“Big-brother cousin giving advice?” Jackson asked.
Flynn shrugged. “I’m in no place to give anyone advice on love or relationships. I’ve had lots of women, but I’ve never been in love or been in a serious relationship. Things could get weird between you two if they didn’t work out. And I’d hate to lose my job here if . . .”
“Noted, and, Flynn, we’re adults. I won’t fire you if things don’t work out. As far as crazy women go, I’ve got your back. If Tilly comes sniffin’ around your place, just come on over here. I’ve got two extra bedrooms, and there’s usually cold beer in the refrigerator. You’ve always got a hiding place.” Jackson picked up a drill and started putting a hope chest together.
“Thanks, man!” Flynn began to brush stain on the front of the hope chest he was working on. He’d had drinking buddies and work acquaintances, but he’d never had a friend who would make an offer like that. He suspected most of his coworkers would have been more than happy to see him get caught.
He sure wouldn’t bring in the paychecks he’d gotten used to having if he worked for Jackson, but then, he was living in a place where he had no rent and only had to buy food every third week, had a cousin who was a great cook, and even had a cat—not much was needed past that. Besides, he had a very healthy savings account, and a stock portfolio that wasn’t shabby at all. And it was possible, if he was willing to put a little money into the business, that Jackson would someday make him a partner.
From all accounts, Jackson was a decent guy. No red flags had popped up when Nessa was with him or when he kissed her. She had dreamed of him and awakened with a smile on her face. Every time the phone rang, her heart skipped a beat, but it had been telemarketers three times and someone who didn’t know Nanny Lucy had passed away and wanted a quilt kit shipped to them another time. By evening, Nessa was thoroughly bummed out.
“Chalk up another mistake under my name,” she muttered as she left the house for a walk. She’d barely made it to the edge of the yard when April pulled up in Nanny Lucy’s car.
“Where are you going? And who died?”
“For a walk, and no one died. I need some time alone. Supper is in the slow cooker and on the counter,” Nessa said.
“Anything I can do, other than stay out of your way?” April got out of the car.
“Nope,” Nessa answered. “See you later.”
“Call if you need to talk or you get lost. I know these woods like the back of my hand.” April headed toward the house.
Nessa didn’t want Jackson to feel like she was stalking him, so she didn’t go to the falls but headed out through the path in the woods to a place she had gone to when she was a kid. Nanny Lucy had told her that the big oak tree that lay across the path had been struck by lightning when Isaac and Matthew were just toddlers, and that the two of them had played king of the mountain on it when they were little boys. Nessa had been fourteen when Nanny Lucy pointed the log out to her, and it had been hard even at that time for her to imagine that her overbearing father had ever been a child, much less a baby. Now, after the way the two men had acted when they’d both shown up at the house, it was doubly hard to imagine them ever playing together.
When she got to the old tree, she sat down on the ground and leaned against the bark. She and her cousins had been more than two-thirds of the way across the quilt when they quit that morning. Soon it would be done, and then they’d know what was in the hope chest, but it mattered less and less to her each day. If it was more money, that was fine, but none of them really needed it now. April and Flynn had jobs, and Nessa would hopefully be selling quilts come fall.
Her phone rang, and when she fished it out of her hip pocket, her father’s name popped up. “Hello, Daddy, how are things in Canyon?”
“Busy,” he answered. “We’re finalizing our plans to go to Israel, and I’m giving you one last chance to join us. That house will be there when you get back. If y’all haven’t gotten it squared away by now, then it can wait for your fall break from school. By then, Flynn and April will have given up on it anyway, and you’ll have to maintain the old place.”
Just like Isaac O’Riley to make judgments like that, she thought.
“April has a part-time job that is turning into a full-time one as soon as we finish with the quilt. Nanny Lucy pieced it together with scraps of clothing she made for us when we visited her, so it’s been like going back in time and remembering the good times.” Nessa tried to change the subject.
“If there’s money in that hope chest, April will be gone the next day, and Flynn won’t be far behind her. You can mark my words on that,” Isaac said.
“Flynn is working with Jackson Devereaux, our next-door neighbor, in his woodworking business, so he’s probably going to stick around, like April does. I’ve had two dates with Jackson,” she said, hoping to force actual steam out of her father’s ears.
“You can’t seriously be considering giving up a secure teaching job to make quilts and date a Devereaux.” Isaac’s voice rose to the screech level. “His uncle was strange, a recluse at best. I won’t have my daughter dating a man like that. It could lead to something permanent, and your children will be weird.”
The bark began to bite into her back, so she leaned forward. “Daddy, two dates does not produce little blue-eyed Devereaux babies.”
“Don’t you get sassy with me, girl!” Isaac yelled into her ear. “Sometimes I wish we’d never let you go there in the summer to stay with your grandmother.”
“But you did, and your choice now has consequences. I’m sending in my letter of resignation next week so that my principal will have plenty of time to replace me.” She hadn’t had any notion of doing that so soon until her father fussed at her, but now that she’d said it, she was content with the decision.
“You’ll be sorry,” Isaac said, and he ended the call.
“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Nessa wiggled, but the pain in her back just got worse and worse even though she wasn’t leaning against the old tree anymore.
She heard something behind her and started to stand up. Before she could, Jackson had jumped over the log, grabbed her up by her hands, and ripped her T-shirt off over her head. Then he threw it against the tree, jerked her shorts down off her hips and did the same thing with them.
As he scooped her up and ran, she shrieked. Her flip-flops flew in different directions. She held on to her cell phone with one hand, beat on his chest with the other one, and screamed. “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?”
“Fire ants!” he yelled as he dodged low-hanging tree limbs, took his porch steps two at a time, and rushed into the house. He came to a screeching halt in the bathroom and set her in the old claw-footed tub, jerked the shower curtain around it, took her phone from her and laid it on the edge of the vanity, and turned on the water. In seconds, he had stripped his shirt off and was standing in the tub with her.
Jackson lathered up his hands, flipped her dripping, wet hair to one side, and soaped up her back, neck, and arms, then dropped to his knees and did the same to her legs. “Have any crawled under your bra or panties?”