Page 14 of Love & Rockets

Mostly.

Irritated by feeling compelled to explain, Jake turned back to his volunteers before answering. “I’m going over to talk to Grace about her science project.”

Harley’s lips tightened as he surveyed the hive of activity around them. “Mm-hm.”

Drawing his shoulders back, he turned to face the man head-on. “I didn’t invite myself over there.”

“Oh, I know,” Harley replied with a humorless laugh. “Darla knows sixty ways to bring a guy down without even touching him. If she didn’t want you to come over for dinner, you wouldn’t be going for dinner.”

Jake blinked, confused about whether he was being warned. “Listen, the thought never crossed my mind—”

“Never crossed your mind?” This time Harley turned and the two of them squared off. “Are you dead or gay?”

“Neither. I mean, I don’t think Darla is interested.” He trailed off the second he realized he was validating the other man’s speculation. “She asked for my help.”

“With Gracie’s project,” Harley prodded.

“Yes.”

“Over dinner.”

“Listen, I don’t know why I have to explain any of this to you. I don’t even know if I can. She insulted me, then apologized, then asked me to mentor her kid.” Jake shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure if the offer of dinner was supposed to sweeten the deal or scare me off, but I liked her. Grace, I mean.” He gave his head a swift shake then planted his hands on his hips, exhausted by the whole conversation. “I met Grace and I liked her. She’s a funny kid. She likes space stuff, and so do I.”

Harley smiled, but this time affection lit his eyes. “She’s great, isn’t she?”

Jake eyed him speculatively, a cold, hard nugget of jealousy dropping into the pit of his stomach. Harley looked as proud as a papa, and for once, Jake considered throwing caution to the wind and winding up at least one good punch. But that would be foolish, and he was anything but a fool. Any history there might have been between Darla and Harley was obviously ancient. And no matter what the gossips in town said, Jake knew down in his gut that if Grace actually were Harley Cade’s daughter, he would have claimed her long ago.

So he swallowed his doubts and took a scientist’s step back from the toxic cocktail of envy and jealousy stirring in his gut. The problem was, he wasn’t sure if he was more worked up about Harley’s relationship with Darla or her daughter. Either scenario was ridiculous. Harley was all but engaged to Delaney Tarrington, down-and-out heiress and St. Pat’s most notorious mean girl. Laney was beautiful but spoiled. The epitome of knife-edged Southern womanhood. Strong-willed, sweet tongued, and ready, willing, and able to slice any foe to shreds without batting a perfectly made-up eyelash. But then Laney’s daddy lost all their money. And Laney lost the safety net along with her silver spoon.

Then things really went south for Princess Delaney.

First, her mother was taken with breathtaking speed by an aggressive and unrelenting form of cancer. Then her father ran away with his best pals, Jack Daniel and Jim Beam. According to Brooke, Laney was busy trying to start an online clothing company, but if one listened to Harley Cade ramble after he’d had one too many glasses of scotch, she was expending all her energy on avoiding what Harley termed their inevitable nuptials.

Drawing a steadying breath, he focused his attention on his interaction with Grace. Talking about Grace seemed a hell of a lot safer than even thinking about Darla.

“I only got to talk to Grace for a few minutes, but yeah, she seemed very bright. Darla asked if I would give her some help with her project for the rocket science scholarship.”

“She wants to go to Space Camp awful bad,” Harley acknowledged. “I’ve offered to pay her way a dozen times, but her mama is a stubborn one.”

“Understatement,” Jake murmured.

Harley grinned again. “I work around her by adding a little extra to the little extra my mom slips into Gracie’s birthday cards and stuff. Darla has a hard time gettin’ around my mama.”

Jake chuckled. As lunch lady to a couple hundred spoiled rich kids, Harley’s mother had once ruled the St. Patrick’s cafeteria with an iron fist. Like any alum, Jake knew the man spoke the truth. “No doubt.”

“I wanted to wish you luck with the dinner thing. Darla is a lot of things, but a good cook isn’t one of them.”

Taken aback by the subtle shift in tone, Jake rocked back on his heels. “Oh?”

“I think my mom sent some spaghetti sauce and stuff home with her, so you should be pretty safe, but I wanted to warn you. In case you want to have a sandwich first, or something.”

He snorted, both amused and grateful for the data. “Is that what you do when Laney cooks?”

“Delaney is actually a surprisingly good cook,” Harley informed him. “Of course, her favorite thing to make is reservations, but when she gets the urge to visit the kitchen, she does more than all right.”

“Shocking,” Jake deadpanned.

“I know.” Unfolding his arms, Harley twisted to take in the work around them. “Anyhow, I came by to tell you about the sandwich thing.”

“And here I thought you were trying to scare me off.”

Harley’s brows shot up. “Scare you off? Hell no. If I wanted to put the fear in you, I would have sent my mama in.”

Jake laughed and readjusted the hammer hanging off his belt. “That would have done the trick.”

Stepping away, Harley shoved his hands into his back pockets and craned his neck to inspect the freshly sheet-rocked and mudded ceiling. He didn’t even glance in Jake’s direction as he issued the statement he obviously came to make. “Hurt either of them, and I’ll bury you in your brother’s swamp thingy.”

A startled laugh burst out of him. An automatic response to the conversation’s rapid change in tenor, but also a shot of pure amusement at hearing Brian’s much-touted and highly-funded wetlands conservancy program called a ‘swamp thingy’. “I have no intention of doing anyone any harm, but your input on the subject is duly noted.”

“Good. Now get those kids down on their knees and show ol’ Christian how a ’Bama man gets what he needs out of his underlings.”

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