Rum and Raindrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (8 page)

She’d told them an even split. Both.

Her parents had pushed away from the table with pursed lips, and the next thing she knew she was in front of a judge as both parents tried to knock each other down starting with their personalities and ending with their parenting skills. Through it all, they slammed each other without reserve. Slammed traits Jen shared. Everything, split open, guts exposed like a doe on a hunting show.

The judge, unable to get a word out of Jen, sent her to a psychologist. He wanted an answer.
The
answer. She was old enough to choose. To pick a side. Declare someone the winner.

But in that office she’d discovered something that saved her. She could run. And she did. Straight into the arms of Ken. And then when she’d discovered things about him that made her realize just how much she had been hiding from herself in order to have a home, she’d run away again.

Could she run away this time? Could she somehow find a way to survive? To make sure none of this touched Wally?

She sighed.

When she’d run from Ken and the town she’d grown up in, nobody had come looking for her. She’d been able to vanish, starting anew in Blueberry Springs, and leaving it all behind. But this time it would follow her. Follow her like an angered sea monster with a vendetta. Besides, she couldn’t run away from the people of Blueberry Springs. She’d never forgive herself if she did and she owed it to them to prove she was worthy of their trust.

“Do I seem like the kind of person who would burn down a forest on purpose, Wally?” she asked quietly.

She felt the storm within him reach a crescendo.

“You have to start letting people in, Jen.”

“What?” She straightened, fumbling the heat gun she’d been using to harden the patch Wally had applied.

Wally took the heat gun and directed her to a bike that was already resting in a stand, waiting to have its tire changed.

“It’s time to lean on someone, Jen.”

“Like who?” She watched as he put the tools away before moving on to loosen the bolts on the bike she was standing beside. She helped him, falling into a routine of give and take.

“You never talk about your past.”

“Neither do you.” She knew Wally and his wife were no longer together and that his kids had grown up in Blueberry Springs, but not much beyond that.

“I don’t change the subject when anyone asks.”

Okay, she had to give him that one.

She scratched her neck and glanced over her shoulder toward the wide doorway that led into the store. Maybe a customer had come in and they hadn’t heard them enter. She should go check.

“Don’t run off. There are no customers,” Wally said sternly.

“I wasn’t.” She crossed her arms, then realized she wasn’t helping, and held the chain out of the way so Wally could pull the tire.

“I think the next step in your journey is to let people in,” Wally said.

“What journey?”

Wally continued to work, head bent.

“I let people in,” she said. She hated it when he clammed up and she wanted him to spill everything on his mind. She was like a cat and he was curiosity. He was going to kill her with his games.

Wally glanced at her and she recalled Amber’s shocked expression when she’d discovered Jen hadn’t talked to her parents in years. She sighed in defeat. “Okay, okay, but why can’t anyone understand that I’m better off without them?”

“Without whom?”

“My parents.” She crossed her arms again.

“Why’s that?” His tone conversational, his attention focused on getting the tread off the bicycle rim so he could swap out the split tube for a new one.

“People break promises.” Jen’s voice was hard and full of pain she hadn’t realized was still as deep as ever. “People don’t care how you feel when they rip your life apart. They…they betray you. They make you think they care and you get all wrapped up in loving them and then they sleep with your best friend!”

Wally’s head popped up in surprise.

“And now,” Jen continued in a wobbly voice, “you’re saying I should do something I can’t.” Her voice grew tight with held back tears. “I can’t let people in, Wally. I’m in trouble. Big trouble and it might get really bad.”

Wally’s brow wrinkled, but he remained silent, not coming in for a hug or any of the things she thought he would. Instead, he kept on working, giving her space to sort herself out so she wouldn’t run away.

Wally put the tire back together, fitting it back onto the bike frame. “I found having a social network to be reassuring during difficult times. Lawsuits can be very difficult emotionally, physically even.”

Jen’s body stilled. “What do you mean?”

“A social network can determine whether one makes it out okay.”

“I meant the lawsuit.”

Wally turned away, resting his wrench on the workbench behind him, shoulders drawn.

