Читать книгу First Love Again - Kristina Knight - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

JAIME WANTED TO press him. There had to be more to his showing up out of the blue than a simple move to Cincinnati.

But this Emmett was different from the boy she remembered, and not just in the way he looked. There was a quietness about him that had changed from the exuberant, prankster guy she’d loved all those years ago. And, obviously since her hand still burned from his light touch on the stairway, she was even more attracted to New Emmett than she had been to Old Emmett. She’d kissed him a million times. Held his hand. Made out in the back of Gibson’s old Pontiac hundreds of times and each time it had been simple to stop. Take a moment and keep things under control.

She pulled her hands to her sides and then shoved them into the pockets of her khakis. Not once in all the time they’d dated before had she felt such a strong jolt of attraction for him.

“I saw your television show once.” Or maybe a thousand times, she’d stopped counting after having a particularly vivid dream involving Emmett wearing nothing except his construction belt, a giant bed and her without the scars on her torso.

“I heard you’re working at the vineyard. What happened to becoming a female Indiana Jones?”

“I didn’t go.”

“Because of Pittsburgh.” His voice was flat. Emmett and Gibson had been the most vocal of the people encouraging her to pursue archaeology. Well, at least he could name the city. Most people trailed off before saying the name, looking away from—or worse, looking through her.

She offered him a lopsided smile. “Actually no, although a lot of people think that. Having an interest in old things doesn’t mean I’d make a good dirt digger.”

“Most people would jump at the chance to be a famous archaeologist.”

“I’m not most people.” And she didn’t want to talk about herself. She’d decided a long time ago what she wanted, and what she wanted was to live on the island.

She started down the stairs and Emmett followed.

“No, you’re not.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

He studied her for a long moment and Jaime thought he would say “insult.” Instead he said, “Compliment. And here’s another. You’re just as pretty as you were in high school.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, but Jaime was determined to keep this meeting at a professional level. She didn’t need empty compliments from Emmett; she needed his help to save the school. “So, your final verdict is that this place can be saved?”

Emmett stopped at the landing and looked around, as if he saw more than the roof and floorboards.

Sometimes when Jaime looked into a glass of wine she thought she could taste hints of the individual grapes. What did he see when he looked at old buildings like this?

“I’d say it can be saved.”

“In time for the reunion? Because the picnic shelters are all reserved and we’re not stringing up lights along the beach and I refuse to decorate the high school gym one more time.”

“There’s always the winery,” he said, and there was a twinkle in his blue eyes, as if he already knew Tom had nixed that idea.

“You and Jason and Homecoming Week.”

“He’s still pissy about rerouting a few casks?”

“‘Pissy’ almost covers it.” Jaime smiled as she put her hand on the railing but it wobbled. She pulled back.

“This big issue I see is the roof.” Emmett twisted his mouth to the side. “Yeah, I’d say you could have the main floor cleaned up and party-ready in time for the reunion, assuming I don’t find more issues in the basement than I’ve seen up here.”

“More issues?”

“Cracked foundation. Water. That kind of thing.”

Back to the project, Jaime.

“If you’ll give me your evaluation, I’ll take it to the trustees this afternoon.” She started back down the stairs but tripped over one of the bad steps and fell against the rickety railing. It held, but just barely.

Emmett’s hands were firm as he steadied her. The ten feet between her position on the step and the ground floor seemed to yo-yo in front of her, making her stomach feel weak. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.

“You’re okay.” His voice was soft against her hair, his strong hands reassuring against her upper arms.

“Forgot about that step,” she said, her voice a hair higher than normal. Jaime cleared her throat. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” She looked into his blue eyes, mere inches from hers, and felt lost. Pulled back to a time when it was normal to leave her hand in his. Breathing ragged, she tried to get a grip because although this was Emmett, he wasn’t the boy she’d known. Maybe the boy she remembered had never existed.

