“Excuse me…do you work here?”
Scott turned to find an older couple standing behind him. “Yes. Can I help you?” he asked pleasantly.
The man nodded toward the display of balled and burlapped dogwood trees in the nursery lot. “I’d like to get one of those for my yard, but I don’t know much about trees. I need some advice.”
Scott glanced around, but none of the retail staff was in the area. “I usually work on the commercial side of the business,” he said hesitantly, unwilling to overstep the clear bounds Seth had set for his job. On the other hand, he doubted the owner would consider it good customer relations to leave this couple while he went in search of a salesperson. Especially when he could very likely help them. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you ask me your questions, and if I can’t answer them I’ll find someone who can.”
“Fair enough,” agreed the man. “My wife and I have always liked dogwood trees, but we hear they’re a bit temperamental. Any truth to that?”
“Well, they are subject to a few more problems than some trees,” Scott verified, setting his shovel aside. “But a lot of ornamentals are like that. You’d need to watch for borers, which can eat away under the bark and eventually kill the tree. But it’s easy to spot the signs, and the problem is relatively simple to treat. So I wouldn’t let that stop you if you have your heart set on a dogwood. And they are a native Missouri tree, so they tend to do well here. What kind of sun exposure will it have?”
“We want to put it on the east side of the house. Lots of sun in the morning, but it’s pretty shaded there in the afternoon.”
Scott nodded. “That’s good. Dogwoods don’t handle full sun very well. They’re also relatively slow growers. So while they have a spreading aspect, it will take a long time before you have much of a display, even with a fairly large tree. And it can sometimes take a year or two before they bloom.”
“Hmm. Time isn’t on our side, is it, Rose?” the man said, smiling affectionately at the older woman. “We aren’t exactly spring chickens.”
“If I could suggest something, then…”
“Certainly.”
“You might want to plant a grouping of dogwoods. Maybe mix the pink and white. If you have a large enough area, that could work very nicely. And you’d have a lot more color a lot sooner.”
“Well now, I hadn’t thought about that. A grove.” The man considered that for a moment, then turned to his wife. “What do you think, Rose?”
“It sounds lovely.”
“Is there any other landscaping in the area?” Scott asked as an idea began to take shape in his mind.
“No. We never did much on the side yard. But we just added a conservatory to the house, and now we have a great view of that part of our property.”
“In that case, depending on your budget, of course, you might want to do a mulch bed that links the trees together. Maybe put in a few azaleas and some shade-loving perennials like hostas.”
“This is sounding better and better,” the man said enthusiastically. “Do you think you could come out to the house, take a look at the area, show us some ideas?”
Now Scott knew he’d overstepped his bounds. He was a laborer, not a landscape consultant—even if that was his long-term goal. But breaking the rules wasn’t likely to move him in that direction. “Actually, I don’t usually…”
“He’ll be glad to.”
Scott turned sharply at the sound of Seth’s voice, and hot color stole up his neck. The owner stood only a few feet away and had apparently overheard the entire exchange.
“That would be great,” the older man said.
“Why don’t we go inside and take a look at the appointment book and we’ll set something up,” Seth told the man. Then he turned to Scott. “See me when you finish up here.”
Scott nodded, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Seth had made the ground rules very clear when he started. Stick to your job. Ask for help when you need it. And don’t confuse the two parts of the business—commercial and retail. Scott had clearly violated that rule. Which could not only derail his hopes of eventually moving into landscape design, but cost him his job. Reverend Young had warned him that Seth was a hard taskmaster who didn’t tolerate insubordination. And that’s exactly the way he might interpret Scott’s action, though it certainly hadn’t been the intent.
Scott finished shoveling the pile of mulch as quickly as possible, then headed for Seth’s office, praying that the owner would at least listen to his explanation. Seth was on the phone when Scott arrived, and he motioned the younger man to take a seat.
“Look, Mike, we agreed on a Wednesday delivery, and that’s when I need it,” Seth said in a clipped tone. “I’ve got a commercial job starting on Thursday, and those boxwoods are a major part of it. What am I supposed to tell my customer? And who’s going to pay the crew to stand around all day?” Seth chomped on his unlit cigar for a moment as he listened, his expression implacable. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay,” he finally said. “Get me fifty of them Wednesday. I can hold off on the rest till Thursday. But no later. You got that?”
Seth dropped the receiver back into the cradle and turned his penetrating gaze on Scott. “So you want to tell me what that was all about?”
