Chapter 6
She had scrubbed the house from top to bottom and when she was finished, she had started on the windows, tearing off the peeling paints and making mental lists for the things she would need to start repairing the place.
She had not said anything to Jordan yet, but for the time they were tied to each other, she wanted to make the place home.
It would require a lot of work, but it could be done.
She had heard from her brother via text. A terse- "My flight leaves at six. Will be there at noon. Don't bother picking me up. I've arranged for a car to be delivered to me."
That was it. The message – the abrupt nature told her clearly how furious he was.
She wasn't looking forward to it. Last night had been an eventful one.
One where she had twisted and turned in the narrow bed and reminded herself repeatedly that she was an adult and free to do whatever she pleased. But it had not worked.
Rising from her task, she rubbed a hand down her back to try and get rid of the kinks. She was so mired down in her miserable thoughts; she did not see him parked just outside the perimeter fencing.
Lifting his hands from the steering wheel, Jordan watched in wry amusement and concern as she passed a hand over her forehead to brush back the heavy hair that had fallen there.
He had been sitting here for the past ten minutes, and it angered him to see her on her knees scrubbing.
His first instinct had been to rush out and haul her to her feet.
But he had tamped that down. She was nervous and afraid and was dealing with those emotions the best way she knew how.
He was here and if that brother of hers- shaking his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes. What the hell was he doing? He was getting emotionally involved and that was not part of the bloody plan.
His parents had called a meeting earlier this morning and demanded to know what the hell he was playing at. And that they would not approve of him marrying "that woman."
"Then you're going to be sorely disappointed, because the wedding is going ahead whether you like it or not," he had told her with an edge to his voice. "And her name is Julesa. You're not going to choke and die from saying it."
"Why are you doing this?" his mother had looked seriously baffled. "There are so many suitable young ladies who would jump at the privilege of being your wife. Why her?"
"Because I want something different. Or perhaps I don't relish the idea of my parents picking out my bride. Or maybe it's just for the hell of it. You are done running interference in my life. You have done it for your daughters and they're desperately unhappy. This ends here."
He had left her simmering with impotent rage and had not been affected. Not like before. It was different now, he thought in surprise.
Deciding to leave the car where it was, he climbed out and picked his way silently along the small, cobbled driveway. He was almost on top of her before she heard his footsteps.
"Oh!" One hand went to push back a heavy lock of hair clinging to her moist forehead. "I did not hear the car."
Climbing the steps, he reached out a hand to help her up. "What are you doing?"
"Cleaning."
"Why?"
"Why do people clean?" She tried tugging her hand away, but he held fast. "The place has been unoccupied for a while."
"And your brother is coming, and you are thinking that if the place is spotless, he will forget that you're planning on marrying a complete stranger."
Sending him a wry look, she tugged at her hand again and this time he released it.
"You're early."
"Am I?" he liked looking at her. His mother and sisters were always camera ready, with their faces perfectly made up and not a hair out of place.
Here he was standing on a weather-beaten porch with an exquisite woman wearing baggy sweats and an old sweater and her hair was all over the place. It felt like… home.
Shrugging away the troubling thought, he nodded towards her dishevelment. "Are you planning on greeting him like that?"
She looked down at her outfit as if realizing what she was wearing for the first time.
"He won't care. But I really need to take a shower. Would you like something to drink?"
"No," he shook his head. "Go and take your shower. I'll be right here."
"I won't be long." She hesitated just inside the doorway. "There's something you should know."
"What?"
"He's very upset."
"As long as he won't be able to talk you out of marrying me, then I can handle him. Is he carrying his gun?"
She rolled her eyes at him and made him want to snatch her in his arms.
"I am just warning you."
"I consider myself warned. I can take care of myself. Go on and do what you have to do."
She waited a few more seconds as if to say something else. Shaking her head, she went inside, leaving the door open.
Settling on the porch swing, Jordan took out the packet of cigars and selected one carefully.
