took a step down the attic ladder, flattening her hand on the dusty attic floor near the opening for balance.

  Mary Clare stared at the opening. The tips of her mother’s hair, colored a shade too dark for her age, was the last thing she saw before her mother disappeared from view. Mary Clare turned her attention to the smiling girl in the photo.

  What happened to that confident girl who was ready to take over the world?

  A few days later, Jesse approached the bonfire, studying Mary Clare who seemed transfixed by the fire. Oblivious to anyone.

  Oblivious to him.

  Today had been a fantastic day at the local track. The boys had a great time riding. The fun had been extended into a two-day event. Families had set up RVs and camped in the pits. Motocross and camping all rolled up into one. He would have loved to do this as a kid. And he was a little surprised Mary Clare had come along. Camping seemed too outdoorsy for her.

  But he was glad she had.

  The soft breeze blew a strand of hair across her cheek and she absentmindedly dragged it away. Jesse wasn’t sure why Mary Clare never came on his radar before now. Maybe because she was the nerdy little sister of his best friend. Maybe because her parents would have shot him dead if he had tried anything with her. Or maybe because he was just out to have fun when he was a teenager. Even Jesse had known not to hurt his best friend’s sister.

  That’s all he would have done. Hurt her.

  A feeling he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge twisted his gut. The tables had turned. Now she was in a position to hurt him. Just like his mother had. Jesse had worked hard all his life to protect his heart—loving and leaving women before they had a chance to leave him. That’s why he had only suggested to Mary Clare that they should just “have fun.” Quite frankly, he was a fool. Women like MC didn’t take things like relationships casually.

  It was probably just as well.

  Shaking his head, Jesse dismissed the thought. A thought that had crowded in on him as he traveled to a few tracks this past weekend. He loved his job and never thought much about living on the West Coast and traveling until recently, first with his dad’s health and now Mary Clare’s return. Neither of which would hold him there long-term.

  The pyramid of logs collapsed, sending orange sparks floating up into the night air. Relaxing his shoulders, he grabbed a camping chair from under the RV’s awning and dragged it over to the bonfire. No need to let the ghosts of his past haunt him.

  Or the ghosts of what would never be.

  Jesse shook the chair to unfold it and planted it next to Mary Clare in the grass. Resting his hands on the back of his chair, he leaned over toward her, breathing in the scent of burned wood and a hint of coconut shampoo. “Can I get you a beer?”

  She lifted a bottle from the cup holder in the arm of the chair. “I’m good.” She tilted her head toward his chair. “Sit down.” Her voice sounded raspy, inviting. “Stop staring at me. You’re making me self-conscious.”

  Chuckling, Jesse settled in and stared at the red and orange flames licking at the wood.

  She glanced over at him, the flames casting her face in a pretty golden hue. “Henry’s sound asleep. He had a lot of fun today.” She took a sip of beer, the glow of the fire glinting in her eyes. “I can’t thank you enough. I never thought he’d take to riding a dirt bike this quickly.” Mary Clare had acquiesced to allowing him to do ovals in a wide open field adjacent to the real track. Nothing much could possibly happen in that situation, but he figured it was a big leap for Mary Clare who seemed overly cautious about everything.

  “My pleasure.” His eyes scanned the empty chairs around the bonfire. “Everyone else call it a night?”

  “Amanda is getting Billy settled in. I think he was using his sleeping bag for a sack race in the camper.” She stared off into the fire and laughed. “I don’t think Henry ever did that sort of thing. I always said he has an old soul.”

  “He’s a good kid.”

  Mary Clare reached across and squeezed Jesse’s hand. Her hand felt soft on his. Something in his heart stirred. “He never had a solid male role model. Even before his father and I separated, Chip was never around. He was always traveling. When he was home, he was on the phone or otherwise absent.”

  “That’s tough for a kid.” Jesse would sit on the front stoop every day after school waiting for his mom to come home. No matter how many times he willed her Chevy to pull up the gravel road it never did. After about a year, he started to imagine she had been killed in a horrible accident and her car was down a ravin
e—her shopping bags strewn across the weeds—therefore no one knew to contact them.

  In a twisted sort of way, it made him feel better. Until she broke the illusion and called him when he was a senior in high school. By then, he was too hurt to listen to her. He plowed his hand through his hair, then took a swig of his beer.

  “How was your weekend? Did you get a lot of work done at the tracks?” Mary Clare asked.

  “I did. But I’d need to work that way every day for a month to catch up. Business is good. Real good.” He tapped the bottle on the arm of the camping chair. “To be fair to Carson, we might have to bring another partner in.” He shook his head. “I can’t hold up my end.”

  “I hope you can figure something out. Motocross is your passion.”

  He shrugged noncommittally. He shifted his gaze to the fire and watched the flames. It crackled and a spray of sparks shot from the bonfire. “Think maybe we can enjoy the time that we’re both in Mills Crossing?” He reached out and covered her hand with his. He sensed a twitch.

  A spark popped and jumped out of the metal ring of the campfire. “I wish I could just forget about everything and just be.” Her voice had a faraway quality to it. “Maybe then my stomach wouldn’t hurt and my head wouldn’t be crowded with all the things that might go wrong.”

  “Why don’t you? Live in the moment. It does wonders for me.” He turned toward her. He had trouble reading her heavily shadowed expression. He reached out and trailed his fingers up her arm. She seemed to stiffen. “You know you miss out on a lot if you’re always living in the future.”

  She nodded. The flames from the fire danced in her eyes, no doubt hiding the true emotions that lingered deeper. “How exactly do you suggest I live in the moment?” Her voice wobbled over the last few words.

  He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned toward her. Her ragged breath whispered across his cheek. His gut tightened. He lifted his hand and swept the hair from her cheek. “Like this.” Their gazes lingered. He leaned closer, covering her mouth with his. Her lips soft under his. She seemed tentative at first, then her lips parted and the kiss deepened. She tasted sweet, sexy and like a hint of barley from the beer.