Scott took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I over-stepped. There wasn’t anyone around to help those customers, so I thought it would be better if I—”
“Whoa!” Seth held up his hand, then leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “That’s not what I meant. Where did you learn so much about trees?”
Scott stared at his boss, taken aback. Apparently he wasn’t angry after all. Relief flooded through him and he slowly let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “I’ve always enjoyed horticulture. And landscaping. I read a lot about it in prison, and I worked on the vegetable gardens and helped with the groundskeeping while I was there.”
“You ever do any landscape design?”
“Not officially. But I’ve studied that, too, and I’ve done quite a few sketches.”
“You still have them?”
“Yes.”
“Bring them in tomorrow.”
“I also designed and installed a meditation garden at Reverend Young’s church,” Scott offered.
Seth looked at him appraisingly. “When did you do that?”
“On Saturdays.”
“Don’t you do enough digging during the week?”
Scott shrugged. “I owe a lot to Reverend Young. I didn’t mind.”
Seth studied him for a moment longer, then consulted the work schedule. “Plan on going over to Mr. Hudson’s house on Friday.”
“I’m supposed to be on the crew over at the hospital then,” Scott reminded him.
The older man waved the objection aside. “Laborers I can always find. Though not always as dependable as you,” he added, giving Scott his first real—if backhanded—compliment. “People who know plants and have an eye for design are a lot tougher to find. So bring in those drawings. And I’ll swing by that meditation garden on my way home.” Seth reached for the phone, signaling the end of the discussion.
But as Scott rose and headed for the door, Seth stopped him with one final comment.
“You show promise,” he said gruffly. “Keep this up, and things should work out just fine for you here.”
A smile flashed across Scott’s face. “Thanks.”
As he left the office, Scott’s heart felt lighter than it had in a long while. Somehow, earning Seth’s respect meant more to him than all the bonuses he’d received in his former job. Because those were impersonal, determined by a formula that was revenue based. Seth’s compliments, on the other hand—and his encouragement—seemed much more personal. And therefore more meaningful.
And best of all, if things went well with the Hudsons, maybe that project would open the door for Scott to begin building a new career.
Jess closed the folder, slid it back into her file drawer and glanced at her watch. She’d been in her office only twenty minutes, hardly long enough to justify a special trip into town on Saturday. Especially since she didn’t have to give the presentation until the middle of next week.
Admit it, she told herself with a sigh. There was no legitimate business reason for this trip. Her real motives were purely personal, and to pretend otherwise was foolish. Since meeting Scott in the garden the week before, she’d been unable to forget his comment that he often came here on Saturdays. And deep in her heart, she wanted to see him again. Even though it made no sense.
She rose and restlessly walked over to the window, staring down unseeingly at the manicured grounds. For the past three months she’d gone out of her way to avoid him and, on the occasions when their paths had crossed, to make it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Yet now she was deliberately putting herself in a position to meet him. Which was probably a big mistake.
Her parents would certainly think so, she acknowledged. They considered any contact with Scott to be bad news. That was why she’d never told them about the times she’d run into him. Or about her plans for today. What would she say? That she was intrigued by the changes in him, driven by some powerful force deep inside to learn more about the transformation that had occurred during his time in prison? They would hardly be receptive to that message. Nor would they understand her change in attitude. And frankly, neither did she.
Jess sighed again. If she was smart, she would probably just turn around and go home. But she hadn’t been feeling especially smart lately. Just unsettled. And going home was unlikely to change that. So she might as well follow her instincts.
Resignedly she reached for her purse, flipped off the lights in her office and headed out into the garden. The cobalt-blue sky of early morning had given way to scattered clouds, but she took little notice of the weather—or the beauty around her. She was looking for only one thing—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a glint of silver in his dark hair. Nothing else registered in her field of vision.
Thirty minutes later, however, after a rapid but complete circuit of the grounds, she’d seen no sign of Scott. Which was probably good, she assured herself even as a feeling of disappointment swept over her. Trying to engineer a chance meeting had been silly. And not very smart.
She hitched her shoulder purse higher and resolutely headed toward the exit, rebuking herself for wasting so much of her day on a whim. She could have spent a lazy morning catching up on some reading, paying bills or doing something far more productive than…
“Jess!”
At the sound of the familiar voice, her heart ratcheted into triple time and she froze. So he was here after all. She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath, then slowly turned. He was striding toward her, dressed in exactly the same manner as last week, the same notebook under his arm, his expression surprised—and delighted.
