“Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.”
― John Steinbeck
~Cletus~
“Okay, now that it’s just us three, I want to know.” Jessica turned in her seat and lifted her eyebrows at me. It was keen eyebrow lift, so I knew the next words out of her mouth were going to be a question. “What’s going on with Jennifer Sylvester and Billy? Or is she with Beau? Or what’s going on?”
I met Duane’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He was driving my new car back from Nashville. Jess sat next to him on the bench seat, and I was in the back being chauffeured. The others, including the lady in question, had already departed for Green Valley on Sienna’s plane.
Duane was—by far—the best driver in the family. I suspected he was the best driver in Tennessee. Whenever I needed a fast four-wheeled escape, he was my guy. Which meant when he left for Italy and other grand capering, I would be without a getaway driver.
A depressing thought.
Duane cleared his throat, shifted a bit in his seat, but said nothing. He quickly returned his attention to the road.
He was no help.
Or, perhaps he was also curious.
“Come on, Cletus.” Jessica reached over the seat and pushed my knee with her fingertips. “Am I going to have to guess? Don’t make me guess.”
“She’s not attached to either Billy or Beau.”
“Are you sure?” Jessica pushed. “Because Beau and she seemed mighty friendly.”
I moved my attention to the window at my side rather than allow Jessica to see my displeasure at this news. Truth was, I’d been preoccupied by thoughts of Jennifer for weeks.
I was . . . attracted to her.
Physically.
A lot.
Her image haunted both my day and night dreams. Most were of the dirty variety, because the woman’s body drove me to distraction. But some fantasies were just flashes of us being together, talking and touching. Always touching.
I’d been fixating on her since our last lesson. Matters weren’t helped by her unexpected delivery of the most delicious muffins ever conceived in the history of muffins.
“Beau is friendly with everybody.” I forced calm into my voice and schooled my expression before turning back to Jess.
“Then what was she doing here today? And the other day at the house?”
“She’s a family friend.”
The woman definitely had an effect on me. Her voodoo had me doing and saying things without premeditated forethought. We had conversations. We spoke of events and our lives. I was sharing things about myself without conducting a mental chess game or deliberating how to best leverage information she communicated for my benefit.
I wanted to be with her, spend time in her company for the sake of her company—a sentiment that was both novel and entirely unwelcome.
Jessica’s eyes narrowed on me. “Since when?”
“Our grandfathers were friendly. So, I suppose she’s been a family friend since Don Donner and Grandfather Oliver first met.”
Jess huffed impatiently and smacked my knee. “You’re being evasive, Cletus. And when you’re being evasive, it means you don’t want to talk about something. And when you don’t want to talk about something, it usually means that something is really interesting.”
I nodded somberly. “What a fascinating theory.”
Jessica eyeballed me for a stretch and I met her meddlesome glare with an easy one of my own.
But then Duane—the turncoat—said, “I think Cletus is helping Jennifer.”
“Duane.” I suffused my tone with warning and shook my head.
He refused to meet my eye in the mirror, instead subtlely smirking and adding, “Billy took her out a few weeks ago, a practice date or something. She’s never had a boyfriend, I don’t think. You’ve seen how her parents have her locked up like Rapunzel. My guess is Cletus is helping her figure shit out, so she can break out from under her parents’ crazy.”
I gaped at the back of my brother’s head. “Well hello, Garrison Gossip.”
He shrugged. “We’ll be in Italy next month, Cletus. Who are we going to tell? Besides, maybe Jess can help.”
“I want to help!” Jessica bounced in her seat, giving me a giant, pleading smile. “Oh please, let me help. I’ve always thought she was so cute and sweet. It’s a shame her momma dresses her like a banana. But she’s, what? Twenty-three now?”
“Twenty-two,” I corrected.
“Twenty-two is too long to live under the thumb of her parents. It’s about time she broke free. I could teach her so much. Please, Cletus? Please?” Jessica folded her fingers under her chin and flapped her eyelashes at me.
I frowned at Jessica and her unexpected offer. I didn’t like unexpected offers as a rule, but Jessica was good people. And she definitely had a backbone.
“I’m not saying yes,” I held up a cautionary finger between us, “but, if I did, what would you teach her first?”
