Chapter 2 Blast From the Past #2
She shook her head, drew a hard breath, and seemed to compose herself.
“You don’t owe me, or anyone, an apology for that.
Although I wish I could say not to worry about dealing with him, but I don’t see how you avoid it if you’ve come all this way.
” Her gaze slid to the side, just for a beat, even though it was Lance’s target who let out the strained groan.
“Anyway, it’s a bakery, Jon, not a sporting goods store or some weapons’ supply shop.
We don’t keep things like restraints in stock. ”
Jon moved forward, encouraging Jenna to back up onto the sidewalk for his own peace of mind, and let himself grin.
“I didn’t ask if they were sold here, although I’m happy to reimburse what we use or buy replacements later.
But I figure there might be decent materials behind the scenes we can make do with, stuff used to tie up boxes or thread for sewing.
Hell, apron ties would work, or quality ribbon. ”
Jenna’s mouth opened. “Thread. You can’t be serious?”
“You’d be surprised.” There was no need to traumatize her.
She let out a heavy breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Right. Okay. I mean, my apron’s not in the machine yet, so we could take the ties off that.
And I actually might have a spool of ribbon leftover from the Valentine’s event.
” She started toward the doorway as she spoke, but came up short as another man stepped out.
For a moment, Jon tensed. He’d forgotten there was another civilian inside. They’d originally estimated four and he’d only identified three—that was fucking sloppy.
The man paused, dark gaze sweeping over the scene in front of him and lips thinning.
Jenna stood a little straighter. “I’m so sorry about all this,” she said to him.
“This is— It’s never happened before. Authorities are on their way, I’m sure these two won’t be back, but I understand if this incident has put you off.
Could I at least offer you something else, on the house? As a small apology.”
Jon felt his brow pinch. She can do that? Was Jenna … the one in charge at this bakery?
The unfamiliar man held her stare for a beat before tucking his hands into his pockets.
“That won’t be necessary. I’m only grateful these strangers were here to intervene before real damage could be done.
” He flicked a glance at Jon as he spoke, barely long enough to make eye-contact.
“I’ll be in again in a day or two, as long as you’re open. ”
A little of the tension slipped from Jenna’s shoulders even as the man turned to walk off.
Jon studied the man for another beat, but other than deftly avoiding where Lance was dragging his grumbling victim up against the wall, the man paid neither of them any mind. Jon leaned closer to Jenna unnecessarily. “You know that guy?”
“I don’t even know his name,” Jenna replied on a sigh. “But he’s a regular, and he tips well, and it’s always good to keep the customers happy.” She continued her forward trek.
Jon trailed behind, doing his level best not to stare at her ass and failing miserably. “I take it you work here these days?” The question was past his lips before he could catch it. He nearly winced.
The younger male from before, who seemed to be cleaning up a table off to the side, looked their way and grinned. “No, sir. Ms. Hodge owns the place.”
Jon came to a stop, the simple answer shaking too much inside him.
“Yes, thank you, Eric. I’ll answer my own questions from now on, though, okay?” Jenna said. “Could you run to the back and check on our decoration supplies? Bring out anything potentially tie-able.”
The kid actually blushed with embarrassment. “Yeah, sure!”
Neither of them spoke while he bolted out of sight, disappearing behind a tall, cleverly placed shelving unit about two-thirds full of various baked treats. Jon couldn’t remember the last time he’d craved a pastry, but the aroma in the room had him salivating.
It was easier to blame the blended smells.
Jenna cleared her throat. “Anyway, you probably need to help your friend. I’ll bring out anything we have that might be useful. Is there anything else—”
“Jen.” She was right, and he ought to be taking her not-so-subtle hint, but they had maybe twenty seconds and he’d be damned if he didn’t take it. At least to ask. So, he moved forward and rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing firmly. “Are you all right?”
Her breath hitched. “I’m fine.”
He frowned.
Jenna laid her fingers over the back of his wrist, hesitated, then pushed his hand from her shoulder and took one step back.
“Don’t misunderstand,” she said, quieter.
“I really am happy to see you, and to know you’re not …
you know.” She swallowed visibly. “But it’s been seventeen years, Jon.
