Jesse's Girl Page 9

  She snapped out of her trance to notice Henry’s wide eyes imploring her. “Please, Mom. Please.”

  She scanned the field behind the trailer. “Where would he ride?”

  A huge smile spread across Henry’s face. His kid radar sensed she was folding.

  “Right here.” Jesse held out his palm. “The field is plenty big.” He reached out and cupped her elbow. His callused fingers on her skin sent tingles racing up her arms. Chip’s hands had always been soft.

  Then she cursed herself for even thinking about her ex right now. There was no comparison between the two men.

  Blinking rapidly, Mary Clare knew the tide was quickly turning against her. Henry beamed up at her as he got to work on his cob of corn. The faster he ate, the faster he’d get to riding. Gone was the surly kid, replaced by the little boy she knew and loved. Her heart melted.

  After everything she and Chip had put him through, didn’t Henry deserve a little adventure?

  Mary Clare couldn’t think. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she considered every possible scenario that could go wrong. Any sane person would have put an end to this crazy idea right then and there. Tell him no. No. No. No! But the words got stuck in her throat.

  Did she want her son to be afraid of everything?

  She drew in a deep breath through her nose. The smell of grilled meat no longer made her hungry. “Promise me he’ll be safe?”

  “I promise.” Jesse’s words held a hint of something more. “I’m right here.”

  Henry gave Jesse a quick fist pump. “All right!”

  “Wait a minute.” She clamped her son’s shoulders, grounding him. “Eat first. Our host went to a lot of bother for us.”

  “It’s never a bother for you,” Jesse said as he stabbed a piece of steak and popped it into his mouth.

  “You ready?” Jesse peered into Henry’s eyes as the young boy straddled the dirt bike.

  Henry nodded. The helmet smushed Henry’s cheeks, making him look like a very determined chipmunk.

  Closer to the trailer, Mary Clare held on to the awning pole as if it was the only thing keeping her from pulling her son off the dirt bike. In her other hand, she held a beer. Jesse imagined last summer she had stood poolside at the country club drinking some fancy slushy drink. Jesse suppressed the smile pulling at his lips.

  “You doing okay, Dad?”

  Mr. Thorpe lifted a hand, but didn’t say anything. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he pushed back and forth gently on the glider.

  Jesse turned his attention back to Henry. “First, we have to start the bike. See this thing here?” He tapped on the kick starter with the toe of his sneaker. “Just like the name implies, you have to kick it with your heel.”

  Henry studied the bike, then glanced at Jesse with keen interest. He had his mother’s serious eyes.

  “You want to give it a whirl?”

  Henry nodded, his head dipping under the weight of the helmet. Holding on to the handlebars, Henry jammed down on the starter. The motor sputtered, but didn’t turn over. Henry tried a few more times with no luck.

  “I’ll try,” Jesse said.

  Henry slipped off the bike and Jesse straddled it and kicked the starter with his heel. The bike hummed to life. Jesse held the handlebars while Henry climbed on.

  “See this?” Jesse wrapped his hands around the throttle. “You just pull it back a little to give it some gas.” He demonstrated and the bike bucked forward. “And this is the brake. Got it? Easy on the throttle. Easy on the brake.”

  “Got it.” The mouth guard on his helmet muffled his words. Henry got back on the bike and wiggled a bit, as if testing the fit. His sneakers easily touched the grass while he sat on the bike.

  Jesse stepped away from the bike and watched Henry, who lifted one foot, twisted the throttle, lurched forward. The bike wobbled. Henry jammed on the brakes and threw his foot down. A touch of fear flickered in Henry’s eyes. Jesse nodded his encouragement.

  Henry tried again and this time he started off more smoothly. Jesse jogged behind the bike. Henry rode toward the pond then made an easy turn and headed toward the trailer. Henry quickly got the hang of making a huge loop around the field.

  Jesse joined Mary Clare by the trailer. “He’s a natural,” he said.

  “Just my luck.” Mary Clare took a long swig of her beer and held it up in a quasi-toast. Her eyes tracked the movements of her son. “I can’t believe this is my kid.”