“Do you remember when we broke in here New Year’s Eve? Maureen and Clancy, Jason and Rebecca. Clancy brought leftovers from the diner. Maureen snatched a bottle of schnapps from her dad’s liquor cabinet.”

His voice tickled over her nerve endings and Jaime couldn’t stop the smile that crossed her face.

They’d laughed and told stories and danced to the tinny music from Emmett’s iPod speaker. Fallen asleep sometime after midnight, huddled together in sleeping bags until the slamming of a car door had woken them. One of her father’s patrol officers nearly had caught them, but Emmett had distracted him while the rest of them had fled out the back door.

“You were assigned twenty hours of public service picking up litter at the beach.”

“God, it was cold that winter. I nearly got frostbite keeping the beach clear.” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “We had some good times.” Was that a hint of sadness or just nostalgia?

And if it was sadness, why? Sad because of the way he’d left? Sad because of what had happened that night? Sad that he’d left and the talk had started with the not-so covert looks?

She straightened her shoulders and pretended nothing had happened at all.

“What made you choose Cincinnati?” She would not ask why he left. She didn’t need to know. Wanted to know, yes, but that was different. So focus on the present, not the past.

Emmett’s mouth twisted to the side and he fixed his gaze somewhere over her shoulder. “I needed to get away. Cincinnati was away, but it was familiar.”

“Away from what?” From her?

“Just...away.” His expression closed off and, just like that, the glimpse of the Emmett she’d known was gone.

He stepped around her, but kept his grip strong against her hand, helping her down the stairwell. Jaime tried hard to stay focused on the renovations and not the feel of his callused hand against her smooth palm. It wasn’t so bad this time. The burn was just a mild heating. See, she was already getting used to Emmett being back on the island.

This wouldn’t be hard. Not at all.

That moment was just a moment. A split second in time that didn’t mean anything. Not really. Her life was here, on Gulliver. His wasn’t. The words he hadn’t said, “away from you,” echoed in her mind.

It didn’t hurt that she was the reason he’d left, she told herself, but still she rubbed the heel of her hand against her chest. Felt the scar through the thin fabric of her high-necked dress. She put a smile into her voice. “And now you’re back because...?”

“Sell Dad’s place. Get him moved to Cincinnati.” They reached the bottom step and he released her hand as if it burned him. He also wouldn’t look directly at her and that annoyed Jaime. She was the one who’d had to face the worried looks, to pretend she hadn’t heard the abruptly stopped conversations.

“Gibson will be happier here. If he wanted to move, he’d have done it after he retired from the school. Or after your mother died. He has friends here. You know how islanders take care of their own.”

His full lips formed a hard line for a moment before he said, “It’s for the best that he comes to Cincinnati.”

“So, you wanted off the island and you left. Now you’re dragging your father off the island, too? What good will that do?”

Emmett shook his head, but he didn’t answer. A moment later he handed her the paper with his notes and estimated costs for the main floor renovation.

“It was good to see you, Jaime.” Finally, he looked at her, but it was as if he were a stranger. His blue eyes were flat, remote. Businesslike.

“It was good to see you, too.” She lied. It hadn’t been good to see him. All sorts of questions tumbled around in her mind, demanding answers he couldn’t or wouldn’t share. Why he left...why he was back...and what those answers meant for her. She liked her life, damn it, she didn’t need to be on the arm of Emmett Deal to be complete. Emmett coming back shouldn’t impact her at all. So why let it?

“Maybe we’ll have lunch before you leave.” She didn’t want to, but it was the polite thing to say. After all, he’d taken time away from his house project to give her an estimate on the school, and it was impossible to avoid anyone on Gulliver for long. Besides, avoiding Emmett would encourage the gossips more than being seen with him.

He nodded and stuck his pencil under the clip on his board. “Maybe.”

He put his hand at the small of her back as they started for the front door and a little jolt of electricity sped along her spine.

She wished she could blame the singe on faulty wiring.