“I thought it was you.” His eyes smiled warmly into hers before he broke contact to glance cautiously around. “Are you alone?”
She nodded, struggling to find her voice. “Yes.”
His smile broadened. “Good.”
She couldn’t blame him for his reaction, not after their last encounter in the gardens. “Listen…about last week…my father…”
He smiled gently. “It’s okay, Jess. I understand how he feels about me. He has a right.”
Does he? she suddenly wondered as she stared into Scott’s kind eyes. Was it right to hate in the face of true remorse and regret? At some point didn’t hate become more destructive to the hater than the person hated? Wasn’t forgiveness a part of healing, as her brother had inferred? But she voiced none of those troubling questions, tucking them away in her mind for later consideration. “Well, it was rude nonetheless.”
“I’m used to a lot worse.”
The words were said matter-of-factly, but she saw the flash of pain in his eyes. Clearly, the horrors of prison life had left an indelible mark, though he didn’t dwell on the subject.
“Now I’m going to steal your question,” he continued with an engaging grin. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, had to stop at my office. To go over a presentation.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “So how did you end up here?”
“I work here.”
He looked surprised. “At the garden?”
“Yes. In public relations.”
“No kidding! That’s great!”
“I like it.” She knew her responses sounded stilted, but she couldn’t help it. That’s how she felt. Stiff. And awkward. And uncomfortable. Especially knowing that she had engineered this “chance” meeting.
“So are you leaving now?”
She nodded. “I just stopped in for a few minutes.”
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee first? The outdoor café would be great on a day like this.”
Jess stared at him. A casual meeting, a few words exchanged in passing were one thing. Spending time with him seemed somehow…wrong. As if by doing so she would somehow dishonor the memory of Elizabeth and be disloyal to her parents. At the same time, she thought about Mark’s advice. He had encouraged her to talk with Scott, suggested that the only way to truly let go of the past was to face it. And more and more lately, she had begun to admit that he might be right.
Scott waited patiently for Jess’s response, struggling to maintain a placid expression even though his heart was hammering painfully in his chest. He knew he was pushing things with his invitation, but what did he have to lose? At worst, she would say no. At best…well, that remained to be seen. But even a few minutes in her company, in this neutral setting of natural beauty, was bound to do some good. It had to. He’d prayed for guidance, for opportunity and for the right words when the time came. The Lord had certainly provided the first two. Now Scott hoped that He would come through on the last, as well.
As Scott waited for Jess to reply he used the moment to simply drink in the sight of her. For three long years he had had nothing but dreams to sustain him. Dreams of her kindness, her beauty, her joy. Of the way her eyes had once shone with love when they gazed at him. Of his hope of winning her heart all over again. Those were the dreams he had clung to.
And now Jess stood only a whisper away, no longer a dream but flesh and blood. She was close, so close. And yet so far. Reachable but not touchable, though the urge to do so grew stronger with each encounter. But until he saw welcome and warmth in her eyes, rather than the caution and conflict now reflected in them as she pondered his invitation, he knew that patience—and prudence—were his friends. Whether he liked it or not.
As the seconds ticked by, Jess realized she had to make a decision. But for some reason her brain didn’t seem to be functioning. Her heart, on the other hand, had kicked into overdrive, urging her to follow her brother’s advice and talk with Scott. And as she gazed into his warm brown eyes, her doubts somehow melted away. After all, it was only a cup of coffee. What harm could it do? In fact, if her brother was right, some good might come of it.
With sudden decision, she nodded. “All right. I have time for a quick cup.”
If it wouldn’t have attracted so much attention, Scott would have fallen to his knees on the spot. As it was, he simply sent a silent, heartfelt thank-you heaven-ward. “Great! Why don’t you pick out a table and I’ll get the coffee?” he suggested, struggling to contain the elation in his voice.
“Okay. Just a little cream.”
He smiled then, that lazy, smoky smile that had always turned her knees to rubber. “I remember,” he said softly. Their gazes connected for a brief second before he turned away, but it was long enough for her to see the heat simmering in the depths of his eyes. “I’ll meet you on the terrace,” he said over his shoulder.