  Jesse crossed his arms and leaned on the other side of the pole, his shoulder brushing hers. A soft wind blew her hair from her face. The smell of her coconut shampoo tickled his nose. “He’s a great kid.”

  “He’s always been quiet. Reserved. A lot like his father.” She leaned over and placed her empty beer bottle down on the glass table. Her pink shirt slipped up a fraction, revealing smooth flesh just above the waistband of her khaki shorts. “Never in a million years would I have thought he’d be interested in motocross.”

  “It’s good for him. It’ll build confidence.”

  Jesse’s father spoke up. “I couldn’t get you off the bike when you were a kid. I’d send your sister into the woods looking for you.” His dad watched Henry with a faraway yet lucid look in his eyes.

  The memory tweaked Jesse’s heart. His father would come home from the shop near dark and find Jesse’s bedroom empty. “You always threatened to lock the bike away. But you never did.”

  His dad ran a hand down the arm of the glider. “You loved that bike.”

  One perk of Mom running out on her family: Dad was soft on Jesse. But his poor sister Lynne had to rein him in.

  Shaking away the shroud of gloom that smothered him every time Jesse thought of his lonely childhood, he levered off the pole and strolled across the grass. He held up his hand and Henry rode toward him, braked and put his feet down. Jesse tapped his helmet. “How was it?”

  Henry tugged on his helmet, pulling it off. His short red hair poked out in a million sweaty tufts. Jesse recognized Mary Clare in his smile.

  Mary Clare walked up, her thumbs hooked in her pockets. “You did great.”

  “Mom, this was the best day of my life ever.”

  His mother reached over and tousled his hair. “It was, huh?” Her smile held a mix of joy and what did I just start? “I’m impressed.” She shook her head. “Really impressed.” She planted a kiss on Henry’s cheek.

  “Mom,” Henry said, shooting Jesse a quick glance, “don’t do that to a guy.”

  “Someday you’ll like getting kisses from the pretty girls.” Jesse placed his hand on the small of Mary Clare’s back and she shifted her feet, leaning into him.

  “Yeah, a girl. Not a mom.” Henry rolled his eyes.

  “Gee, thanks.” Mary Clare dragged her thumb across Henry’s cheek.

  “Can I do a few more laps?” Henry asked, cradling the helmet under his arm.

  “Another time. Soon. It’s getting dark.” Jesse noticed his antsy father had pulled a cushion off the glider and was inspecting its edges. “I think my dad’s ready to head in to watch a little TV before bed.”

  Henry pushed the bike toward the shed. “I’ll put it away.” He stopped at the open shed door. “Zach’s never going to believe I rode his dirt bike. Maybe I can go to the races one of these days and actually ride.”

  Mary Clare opened her mouth, then slammed it shut, perhaps not wanting to spoil the mood.

  Jesse took the bike from him and pushed it up the small ramp and into the shed. Henry placed the helmet on a shelf. “I’ll let you take that one up with your mom.” Jesse closed and locked the shed. As he was heading back to the trailer, he noticed Mary Clare and his dad’s heads bowed in quiet conversation. She had replaced the cushion on the glider.

  Jesse drew closer, but they didn’t seem to notice him. “I never had the time to take Jesse out riding when he was growing up. I was too tied up with the shop. I always felt bad about that.”

  Mary Clare patted the back of his father’s h
and. “I’m sure he understood. You were always there for him. That’s what counts.”

  His father nodded, then lifted his gaze. His bright blue eyes caught Jesse’s and a hesitant smile curved the corners of his mouth. The setting sun glinted in his eyes. “I think it’s time for me to hit the sack.” With a shaky arm, he pushed up on the armrest of the glider and took a few fumbling steps. In a flash, Mary Clare was next to his dad, holding his arm. A brick in the wall surrounding Jesse’s heart crumbled.

  “Let me give you a hand, Mr. Thorpe,” Mary Clare said.

  “Getting old is for the birds. If I ever get to be a burden, I want Jesse to take me out back and shoot me.”

