Rum and Raindrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (12 page)

Moe did the quiet bartender thing and wiped out a glass while listening, encouraging her to keep talking.

“How did I become someone who wasn’t trustworthy?” She sighed. And when had she become someone who was so scared to get hurt? To allow herself to get smitten? This whole mess was making her brain go crazy.

“Jen, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I’ve got to make a change in my life.” Jen let out a long breath. “Wally was right. Damn the timing. Go live. It’s just…I’m not ready. And the guy I’d like to try things with, well, the timing really isn’t right for that.”

“What kind of things did you want to try?” Moe had a humorous glint in his eyes as he poured her a Coke and slid it down the bar.

She caught it and groaned. “Shut up, Moe. I don’t mean you.”

He clutched his chest as though she’d stabbed him, his attention moving to Amy, a nurse who’d turned bartender, and a certain someone Jen suspected had a thing for Moe.

“Go ask Amy out,” she whispered.

Moe whirled, his eyes large. “What?”

“She likes you. Go for it.”

He placed a hand on her forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”

She laughed. “I know, I know. I chased you for years.” She didn’t need to tell him she would have freaked out if he’d ever actually taken her up on her playful chasing.

A crew of smoke jumpers entered the bar, their loud carousing in contrast to the quietness of the bar. She watched them head to the jukebox and, ignoring the Out of Order sign, began plunking money into the machine.

She took a big swig of her Coke, sending fizz up her nose, making her eyes water. Moe leaned closer. “Aw, come on. You’ll find someone.”

“I’m not crying! It’s the Coke.”

He quickly mixed up a Cuba Libre, then with a glance to the door which was still opening and shutting with all the action, letting light in in slow strobes, he shook his head with a small, worried frown.

Moe carefully wiped the counter around her drink, and leaned close, resting on one elbow. He said, “I locked up on my way out this morning.”

“What? I left after you. I went back in to brush my teeth.”

“I mean, when I, uh, borrowed some of your juice.” He glanced over her shoulder again. What the hell was up with him today?

Jen laid her hands flat on the wet bar. “Did you drink all my mango punch again? Moe, I swear—”

Moe trapped her face and squished her lips up against his before letting go, giving her a wink. “Can’t mingle, Jennie. Busy bar tonight.” Addressing someone behind her, he asked, “What can I get you?”

A shrink. She really needed a shrink. What the hell was that? And why, if she had been dreaming of Moe kissing her for years, had that lacked pretty much everything she’d ever wanted in a kiss? He was acting as though they were a couple. Why would he do that?

She glanced over at the man Moe was serving, her senses hinting at familiarity. She lurched backward, just about falling off her stool. “Jesus!”

Rob watched her from the corner of his eye, leaning away from her, guard up.

Great. She was so welcoming.

“Sorry,” she said slowly. She glanced down the bar to where Moe was watching them out of the corner of his eye, ignoring a customer, a strange look on his face. Was he
jealous
of Rob? He couldn’t be. There was no reason why he should be jealous of the man sent to investigate her.

She returned her attention to Rob. “I wasn’t expecting you. I’m just…” She paused. She couldn’t tell him she was at a crossroads in her life. She had to act cool. Like everything was wonderful and normal in her life.

She had to make friends with the monsters under her bed. That’s what Wally had said. And she trusted Wally. He’d been awesome through all of this. Not a crack about how only she could prevent forest fires or anything like that.

Rob could be her friend. She could let him in so he could add to her life.

No. No, he couldn’t be her friend.

That wouldn’t be cool. That would be a conflict of interest, and he could get pulled off the case. She was pretty sure guys didn’t go for girls who got them taken off their job—in other words, fired.

“Looks like you are wrestling a tentacled monkey in your mind,” Rob said, taking a sip of his beer.

Jen raised her eyebrows at Rob. “A tentacled monkey?”

“Well, what else could be harder to get a grip on?” The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile and Jen felt a warmth spread in the pit of her stomach.

She turned away to face the mirrors behind Moe’s space, bottles of amber and clear liquids blocking a full view of the man beside her. That feeling in her stomach was a dangerous one. One best left ignored. Stamped upon if necessary.

