Until Winter Breaks Page 9

  He selected one of the half-dozen cans of matte white spray paint they’d purchased. “You shake it up real good.” The metal ball rattled in the can, which echoed against the walls surrounding the small parking lot.

  “Stand back about two feet. Hold the can back about a foot. Quick strokes. Back and forth.” He made short work of the section, having it painted in just a few seconds. “Like that.”

  He held the can of spray paint at his side and glanced at Millie. She wasn’t admiring his technique or the perfectly painted board.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was admiring him.

  Teenage Jared would’ve taken advantage of the flirty look in her eyes, stepped up to her, taken her in his arms, and kissed her.

  The Jared he’d left behind in Denver would’ve gone through a list of options, effectively ruining the moment before a decision could be made. Denver-Jared was always trying to think four moves ahead, trying to gain the upper hand.

  Standing in the parking lot, staring at Millie, Jared realized he already had the advantage. She was attracted to him—everything raged behind her eyes, things she couldn’t conceal though no words were spoken.

  Jared didn’t want to be either of the men he’d once been. So he didn’t kiss Millie, though the desire to do so boiled in him. He didn’t try to decide how he could use what he saw later.

  He simply set down the spray paint and asked, “Think you can do that?”

  He saw her snap herself back together, buckle everything back up inside. “I can try.”

  He tucked his hands in his jeans pockets. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I’ll finish that wall and let you know when I’m leaving, okay?”

  She nodded, and Jared left her in the parking lot in favor of paint fumes and the sight of that blasted picture of Millie and the dark-haired man.

  Jared picked up the photo and studied it. He supposed the man could’ve been Millie’s brother, but the idea felt false. Brothers casually slung their arms around their sister’s shoulders, grinned lazily at the camera. They didn’t stand behind their sisters, both arms wrapped around her like they couldn’t get her close enough.

  Jared reset the image on the counter, knowing full well that the man pictured had kissed Millie—and probably more. A rush of unexplained jealousy surged through Jared, clipping off edges and binding him to Millie the same way he’d seen her join those two pieces of fabric with her surger last week.

  His hands went limp at his sides, but as he inhaled, he drew in strength and assurance. Then he moved to refill the paint tray, pick up the roller, get the work done. As the walls received their new faces, Jared thought, and thought, and thought about Millie.

  * * *

  “Jared!”

  He poked his head around the tree he’d been trimming in Polly’s backyard. He could practically hear the rioting of the insects he’d unseated, the screaming of the overgrown shrubbery, trees, and flowerbeds.

  The grass had been mostly hacked by Tripp, but Jared had evened it out, edged along the fences, and applied a seasonal weed-and-feed. The flowerbeds around the deck shone with dark dirt; the bushes along the house stood like even sentinels, with their branches all the same height.

  “Yeah?” He swiped the back of his gloved hand across his forehead, hoping not to leave a streak there.

  “You’ve been out here for hours.” Polly set a glass of sweet tea on the table on her deck. “It’s enough for today.” She pointed to the bruised sky. “It’s almost dark anyway.”

  “Two minutes.” He worked the tree shears against the last branch, satisfied when the crack of breaking bark crowned him the victor in this battle of man versus nature.

  “You obviously haven’t worked in your yard for years.” Jared stretched his back, pleased with the ache there. It meant he was doing something. Something measurable. Something worthwhile. Something.

  He guzzled the sweet tea, his parched throat thankful for the chilly liquid. “And when did you get so good at making this?” He raised his glass in a silent toast.

  Polly laughed as she contemplated the sky. “If I don’t have time to work in my yard, I certainly don’t have time to brew tea.” She nodded toward his still outstretched glass. “That’s Diana’s.”

  Jared enjoyed a few more swallows. “She makes a mean Panini too.”

  “You’ve done an amazing amount of work.” Polly stood to survey the surroundings. “What should I do with these empty beds?”

