Page 8 of Someone to Tempt
“How do you know we had a run-in? Were you peeping out the front window?”
His grin widens, and he pulls a cell phone from under the newspaper. “No peeping necessary when I’ve got cameras on my doorbell. Makes it feel like I’m watching a movie playing in my driveway. Looked like a standoff at the O.K. Corral out there.”
“No standoff,” I answer, unsure whether to admire or fear that my eighty-five-year-old grandfather is embracing modern technology. “I gave up fighting with him or trying to prove something a long time ago.”
Grandpa doesn’t argue, but I’m not sure he believes me. I’m not sure I believe me. “I’m glad you’re here, Jake.”
“He won’t do right by the foundation, Grandpa. We both know it.”
“And you will?” He gives me the same arched brow treatment I gave Iris. It’s a small comfort knowing I look like my grandfather as well as my dad. “You haven’t shown much interest in our philanthropic efforts before now.”
I incline my head. “Talk to the grants manager in Austin. I’ve been doing more—learning the ropes.” Maybe it’s not enough, but I’m trying.
“Dad wants the glory. He doesn’t care about truly helping people.”
“I appreciate that.” Grandpa sighs, and that exhalation of breath feels like it carries a deeper message.. “But it’s going to take more than donuts. You want to learn…I’ll teach you.” He taps his pen on the newspaper. “But first, I need some help with this. It's a four letter word and the clue is ‘a mountain for the mind.’”
Is he punking me?
“I’ll take a jelly donut, too,” Grandpa says as he waits. It doesn’t look like he picked this crossword clue because he’s trying to subtly give me a clue as to what’s in store for this visit.
I take a plate from the cabinet, set the jelly donut on it and then slide it in front of him.
“Test, Grandpa.” I make sure my tone stays light and ignore the gleam in his eyes. “The word you’re looking for is test.”
It won’t be easy, but I hope I pass the one I’m facing here in Skylark.
5
IRIS
I walkinto the back entrance of Cover to Cover fifteen minutes before seven, our regular book club time. I had Sadie drop me home after the run-in with Jake because I needed to fix my face, as my mom would say, before returning to the office. To make sure no one could see the toll this morning took on my heart.
I’m normally one of the first to arrive at our meetings. Tonight, the five other members are already seated around the large oak table Sloane—the founder of our Cool Girl Book Club—uses for meetings, classes, and other events.
I stifle a groan as the conversation stalls and five pairs of eyes turn to me. “I’m fine. No need for an intervention or whatever this is. Everything’s fine.”
Maybe if I say the words over and over, I’ll believe them.
“How about a glass of sangria?” Single mom Molly McAllister points to the pitcher sitting next to a bowl of chips in the center of the table.
“Sure,” I say with a laugh. “One glass might help me improve on fine. But only one. The way this day is going, chances are I’ll end up with a DUI if I even sniff a second glass.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Sloane offers, and I swallow back the emotion that threatens to choke me. Any of these women would give me a ride, just like Sadie did earlier.
But Sloane is my best friend in the group. In the world, actually. She’s the first real friend I made in my life back when I spent that one fateful summer in Skylark.
Now she’s thin and pale, her head wrapped in a thick scarf to cover the fact that we shaved her head months ago after the chemo left her mahogany waves falling out in chunks. But her sky-blue eyes are bright and filled with affection as she winks at me.
I hate that my friend battling cancer still feels like I’m the one who needs to be taken care of. I love that she’s so willing to step up to support me, but I should be helping her feel better, not the other way around. It’s what this whole bucket list challenge is about.
“One is plenty,” I assure her, taking the plastic wine glass Molly hands me. “Really, I’m fine. Today was no big deal. A small setback, but I’ll figure out how to fund the important programs while keeping the town’s reputation intact.”
“We’ll get to town business in a minute,” Avah Harris says. “First, let’s talk about you and the hot stranger having it out on Main Street.” With a slender build and an effortlessly chic sense of style, Avah seems like she’d be more at home in a sleek urban setting than in a quaint town nestled in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
I shoot a glance at Sadie, who shakes her head. “They didn’t hear anything from me.” I believe her. Sadie is one of the kindest and most loyal people I know.
“I heard it from Susanna Monroe at the bakery.” Avah rolls her blue eyes, clearly annoyed at having to elaborate on her request. Patience isn’t one of her strong suits. “You know how Suze loves gossip, and she said customers were glued to the front window like they were watching a reality show brawl.”