Jessica’s eyes moved up and to the right, as though she was retrieving information stored in some secret woman-center of her brain.
Meanwhile, I was thinking on my hike with Jennifer down to the Yuchi stream. Telling her about my half-brother hadn’t been planned. It just . . . happened. Her father’s affair, his disregard for his marriage vows, reminded me of my own adulterous father.
The two men were a pair of assholes.
“Don’t freak out,” Jessica ordered, finally bringing her gaze back to mine.
“Why would I freak out?”
“Because, honestly, the first thing I would do is get that woman a vibrator.”
The car descended into a stunned silence. At least, I was stunned and I was pretty sure Duane was stunned. But then Duane barked a laugh. Jessica didn’t laugh. She smiled hopefully. I didn’t laugh. I was plagued with sudden and vivid images of Jennifer pleasuring herself.
This suggestion was almost as bad as Claire’s heartfelt appeal earlier in the evening—that Jennifer should seek love rather than experience—as well as the visuals that conversation conjured.
Dammit.
“Just hear me out.” Jess waved her hands between us, as though telling me to simmer down. “When I was a teenager and didn’t know what the hell I wanted, looking back I wish someone had given me a vibrator.”
“I would have given you more than that,” Duane mumbled.
“Oh good Lord,” I said on a breath, rolling my eyes.
Jess slid her attention to Duane, her grin growing sly, then brought it back to me. “I’m serious. Girls don’t know what’s up. My momma never talked to me about it, so I guarantee Diane Sylvester hasn’t said a word to Jennifer either. That girl was homeschooled, so she likely knows even less. And, her daddy checks the search history on her phone and laptop all the time. He used to brag about it to us teachers. I’m convinced that man is a sociopath. The Sylvesters make my parents look progressive.”
I didn’t find this news surprising. The main difference between my father and Kip Sylvester was that Darrell never pretended to be a pious saint. Jenn’s father, however, spread his holier-than-thou manure all over the place. My momma once told me—with the fire and ire—that Kip often misquoted the Bible to keep his kids under control.
Jennifer and Isaac had deserved better than growing up with their father’s judgmental hypocrisy. And their momma deserved better than the man’s betrayal.
“Your parents are very nice.” I leaned forward in my seat. “I’ve always found the sheriff to be reasonable.”
“He likes you, Cletus.” Duane glanced at me then back to the road. “Jess’s daddy thinks the world of you.”
I was surprised by this information, not because the sheriff ever treated me poorly, quite the opposite. He always treated me equitably, just like he treated everyone.
An odd twinge of guilt struck me between the ribs. I’d been funneling evidence out of Sheriff James’s station for months, replanting it in strategic locations along with forged listings of money laundering and loan sharking activities.
In my defense, the lists were an accurate accounting of the motorcycle club’s actual money laundering and loan sharking activities; but the Wraiths were irritatingly disordered. Their record keeping was unsystematic. So I’d recorded the details in an effort to make the club appear more organized. The stolen evidence just tied everything together in a nice big obstruction-of-justice bow.
On its own, if I hadn’t interfered, the evidence stolen might’ve led to the arrest of several members of the Iron Wraiths. And those arrests would have been minor wins for the sheriff. But the wins would’ve been fleeting, because none of the evidence would have led to the club’s downfall.
I had my eye on the big picture. Helping the club appear more organized in their criminal endeavors would lead to their destruction, because RICO charges didn’t just remove the head of an organization. RICO charges brought everyone down.
When I was done, everyone was going to prison for a long, long time.
Every. Single. Member.
Even Isaac . . . This realization gave me pause.
“Cletus?”
I refocused my attention, seeing that Jessica’s pleading smile hadn’t dimmed.
“You might think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I’m right. And you’re smart. So you know I’m right. Give a man a fish and you’ve fed him for a day, but—”
“Give a woman a vibrator, and she’ll orgasm for life. I get it.” I waved Jessica off, looking out the window to my left, while I debated her advice.
It felt like a big step. I didn’t want to frighten the woman with sex toys. “I don’t know, Jess. I have no idea how she’ll react. Put yourself in her shoes.”
“You want to help her? Empowering her is key.”
“I know that.” I did know it. That’s why the second homework had been for her to make changes, but only changes she wanted to make.
