Now, she had to admit that wasn’t the case because she’d been calm and alert ten minutes ago, and she’d still felt those ghostly, pesky tingles in his presence. That sense of possibility. Of potential. And attraction. Loads and loads of raw, visceral attraction.
What was she supposed to do with that?
She had a few ideas.
The image of a bare-chested Jaxson flashed behind her eyes again, just as it had been doing since earlier that morning. Her fingertips tingled as she imagined running them over those pecs, tracing those tats, and then exploring further down the ripples of those washboard abs, following the trail of dark hair that no doubt led to something equally impressive beneath the denim.
She shook her head to clear it when the desire began to bloom in her core. Those kinds of thoughts were only helpful if both people felt them, which he obviously didn’t. In fact, he’d probably be quite happy if their paths never crossed again.
Penny sighed. Always a bridal bouquet creator, never a bride.
Not that she wanted to marry him. But something better than disdain would be welcome. A flare of interest based on mutual attraction. Flirtation with intent to seduce. Hot and sweaty monkey sex in his motel room. Whatever.
She slowed as she approached the Stop sign and snorted, earning a curious look from the Schaeffer twins, the elderly spinsters out for their daily stroll. Penny smiled and waved.
Her smile faded as she continued on her way. Seduction and sexy times were probably the last things on Jaxson’s mind when it came to her. On anyone’s really.
Penny had no illusions. Everyone had their part to play, and hers was the good girl next door. The one who tried to brighten other people’s days with a kind word or a cheerful smile, even when she could have used one herself.
Penny the Pest.
The old nickname rose up from the depths, reminding her that sometimes, she tried too hard.
Though as she’d gotten older, she’d gotten better. Had her mother not insisted upon inviting Jaxson to Sunday dinner, Penny would have respected his wishes and left him alone. She would’ve called Zeb Monday morning and made arrangements to get Jaxson’s bike fixed, and then she’d have put the whole situation behind her.
At least, that was what she would have tried to do. Relegating Jaxson Adams to the back of her mind was proving to be easier said than done, especially when fate seemed determined to keep tossing him into her path.
Maybe she shouldn’t have followed him to the library earlier. But when she’d seen him walking by the shop, looking like a man on a mission, she hadn’t been able to stop herself.
What exactly is he up to?
That he went to the library was unexpected—the microfiche room even more so. He was so intent on whatever it was—or rather, whoever it was—he was looking for that he didn’t notice her skulking around.
Her great-aunt Agnes did though. Eyes like a hawk, that one.
Of course, that led to a lecture on how nice girls didn’t chase boys, especially boys who were obviously trouble.
Penny had assured her great-aunt that she wasn’t chasing him—she totally was—that it was simply coincidence they’d wound up in the same place at the same time. That she had gone to the library for a new book, seen the man she’d met that morning heading down to the microfiche room, and had naturally been curious what he was doing down there.
Then, Penny had to explain how she’d met him. Word would get around soon enough anyway.
Great-Auntie Agnes looked over her half-moon glasses and sternly told her that curiosity killed the cat and she had no wish for her great-niece to meet the same fate.
Overly dramatic, but that was Great-Auntie Agnes.
And ironically funny, because Jaxson had said pretty much the same thing only hours earlier.
Not wanting to endure another lecture, Penny did not tell her about the Sunday dinner invitation. That, too, Great-Auntie Agnes would learn about soon enough, and hopefully, that talking-to would be endured by Penny’s mother and not Penny. It seemed only fair since Penny’s mother was the one who had insisted he come to Sunday dinner.
That pending dinner invite was how Penny rationalized waiting around until Jaxson left to issue said summons.
After leaving the library, it was a matter of occupying herself until Jaxson left. The community park was nearby, and that was where Penny sat with the library book she hadn’t really wanted while she waited. She’d selected the classic Pride and Prejudice, which had mollified her great-aunt somewhat.
Jaxson came out promptly at closing time, shooed out by Agnes herself, at which time Penny put the next step of her bold plan into action.
She followed him to Franco’s, and then she went back and got her car, thinking to offer him a ride. He seemed to have difficulty walking, and she thought he might appreciate it.
He hadn’t.
Nor had he appreciated her tenacity.
Well, tough tulips. He wasn’t the one who would have to face Addie Hoffmeier’s wrath if Penny returned without securing a positive RSVP.
She only hoped he kept his word and showed up because if he didn’t ...
Penny shuddered. She’d done her part. What happened next was completely out of her hands.
Chapter Ten
Jaxson
The chicken parmigiana was every bit as good as it smelled, as were the garlic bread and dipping sauce that came with it. Getting his dinner from Franco’s for the duration of his stay wouldn’t be a hardship, although he would take the hostess’s advice and phone in his orders from now on.
Except tomorrow, of course. Tomorrow, he’d be eating Sunday dinner with Penny and her family.
He shook his head, chastising himself for caving so easily. That was followed by the same rationalization he’d made earlier—that the benefits outweighed the cost. The Hoffmeiers might know who Ilsa was—or at the very least, they might be able to point him in the right direction. The sooner he got some answers, the sooner he could move on.
Move on to what, he hadn’t quite figured out. His future was hazy at best. He was a thirty-something mechanic with a bum leg and nothing and no one to go home to, not really. Sure, he had friends in Campbell’s Junction, but things weren’t—and never would be—like they had been once. Not for him.
He knew only that he had to keep moving forward, and to do that, he had to step back into the past.
The mysterious Ilsa was part of his father’s past, but was she part of his? Could she be the mother he never knew? The timing seemed to suggest she might, as did his gut.
And if it turned out she was, then what?
Again, he didn’t know. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
It was hard to miss something he never had. Biologically speaking, Jaxson knew he had a mother, but she hadn’t been part of his life, not the part he could remember.
He’d wondered though. Who was she? Why wasn’t she part of his life? Was it a choice? Hadn’t she wanted him?
The most his father had said on the subject was that it was better he didn’t know, and after a while, Jaxson had stopped asking.
Now, having read the letters, he knew that at some point, Ilsa had loved his father—or said she did. Was it his father who’d walked away and not looked back? And if so, why?
Feeling the irritation surge again, Jaxson flipped through the television channels. Unsurprisingly, he found nothing he was interested in. He’d never been one to sit in front of a screen, preferring to do something rather than watch, especially something that involved his hands and his brain. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, but there wasn’t a machine made that he couldn’t take apart and put back together again.