  “Bulbs,” Jared said. “I think you can plant them now. In Denver, we planted them in the fall, before it snowed.” He joined her at the railing. “They’re easy to maintain. Plant once, and they bloom every year. You might need to clip them before winter.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “I can do it.”

  But as soon as he’d said the words, he wanted to take them back. Volunteering to clip her annuals back before next winter meant he’d be in town then. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be staying. Once winter broke, he could set his sights anywhere. Did he really want to stay in Redwood Bay?

  He watched her assess the other work he’d done—the way he’d used large rocks to create a ring around the fire pit, the immaculately raked stone path that led to the shed, the trimmed lilac bushes.

  “I don’t think I can use the fire pit now.” Her voice carried a vein of playfulness. “If I disturb those rocks, you might have an aneurism.”

  “Ha,” he said, but his feelings weren’t hurt. “I like things to be in their place. It’s not a crime.”

  Polly linked her elbow in Jared’s, a gesture that shouldn’t mean much, but to Jared it felt like acceptance, like forgiveness. His chest tightened against the press of emotion, which thankfully lasted only a few seconds.

  “You should hire yourself out. I know a lot of people who would pay you to do what you’ve done here.”

  Hope floated through Jared, coloring his voice when he said, “You really think so?”

  “Definitely. Yard work. Organization. Landscaping. All that manual labor stuff. Especially my single girlfriends.” She squeezed her elbow against her side, causing Jared to look at her. She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Maybe one of them could convince you to stay in Redwood Bay.”

  Jared watched the sky turn a shade of navy. “Maybe I’ll stay anyway.”

  “Really?” Polly leaned against the railing and studied him. “I didn’t think you were planning to stay very long.”

  “I wasn’t,” he said. “But I’m here now, and I don’t hate it. I can make it through the winter by doing some odd jobs—like you said—and maybe I’ll open Sophie’s taco stand come summer.”

  Polly’s mouth worked, but no intelligible words came out. Her scoff and grunt spoke volumes though.

  “You don’t think I can run her taco stand?”

  “It’s not that,” Polly said, twisting away from him to examine a clipped branch. “It’s just…that stand is so Sophie. I can’t imagine anyone there but her.”

  Polly spoke with reverence, almost like Sophie had died. In many ways, Jared realized that to Polly, she had. She was married now, and halfway across the world as her husband starred in a movie.

  Jared hadn’t been close to Sophie, but it was obvious that Polly was. “Sorry, Pols.” He slung his arm around his cousin big-brother style, and together they watched as night stole the light from the day.

  Jared couldn’t help wondering if Millie was watching the same sky, thinking about him obsessively the way he thought of her.

  * * *

  Millie managed to get all the baseboards and trim sanded and painted before dusk settled. She drove herself home, missing the presence of Jared by her side. His house hunched in darkness, and she hurried through her front door so she wouldn’t be reminded of how alone she was.

  Their two houses were the only ones on this deserted beach street. When Sophie and Mont had left for Spain, Millie had contemplated moving too. Somewhere closer to more people. Somewhere that someone would notice if she didn’t make it ho
me at night.

  In the end, she hadn’t been able to leave her beachside bungalow. She took an extra moment to watch the ocean swallow the final edge of the sun, then she turned and drew the drapes down.

  Another day, she thought. I made it through another day.

  * * *

  By quitting time on Friday, Jared had all the walls painted. He’d shown another measure of kindness when she’d commented that the paint had dried lighter than she thought it would. His sexy smile had lit up his face, but he’d said nothing.

  All the trim and baseboards had been installed. All new electrical fixtures. Millie had sewn and hung the new curtains, and their bright purple, brown, and yellow enhanced the gray of the walls and blended seamlessly with the new door.

  Millie stood at the counter while Jared wrestled with the mannequins and dress racks. If the decision had been left to her, she’d have positioned them exactly where they were before the storm. But very little about this renovation had been left up to her, a fact that had riled her for a few days. Now, though, she realized that Jared possessed varied and eclectic talents. One of which was spatial design.