Jess continued to push. “She’s different already. How she’s dressing, wearing her hair, speaking up for herself. And that’s wonderful, it’s great to see. She’s taking control of her life with baby steps.”
“But me showing up with a genital stimulation device doesn’t seem like a baby step.”
“Then let me do it.”
I glanced at her askance. “What?”
“Let me do it. You bring her to Big Todd’s and I’ll walk her around. She can even choose the color.”
I groaned, a new and vast smorgasbord of lurid images assaulted my psyche: Jennifer standing in the bathroom using her toy; Jennifer standing in the bathroom using her toy in front of the mirror; Jennifer standing in the bathroom using her toy in front of the mirror while I stood behind her and . . .
I groaned again.
Forget whether or not Jennifer could handle the introduction of a vibrator. The real question was, could I?
***
“What are you planning to do with that?”
“Pardon?”
I glanced at Shelly. The woman stood before me, arms crossed, sharp gaze moving between my face and my hands.
“The torque wrench. What are you doing with it?”
I glanced at the socket wrench in my hand and discovered Shelly was right. It wasn’t a socket wrench. I’d mistakenly grabbed the torque wrench.
Dammit.
I needed to focus.
The last two days had been excruciating. Not only had Jessica been a plague, but the idea seed she’d planted in my brain took on a life of its own.
I spent the whole drive back to Green Valley Saturday night thinking about Jennifer. Wondering if she’d gone to the bakery to prep for the next day, or if she’d gone home. I’d tortured myself with images of her slipping into bed. What would she wear? What did she dream about? Was she getting enough sleep? Was she gardening in overalls? What was she gardening? Had she gone hiking again?
It rained on Sunday, and I knew she liked reading while it rained. Had she read a book? What book? Did she like it? What did she think about it?
Jessica showed up after church on Sunday and hadn’t quit her harassing until I’d agreed to her plan. But I hadn’t agreed because of her pushing, I’d agreed because it was a good plan. It was time for Jennifer to broaden her horizons. It was time for her to be pushed out of her comfort zone. This was a big step.
But the sooner Jennifer Sylvester stood on her own, the sooner I could remove myself from her life and establish normalcy and calm in mine.
I was still fixating.
Meanwhile, important things—like nailing the coffin shut on the Iron Wraiths, the arrangements for Jethro’s wedding in two weeks, Thanksgiving, and preparing for my boar hunt in Texas—required my attention. Not to mention my regular work, various and sundry projects, fund management of my momma’s trust, ensuring Shelly was adequately trained and prepared for Duane’s departure while managing Beau’s temper, and all the other irons in the fire.
I tossed the torque wrench to the toolbox where it made an angry clatter. “We were just visiting.”
“You were visiting with your torque wrench?” Shelly asked deadpan.
“Yes. We’ve been through a lot together.”
She continued to peer at me. This was her way. She didn’t frown much, and she smiled even less. She was cool and collected, and brutally candid.
“There’s something wrong with you.” Her tone was even, but not robotic. She was making an observation, not a judgment.
I nodded, but didn’t answer. Shelly Sullivan’s frankness didn’t agitate me, not like Beau, who seemed to take it personally.
There was still work to do and the big clock above the stairwell told me it was well past closing. My productivity recently had been disappointing and still I’d spent the day clockwatching, anxious for eight o’clock to arrive. Jennifer didn’t know what machinations I had planned for the evening, as I hadn’t given her a heads-up. This was one of those instances where a sneak attack was in order.
“I need to leave.” I stood from where I’d been bending over my workbench. “Can you lock up?”
Shelly nodded, wiping her hands with a cloth. She stepped forward and used the cloth to pick up the torque wrench I’d haphazardly tossed and set it neatly in the toolbox. Then she quickly rearranged the sockets from smallest to largest and placed the wrench attachment at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
I blinked at Shelly and her arranging, then glanced around the shop with new eyes born of suspicion. The garage wasn’t pristine, but it was damn close. Everything was put away in its place, neatly.
My eyes cut back to her, a notion dancing in my forebrain. “Shelly?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you still here?”
Her jaw flexed and she swallowed, her eyes remained fixed on the top of the toolbox she was rearranging. “I was waiting for you to finish.”