Images of her body slicked with water and soap flashed across his mind.
Hissing out a breath, he lighted the cigar and inhaled smoke.
He did not remember what her brother looked like.
They had never run in the same circles, because neither he nor his sisters had attended the local schools.
They had come home for all the holidays of course and had mingled with the local kids.
He vaguely recalled some story about the stepbrother running off when he turned sixteen or seventeen, because his stepfather had been abusive. He was a cop now and probably saw himself as his sister's protector. He was going to have to be persuaded that there was no need for that.
*****
The place had not changed much, or it had just a little bit. Driving from the airport, Caleb could see new buildings that had not been there before. He had returned only once and that was to bury his mother.
Had there been a tug of regret that he had left and shaken off the dust from his shoes?
Yes, there had been. Especially the fact that he had not seen his mother for years.
She had made several visits to see both him and Jules.
When they graduated from college and when he had graduated from the academy.
He had seen the tears in her eyes and the regrets, something they had never discussed.
She had stood by and allowed her husband to abuse them both.
It took a long time for him to move past that.
He wasn't planning on staying very long.
Just long enough to talk some sense into that girl's head.
What the hell was she thinking? Marriage to the enemy?
A complete stranger? He was taking her back with him, even if he had to tie her down.
He was certainly not going to stand by and have her make a mistake as big as the one she was contemplating.
Lifting his hand from the console, he passed it at the back of his neck. The plane ride from JFK had been easy and almost turbulent free, but the connecting flight in the little plane had jarred his stomach and left him feeling queasy.
Merging into the afternoon traffic, he objectively admired the quaint buildings, the wild beauty of flowers blooming and the sleepy serenity of the town.
He had been born here and probably would have spent his life here, if things had worked out differently.
Spotting a familiar building, he turned off the main road and into a narrow dirt road that led to Bob's bar and burger joint.
A grin split his face as he pulled to a stop in front of what was little more than a shanty.
It looked the same, he mused as he hopped out and slammed the door shut.
Reaming out his sister would have to wait while he caught up on old gossip and had a bite and a beer.
Nobody does flame broiled burger like Bob.
Stepping into the smoky interior, the scent of meat charring and onions grilling hit him like a ton of bricks.
And Bob himself, rotund and heavy around the waist, with a stained apron hanging from his neck was arguing with a customer, a fat cigar clamped at the side of his mouth.
The game was going on in the background, while several men nursing beers had their eyes and ears trained on the large screen television that took up an entire wall.
It took Bob a minute to realize who had just walked into his establishment. And when he did, dark brown eyes squinting and then widening in recognition.
"Well son of a bitch!" His gravelly voice had everyone turning around. "If it isn't himself. The prodigal son returning. Hey everybody, this here is Mr. Fancy Cop himself." His broad face splitting in a grin, he marched right over and practically lifted Caleb off the floor.
"You look like a criminal and not one who wears a badge! How the hell are you?"
"About to pass out from your choke hold."
With a guffaw, Bob let go and slapped him hard enough on the back to make him stumble.
"Come and have a drink or two. I am going to prepare you the heftiest burger this side of town."
"Now you're talking."
*****
He was mellowed enough from the potent booze and fully loaded burger to have a very pleasant buzz going on, but that only lasted until he reached the street where his sister was staying.
It took a complete nosedive when he saw the snazzy convertible at the gate and realized that Wainwright was present.
Slowing down enough to give the glossy black vehicle a once over, he drove into the driveway. She was obviously looking out for him, because as soon as he drove in and parked, she flew out onto the porch and bounded down the steps.
"You took your time," she murmured as she flung her arms around his neck and latched on.
"I made a stop. Bob's burger."
He wrapped his arms around her reluctantly, determined to keep the fury dead center.
"What is he doing here?"
"Caleb, please."
"I intend to have my say." Putting her away from him, he turned in the direction of the house, a gleam in his eyes.