  “There?” he asked, checking over his shoulder to see if she was watching. She was. Always.

  “Wherever,” she said. “You’re the master.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” He chuckled softly as he adjusted the dress rack another half-foot back. “There.”

  Millie hadn’t been able to forget anything about him. When he was there working in her shop, she stared openly. When he left early to go work in Polly’s yard, she stared into blank space, thinking about him. He’d invaded every moment of her life, which brought increased guilt and anxiety.

  She twisted a lock of hair around her fingers before examining the ends. She needed a trim. She wondered what Jared would think of her if she cut her hair short.

  She knew what Brady preferred—her dark locks long and flowing. He’d liked to grab fistfuls of her hair when he kissed her.

  A fresh wash of guilt stung like bleach against her wounded insides. She shouldn’t be contemplating what another man would think if she cut her hair. She’d loved Brady. Still did. Thinking about Jared so much felt like cheating on her husband.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’m heading up to Medford to visit my mom for the weekend.”

  “Okay,” Millie said, another pang of shame cutting into her. She hadn’t returned to Seattle once since Brady died. “See you Monday.”

  Jared studied her for an extra breath, something unreadable in his expression. He danced a half-step left, and then right before tucking his shirt into his jeans. “See you Monday.”

  He exited through the back door. Moments later, she heard the rumble of his motorcycle. She let it infuse her eardrums, thunder through her muscles. As the sound faded, Millie opened her eyes and wiped away the wetness that had sprung up.

  She didn’t even know why she was crying. Because she missed Brady? Didn’t call her mom as often as she should? Felt guilty for admiring so much about Jared?

  The chime on the front door of the shop caused Millie to straighten and adjust her clothing.

  “Oh, Millie,” Sadie breathed, barely a step inside the shop. “This is beautiful.”

  “Don’t stop in the doorway.” Diana tapped Sadie out of the way so she could enter too. “Wow.” She whistled through her teeth. “This is fantastic.”

  Millie’s lungs swelled as her friends took in every detail of her remodeled shop. Jared had displayed the two bridesmaids dresses she’d sewn that week front and center, and Diana fingered the fabric with wide eyes.

  “I love it,” Sadie said, coming forward to hug Millie. “Everyone’s going to love it.” She held her at arm’s length, her eyes searching, searching. “Do you love it?”

  Millie glanced around at the two-toned walls, the perfectly installed details. “I do. I really do.” Those maddening tears returned, but at least Millie knew why this time.

  “Jared Newton is something else, huh?” Diana asked as she set a tray of key lime tarts on the counter. “Who knew someone as broad and muscular as him could create something as feminine as this?”

  “I did the curtains,” Millie said, though Jared had chosen the fabric.

  “And all the dresses,” Sadie added.

  “The man can’t sew a straight line.” Millie giggled, and everything that had been off-kilter in her life righted itself. “You should’ve seen him. Wouldn’t go near the sewing room. Said that was my territory and he wasn’t touching it.”

  “Handy and smart,” Diana said. “He’s a keeper, all right.”

  “Sexy, too.” Sadie feigned innocence as she selected a tart. “Not that I’m looking. I’m happy with Lance.”

  “Smart, sexy, and handy,” Millie repeated. “A deadly trio.”

  Her friends gave her the courtesy of eating in silence. But she knew them. Knew every glance and the words they held. Like the crinkles on Diana’s face, Millie recognized the slitted, sideways look Sadie gave her that said What are you afraid of?

  The one eyebrow cocked glance she shot toward Diana meant, She’s not getting it.

  They all added up to a lecture. As Sadie opened her mouth, Millie held up her hand. “I know, okay? I’m—I’m having a hard time with…with….” She picked up the picture of her and Brady. She’d looked at it more this week than she had in a year.