“Why?”
Shelly lifted her cool gaze to mine. “No reason.”
She really was a beautiful woman—beautiful and aloof. Not beautiful and sweet, like Jennifer. Shelly was brutally honest and her honesty was armor, a shield to keep others at arm’s length.
Whereas Jennifer’s honesty was kindly meant and came from a place of trust and hope.
Perhaps because I’d been wrestling with my own fixations, I sensed an undercurrent of turmoil in Shelly this evening despite her outward show of detachment.
“Shelly.” I gentled my voice. This made her squint. “You’ve been waiting for me to finish so you can straighten up, right? You need things to be tidy?”
She gritted her teeth. Her eyes fell to the floor, then lifted again. The volume of hostility within her glare startled me.
“I don’t need it.” Her tone reeked of defensiveness and insolence.
I lifted my hands, wanting to communicate that I wasn’t one to judge. Furthermore, I didn’t care. Let her be tidy, if she needed it.
But I was also severely frustrated with myself. I couldn’t believe I’d worked with Shelly for almost two months and had no idea she was suffering from an obsessive-compulsive disorder. How could I miss something so obvious?
What else was I missing? What else was I not seeing? These were things I should know about my future . . .
My well-ordered world was in chaos, undone by a short woman baker.
“I’m leaving now.” I backed away. “So you do what you need to do, then feel free—or don’t—to tidy as you see fit.”
Some of the hostility behind her glare dissipated and she nodded once.
I left Shelly to her cleaning, walking straight out of the garage without checking out of the office first. I was restless and irritable and still in my grease-stained coveralls. There was nothing for it, so I would have to unzip them and tie the arms around my waist. Otherwise I’d be leaving grease smudges all over my car.
On the drive to the bakery, I forced myself to obey the speed limit. I had no reason to rush. No reason at all. Duane and Jess would be meeting us at Big Todd’s, the least sleazy adult shop in Knoxville, at 9:30 PM. I wasn’t nervous. I was . . . anxious, on Jennifer’s behalf.
Despite obeying the speed limit, I was five minutes early. I hated being early. It was like having to wait for the same thing twice. Jenn’s car was parked in the spot closest to the kitchen door and I could see her shadow moving around the kitchen. Rather than waiting for the appointed time, I walked to the back entrance and knocked.
I heard some rustling from within and then ignored the anticipatory jump in my pulse. I liked how she looked, that was it. I was not excited to see her. I hadn’t been counting the hours. I was looking forward to the end of our arrangement. I did not need her in my life distracting me.
I was going to take her to Big Todd’s. She was going to get a sex toy. She was going to feel empowered. She would use it and I would not think about her using it. And then, with any luck, this big step would be the last help she needed from me. She’d be standing up to her momma, speaking her mind, and getting off on weekdays.
. . . Getting off work. Not getting off getting off. Work. Getting off work. Yep.
Jennifer opened the door and I stepped back, gulping in air and crossing my arms over my chest. I was ready to get this over with.
“Hi, Cletus.” She smiled, soft and open. Her big, bright eyes moved between mine, and her whole face lit up, as though illuminated from within by sunshine and angel dust.
I lost my train of thought because it was replaced by, It’s too soon. I’m not ready.
“Come on in. I have cookies.” Jennifer reached for my arm and pulled me into the kitchen, shutting the door behind me. “It’s cold outside, where’s your jacket?”
“I didn’t—”
“Oh, never mind.” Jennifer walked around to face me and rubbed her hands up and down my arms. She then entwined our fingers together and brought my palms to her cheeks, pressing them there. “Goodness. You’re so cold.”
She grinned up at me, shivering, sharing her warmth as though I had a right to it. I stared at her. In truth, I stared at my hands on her face. I was experiencing a strong sense of déjà vu. I’d had a dream like this, where I held her face between my palms and then we’d devoured each other.
Instinct had me licking my lips and the movement drew her eyes to my mouth.
Her grin waned.
I tiled her chin.
She let me.
Her breathing changed.
I stepped forward.
She smelled like vanilla and nutmeg.
Her eyes drifted shut.
And I marveled at the beauty of her trust as my mouth laid claim to hers.