Jess stared after him, caught off guard by the intimate, husky timbre of his voice and the look in his eyes, which had opened a floodgate of memories. She had never been a morning person, and when they were first married Scott had gotten into the habit of rising first to make coffee. Then he’d bring her a cup in bed, slipping in beside her to sip his as she slowly woke up. And sometimes, especially in the cold days of winter when neither wanted to leave their warm cocoon, they’d snuggle back under the covers for a few stolen moments. So yes, Scott knew exactly how she liked her coffee. And other things, as well.
A surge of longing suddenly swept over Jess, so strong and so unexpected that she gasped, causing a passerby to pause and gaze at her in alarm.
“Are you all right, dear?” the older woman asked in concern.
Jess felt her face grow red, and she nodded jerkily. “Yes. I—I’m fine.”
The woman didn’t appear to be convinced. “Are you sure? Would you like to sit down?”
“No, really, I’m fine.”
An older man came up beside the woman and glanced curiously at Jess. “What’s wrong, Ellen?”
“I thought perhaps this young woman was ill.”
By now they were drawing inquisitive glances from those seated nearby, and Jess felt her color deepen. “I appreciate your concern, but…”
“Is something wrong?”
Jess turned to find Scott gazing at her with a troubled look, but before she could speak the older woman chimed in.
“Oh, are you with this young man, dear? Well, Harry, she’s in good hands. I’m sure he’ll see to her if she isn’t well. You take care, miss,” she said over her shoulder as they headed toward an empty table.
Jess closed her eyes, wanting to drop through the floor in embarrassment. How in the world was she going to explain that exchange to Scott? she wondered desperately. There was no way on earth she could tell him the truth!
“Jess?”
She forced herself to open her eyes and meet Scott’s gaze. He looked even more concerned now, and a slight frown marred his brow. “What was that all about? Are you sick?”
Jess swallowed. “No. I’m fine. Where would you like to sit?”
Scott ignored her question, titling his head to study her face. “You look a little flushed.”
But not because I’m sick! she thought silently, glad that he couldn’t read her mind. “I’m fine, really,” she repeated more firmly. “How about that table over by the railing? We can see the roses from there.”
He hesitated for a moment, then much to her relief let the subject drop. In fact, he seemed a little distracted himself—which was okay with her. “That’s fine,” he agreed.
Scott followed her to the small café table, still berating himself for his response to her comment about the coffee. He’d have to be more guarded in the future. He needed to avoid topics that would make him recall the intimate details of their marriage. Because a few more slips like that and he could easily scare her off.
“The roses are great this year, aren’t they? Does your father still have his rose garden?” he asked with studied casualness as he deposited the cups and his notebook on the table.
She nodded. “Bigger than ever. It’s become almost an obsession since he retired two years ago. He’s got a couple of bushes right now that he’s hovering over like a mother hen, in preparation for a show in July. So much so that he threatened not to go with us on vacation next week.”
“A family vacation?”
“Yes. To Padre Island.”
“Sounds nice.”
“We’ve been going there the last few years. Mom and Dad really like it.” But she didn’t want to talk about her parents. Knowing how they felt about Scott, she could imagine their reaction to this little tête-à-tête. So she changed the subject, pointing to his notebook. “What’s that for?”
“Landscaping ideas. I’ve done a lot of reading about the subject in the last few years, and I’ve dabbled in design. The botanical garden always inspires me, so I try to drop by on Saturday mornings whenever I can.”
She looked at him curiously. “I thought you’d lost interest in that sort of thing years ago.”
“Not really. I just didn’t have the time to devote to it. However, time hasn’t been a problem these past few years.”
The final comment was made lightly, but Jess suspected that for a man like Scott, who had always filled every minute of his day with activity, time must have hung very heavily on his hands in prison. However, that was ground she didn’t want to tread on. “So what are you working on now?” she asked.
He hesitated, then reached for the notebook and flipped through a number of detailed drawings, stopping at one that was only partially finished. He handed it to her.
“That one’s actually going to see the light of day,” he said. “My boss has asked me to work with one of our customers to design this garden.”
Jess glanced at him in surprise. There was an undercurrent of pride and excitement in his voice, a boyish enthusiasm, that she hadn’t heard in many, many years. As if he truly loved what he was doing.
With interest she studied the detailed layout, drawn precisely on graph paper. It was a woodland cluster of plantings, with several dogwood trees as anchors. The design was pleasant to the eye and very natural looking, though the plotting of the plants and the groupings of perennials had clearly been carefully thought through.
“Very nice. May I?” she asked, nodding toward the notebook.