  “Honey, he’s been gone six years.” Sadie gently extracted the frame from Millie’s grip.

  “You didn’t know him,” Millie argued. “Imagine how you’d feel if Lance passed away.”

  “You haven’t known him for six years.” Diana took the picture from Sadie and slid it face down on the counter. “It’s time to let him go.”

  There wasn’t enough key lime pastry cream in the world to comfort Millie. Diana’s warm embrace tried. Sadie’s soft assurances attempted.

  “You’ve got to start seeing what’s right in front of you,” Sadie said. “Or rather, who is right next door.”

  Millie nodded, because there wasn’t anything else to do. She couldn’t deny her attraction to Jared, but she also couldn’t reconcile it with her lingering attachment to Brady.

  Chapter Ten

  “Mom.” Jared smiled as he bent to hug his mother. She gripped him tightly too. In that moment, he knew he should’ve stopped by on the way to Redwood Bay. But then he might’ve been caught riding his motorcycle down the Coastal Highway when the gale hit.

  She released him and held him at arm’s length, her gaze scanning him from his boots to the top of his head. “Did you get your hair cut?”

  He let her sweep her hand over his hair, familiar annoyance building at the base of his throat. “Nope. I need to, I guess. Just haven’t found the time.”

  “What are you doing to keep busy?” A shadow crossed her face, but she stepped past him and he couldn’t analyze her expression.

  “Helping clean up the town.” He turned and followed her up the stairs. She held the screen door—obviously new—open for him, and he raised his eyebrows. “You install this yourself?”

  “Harmon did it.” She didn’t offer any further explanation, and Jared supposed he didn’t really deserve one. His first thought after the gale had not been about his mother. Guilt needled him, but he knew better than anyone that he couldn’t change the past.

  “Will I get to meet Harmon?” He settled at his mother’s kitchen counter while she pulled a slab of meat out of the refrigerator.

  “Yep. He’s coming for dinner.” She lifted the Crock-Pot from the cupboard and proceeded to season the beef with onion soup mix, black and red pepper, and so much salt Jared was sure the meat could be cured instead of cooked.

  Conversation lulled, and Jared wasn’t the greatest at small talk. He didn’t really know his mother, and his teenage memories of her as being weak and subservient surely weren’t accurate.

  “What do you do to stay busy?” he asked, hoping they could find something to talk about for the
next forty-eight hours.

  “I work at the bank three days a week.” She placed the lid on the Crock-Pot and set it to low. “I’ve picked up knitting, and I putter around the yard. You know how I like gardening.”

  Jared nodded like he’d remembered that. He pushed away the frustration that he didn’t and hooked his thumb toward the front yard. “You must not have had much damage from the storm. Your yard looks great.”

  “It wasn’t bad,” she said. “Harmon and I spent a day out there putting things back together.”

  The seven-minute lull manifested itself again, this time after only two minutes. Jared felt a headache forming behind his eyes, especially when his mom asked, “So why’d you leave Denver?”

  A hotter frustration burned in his blood now. “I lost my job, Mom. There wasn’t anything keeping me there anymore.”

  “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

  Jared clenched his teeth for two heartbeats. “She broke up with me.”

  “So you ran.”

  Every muscle in Jared’s body tightened, bunched, clenched. So there it was. His mother’s opinion of him. At least it had only taken ten minutes for her disdain for how he’d acted over the last fifteen years to come out. Now he wouldn’t have to wonder at what point during the weekend her poison would come spewing out.

  “I chose to leave,” he said carefully. “Because I couldn’t see a future for myself in Denver.”

  “I just don’t understand.” She finally looked at him, and she clearly did understand. He didn’t have this passive-aggressive version of his mother in his memory. She’d allowed her husband to say hurtful things and drink too much. She’d never felt the lash of his fists, but she knew Jared had and she hadn’t done anything about it.

  “Did he hit you after I left?” Jared asked, staring openly at his mother.