Chapter 17 – Jennie
Maggie and I are cleaning up after dinner when there’s a knock on the kitchen door. When I jump out of my skin, Maggie lays her hand on my back. “I’ll get it. It’s probably Chris.”
I’m holding my breath as Maggie peeks out the window.
“It’s Chris,” she says as she unlocks the door and opens it. “Hello, Sheriff.”
“Hi, Maggie.” He walks in, and his gaze goes right to me. “You doing okay?”
I nod. “As good as can be expected.”
Then he glances at Granny, who’s seated at the table. She’s petting Pumpkin, who’s rubbing against her skins. “Hi, Granny. How are you?”
Hearing her name, Granny lifts her face and smiles at Chris. “I’m fine, young man. Thanks for asking.” And then to me, she says, “It’s your nice husband, honey. I don’t like the nasty one.”
I smile apologetically at Chris, and he just shrugs. He’s used to her saying things like this. “I’m just glad I’m the one she likes,” he murmurs.
Maggie says her goodbyes then, and after we hug, she heads home to her family.
Granny stands. “That’s my cue. Goodnight, everyone. Come along, Pumpkin.” And she heads out of the kitchen, the cat racing along after her.
“I should go help Granny get ready for bed,” I tell Chris. “Have a seat and relax. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
After Granny finishes in the bathroom, she finds me waiting for her in her bedroom, ready to help her change into her nightgown. She doesn’t really need my help, but after all the stress she experienced today, I just want to provide some extra support.
“Are you doing okay?” I ask her.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I’m not sure if she’s forgotten the episode with David, or if she’s just suppressing it. “Well, we had a rough day today, didn’t we?”
She looks confused, like she’s searching for a memory and can’t find it.
Once I have her safely tucked in bed, I kiss her forehead. “Goodnight, Granny. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She grabs my arm. “He’s staying, isn’t he? The good one.”
Sometimes I’m surprised by how insightful she can be. “We’ll have to see, Granny. Chris is a busy man. He’s got a lot of responsibilities.”
“Yes, but none of his responsibilities are as important as you. That boy has waited all his life for you.” She reaches up to boop my nose. “You remember that, young lady. A man who puts your needs first, over his own, is a keeper. Just like my George.”
“I won’t forget, I promise.” I kiss her again. “Sweet dreams.”
I walk out of her room, leaving the door open just enough so Pumpkin can come and go as he pleases.
When I return to the kitchen, Chris isn’t there. I double-check to make sure the door is locked before I go in search of him. It doesn’t take me long to find him in the guest bedroom, struggling to put his sling back on.
“Here, let me help you,” I say as I take it from him and untwist the straps.
“Thanks. It’s harder than it looks.”
I hold the sling for him so he can slip his right arm into it. “I imagine your shoulder hurts.”
“Yeah, it does.”
The fact he’s admitting it so readily makes me think it probably hurts a lot more than he’s letting on. “And you won’t take anything for the pain.”
“I’d rather not.”
I think it’s unnecessary for him to pass on over-the-counter painkillers, but I understand why he does it, and I won’t argue with him about it.
He winces when I cinch the sling in place.
“Then how about a glass of wine and a cold pack for your shoulder?” I ask. “That might help.”
He nods. “Sure, I think I can handle that.”
He follows me to the kitchen, where I pour us each a glass of red wine. Then I grab a bag of peas from the freezer and a linen hand towel.
We end up on the sofa in the living room. I wrap the bag of frozen peas in the linen towel and gently place it on his right shoulder. Then I hand him his glass of wine. He takes a sip and makes a face.
“You don’t like it?” I ask.
“I’m more of a beer guy.” Still, he takes a good swig, nearly emptying his glass before he sets it on the coffee table.
“I’d like to spend the night again, if you don’t mind.
I know Braggart’s behind bars tonight, but I don’t feel right leaving you two alone.
I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom, of course. I just wanted to make that clear.”
If I’m disappointed about him choosing the guest room—which admittedly I am—I try not to show it. Just because we exchanged some words, as well as some kisses, doesn’t mean he’s ready for more.
“Granny asked if you’d be staying tonight. She’ll be pleased to see you’re still here at breakfast.”
“What about you, though? Are you okay with me staying again?”
I nod. “Yes, I want you to.” Actually, I want a whole lot more than that, but I don’t think we’re there yet. I take a sip of wine and set my glass down next to his.
“About this afternoon—” I say.
“About earlier—” he says.
We both grow quiet, both of us smiling. At least we’re both thinking about it.
“Why is this so awkward?” I ask. “We’re both adults.”
“It’s because we waited so long. We let this go on far longer than we should.” He reaches for my hand. “Jennie, in case I haven’t been clear enough, I want you to know—I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I never stopped. Not even when I went away to school.”
It’s clearly time for honesty, for sharing long-held secrets and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. “When you left for Phoenix, I was sure you weren’t coming back. I’d convinced myself you’d meet someone in Arizona and decide to stay.”
“I dated in college,” he admits. “I was hoping to meet someone who could take my mind off you.”
“Did it work?” I guess it didn’t, or he wouldn’t be sitting here beside me now.
“No, it didn’t.” He absently rubs the back of my hand. Without warning, he lifts my hand and kisses the back of it. Then he presses my hand to his face. “Not one bit. What about you? Did you date anyone besides Dave while I was away?”