And definitely connected to babies. Clocks that ticked rather rapidly. Hormones on red alert.

Shit.

She rubbed her face. Rob seriously messed with her body. And she was going to find herself moving forward, crossing lines, blurring them, even if the consequences were plain old ugly.

Double shit.

Laughter and commotion bounced out of the corner where the dead jukebox listed silently, surrounded by smoke jumpers and Amber. That girl had all the men posturing and trying to help out. What was it with that woman? She had a boyfriend. And yet she had all this male attention. They noticed her. Just like that. And, according to Mandy, Amber fell in and out of love regularly, without any seeming consequences. If she could even be one sliver like Amber…

Amber strode over, in command of the room as she squeezed between Rob and Jen. “Hey, Moe! I offered free drinks to the guy who fixes that thing. You mind?”

Moe glanced to the big men surrounding the jukebox and back to Amber. Finally, he gave a slight shrug in agreement.

Amber, her face bright with happiness and satisfaction, turned to Rob, an elbow propped behind her on the bar. “Hey. You look familiar.” She glanced back at Moe. “Can I get a vanilla vodka in Diet Coke?”

“Rob,” he said, sizing her up. “Rob Raine.”

“Well, now.” She shot Jen a wink. “Maybe you need to make my friend Jen as right as rain.” She gave him a playful smile. “Have you two met?”

“Amber,” Jen said with a sigh of embarrassment. She pushed Amber out into the froth of smoke jumpers, her drink sloshing. “Go find your boyfriend.”

“He’s working through writer’s block on his sequel. I’ve been helping.” Amber gave Jen a smile that could only mean one thing.

Jen turned to Rob, feeling the need to apologize. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Um…Blueberry Springs?” She gave him a pleading look.

“It doesn’t bother me. I’m from a close family. Close, meaning highly meddlesome. Blueberry Springs has nothing on them.” He smiled and took a sip of beer.

Jen laughed. “Is that even possible?”

He met her eyes, his bright and full of meaning that she couldn’t quite figure. “Anything is possible.”

“How you doing Jennykins? Need another?” Moe sidled closer, making her edge back.

“Pet names?” That was a memo that had been returned as ‘undeliverable’ for years. “What are you doing, Moe? Is there someone bothering you?” Jen took a surreptitious glance around the bar, on the lookout for someone hanging on to Moe and not taking his hints. Nobody.

She smoothed her shirt and tried to think whether she’d done anything differently with herself today.

Nope.

Nothing.

Maybe his biological clock had stared ticking—guys had to have them, too, right? And so he figured she was a sure thing due to the way she’d been after him for years. He was probably envisioning them running off into a sunset to go live happily ever after.

She let out a laugh. Not bloody likely.

Moe flushed. “What?” His voice held a defensive tone as he leaned back and sent a quick glance to Rob.

Oh. You had GOT to be kidding.

Moe was acting jealous and possessive over her because of a man she couldn’t even be friends with.

“Moe,” she said with a laugh. He stalked off and she threw up her hands in defeat. Men were such a puzzle.

“So?” Rob shifted his drink back and forth. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. New record. Sorry about my friend, Moe. He’s in a weird headspace, it seems.”

“We all spend time there.”

“How about you?” she asked. “Been there lately?”

He laughed. “Hell yeah.”

She smiled, at ease again. “Me, too.” She tipped her glass to clink his bottle of beer. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They sat quietly for a moment, and she began to wonder if she could work this impromptu hanging out to her advantage. Get an update on how hellish her future might be looking. Turn this back to work instead of a flirting extravaganza it would surely slip into if she didn’t stay focused on something else. She’d rather leave on awkward terms because of a hard, honest chat about the fire than because she’d danced over the flirting line and flashed him for all she was worth.

“Have you been out to the fire site today?” she asked.

“Off duty.” He held up his beer, a tired expression weighing down his shoulders. “You’ll have to call my cell and make an appointment to talk to Rob the fire investigator.” He said it in a weird voice. Half playful, half exhausted, slightly resentful.

Almost as though…almost as though his job had a torturous undercurrent. Like his job bothered him as much as it did her. Almost…never mind. A guy such as Rob had to have a ton of friends, even if his job probably kept him from them for several months out of the year.