“Yes. But the designs are pretty rough. This kind of work is mostly done by computer these days, but I…well, I used what I had.”
Jess looked again at the meticulous workmanship and shook her head. “I wouldn’t exactly call these rough,” she disagreed. Each one had clearly been done with great care, and all were appealing. But the one she lingered over longest was a lakeside garden featuring a gazebo. There was something about it, some quality of tranquillity, that touched her soul. “This is lovely,” she said softly.
Scott leaned over to see which drawing had caught Jess’s eye. “As a matter of fact, that’s the only design in the book that has actually been produced,” he said, pleased she had singled it out. “It’s for a meditation garden at my church.”
Jess looked over at him. “You mean this garden really exists?”
“Yes.”
She glanced down again, impressed by his talent, touched by a beauty that the black-and-white pencil drawing could only hint at. “I think you may have found your true calling, Scott,” she said as she closed the notebook and handed it back to him.
“I think you may be right,” he concurred with a satisfied nod. Then he set the notebook aside and smiled at her. “So now tell me about you. How did you end up here?”
She took a sip of her coffee and shrugged. “After…the accident I needed something to do. I volunteered here for a few months, and when the job became available, they offered it to me. It was a perfect fit with my public relations background, and they already knew me from volunteering. I’ve been here for almost two years.”
“Do you like it?”
“Very much. It’s pleasant work in a beautiful setting. And it keeps me busy, which is good. Also, since I sold the house I haven’t had much opportunity to garden, and being in a place like this helps make up for that.”
“Knowing how much you enjoyed working with flowers, I was a little surprised to find you’d moved to a condo,” he admitted.
She took a sip of her coffee, gazing at him over the rim of her cup as she tried to discern whether he was upset that she’d sold the “trophy” house he’d once taken such great pride in. But he didn’t appear to be disturbed. Just curious. She set the cup on the table and shrugged. “The house was too big just for me. Besides, I didn’t feel capable of tackling the upkeep single-handedly. But I do miss having a yard, so I may get another house at some point. I don’t know. I just sort of take it a day at a time for now.”
He studied her silently for a moment, then sighed and glanced down at his coffee. “I can relate to that. Sometimes that’s the only way to survive.” When he looked at her again, his eyes were troubled. “Your parents watched out for you after the accident, didn’t they?”
Though his tone was quiet, the intensity in his eyes told her clearly that this worry had been on his mind for a long time. She swallowed with difficulty, touched by the depth of his concern in a way she couldn’t articulate, then averted her head and looked toward the rose garden. Dear God, yes, she had been alone—and lonely—despite her parents’ best efforts to fill the gaps, she recalled, her throat tightening with emotion. Nevertheless, their love had made a huge difference. In fact, it was only because of them that she had survived.
She drew an unsteady breath, fighting for control, but when she spoke there was a catch in her voice. “They saved my life,” she said simply, without looking back at him.
As Scott gazed at her stoic profile, his gut clenched painfully. Night after night in prison he’d lain awake staring into the darkness, praying that God would watch over her and keep her safe, that He would ease her pain. Jess had always been a strong woman. But when he’d seen her at the funeral, he’d known she was balancing precariously on the edge of an emotional breakdown. That only the support of her family, and God’s grace, would keep her from falling into the abyss of despair and depression that had already sucked him in.
Clearly, she’d survived and gone on with her life, though it was equally clear that she’d been through hell in the interim. And the ordeal had obviously taken a lasting toll on her, he realized, noting the way her slender fingers were gripping the paper cup, so tightly that the shape was distorted. He longed to reach over and take her hand in a comforting clasp, to promise her that she’d never have to face such trauma alone again. But it was too soon. He knew that intuitively. He had to keep his distance. Physically, at least. But maybe he could put out some feelers on the emotional front.
“How are you now, Jess?” he asked gently.
She didn’t turn back to him immediately. And when she did, she met his gaze directly with eyes that were dry—and slightly defiant. “I’m fine, Scott,” she said as steadily, as convincingly, as she could. She forced herself to hold his gaze for a long moment, hoping he would buy her response—even though she herself was beginning to realize that it was a lie.
Scott didn’t dispute her claim. But he didn’t believe it, either. She was too fragile emotionally. Too thin physically. And too lost spiritually. She needed him as much as he needed her. But convincing her of that would take time. And he’d gone about as far as was prudent today. Reluctantly he took the last swallow of his coffee and reached for his notebook. “I’m glad things are going well for you, Jess. And it was good to see you today.”
