Chapter 7
Seven
“Do you need any help? Tell me what I can do.” Jane stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her sister bustle to and fro, stirring pots, checking the oven, grabbing things out of the refrigerator.
“You can keep Mom from coming in here. She’s still with all the kids in the playroom, right?” Mindy rubbed a hand over her forehead, mussing her hair. Her face was flushed, and she looked positively frantic. “You can take the pies out of the refrigerator in the garage so they can thaw.”
“Thaw?” Jane grabbed an olive and popped it into her mouth. She was starving, and Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t going to be on the table for at least another two hours.
“I made the pies earlier this week and then froze them. Then I forgot to take all the pies out until last night and I can’t leave them on the counter.
One of the kids or Marty would probably eat everything.
” Mindy grabbed some potholders and then reached into the oven with both hands, bringing out the giant turkey, and setting the pan on top of the stove.
Jane watched as her sister cut open the bag she’d cooked the bird in and dipped the turkey baster into the juice at the bottom, squirting it all over the top of the turkey.
“This thing is going to be perfect. Ha!” Mindy shot Jane a triumphant grin. “Watch Mom eat her words.”
“Yeah, she’ll eat her words, along with a mouthful of scrumptious turkey,” Jane said sarcastically.
“Cook it all night at a low temperature my butt,” Mindy muttered as she shoved the turkey back into the oven. “This is the way to do it. Sunset magazine said so.”
Jane laughed and started for the door that led out to the garage.
“I’ll go get your pies.” She went out into the garage, dodging the tipped-over bikes and scooters that were scattered across the cement floor.
The garage door was open, letting in the brisk air and a view of dark, foreboding clouds hanging low in the sky.
She shivered, tucking her sweater closer to her, and swung open the refrigerator door. The interior was packed with food, every kind of soda, and a couple of extra gallons of milk. Her sister knew how to stock up.
Grabbing the two pumpkin pies that sat on the top shelf, Jane shut the door with a push of her elbow, glancing up to see her brother Mac pull into the drive.
And he wasn’t alone.
Her feet froze in place and she watched, her mouth gaping open, as Mac climbed out of the driver’s side of the car and Chris withdrew from the passenger side.
Of course, he caught sight of her standing there, mouth hanging open, a stack of pies clutched in her hands.
She clamped her lips shut, feeling like a fool.
“Hey, Janey! How’s it going?” Mac slammed his car door and approached her, a big grin on his face.
“Hi, Mac.” Her voice was weak, her knees even more so as she watched Chris walk toward her, his gaze intense, locked on her face.
As if he dared her to say something, anything.
“You remember Chris, right?” Mac flicked his head toward his friend.
Jane had to remind herself to close her mouth again as a second wave of surprise coursed through her. So Chris hadn’t mentioned the time they spent together to her brother. Maybe she’d been right and he really hadn’t been that interested in her.
She should be relieved. So why was she offended?
“Of course. Hi, Chris.” She nodded at him, a polite smile on her face, and he flashed her one of those bone-melting grins right back.
As if he knew how much he affected her. Which he probably did.
“Hey, Jane. Want some help with those pies?”
“I’ve got them, thanks.” She winced, hadn’t meant to sound so haughty. To make up for it, she decided to tease. “I’m worried if either of you got your hands on Mindy’s homemade pumpkin pie you might eat it all before we even had a chance to get them to the table.”
Mac laughed and rubbed his hands together. “She’s right. Wait till you try them, Chris. My sister makes a better pie than my mom.” His expression turned somber. “But don’t ever tell my mom I said that.”
They all laughed. As they entered the house, Chris seemed to lag back, following behind her. Too close behind, she thought as she set the pies on the counter. She glared at her sister, trying to silently communicate with her.
Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?
Mindy shrugged her shoulders helplessly. I didn’t know, she seemed to say.
Jane fled the kitchen and went into the dining room to straighten up the table. Various appetizers were set out on plates and in bowls. Jane grabbed a couple of chips, a slice of cheese, trying to ease her growling, and now nervous, stomach.
She could go into the living room, but all the men were in there watching football, and she’d never been a big fan.
Or she could go check on the kids, but they’d all gathered in the playroom with her mother, who’d been banished from the kitchen.
