Where She Belongs (Destiny Falls) Read online

  Their lips met softly, the moment tender. Gradually, the kiss deepened.

  As before, as always with Adam, a compelling need swept through her. It’s right. It’s wrong. Not now. Right now.

  She opened her mouth beneath his and relinquished herself to the pleasure of his kiss.

  He moaned. His hand glided down her neck until his thumb rested in the hollow of her throat. Her pulse beat wildly. The heat of his palm flowed into her as his rough fingertips caressed her skin.

  With a groan, he tore his mouth away. His breath raked from his chest. “Damn it, Jess, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  She wanted him back. His lips, his arms. “I know.”

  He pushed her hair off her face. Tingles skated along her neck. “I hope you don’t think I was trying to take advantage of the situation—of you,” he murmured.

  “I don’t.” She bore as much responsibility for the kiss as he did. Lying to herself wouldn’t change that. “But... the kiss... us...”

  “So now there’s an us?” He smiled.

  “There could be.” The same words he’d uttered at The Clothes Horse Saturday. How ironic.

  “There could be,” he repeated, voice husky. “That’s the best non-answer I’ve had all day. I’ll take it.”

  Chapter Eight

  TWO DAYS LATER, Jess had mastered the stick shift in Adam’s SUV but hadn’t come closer to deciding how far she wanted to pursue their attraction. In telling him about the past, she’d invited him into her life in a way she hadn’t done with another man since Danny. She hadn’t even mentioned Danny to her Toronto ex-boyfriends. The woodlands tragedy would have sounded as foreign to those career-obsessed city boys as paying for their lattes with rubles.

  Wednesday morning, she drove to Molly’s to email her assistant several large files, then ran errands. On her return, a faded blue pickup sat in her mother’s driveway. Sheba napped in the sunshine that streamed over the truck bed.

  Heart pounding, Jess parked the SUV in the garage. She hadn’t heard from Sheba’s handsome master since dropping him off at his big log house on Monday. She’d assumed he intended to give her a few days. Now, warmth spread through her. She really wanted to see him.

  Entering the house through the mudroom, she set the groceries and her laptop case on the kitchen counter. Radio music drifted from the living room, and the orange-spice scent of her mother’s favorite herbal tea laced the air.

  She crossed to the archway. Adam and her mom played crib at the cherry-wood coffee table. Adam perched on the sofa, rubbing his jaw in concentration, while her mom pegged out points from the swivel rocker to his left.

  In the moment before they noticed her, something inside Jess softened. Wearing jeans, a chambray shirt, and gray work socks on boot-less feet, he looked incredibly right sitting there. As if he belonged.

  The man felt more comfortable in his skin than anyone she’d ever met. She wanted to find her place in this world more than anything. Could he show her how?

  As if in answer, his head lifted and his clear blue gaze zeroed in on her. His sexy half-smile evoked every detail of their kiss at the waterfall, and her pulse fluttered.

  “Hi.” Her voice sounded wispy and insubstantial. Face heating, she cleared her throat.

  “Hi, yourself.” He got up. “Your mom said you went grocery shopping. Need help with the bags?”

  “No, thanks. I already brought them in.” Motioning for him to sit again, she strolled to the swivel rocker and kissed her mom’s cheek. “Who’s winning?”

  “Can’t you tell?”

  “I am!” Mom’s peg skipped past the skunk line. “I invited Adam to stay for lunch to thank him for lending us his SUV,” she commented as if he visited every day. “Did you buy the salad things?”

  Jess nodded. “And some macaroni and cheese. But I can fix you a sandwich, Adam, if you don’t like packaged macaroni.”

  He patted his stomach. “I’m starving. A sandwich and mac?”

  “And salad?”

  “Looking at you makes me hungry.”

  “A salad, a sandwich, and macaroni, it is,” Jess said. As she turned toward the kitchen, her shoe nudged an object sticking out from under the coffee table. Bending, she retrieved a photo album and flipped the first few pages of the suddenly familiar volume.