She looked at him in surprise, taken aback. He’d seemed so anxious to see her, to talk with her. So why was he was cutting their exchange short? But on the heels of that question came another, more disturbing one. Why should she care? And the answer was clear. She shouldn’t. The fact that she did only made her angry. Letting Scott back into her life would just set her up for disappointments, she reminded herself. And she’d had enough of those. Abruptly she reached for her purse and stood.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said shortly.
If Scott noticed her change in tone, he gave no indication of it. “My pleasure,” he replied, rising in a more leisurely way. “Can I walk you to your car?”
“It’s not far.”
“I don’t mind.”
She shrugged. It wasn’t worth arguing about. “If you like.”
They made their way silently through the main exhibit building, and by the time they exited a light rain had begun to fall. She glanced at the sky with a frown, pausing under the overhang from the building. “You’ll get wet if you walk me to my car,” she said. “Why don’t we just say goodbye here?”
“I’ll get wet either way. It doesn’t matter,” he replied as he withdrew a plastic bag from his pocket and slipped his sketchbook inside.
“But if we each make a dash for our cars we’ll only get slightly damp,” she persisted.
“I took the bus here, Jess,” he said matter-of-factly. “So where are you parked?”
She stared at him. Scott had taken a bus? He’d never taken a bus in his life—except maybe in college. Certainly not since she’d known him. Why in the world would he be doing so now?
“You took a bus?” she repeated in confusion.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have a car yet.”
“Why not?”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Because car dealers don’t sell cars based on good looks. Although I’m not sure that would necessarily help me even if they did.”
Again she stared at him. Frankly, she had never even thought about Scott’s financial situation. Of course, she knew he’d signed over his interest in all their assets to her after the trial. Not that she’d asked him to. Or cared one way or the other. At the time finances were the last thing on her mind. She’d simply told her attorney to deal with it and asked no questions. For the first six months she’d simply drawn on her accounts for day-to-day living expenses and counseling. And by the time she was able to take more control over her finances, she simply started from where she was. Her attorney was a trusted family friend with an impeccable reputation, and she’d never doubted his diligent management of her assets. But all along Jess had just assumed that Scott had kept something in reserve for himself. A cash account somewhere. Had she been wrong?
“I don’t understand,” she said, still confused. “Don’t you have any money?”
He gave her an easy smile. “Sure. I have a decent job. Seth pays a good wage.”
“No, I mean from before.”
Now his face grew serious. “Didn’t your attorney tell you? I turned everything over to you.”
“I knew about the major assets, of course, but I…I guess I just assumed you kept something in reserve for…for when you got out,” she replied, growing more and more flustered.
He shook his head. “I wanted you to have everything.”
“But that isn’t really fair. I mean, I have way more than I need.”
“It’s fair, Jess. Trust me.” His gaze locked with hers, and she knew that this was one subject that was not open to discussion. “So do you want to make a run for it?”
She looked at the rain, which had intensified even as they spoke. Scott would be drenched in a matter of minutes if he had to wait for a bus.
“Why don’t you let me drive you home?” she said impulsively.
Scott looked as surprised by the offer as she felt.
“Are you sure?” he said cautiously.
No, she wasn’t. In fact, she wasn’t sure about a lot of things lately. But ignoring the issues wasn’t going to make them go away. Just as avoiding Scott wasn’t going to help her resolve her feelings about him.
“Honestly? No. It just…came out,” she replied truthfully.
A shadow of disappointment briefly passed over his eyes, but he recovered quickly. “It’s okay. I have to make a quick stop on the way home, anyway. It’s better if I just take the bus. But thank you. Now, where’s your car? I’ll still walk with you that far.”
She nodded to the right, and he fell in beside her as they rapidly crossed the asphalt. By the time they reached the door she had her key in hand, and she quickly fitted it into the lock and slid inside. She looked up at him to say goodbye, but the words died in her throat as she noted the rain already soaking through his cotton shirt, the lines of weariness in his face, the kindness in his eyes. And when she finally opened her mouth, entirely different words came out.
“I don’t mind making a stop, Scott. Get in before you’re soaked.”
This time he didn’t question her motives. After only the slightest hesitation, he simply closed her door and made his way around to the passenger side.
And as she reached over to unlock the door for him, Jess couldn’t help but feel that she was opening the door to far more than her car.