  “Dad!” His father had said the same thing for as long as he could remember. He traced it back to when his grandfather wasted away in a nursing home when Jesse was a young boy. “Let’s get you inside. The mosquitoes are getting bad.”

  Henry ran up. “Mom, can I go in and watch a new episode of my favorite show? It’s starting now.”

  Mary Clare narrowed her gaze. “Since when do you have a favorite TV show?”

  “It’s one Zach and me watch. It’s really cool.”

  “We’re leaving,” Mary Clare said. Disappointment coursed through Jesse. He wasn’t ready to say good night.

  “But we’ll miss it. Grandma doesn’t have a DVR. We can’t record it,” Henry started to complain, but then seemed to catch himself. “Sorry, Mom. I was just excited to see the episode. I’m sure they’ll play it in reruns.”

  “Maybe Zach will record it.” Mary Clare shook her head and laughed. “These kids. From one thing to the next. I guess he forgot I let him ride the dirt bike.”

  “Henry’s welcome to watch the TV show here. We do have cable, even in the sticks.” When Mary Clare hesitated, Jesse took the opening. He pulled open the door. “You and Dad can watch it together. He’ll enjoy the company.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?’ Mary Clare tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Not at all.”

  Of course Jesse didn’t mind. Not if it meant spending more time with Mary Clare.

  Jesse returned from the trailer carrying two beers. He plopped down on the glider next to Mary Clare, his thigh brushing against hers, and she had to stop herself from jumping.

  He cleared his throat. “Another beer?”

  “Ah, I better not. I have to drive home.”

  Jesse set the extra bottle on the table and slouched back into the cushion of the glider, relaxing. “You have a great kid there.”

  Mary Clare closed her eyes and drifted with the back and forth motion of the glider. “Thanks. He’s been through a lot, but he’s really coming out of his shell since we’ve been in Mills Crossing.” She rubbed her hands together, then pressed them between her knees and angled her face to look up at him. “I was eager to get out of this Podunk town.” She lifted a shoulder. “I suppose I still am. But my son has really come into his own here. I almost don’t recognize him. Sometimes I’m not sure I like it.”

  Jesse tilted his head as if to say, “How so?”

  “I’m not quite sure I’m cut out to be the parent of a kid who rides dirt bikes, that’s all.”

  “That’s just one part of who he is. There’s nothing wrong with having an adventurous kid.”

  She shrugged, not so sure.

  “Any more leads on the job front?” he asked.

  “No. My experience with Tiffany was enough to turn me off.”

  “Give it time.” He took a long swig of his beer, his Adam’s apple going up and down. “If you go into a place and tell them you’re only looking for a summer job, I doubt you’ll get it.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “Businesses are always looking for good people.”

  A hard knot formed in the pit of her stomach. “I never considered myself too good for a job, but I know it will bug me to work at the grocery store and have some fresh-faced twenty-year-old tell me when I can take my break from the cash register when I have to pee.” She trailed her finger along the chipped paint of the arm of the glider. She swatted at a mosquito buzzing around her leg. “And I’m not sure I would feel right about lying about how long I’ll be in Mills Crossing.”

  Jesse pushed off the glider and she immediately missed the warmth of his body next to hers. She brushed her bangs from her forehead and watched him pick up a lighter with a long tip resting on the ledge of the gas grill. He flicked it a few times until a long flame shot out the end. He lit candles on the tables on either side of the glider. He tossed the lighter aside and sat down. The scent of citronella wafted over to her.

  “That should help keep the mosquitos at bay.” Jesse stretched his long legs and crossed them at his ankles. He draped his arm over the back of the glider in a casual gesture and she resisted the urge to lean into him. Rest her head on his shoulder. They were just friends. No, he was her brother’s best friend.

  He was just being nice.

  This was not a date.

  She wished she could quiet her mind once and for all. What to do. What not to do. Her life was one long, obsessive worry about each and every choice she made.

  “Sometimes you have to make a detour in your plans.” Jesse picked up his beer from the table and took a long sip.

  “Detour.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m well aware of detours.” She ran her pinky under her eye and blinked a few times.

