I lift myself from my seat. “I like your new sweater, Momma.”
Is she accusing me of being frugal? Her grin assures me of her compliment. I bought something for myself when I was out with Naomi.
“Thank you,” I mutter as I turn for the door. The pale plum sweater dips off my shoulder, exposing a new matching bra. I’d like to think I didn’t consciously dress this way today, but I did. Last night lingers in my mind as does the touch of Jedd’s hand on my skin. A residual hug is what I consider the haunting embrace I can still feel around me.
As I head to the side of the old barn, I hear the clanging of metal on metal. Rounding the corner, I find Jedd banging on the faded green tractor with a hammer. As I come to a halt, he steps back without appearing to notice me and tosses the hammer into the field.
“Whoa. What did that hammer do to you?” I stammer with a chuckle.
Jedd rounds to face me, hands on his hips as his chest heaves with the exertion of beating the tractor and tossing the hammer.
His head lowers as he laughs. “It’s been a rough morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer as my brows pinch in question. Looking off in the distance, I notice the unfinished stable. “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” he mutters, glancing in the same direction as me. “The boys will be back in a few days to finish it up. Nathan works construction by day, so I don’t want to abuse his generosity in helping me.”
I nod. I’m not concerned, but I am worried about him. Does he regret what he did last night? Should we discuss it? I don’t even know how to bring it up other than to beg him to do it all again.
I’m staring at him when his head turns back to me, and our eyes lock for a second. He takes a quick step toward me, and just when I think, hope, pray he’s going to kiss me, he stops short.
“Who are those flowers coming from, Bee?”
My mouth drops open and then snaps shut. I’m not certain how to explain the man. Should I mention I’m feeding a homeless guy living somewhere out here? Somehow, I think this act of kindness might upset him more than the misleading crush of Tripper Hanes.
“None of your business,” I retort, resorting to the familiarity to push him away. He looks off in the distance once again and chews at his lip. When he turns back to me, his eyes intense, his words nearly take me to my knees.
“You got another beau? One that’s real instead of a television sensation?” The bitter mockery to his tone sends up the fine hairs on my neck, but my feathers ruffle as well.
“Not that it’s your concern, but no, I do not have a beau. And I don’t do random hookups either.” Another concept I’ve learned from daytime television. My eyes roam his body, drinking him in. Could I do that with him? Hook up with him. I’d already been a one-time girl, and it resulted in a permanent residence with the man.
“You implying I’d be a hookup?” His eyes narrow at me. “I’ve already been there, done that. I’m not interested in hooking up anymore.”
“Right. Was that during the military or as a rodeo star?” My irritation grows. He’s probably been with at least a hundred women, and he’s accusing me of being with random men.
“Rodeo star?” he teases. He hasn’t mentioned the buckles I saw in his trunk, so I’m caught knowing more than I should about him. “You were a curious cat, weren’t you?” He grins, but it isn’t softening the edge to his sharp cheeks.
“PAFRA is important to me. I love horses, and I have a competitive spirit. It filled a hole for me. It was a place I needed when I didn’t feel like I had any place to go.” He shrugs his left shoulder, emphasizing the injury to his arm.
“So why are you here?” I ask when he takes a breath.
“Because now I want a home.”
“And taking over mine will be that for you?” I ask, suddenly not liking the direction of this discussion. He’s somehow weaseled his way into my barn, building another structure on my land, and letting himself into my house. And none of that compares to what he’s doing to my heart.
“I’m not taking over your home, Bee, and you know it. I’m living in your barn.” His tone turns condescending as if he’s ashamed of his position. “And I’m improving land that’s been neglected and needs a purpose, as do you.”
His chest rises and falls in his agitation, and I’m shaken. He lowers his head, shaking it side to side again and then he steps back, reaching for another tool in a bin and returning his attention to the tractor. I move forward, leaning against the side of the oversized tire.
“Speaking of purpose, what’s the point of the stuff on my kitchen table?”
Jedd pauses in his clanging of the wrench against the metal but keeps his eyes on his work.
“They’re ingredients for soapmaking. You said you were interested in making soap, so I bought you the stuff. Some scented oils are on the way.”
Soapmaking. Scented oils. I don’t know how to make soap. I said soapmaking as a knee-jerk reaction to his question. He asked me my interest while soap cascaded down his body, and all I wanted was to be those suds.
“I don’t really know how to make soap,” I admit, not unappreciative of the gesture but concerned because I don’t have the skills to be grateful for the gift.
“I figured you could just look it up online.”
I don’t often use computers, so I haven’t mastered that skill either. My child definitely surpassed me in this ability, and while I’ve always been curious about the secondhand desktop we own, I’ve never taken the steps to learn more about its benefits.
“You watch a lot of television, right?”
How does he know that?
“I see the blue light on in your room.”
Does he watch me through the sheers? Instead of freaking me out, it thrills me to consider.
“You could look it up online almost the same as using your television. Watch a video on Youtube.”
It sounds easy enough. I could ask Hannah for help, but I pause with the thought. I could ask her to teach me how to search for things on the computer, but I don’t want to ask Hannah. Considering his gesture—to find me something I might have an interest in—he provided me with the tools, and I want this for me. I want to make soap. If I need assistance, I can ask my librarian sister for help with the internet.
“I can do it,” I whisper, but his left side faces me, and he doesn’t hear my affirmation. Instead, his hand slips, and the wrench knocks against his knee. He stands but immediately bends at the waist, a litany of swear words stringing together like wash on a laundry line.
“Are you okay?” I ask, trying not to chuckle as I know it isn’t funny, but it kind of is in the way he’s hobbling around, bent over and cursing.
“No. No, I’m not okay.” He stands a little straighter, shaking out his knee with a few more expletives and then adds something I’m not expecting. “And tell me what your issue with Vernon is? What happened with him?”
Whoosh goes the air in my lungs. Jedd stands still again, facing me, and suddenly, I understand his frustration might not be just with the stubborn tractor.
“I…” I don’t know how to explain Vernon and our past relationship. “We were friends.” My eyes pinch in the brightness of a cloudy fall day.