“Have you been to court?” she asked.

“The divorce wasn’t kind to me, Jen.” He turned to face her. “But people around town supported me. Even people I thought of as only acquaintances. People who were supposed to be on the other side.”

He met Jen’s eye and for some reason she thought of Rob. Wally gave her a small nod as though reading her thoughts. Really? Rob?

He gave another slight nod, a tiny smile tugging the corner of his lips.

It felt as though someone had taken heeled boots to her chest and knocked her a good one.

She couldn’t love Rob!

Love? What did love have to do with it?

She needed to get a grip.

“Am I going to be okay, Wally?” she asked, her voice weak.

“We’re social beings. Our bodies release chemicals when we touch each other. We need contact, Jen. Just like newborns need skin-to-skin contact, adults do, too.”

“I don’t need a boyfriend,” she said darkly. What was it about Blueberry Springs wanting to hook up all the single gals anyway? “Life’s complicated enough as it is.”

“Contact tells our bodies to relax and that we aren’t under attack. Lowers our stress response. Improves our overall physical health.”

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Science today.”

“It’s from a book I’ve been reading.”

“I have nature, Wally. I’m fine.” She rattled off a few facts he’d taught her over the years. “It reduces blood pressure, reduces the risk of depression and anxiety, increases your attention span, and many other good things. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Nature isn’t the same as human contact, Jen.” His expression grew serious. “I’m butting into your business because I see you as a daughter.” He paused to let that point hit home, and Jen swiped back sudden tears. “You still have time to straighten out your life and find happiness. Don’t let the past block you into a corner that no longer serves you.”

“I’m happy,” she said, her voice strained from holding back tears.

He gave her shoulder a big squeeze, shooting her a wry half-smile.

“Quit letting your fight or flight response override your higher order brain. In other words, when you feel stressed or cornered, don’t flee. Not this time.” He waited, ensuring she heard him, his eyes kind as he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning forward to meet her eyes. So strong, comforting, relaxing. “It’s time to make friends with the monsters under your bed. Stop holding people at a distance. That’s no longer protecting you. Let people know your past, your life, your dreams. They can only help you get past all of this.”

Jen sniffed, wishing he’d give her a hug and take the pain away.

“Stay, Jen,” he said gently, giving her shoulders an extra squeeze. “Don’t run away. Let Blueberry Springs be your pack. And don’t let timing get in the way of what you really want.”

“In the way of what?” Her brow pinched in confusion.

He gave her a knowing smile and headed to the front of the store, leaving her wondering what the hell he’d seen when he’d looked deep into her eyes. Because whatever it was, it sounded as though she was in for one heck of a ride.

* * *

Jen rubbed her legs down her thighs and kicked her legs out into the street from her perch on the curb outside her apartment. Rob was due to arrive within minutes, and all she could think of was the glimmer in Wally’s eyes when he’d encouraged her to grab Rob with both hands and thrust herself into his life. Okay, maybe not quite
that
. But she’d heard the message. Don’t run. Don’t bury her head in the sand and shut everyone out. Let people in.

She sighed. Easy for him to say.

She scanned the street for a specific, rusty old truck that might be blue or green. She daydreamed about how she’d apprehend the driver and pull a confession out of him. Then everything in her world would turn around and be right again.

Jen crossed her arms and wished Rob would appear and rescue her from her thoughts. Although, it was going to be tricky enough to spend the day trapped with His Holy Major Hotness without pulling him behind some smouldering logs and into some sort of desperate post-apocalyptic fantasy that involved him hot and sweaty and totally smitten with her. Or worse, opening her mouth and scaring him off with her less-than-used higher order brain that Wally had been talking about.

She repacked her backpack as she waited. Sunblock, a few snacks, water, small first aid kit, GPS, hat, bathing suit and towel in case she wanted to cool off in the creek while Rob did his investigating in the clearing. Tightening the drawstring at the top of her pack, she clipped it shut and tried not to think. Just when she began to seriously consider playing sick and head inside her apartment, Rob rolled up in a shiny red Dodge Ram that must have cost him more than she’d saved up over three years of working for Wally.