“No. David was the first and only. When he finally left town after our divorce was final, I realized I’d dodged a bullet. I was afraid to date again after that. I no longer trusted my own judgment.”
“Do you trust me?”
I smile. “Absolutely.”
At that moment, Pumpkin races into the room and jumps up on the back of the sofa. He starts rubbing against the back of Chris’s head.
“Cats are good judges of people,” I point out. “If Pumpkin trusts you, I certainly do.”
Chris smiles at my comment, but only for a moment. Suddenly, he’s back to being serious. “We need to talk about Dave.”
“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”
He smiles ruefully. “I know. But we have to be realistic. He’s going to get out on bail sooner rather than later.
I doubt the judge will deny him bond, even though I think that’s what should happen.
Assuming he’s going to be released, as soon as tomorrow I’m afraid, you’re going to need to get a restraining order. ”
I sigh. “I’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow to fill out the paperwork. Hopefully the judge will approve it quickly.”
He reaches for my hand and links our fingers together. “Are you sure Braggart didn’t hurt you earlier? I saw he had you pinned against the wall.”
“He had his hand around my throat, and he grabbed one of my breasts really hard, but that’s it.”
“That’s it?” Chris is furious. “Hell, he never should have touched you at all!”
“This isn’t personal for him, Chris. It’s not about sex. It’s not even about me. It’s about control and money. He just wants my money.”
“But his folks are loaded. Why does he need money?”
“His parents disowned him after our divorce. They disapproved of how he was treating me. And they only knew half of it, trust me. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect he’s broke, or close to it.
I can’t think of any other reason why he’d come back here.
He assumed the house and diner were in my name, but they’re not.
Not yet, anyway. Granny had a trust drawn up after Grandpa died, even before her mind started deteriorating.
Everything goes to me after she passes.”
“Well, I’m not after your money,” he says with a chuckle. “I make decent money as a sheriff, and my house and truck are paid off.”
I start tracing a vein that runs from the back of his wrist all the way up to his elbow. When I skim my finger back down his arm, following the path of that thick ropey vein, he shivers.
“I’m about three seconds away from kissing you,” he warns. “If you don’t want me to, or if you’re not ready for that, just say so. I’ll understand.”
I see hunger in his eyes, but also caution. Maybe he thinks I’m not ready for intimacy after what happened with David today. But I am ready, because what happens between us has absolutely nothing to do with David.
It’s time for another confession. “I’ve been waiting years for you to kiss me.”
He goes still, except for his breathing. His chest rises and falls heavily as he stares into my eyes, searching for something. I guess he finds what he’s looking for because he leans closer.
And then it’s just like it is in the movies. We gravitate toward each other in slow motion, in perfect sync, our gazes locked. And when his lips settle on mine, warm and sure, everything falls into place.
I breathe in his scent—warm male skin, clean laundry, a hint of cologne—and my body comes alive. My nerve endings go off like fireworks, shooting delicious tingles throughout my body.
When the kiss deepens, he groans, the sound rough and needy. His free hand is suddenly in my hair as he clasps the back of my head and holds me to him. I slip my arm around his waist, careful to avoid his injured arm.
Our first real kiss.
When Pumpkin lies down on the back of the sofa and starts purring, I chuckle. “We have an audience,” I murmur against his lips
Chris pulls back with a smile as he looks into my eyes. “Tell me what you want, Jennie.” His voice is rougher than usual. “Where do we go from here?”
“What do I want?” My pulse is racing as it tries to catch up with reality.
The one thing I’ve wanted for so long is right here, practically in my lap.
I’m afraid to move forward, but I’m terrified of staying frozen in place.
Finally, I take a leap of faith and blurt out what I want.
“I don’t want you to sleep in the guest room. I want you to sleep with me.”
His eyes widen as if he’s surprised by my answer. “Just to sleep? Or, to sleep?”
I smile. “Not just to sleep.”
As my words sink in, it takes him a moment to respond. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He nods, but a second later, he frowns. “Shit! Do you have condoms?”
“No. Do you?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, no.” He rests his forehead on my shoulder and groans. “I can’t believe this.”
I run my fingers through his hair, which elicits a moan from him. “Actually, I’m kind of glad you don’t carry condoms with you.”
“I guess you’re not on the pill,” he says.
“Nope. No need for it.”
I can tell he’s wracking his brain for a solution. “I could run to the store,” he offers.
“Since it’s a Sunday night, all of the local stores are closed by now,” I point out. “I suppose you could try the gas station. They’re open late.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you and Granny here alone.”
I muster all the courage I have. “There are other things we could do, you know—activities that don’t involve the risk of pregnancy.”
The look on his face is priceless. “You’d be okay with that?”
I brush the hair back from his forehead. “Yes, I’d be okay with that.”
He stands. “I’d sweep you up in my arms and carry you to bed, but unfortunately” —he glances at his sling— “that’s not in the cards tonight.”
“Don’t worry about your shoulder. I promise to take good care of you tonight.” And then I stand, take his good hand, and lead him from the living room, down the hallway, and into my bedroom.
Pumpkin follows us, but I gently guide him out of my room. “Not tonight, Punky. Mommy’s got company.”
And I quietly shut the door.