Mindy had wanted to take over the Thanksgiving holiday this year, demanding that their mom get a break.
Though Jane secretly thought Mindy needed the distraction so she didn’t have to face the disaster her marriage had become.
Marty had been sullen and antisocial since Jane and the kids had arrived this morning, so she’d simply avoided him.
It was obvious he was unhappy. And so was Mindy. But Jane couldn’t do a thing about it.
She grabbed another chip, sinking it into the creamy French onion dip before popping it in her mouth.
Should she go check on the kids? She knew the family touch football game would start soon and her little ones would definitely want to play, even Sophia.
Besides, they were happy hanging out with Grandma.
Hopefully Mac and Chris would head into the living room, where they could drink beer and grunt at the big screen TV like the rest of the guys. That way she could avoid him until dinner was ready—and then she would just need to make sure she didn’t sit near him.
Jane hadn’t seen Chris in almost two weeks. He’d been out of town for work and had called her that following Saturday, but she’d been busy watching Mindy’s kids. The conversation had been brief, polite, and with no indication of what happened between them the last time they’d seen each other.
Yep, she’d avoided talking about it. A classic male move she’d learned from her dear late husband, as well as her brothers and father. And that was just the way she liked it.
This past week, she’d been swamped with various Thanksgiving activities at the school and at home, plus helping Mindy prepare for today.
While the holiday preparations had filled her with a wistfulness for days past, of happy occasions with her husband, children, and in-laws all together at her home, where she’d hosted the dinner every year since their marriage, the week’s activities had also been the perfect distraction, allowing her not to dwell on Chris. Or on what he might want from her.
What did he want from her? She honestly didn’t know. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, either.
You want nothing. Absolutely nothing. Remember that.
Seeing him again made it very hard to remember that.
“Hiding out?”
Jane closed her eyes at the sound of his rumbling, deep voice, and she reached out to clutch at the edge of the table. This was exactly what she’d wanted to avoid, and yet here he was, standing right behind her.
Opening her eyes, she whirled around to face him, a smile pasted on her face. “I’m hungry. I was looking for a snack.”
“Looks like you found plenty.” Chris approached the table and stood next to her, his arm brushing against hers.
She took a step sideways, arousal knocking into her stomach like a swift, hard punch.
Just like that, her body reacted. And just like that, she wanted him.
Wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to tell her everything was going to be all right.
God, she was weak when it came to this man. So weak it scared her.
“Take your pick,” she offered, her voice shaky. She cleared her throat, hoping he didn’t notice.
Daring to look up at him, she saw the intense glow in his golden eyes as he studied her, and she knew he hadn’t missed a beat. “I think you know what I want.”
She slowly backed away, afraid of the temptation after hearing him say those words. He reached for her, clasped her upper arm with long, firm fingers, and she stumbled, nearly falling into him.
“Are you all right?” His brows drew down in concern. He was too close—way too close.
She wrenched free from his grasp and took a step back, then another one. “I’m fine.”
“Forget I said that, Jane. I’m not here to make you uncomfortable.” He grabbed a couple of tortilla chips and dipped one in salsa, then ate it.
“Then why are you here?” She sounded accusatory, but she couldn’t help it. It felt almost planned, his showing up to her family’s dinner.
“Mac invited me. He knew I had nowhere to go and the time off. He didn’t want me to spend Thanksgiving alone. I probably would’ve ended up at the station.”
“What do you mean you have nowhere to go?”
His expression darkened, and his eyes shuttered closed. Shutting her out. “I have no family close by. I’m a transplant, remember?”
“You don’t go see them for the holiday?”
Chris shrugged. “My mom lives in Portland. She’s busy.”
“And your dad?”
“Is dead.”
“Oh.” Remorse filled her for prying. It was none of her business. She felt as if she’d rubbed a sore spot. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” He smiled but his gaze remained dark. “I was an only child. I don’t come from a big family like yours.”
“When I was little, my biggest dream was to be an only child. A few of my friends had no brothers or sisters, and they loved coming over to play at my house. But I always wanted to go over to theirs. I envied the quiet.” She’d go to sleep at night wishing she could wake up just once in her own bedroom, with no other siblings to deal with, her parents’ attention solely on her.