  Her stomach sunk. “Oh, Mom, no, my baby pictures! Please tell me you didn’t show these to Adam.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “My favorite’s the one of her bathing you in the kitchen sink,” Adam said as he shuffled cards.

  The nudie collection. Excellent.

  “Jessie, you’re my only child. Lord knows your father and I wanted more, but it didn’t work out that way. I’m proud to show off your baby pictures to anyone willing to see them.”

  Eyes twinkling, Adam dealt the cards. “Maybe someday Jess will give you hordes of grandkids, and you can show off their pictures instead of hers.”

  “That would be nice.” Her mother’s tone was wistful.

  Jess itched to kick his shin—hard. “Don’t plan on it any time soon, Mom. My job’s very busy, remember?”

  “Yes, but if you met Mr. Right—”

  “Somebody mention my name?” Adam’s index finger bobbed.

  Her mother’s laugh competed with the country melody on the radio. “Adam, you’re delightful. Isn’t he, Jessie?”

  “He’s an absolute scream.” Jess leveled the delight in question a stern look, then carried the album to the bookshelf flanking the fireplace. “I’ll make lunch while you two finish your game.” Shelving the album, she headed to the kitchen.

  “Oh,” her mom said. “Before I forget, your office called. They want you to call back before five o’clock their time.”

  “That was fast.” Jess looked at her watch. Twelve-fifteen in B.C. meant three-fifteen Toronto time. “I’ll do that first. My assistant must have a question about the files I sent.”

  Nora Olson was literally creaming him at crib. “Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, pair is six, pair is eight.” Her little white peg bounced along the board.

  “All right, I give, I give already!” Faking bad sportsmanship, Adam threw down his cards. His peg stood a good twenty points back.

  “You can’t give,” Jess’s mother informed him. “I’ve won.”

  “Okay, I concede defeat.”

  Her gaze flicked to the kitchen. “I see Jessie’s finished her phone call.” She rose. “I’d like to freshen up before lunch. Would you let her know?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Be back soon.” She went upstairs.

  Adam tucked the cards into their box and stored the pegs in the compartment on the underside of the crib board. Nora’s spirits had improved greatly in the twelve days since Pete’s heart attack. Although her sadness re-emerged now and then—in the sorrow-etched lines at her eyes and mouth, in her sudden, searching, lost-soul glances—she appeared much more at peace, and rested, and capable of moving on.

  Jess’s visit had done her mother a hell of a lot of good.

  After Adam had finished tidying their game, he strolled into the kitchen. His thick work socks muffled his steps as a hearty country song played on the living room radio. Jess placed a water-filled pot on the stove, a contemplative expression on her face.

  He should cough or say something to announce his presence, but he really just wanted to stand there watching her. Her new blue jeans molded her curvy behind, and her leaf-green T-shirt and dark brown belt looked worlds away from the high heels and sophisticated dress she’d worn to the Wander-Inn Saturday night. Yet, Jess Morgan still exuded class. She probably exuded class nude.

  Axe the fantasy, Wright. Before it affected him lower down.

  She started unpacking groceries. He sidled up to the counter and dug into the second bag, earning himself a wide-eyed glance and a satisfying jump.

  “Earth to Jess. Did I startle you?”

  “As if you don’t know. I was thinking.”

 
“About what?”

  “Oh... work.” She withdrew vegetables from her bag and sat them on the counter.

  “Problems?”

  “Not really. My manager can be a jerk sometimes.”

  “Now you know why I work for myself.”

  “So you can be a jerk to your employees?”

  He laughed. “You’re quick.”

  “You’re rubbing off on me.”

  He liked the sound of that. “You’re not mad at me, then?” He pulled macaroni boxes out of his bag.

  “Why would I be?”

  “Because of what I said about giving your mother grandkids.”

  Her mouth pursed. “You did walk a fine line for a minute there. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Mmm. Bossy. Could have its perks.”

  She blushed. He passed her two soup cans. His skin burned as their fingers grazed. She stashed the cans in the cupboard. Then she flicked her hands in a shooing gesture near his chest.

  He didn’t move.