* * *

EMMETT CLOSED THE front door of his childhood home and leaned against it for a second, trying to pretend none of that had just happened. He hadn’t taken Jaime’s hand. Hadn’t nearly told her he’d left her alone all those years ago because he’d blamed himself for Pittsburgh. Hadn’t thought, at least three different times, that he’d like to know if she tasted different now than she had back then.

The feel of her smooth palm against his and the softness of her arms refused to let him pretend.

He couldn’t get involved with Jaime. Not now and not ever. His actions all those years ago had imploded her life. She could say all she wanted that she’d never wanted to be an archaeologist, and maybe she hadn’t. What she had wanted was to leave Gulliver. To travel and see the world. She’d known the ferry schedule by heart; collected hotel pamphlets on vacations. He’d given her a world atlas for Valentine’s Day, for goodness’ sake, and she’d glowed as if he’d given her diamonds. Jaime had wanted to experience world cultures and Emmett had taken that from her with one careless action.

He blew out a breath and pushed off the door. He couldn’t change what he’d done or how that had affected her. How all the looks and hastily stopped conversations had changed her. He’d seen it happening and hadn’t been able to stop it. Then he’d actually overheard one of those hushed conversations and realized everyone had been talking about him. What a bad influence he was on her...how it was his fault. He’d already blamed himself but knowing that his presence on the island had kept people talking and was beating her down had been more than he could take. He’d left, hoping that with him gone the talk would die down and Jaime could get her life back on track.

And obviously failed her all over again.

She didn’t seem to need him now, at least not today. Yesterday...? Maybe he had wanted her to be vulnerable. In need.

Wasn’t that what Kasey had insisted when she’d walked out just before Christmas? That he only wanted to fix things for her; that he didn’t want to really know her. Wasn’t knowing a person about helping them? He didn’t like the word fix. He fixed houses. He had no illusions about his ability to fix people. But helping? He could help.

He’d met Kasey on a job; a rehab in a bad neighborhood just outside downtown Cincinnati. They’d had dinner and then drinks and, before he knew it, he was rewiring her house. When she’d told him about her awful boss, Emmett had offered her a job doing some accounting for his construction company. They’d been comfortable.

He’d chalked up her complaints as excuses to quit the job and their relationship, but now...

Did he have some kind of latent hero complex about women?

Emmett shook off the question. He loved women; he didn’t feel superior to them. Helping people out was part of his DNA. Bottom line: he was hardwired to solve problems. Jaime had a problem, he offered his advice. Actually getting the old school renovated was completely in her court. Nothing he could or would do about it.

The image she’d painted when they’d toured the school shimmered back into his mind. It would be pretty, though. A draw to tourists; a place to instill pride in the locals. Maybe there was one more thing he could do.

* * *

JAIME TAPPED HER foot against the carpeted floor outside Tom’s office at the winery and watched the clock tick toward three. The registrar’s office had emailed after lunch with instructions to finish the paperwork; they seemed excited for the project. After Google-searching construction firms and calling everyone listed on the search results, though, she was no closer to finding a crew that could start work next week. Much less one that would finish the job in time for the reunion.

The clock ticked past the big three on the dial and her mind wandered. Since leaving the school, for every five minutes she’d spent working on the renovations, she’d spent twenty more thinking about Emmett.

How the sun shone against his jet-black hair. How her hand felt in his. Mostly about that moment on the stairs, the moment she thought he might kiss her. How ridiculous was that?

She hadn’t spent the past ten years pining for Emmett Deal. He’d left. She’d moved on.

Emmett being back didn’t mean anything in her life had to change. In fact, since he’d made it clear this was a short—and very final—visit, nothing in her life would change. She tapped the folder on her lap. These projects would keep her busy. She liked busy. Busy meant days with no time to wonder and nights when she was too tired to dream. Everyone knew she liked busy.