We’re effectively strangers. I’m not who I was in high school, and neither are you, I’m sure.
” Her gaze swept over him. “I can tell, just by looking at you. You look good.” She lifted a smile to him.
“I don’t know what’s brought you into town, and I’m sure it’s none of my business, but I’m glad …
that I don’t have to think of you in the past-tense anymore.
So, yes, Jon. I’m all right. I didn’t get hurt today, my business didn’t get robbed or shot up, and I didn’t watch anyone die.
Honestly, five seconds of staring down the barrel of some jerk’s gun isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me. I’m good.”
He might have been willing to back off and accept the logic she’d led with, if she hadn’t ended it where she did.
But when he had known her last, she would have freaked the hell out to have a gun in her face.
For her words in that moment to be true meant some fucked up shit had happened in between, and he didn’t need to think about it to know he had a problem with that.
But he wasn’t an idiot, nor was he trying to be an asshole.
She was feeling overwhelmed and trying to create space for herself.
That was respectable. And if she did own a business in town, then odds were he had time to reintegrate himself into her life at a slower pace. Because apparently he wanted to.
That was probably also fucked up.
Jon inclined his head. “Not gonna lie and say I don’t have questions,” he said, “but I recognize they’re not my place.” He let that hang for a moment. “I hope you won’t be opposed to saying ‘hello’ next time I come in.”
A short, soft laugh slipped from her lips. “The big, strong Marine is going to make a pit-stop at my little bakery while he’s in town?”
Jon shrugged. “I’m not allergic to sugar.”
The words were barely past his lips when Eric returned, holding a plastic tub of assorted colorful shit Jon wouldn’t ordinarily label ‘supplies’.
But beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I didn’t know what you meant for sure,” the kid said, “so I threw all the twine, ribbons, glue, staples and pins, the sewing kit, and some medical tape into one tub.”
A younger girl poked her head out from behind him. “Um, what’s going on? Are we crafting?”
Jenna couldn’t get her heart to settle down. She didn’t know for sure if Eric had actually requested an ambulance, let alone if one was coming alongside the deputies they were waiting on, but she was starting to worry she was the one who’d need it.
In her defense, a lot had happened in a very short time.
She'd gone from a totally normal morning to finding herself facing down her first burglary—and who the hell robbed a bakery, let alone before noon? Then she’d thrown herself in front of the gunman like she thought she was Wonder Woman, not wanting to watch an innocent old man take a bullet.
Only for two ninjas who turned out to be Marines—which might make them actual ninjas, she wasn’t sure—to swoop in from the shadow of the building and disarm the burglars like it was child’s play.
And bonus, one of those Marines was her dead ex-boyfriend.
Obviously not as dead as she had been told.
And wasn’t that a great way to see someone she’d missed more than was reasonable or even sane for the first time in seventeen damn years?
No. No, it was not.
She still looked like hot shit. Only instead of being tired for ordinary reasons, she was tired from the adrenaline crash of everything after.
Both, probably. Not that it mattered what she looked like.
She was sure Jon didn’t care. Just like how she shouldn’t care that her well-meaning, utterly oblivious employee had had to go and inform her high school boyfriend that she was single.
Or, at least, that she was unmarried. The use of her maiden name would imply she’d never married, and Jon still had the manners he’d learned mostly from his grandfather, so he hadn’t asked for more details.
Granted, she had also made it clear she didn’t want to have that sort of conversation.
Because she didn’t. Having that kind of conversation would mean telling him things that would only cause upset, for both of them in different ways, and none of those emotions were necessary.
Whatever else was going on, eventually Jon would drift away from Misty Glades again.
Letting him go the first time had hurt like hell even though she’d known from the start the day was coming. Jenna refused to put herself through that a second time.
It’d be easier if he hadn’t evolved into some kind of Grecian god.
The man was outside, standing guard alongside his friend over their would-be burglars, looking like he’d been carved from stone and sculpted by angels.
It really wasn’t a surprise that his lean form had filled out in the years he’d been away.
He’d gained a couple of inches, she was pretty sure, and he had muscular definition his simple t-shirt couldn’t hide.
Her memories no longer did him justice. She understood why, but it made her ridiculously curious about inappropriate things.