  “Adam, please sit down. You’re my guest.” She hustled between the bags and cupboards, her swift movements a tell-tale indication that she felt the electricity buzzing between them as keenly as he did. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Upstairs for a minute.” Or twenty, if he was lucky. He craved this alone time with Jess. She wielded her mother’s transition to widowhood like a protective shield, but he’d bet Nora would love it if Jess developed new interests and relationships while she was in town. “In case you’re wondering why I’m here, it’s not to sit on my duff while you wait on me. If you won’t let me help put away groceries, I can start the salad.”

  “If you insist...” Her eyebrows lifted. “I hate chopping.”

  She handed him a knife and salad bowl. While he diced carrots and celery, she poured the pasta into the boiling water on the stove and stirred it with a wooden spoon.

  “Why did you drop by in the middle of a work day?” she finally asked.

  To see you. “Can’t you guess?”

  A soft smile touched her lips, and her gaze danced away.

  “However, if you need a reason, I have a couple,” he said. “Like wondering how you’re making out with the SUV.”

  “Perfect.” Her gaze remained glued to the macaroni pot.

  “Then there’s the Young Achievers group. The first meeting since Pete died is next week. The kids want to host a tribute. Would you and your mom like to come?”

  Still stirring. “Definitely.”

  “How about dinner at my place Saturday?”

  Her head snapped up. “Your place?”

  “Don’t look so terrified.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “Uh-huh.” He squeezed a plump tomato, then washed it and sliced it into wedges. “It’s only dinner, Jess. I’m not asking you to marry me.”

  “No? That’s a relief.”

  “Haw-haw.”

  Her head tipped. “You do know how to whip up a mean batch of pancakes.”

  “You’re staying over?”

  Mission accomplished: she laughed. “No.”

  He clapped a hand to his chest. “Jess, you wound me. But I was thinking something more low key, no pressure, like throwing steaks on the barbecue.”

  “Steak.” Her nose scrunched. “A man’s meal.”

  He shrugged. “I’m a man.”

  Heat flashed in her toffee-brown eyes. She retrieved a colander from a cupboard, then strolled to the fridge and produced a head of lettuce.

  “Tell you what,” she said in a non-Jess-like burst of spontaneity that threatened to knock off his work socks. “Make it grilled chicken, and you’re on.”

  At seven the following morning, Jess strolled into the kitchen. The back porch door stood open, cool air streaming in. Coffee perked in the machine and a tiny vase of crocuses cheered the table.

  Tightening her bathrobe sash, she went outside. Her mother sat in a cedar deck chair and stared at the horses grazing in the pasture. A blanket draped her shoulders and slippers peeked from beneath her nightgown. With feather-like strokes of her fingertips, she caressed the weathered sheepskin jacket on her lap.

  Crap. “Mom? Are you okay?”

  Her mother’s head swung slowly, like someone in a trance. Eyes glistening with grief, she murmured, “I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice reflected a misplaced note of apology.

  “Oh, Mom.” Jess’s heart ached. Yesterday, her mom had chatted happily with Adam over lunch. Then she’d joined Jess on a walk along the bank of one of two rivers that wended through town. However, tomorrow was Friday—three weeks since Pete died. And this Sunday would bring Easter, Mom’s first holiday without him.

  Those were killers.

  The agony of Jess’s first holiday without her father and Danny had torn her apart. Danny’s family hadn’t moved yet, and his mother had invited Jess and her mom to Thanksgiving dinner during Jess’s visit home from university. Mrs. Galloway had believed that sharing the mid-October Canadian holiday would comfort them all. However, Jess and her mom had already drifted apart, and the contrast between the isolated manner in which they’d dealt with their grief compared to the Galloways’ supportive banding together had made everything worse.

  By then, Mom had turned to Pete. She’d offered to talk, but Jess had refused. She hadn’t trusted that what they might share wouldn’t get back to the man whose very existence had infuriated her. It was like her parents’ marriage had held no meaning, like her mom had bided time with Jess’s father until she could be with Pete again.

  Now, Jess knew better. Old emotions were powerful and complicated, and burying sorrow didn’t solve anything. Her mother’s grief for Pete would intensify unless they talked about it.

