Always the Best Man (6 page)

“Emily's in a rough place now. I'm helping her get back on her feet. That's all.”

“You're embarrassed about me and how you grew up.”

Another bit of unspoken knowledge better left in the shadows. “You're in a better place, Dad. I'm proud of you for staying sober.”

Declan choked out a laugh. “I'm the one who's proud, Jase. But you take on too much that isn't yours. My reputation and our family history. The way you were raised. You've overcome a lot, and you don't need to be ashamed of it. You don't have to make it all better.”

Jase thought about his ancestor's picture in the town jail and how he wanted his family legacy to be something more than it was. “If you won't let me move you to a better house, I respect that decision. But I don't want her here. You need to respect that.”

“From what I can tell, Emily Crawford is plenty capable of making her own decisions.”

But she was
working
for him now. It was what she'd wanted, and it changed things. Not his need or desire, but his inclination to act on it. “Her name is Emily
Whitaker
, Dad. She was married. She has a son. Neither one of us is who we were before.”

His father smiled. “I think that's the point.”

Chapter Six

E
mily looked up from the old rocker on her mother's front porch at the sound of a car coming down the gravel driveway. It was almost nine at night, and Davey had been asleep close to an hour.

She hadn't expected her mother to return from her date with Max Moore so soon. But when Emily recognized Jase's Jeep, her first inclination was to run to the house and shut the door.

He'd hurt her today, and she hated that anyone—any man—had the power to do that. While she understood that Jase's reaction had been about his own issues, a part of her still took the blame he'd placed on her. Her faults sometimes felt so obvious it was easy to hold herself accountable for any perceived slight. Flawed as she might be, Emily had never been a coward.

So she remained on the rocker, her legs curled under the thin blanket she'd brought out to ward off the evening chill of the high mountains. Although she couldn't concentrate on the actual words, she kept her eyes trained on the e-reader in her lap as a door slammed shut and the heavy footfall of boots sounded on the steps.

“What are you reading?”

She ran one finger over the screen of the e-reader but didn't answer.

“You can ignore me,” he said as he sank into the chair next to her, “but I won't go away.”

“There's always hope,” she quipped, her fingers gripping the leather cover of the e-reader tighter at his soft chuckle.

They sat in silence for a minute, and Emily's grasp began to relax. As if sensing it he said, “I'm sorry, Em.”

“It's fine,” she lied. “Point taken. I overstepped the bounds.” There she went, instinctively making his mistake her fault.

“My reaction wasn't about you. What you did for my dad today was kind. It made him happier than I've seen him in a long time to have a beautiful woman caring for him.”

“No big deal.”

“Don't do that.” His hand was around her wrist, warmth seeping through the fleece sweatshirt she'd pulled on when the sun disappeared behind the mountain. “It was special to him, and it should have been to me, as well.” He stood, releasing her, and paced to the edge of the porch. “I love my father, but I hate the man he was when I was younger. He was mean and embarrassing. Everyone knew the problems he had, but that didn't stop me from being humiliated when I'd have to get him home after a night at the bars.”

She could see the tension in his shoulders as he gazed out into the darkening night. “He showed up one year for a parent-teacher conference so drunk he ended up puking all over the first-floor bathroom. I never let him come to another school function.”

She flipped closed the cover of her e-reader, her heart already melting for this man's pain. “Jase—”

He turned to her, folded his arms across his chest. “It killed me to live in that trailer growing up. The only saving grace was that no one but me had to see him at his worst. Even Noah, all the times he picked me up, has never been inside. That place represents my greatest shame, and my dad refuses to move. To see you there with all of the memories that seem to seep out of the walls to choke me... I couldn't stand it. It felt like you'd be contaminated by it.”

Emily stood, placed the blanket and e-reader on the chair and walked toward him.

Jase shook his head. “You're too good for that, Em. Too good for him. I'm sorry I lashed out, but I still hate that you—that anyone—has seen that piece of who I am.”

“No.” She stepped into his space until she could feel his breath whispering over the top of her head. “You're too good to give in to that shame. Where you came from doesn't change who you are now.”