She gave Rob a feeble wave and walked to the passenger side to let herself in. Mandy would go gaga for this thing. All pretty and bright. Big tires. Chrome glittering in a machine’s interpretation of a peacock showing off.

“Morning,” Rob said, checking his mirror before backing into the street. His jaw clenched and his long fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel.

She buckled her seatbelt and fidgeted with the strap of her backpack resting in her lap. What if he hated her for what he believed she’d might have done to the woods? What if she got them lost because she couldn’t recognize anything because of the fire? What if she did something stupid such as kiss him?

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Rob drive. He was wearing a loose, blue-gray T-shirt that was similar to the shade of his eyes, making them even more intense than usual when he flicked his gaze her way. He had a pair of synthetic hiking pants similar to hers, his usual work boots and a ball cap that said
Where’s the Fire?

“Nice hat.”

With an embarrassed, quick touch to the brim he said, “My mom has a wicked sense of humor.”

Jen cracked a polite half smile.

“You’d like her. You remind me of her.”

Jen froze. She cleared her throat. “Um. Did you just compare me to your mother?”

“I mean,” Rob said bashfully, “she has a good sense of humor and comes out with unexpected things from time to time.”

Jen gave him a puzzled frown.

“Your shirt.”

Jen looked down. Purple tank top under a windbreaker.

“The one you designed,” he said. “My mom has a creative side and every once in awhile it pops out. She just sees a need and a niche and fills it with something unexpected. Sorry. I meant it as a compliment.”

Jen opened her mouth to discount her shirt as not particularly creative as she’d poached and modified the idea from somewhere else. Instead, she followed the advice she’d read in a
Cosmo
years ago stating that men liked a woman who could accept a compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He must have read the same article because tip five was to accept thanks instead of brushing it off. And she had to admit, the article was right. It did feel nice.

“Don’t your boots get hot?” she asked, turning to face him better. Tip six was to take an interest in others. And honestly, those boots had been intriguing her ever since the day she spilled coffee down his front. It was supposed to be a hot June day and those boots were going to be killer on a hike. No air flow whatsoever.

“My boots?” he asked, frowning. “Yeah. Why?”

She wiggled her feet, encased in mesh hikers—light and breathable.

He glanced at her feet and smiled knowingly.

“What?”

“You’ll see.” He shot her a grin that twinkled his eyes with mischievousness and sex appeal. He steered his truck toward the highway—the opposite direction from the shortcut.

“Where are you going?”

“RCP.” He tipped his palms off the steering wheel in question.

“You can’t call it that. You aren’t a local, and anyway we call Raspberry Creek Park, Raspberry. Turn around.”

Rob shot her an uncertain look and slowed the truck. “You’re going home because I called the park RCP?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, there’s a shortcut that’ll save us a few minutes.”

He turned the truck around, and she pointed him toward the old mining road that led them in the right direction.

“Is this a real road?” He slowed the truck at the turnoff, not turning onto the dirt trail where it dipped off the pavement.

She shrugged. “Your truck can handle it.”

“But will it ever be the same?”

“Wuss.”

“Hardly.” He turned to face her, his arm draped over the bench seat.

She shot him a challenging grin. “Come on, city boy. I’ve taken my Corolla through this.” No need to tell him the bumper just about rattled off on a stretch of washboard.

“I’m not a city boy,” he gasped.

“Prove it.” She raised an eyebrow and tried to hold back her grin.

He aimed his truck toward the steep slope that was nothing more than a few tire ruts between overhanging spruce branches. “I just happen to not take unnecessary risks with one of my biggest assets.”

“Men and their trucks.” Jen crossed her arms and rolled her eyes playfully.

“Women and their…” He looked Jen over.

She smiled sweetly and waited for him to come up with something. “Yes?”

“Their big mouths,” he muttered as they jolted their way through a washout just beyond the main road. “Geez, this road is bad. Are you sure we’ll save time?”