But it was as though he wanted to be social. Had he come here to seek her out? There were other places to sit in the bar.

Was his job so lonely that even hobnobbing with the accused was something to make his days stand out from one another?

How unprofessional.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

She slid off her stool and walked to the end of the bar, plunking herself down on a new stool. She pulled Rob’s bent business card from her back pocket. Why she carried it around with her, she wasn’t even sure. Oh, yes, of course, in case she thought of something that would get her off the hook. Such as footage of someone else starting the fire. Or she needed backup apprehending the little fire-starter in the old pick-up truck.

She reached for the phone at the end of the bar and punched in the number for Rob’s cell. When his pants started ringing, she glanced over with a sly smile.

Shaking his head, Rob bit the corner of his mouth to prevent a smile.

How cute was that? He was bashful. She was such a sucker for bashful.

So, so dangerous.

Turning to her, Rob said, “Excuse me, I should get this.”

Polite, too.

“Hello, Rob Raine here,” he said into his phone.

“Hi. It’s Jen Kulak. How are you?”

“Oh, just great thanks. Enjoying a beer with some interesting people.” He glanced her way and mouthed, “I’ll just be a minute.” He pointed to the phone still stuck to his ear and mouthed, “Work.”

Jen tried to recall what she was doing. It was a difficult feat considering her brain was trying to work out every possible direction this flirtatious routine might wander and what preparations it should begin with her body’s hormone levels. Evidently, it took the cautious route and sent extra blood to various regions that had been neglected for years.

“How are you?” he asked through the phone.

“Oh, uh dandy, thanks. I was just calling to see if you’d had a chance to go up to the clearing again and if you found anything helpful or if you needed more directions or something.” She tipped her head away from Rob and scolded herself. She was a babbling ditz. What was she doing? If she wasn’t careful she’d end up asking him out again. Considering she hadn’t burned down the town, she technically still owed him a hike.

“Looking for another muddy adventure, are you?” he asked, a hint of humor lifting his voice.

She laughed.

“I’ve actually been doing paperwork,” he said. With an apologetic tone he added, “You know, working with the government. Paperwork, paperwork.”

“I see. I suppose I’m just worried that precious evidence might be washed away, carried off, or otherwise disturbed while you’re…um.” She let out a frustrated breath.

“Drinking a beer?” Phone to his ear, he lifted the beer to his lips. He watched her over the brown bottle as he tipped it back.

“Um, no. Not a beer…just…”

“It’s a valid concern.” He met her eyes in the mirror behind the bar. “I’m planning to head out again tomorrow. Lots of photos. Lots of notes. But do know that your sacrificed hiking shoes were not for nothing. Taking me to the clearing was helpful. Thank you.”

She nodded. His eyes seemed a softer gray-blue today. Possibly it was his soft gray, v-neck sweater. She’d bet it was cashmere or something equally soft. It was the kind of sweater that would feel good against her cheek should they slow dance. And the way he said ’thank you’ warmed her in a way she couldn’t describe other than as divine.

They watched each other quietly until the jukebox suddenly blared out
Burning Down the House
by Talking Heads.

Jen jumped, dropping the phone in its cradle.

The music died and Amber called out an apology. “Sorry! Almost fixed. Hope you didn’t all pee your pants.” She aimed herself at Jen. “That song was for you, honey.”

Scowling, Jen returned to her drink beside Rob, nerves on edge.

Rob placed his phone in his pocket. “Can you believe that? I got hung up on.”

“Oh, sorry.” Jen pinched the bridge of her nose before realizing she was probably getting those evil stress lines Amber had been harping about.

“No worries.” Rob tipped his empty bottle in Moe’s direction. Unable to pretend he hadn’t seen Rob, Moe got him another, his movements stilted.

He plunked the beer in front of Rob and asked Jen, “Do you want me to pick up more juice?”

“Um, what?” Jen, who had been watching Rob’s fingers tap out an internal song on the bar, tried to focus on Moe. Obviously, she’d missed something. It almost sounded as though he was offering to pick up juice. Juice he’d finished off at her place. He never did that. She stocked it, he drank it while they watched reality TV and pretended to have a life. Or in today’s case, he drank it while she was at work.