  “But you’re still determined to do things a certain way.”

  She felt his eyes boring into the side of her cheek and she didn’t dare turn and look at him, his face a few inches from her own. She couldn’t think straight.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She traced the chipped paint on the armrest. “I have a son. I can’t just go off and try to find myself. I have responsibilities. More now than ever since my ex let me down financially.”

  “You seem determined to make enough money to go back to Buffalo this fall and put down a deposit on the townhouse and keep Henry in the same school. Doesn’t Mills Crossing have good schools?”

  “We live in the best school district. He has his friends.” Her mind whirled. “Henry’s had too many changes this past year. I don’t want to pull him away from his friends. His school.” As the words poured from her mouth, they sounded a lot like excuses.

  “Henry seems happy to me.” His deep voice rolled over her. “He and his cousin have become best buddies.”

  “Of course he seems happy to you. You’re Uncle Bill’s fun friend. You taught him how to ride a bike. You let him ride a dirt bike.” She laughed, a forced, fake-sounding laugh. The one she used when her ex-husband took it upon himself to critique the neighbors. “What kid wouldn’t be happy riding a dirt bike?” He returned her gaze evenly. Of course he was right. Henry had come out of his shell this summer.

  But what about all her plans to minimize the disruption to Henry’s life?

  She suddenly had the urge to change the subject.

  “I heard you only recently returned to Mills Crossing to take care of your father.”

  “Yep, you weren’t the only one who had dreams bigger than Mills Crossing.” He stared out toward the pond, his tone even. There was a lot she didn’t know about Jesse.

  “When are you leaving?” She hadn’t meant her question to sound accusatory, but it did.

  He paused, giving her a long look before saying, “I don’t know. A lot depends on my dad’s health.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mary Clare backed off a bit. “That was an insensitive question.” But it was easy for him to suggest she return to Mills Crossing when he was probably going to leave.

  “It wasn’t fair to leave my sister with all the responsibilities. She has two teenagers.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Dad’s comfortable in the trailer. My parents bought this place when my sister was born. I’m not going to make Dad move now.”

  “How long has your dad…needed help?”

  “He’d been showing signs of dementia for the past seven or so years. Forgetfulness
. Things like that. At first we thought it was old age. Misplaced car keys. Forgetting appointments, names. Then he started calling my sister by my mother’s name, and insisting our mother was at work. We knew it was something more.” Jesse turned his face away from hers.

  “I’m sorry.” She reached out and touched his leg. Despite her genuine sympathy, she couldn’t deny the surge of attraction coursing through her. She blinked slowly, trying to temper her emotions. She was too vulnerable to sit outside by candlelight with a man she had alternately crushed on and hated since middle school.

  “It sucks. Dad worked hard all his life and now when it’s time to retire, he’s quickly losing it.” He lifted the bottle to his mouth then lowered it without taking a drink, as if suddenly remembering something. “My dad was my hero growing up.” He tapped his thumb on the mouth of the beer bottle. “My mom bailed on us when I was twelve.” The hurt was evident in his heavily shadowed eyes.

  “I didn’t know that,” Mary Clare whispered. “I always thought she passed away.”

  “That’s what I wanted people to think.”

  Mary Clare’s mind swirled. “Does my brother know the truth?”

  Jesse lifted a shoulder. “We never talked about it. Guys don’t, ya know? Your brother just knew it was me and my dad…and my sister. But my sister married young and then it was just me and Dad.”

  “That had to be tough.”

  “It was. But my dad stuck it out. He made the best of a crappy situation. My sister was only sixteen when my mom left. I think it might have been even harder on her.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this.” He swirled his beer bottle. “It’s not that I’ve had too many of these.” He reached over and ran the back of his knuckle across the flesh of her exposed thigh, leaving a trail of fire under his touch. “You’re easy to talk to.”

  “It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” She dragged her lower lip through her teeth. “What were you doing before you came back? Where did you live?”

  “I had a place in California. Motocross is huge out there. I traveled up and down the West Coast to different motocross tracks. My company sells motocross gear.”