  Sitting in the second chair, she tucked her bare feet beneath her robe and clasped her mom’s hand on the armrest. “Is that Pete’s coat?” she asked quietly.

  Her mom nodded. “I only came out to pick the flowers. After I put them in water, something urged me to go outside again, almost like Peter was calling me. I went around the corner, and that’s when I found this coat... hanging on the outside hook.”

  “It looks like an outdoorsman’s coat.” Like her dad might have worn. Not Peter Olson, bespectacled supermarket manager.

  “Peter wore it on our walks. We walked several times a week, even in winter. He must have left it out here before he died.” Her mom’s gaze shifted to the pasture. The breeze ruffled her short, graying curls. “Peter and I had our routines. Every morning before he went to work we’d have coffee, watch the horses. It was his idea to lease out the fields and barn, you know.”

  Jess squeezed her mom’s hand. “It was a good idea.”

  “Peter was a good man. I know you haven’t always believed that, Jessie, but it’s true. Yet, he could be difficult at times. I realize he was often rude to you.”

  Her chest pinched. “Because I reminded him of Dad,” she whispered.

  “Yes. That didn’t excuse his behavior—or mine. I should have stood up for you, honey. I knew you were hurting.”

  “Mom, please don’t do this to yourself. None of us were blameless.”

  Her mom shook her head. “Peter and I were to blame. You were so young.”

  “I was old enough to decide I wanted to marry Danny. Old enough to realize that suddenly leaving home would hurt you. I didn’t have to act out around Pete, but I—” She swallowed. “He took you away from me.”

  A tear trickled down her mother’s cheek. “Because I allowed him to.”

  “That’s water under the bridge now, isn’t it? I want it to be. Because, despite how upset I was with you back then, despite all my old hurt and anger, I do know Pete was a good man. I know that you loved him and he loved you.”

  Torment drenched her mother’s sigh. “And I know my love for Peter has always bothered you, Jessie. There are many different kinds of love, though. My love for your father was strong, so strong sometimes t
hat it wore me out. Frank gave a lot, but he demanded a lot, too.”

  “I think I can see that now. I remember Dad as larger than life, full of exuberance and vitality. I imagine it was difficult keeping up with him.”

  “Yes. Peter was much more my equal. My love for Peter is... was... softer than the love I felt for your father. Peter was my husband, but he was also my friend... what I needed most.”

  “It wasn’t that way with Dad?” Jess asked through a tight throat.

  “Don’t misunderstand me, Jessie.” Her mother glanced at her, hazel eyes imploring. “Frank was a powerhouse, and I loved him deeply. Even when it was to my detriment—and yours—I put him first. Just like I did with Peter. You know your father and I wanted more children. But not because we didn’t love you. I hope you realize that.”

  Jess blinked back tears. “Dad wanted a big family. I heard him say so countless times.” In the pasture, the horses nickered, and the morning sun polished the dry grass gold. Soon, new spring growth would replace winter’s remnants.

  “Yes.” One tiny, quiet word. “But I couldn’t give him more children. We were married ten years before I became pregnant with you.”

  Jess shook her head. “How do you know it was you? Was your fertility tested?”

  “No. Neither of us were tested, which makes my crime worse. Frank would have considered testing an insult, so I didn’t push it. With my erratic cycle, it was easy to assume—”

  “That it was your problem? Mom, it doesn’t matter whose body was responsible. It was yours and Dad’s inability to have more children, not yours alone.”

  “In hindsight, I understand that. But when you were little, I let my guilt come between us, between me and my sweet daughter.”

  “You did?” Jess asked hoarsely.

  “I’m ashamed to admit it, but yes. Your father loved you so much...” Her mom’s hand slipped out from hers, and the cedar armrest grazed Jess’s palm. Then her mom’s hand settled on hers. Smooth, gentle, the touch of love. “Frank didn’t ask me to fade into the background. Because of my guilt, I pulled away from you. I thought he would be happier that way, so then you’d be happier, too.” A sob broke free from her. “But I messed up everything. I sacrificed your love. Can you forgive me?”