“Are you kidding?” He didn't move away from her but leaned back against the porch rail as if he needed space. “That trailer and what it represents
made
me who I am. The night in my front yard, you said I was perfect, and I know what my reputation is around town. Nice Jase. Sweet Jase. Perfect Jase. No one sees anything else because I don't let them. Everyone thinks I work so damn hard despite my family's reputation in Crimson. I work hard
because
of where I came from. Because I'm scared to death if I don't, the poison that has crushed the self-respect of so many people in my family will take me down, too.”

Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes and she saw who he was under the Mr. Perfect veneer he'd spent years polishing to a bright shine. He was a man at the edge of his control and a part of her wanted him to shuck off his restraint. With her. Yes. She could handle it. She would welcome whatever he had to offer.

He blinked, and the moment was gone. His chest rose and fell like he'd sprinted up Crimson Mountain. She placed her hand on it, fingers splayed, and felt his heartbeat thrumming under her touch. “You aren't your father.” She said the words softly and felt his breath hitch. “I know what it's like to want to prove something so badly it makes you into someone you're not. Someone fake and false. You're real, Jase. Not perfect. Real.”

“I'm sorry,” he said again, lifting his palm to press it over her hand. “For what I said and how I treated you.”

She let a small smile curve her lips. “I think this makes us even.”

“You did good today. In my office and with my dad. Thank you.”

This was the part where she should step away. If they were even, it was a fresh start. But she couldn't force herself to move. Emily might not believe in perfect, but she had learned to appreciate real. The knowledge that Jase was different than she'd assumed both humbled and excited her. Of all people, she should have known not to judge a person by who they were on the outside. She'd built an entire life on outward impressions only to watch it crumble around her.

The connection she felt with Jase, her awareness of him, suddenly flared to life stronger than it had before. She moved her hand up his chest and around to the back of his neck. At the same time she lifted onto her tiptoes so she could press her mouth to his. He tasted like night air and mint gum, and she loved how much he could communicate simply through the pressure of his mouth on hers.

He angled his head and ran his tongue across her bottom lip. His hands came to rest on her hips, pulling her closer until the front of her was plastered against him. Unlike other men she'd known, he didn't rush the kiss. It was as if learning her bit by bit was enough for him. He savored every taste, trailing kisses along her jaw before nipping at her earlobe.

“Your ears are sensitive,” he whispered when she moaned softly. His breath feathered against her skin. “You touch them when you're nervous.”

“I don't,” she started to argue, then he bit down on the lobe again and she squirmed. “You're observant,” she amended.

“I want more. I want to know everything about you,” he said and claimed her mouth again.

Her brain was fuzzy but the meaning of his words penetrated the fog of desire after a few moments. “No.” She lifted her head and tried to step away but he held her steady.

“Why?” A kiss against her jaw.

“I can't think when you do that.”

“Then I'll do it more.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. One thing she'd say for Jase Crenshaw—the man was persistent. Even though she knew she should stop it, she gave in to the need building inside her. Her body sang with desire, tremors skittering over her skin. Jase ran his fingers up under the hem of her sweatshirt and across her spine. Everywhere he touched her Emily burned. Her breasts were heavy and sensitive where they rubbed against his T-shirt and she wanted more.

So much more.

So much it scared her into action. As Jase's hands moved to the front of her waist and brushed the swell of her breasts, she wrenched away from him. With unsteady hands, she grabbed on to the front porch rail to prevent herself from moving back to the warmth she already missed.

“We've determined I'm not perfect,” Jase said, his tone a mix of amusement and frustration. “So what's the problem now?”

“I work for you.”

“Are you asking to be fired?”

She glanced at him and saw he was teasing. Her shoulders relaxed. “I don't want to complicate things, Jase. I know you gave me the job because you felt sorry for me and this...” She pointed between the two of them. “Would only muddy the waters more.”

“I don't feel sorry for you.” He came closer and she didn't resist when he cupped her face in his hands. “I respect you, and I want you. But neither of those emotions involves pity.”

“Why are you running for mayor?”

His hands dropped to his sides. “I think I can help the town move forward. I've been on city council long enough to understand what needs to be done and—”

“You have a responsibility,” she finished for him.

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“It's not, but your life is filled with obligations. I don't want to be another one.”