Tom opened the office door, thanking someone on the other side for stopping by. Emmett’s voice inside the office kicked her heartbeat into overdrive. That was as ridiculous as wondering about Emmett’s life in Cincinnati.

“No problem, it’s a solid project and several of my guys were interested.” Emmett stopped when he saw Jaime sitting in the hall. Her heart pounded harder and her mouth felt dry. What was happening to her? First, she drooled over the man in the diner, now she couldn’t be in the same room with him without losing control of her body.

“Tom mentioned you had trouble finding a crew the first time around.”

Jaime quickly stood, holding the folder to her chest. “H-he did?” And now she was stuttering. Perfect.

“Emmett called about the estimate and one thing led to another. Are those the papers?”

“Yes, Laura mentioned you wanted to take a look,” she said, pointing toward the empty secretary’s desk at the opposite wall. She should have known something was going on when Laura wasn’t at her desk.

In the twenty-four hours since Emmett had landed on the island Ronda at the post office had waved her inside to pick up a package that had mysteriously disappeared and, of course, to ask if Emmett was really back on the island. Since Ronda was the second person any of the island gossips would call, the innocent-sounding question was a ploy to find out why he was back, and not if. Anna had avoided eye contact this morning over coffee. Anna never avoided eye contact; the waitress was usually direct to the point of pain. Now Laura had called Jaime about the estimate, disappeared and Emmett came strolling out of her boss’s office.

“And the final decision?” Jaime had a feeling she already knew and she didn’t like it. Not even a little bit.

“I called in a couple of favors and found a crew willing to come up here for the summer.”

“You did?” She focused on Emmett. Okay, a crew was good, especially since she’d had no luck this afternoon.

Tom saluted them with the folder and shut the office door, mumbling something about meeting with the trustees over drinks.

“Wasn’t too hard. I already knew they were available.”

The sinking feeling in Jaime’s stomach grew to a gaping hole.

“Your crew?”

“One of them.”

“One of them,” Jaime repeated.

“Yeah, I have a crew that focuses on older homes in Cincinnati and another that goes where the projects are—”

“That would be the television crew.”

“Right, but they’re on summer hiatus and thought this sounded like fun.”

Jaime felt as though the project was slipping away from her, which was silly. She was never on the actual project team. Her job was to write checks and meet scheduled deadlines. Not knock down walls and install windows. “I thought you said you were here to fix up your dad’s house, not renovate the old school.”

“I am. Was.” Emmett squinted. “Am. Mostly, I’ll consult. Like you.”

“I’m not a consultant.”

“And you don’t think this is a good idea.”

Jaime led Emmett to her office and motioned him to one of the chairs. He crossed one jeans-clad leg over the other and she swore his abs rippled under the tight shirt he wore as he sat.

From her seat Jaime folded her hands together and leaned her elbows on the cherrywood desk. She wanted to move, but she settled for tapping her toes against the cool leather soles of her sandals.

“I think you’re trying a little too hard.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger, maybe? Whatever it was Jaime refused to apologize just as she refused to pace.

“I think you’re dreaming if you think you’ll find a quality crew by cold-calling out of the phone book. Hoping one of them will drop their deck-building, roof-replacing, pool-installing summer isn’t going to give you a renovated school for the reunion.”

“You’ll complete the main floor by July first?” Jaime took a breath, hating that her words were nearly an echo of her father’s from the day before. “We’ve already had one false start, so if you aren’t going to see this through you can leave now.”

He stood and held out his hand. “I always see my projects through.”

Jaime hesitated but then stood and took his hand. The contact zinged along her nerves, but she didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll see you Monday morning.”

Emmett closed the door softly on his way out. Jaime rubbed her palm down the leg of her trousers.

And began to pace.

Finish what he started.

When the project was finished Emmett would leave. She would stay here, on Gulliver.

Alone.

Jaime watched the closed door for a long moment. She didn’t want to be alone.

Where did that leave her?