“You're—”

“I'd like to be your friend.”

He stared at her for several seconds, then blew out a breath. “I'd like that, too, but it doesn't have to mean—”

“Yes, it does,” she interrupted, not bothering to hide her smile at the crushed puppy-dog look of disappointment he gave her.

With a small nod, he moved around her. “Good night, Emily.”

“Good night, Jase.” She watched his taillights disappear into the darkness, then turned for the house. For the first time in forever, she fell asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.

* * *

Friday morning, Jase walked the three blocks from his office to the Crimson Community Center and thought about how nice it was not to be rushing through town. He was speaking to the downtown business coalition and probably would have been late for the meeting if Emily hadn't shoved him out the door.

She was a stickler for punctuality, something that had never been a strength of his. He cared about being on time, but he often got so lost in whatever he was doing that he stopped paying attention to anything else. She hadn't been in the office yesterday, and despite how organized she'd left things on Wednesday, he'd found he missed knowing she was sharing his space.

She was a distraction but the best kind possible, and now he spent the minutes going over what he planned to say to the group of business owners. Ever since Emily had asked the question, Jase had been pondering the answer to why he was running for mayor. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough to keep him busy with his law practice.

He came around the corner and noticed Mari pacing in front of the entrance to the community center. Automatically he checked his watch, since his one campaign worker tended to pace when she was anxious.

“We have a problem,” she said, adjusting her heavy-rimmed glasses as she strode toward him.

He held up his hands. “I'm not scheduled to speak for another ten minutes. It's good.”

“Your opponent got here first,” she answered, shaking her head. “It's
really
bad, Jase.”

“What opponent?”

“Charles Thompson.”

Jase's stomach dropped to the pavement like a cement brick. “Charles Thompson isn't running for mayor. I'm unopposed in the election.”

“Not anymore. He has the signatures he needs to put his name on the ballot and filed as a candidate with the courthouse before yesterday's deadline. I don't understand why he's doing this.”

“Because it's me.” Jase rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Charles has been at loose ends since he retired as sheriff. I bet my dad called and rubbed the election in his face. If there's anything the Thompsons can't stand, it's a Crenshaw getting ahead.”

“That's plain spiteful.”

Spiteful and stupid and why was he doing this again? Because he owed it to the town? Because he had something to prove?

“You have to get in there and prove you're a better candidate.” Mari tugged on his arm, but Jase stood his ground. He didn't want to face Charles and everything the older man knew about his childhood. If there was one person who knew where all the Crenshaw skeletons were hidden, it was Charles Thompson. “Jase, let's go.”

He could walk away right now, withdraw his candidacy. Charles would be a fine mayor, maybe even better than Jase. The older man had nothing but time to devote to the job. But if Jase won, maybe he could stop trying so hard to make amends for a past he didn't own. Perhaps it would finally be enough—he would be enough—to excise the ghosts of his past.

Jase wasn't his father or any of the infamous men in his family. He'd paid more than his dues; he'd tried to atone for every sin committed by someone with the last name Crenshaw. Now was his time to bury the past for good. He couldn't walk away.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his tie and smoothed his fingers over the hair curling at the nape of his neck. A haircut was still on the to-do list, right after fighting for his right to lead this town.

He followed Mari into the crowded meeting room where Charles Thompson stood at the podium. A ruthless light snapped in his eyes as he met Jase's gaze over the heads of the members of the coalition. Jase knew he had friends in this room, but facing Sheriff Thompson turned him into the scared, cowering boy he'd been years ago. He'd dreaded seeing the patrol car parked in front of his dad's trailer and knowing what it meant.

Those days were a distant memory for most people, Declan Crenshaw having faded into the background of the Crimson community. But for Jase they were like a razor across an open wound—raw and painful.

“My esteemed opponent has arrived,” Charles announced into the microphone, his deep voice booming through the room.

People in the audience turned to where Jase stood at the back and he forced a neutral look on his face. He made eye contact with a couple of friends, Katie Garrity, who was representing her bakery, and Josh Travers from Crimson Ranch. Katie gave him a sympathetic smile and Josh looked almost as angry as Jase felt.