A Promise Of Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 1) (8 page)

“And there was me thinking we were hitting it off just fine.”

His lazy smile made her hands twitch to slap him. Pushing back her chair instead, she walked out of the bakery without another word.

Jake watched the door close behind Branna, then slowly took another bite of his pie. The action was a reflex and the pie that he loved so much now tasted like dust. His eyes followed her along the path in long angry strides until she disappeared from his sight.

When had he become an asshole?

“That went well.” Buster sat in the seat Branna had just left.

“Not one of my finest moments,” Jake said. “She used to annoy me in school, and it looks like not much has changed, especially as I’ve lost my ability to sugar coat things.”

“The thing is, Jake, I like her. She’s sure not a talker, and when she comes in here we’ve not passed more than a few words, but she’s a comfortable person and I don’t want to see her hurt, especially as it’s my belief that girl has suffered a whole world of hurt already.”

“Jesus, did you just string an entire sentence together unprovoked?”

Buster’s look told Jake he knew that he was deflecting the conversation away from himself.

“You’re going through shit, Jake, but you have the support of your friends and family to help you through the hell you’re battling; that little girl has no one and never did have.” Buster’s eyes were somber as he looked at Jake. “Her daddy, according to my Aunt Vi, was a cold unfeeling asshole and if memory serves, Branna O’Donnell only had Annabelle and Georgie as friends, while you pretty much claimed everyone else in Howling.”

Jake ran a hand over his face as shame washed over him. Not many people could pull emotion out of him these days, but Buster was one of them. He didn’t push or smother him and usually when he spoke Buster made a lot of sense, like now.

“I’m just not real good company anymore; maybe I should stay home?” Jake looked into the sympathetic eyes of his friend.

“Maybe, but then I can’t imagine you’re all that happy with your own company either.”

“Also true,” Jake agreed. “She come in here much? Branna?”

Buster ran with the change in conversation. “Most days, until she can start running again, then she said it will be less often.”

“She runs?”

“Yeah, seems she’s one of those sicko healthy types like you.”

“Says the man who pumps weights and sits on that rowing machine for hours.”

“True, but I don’t run,” Buster added with a smug look.

“Wonder what she does for a living?”

Buster settled back in his chair. “Annabelle said she was a teacher and is now a writer of some kind.”

“No kidding, just like her daddy. What else you got?” Jake knew the grapevine would be working overtime with a new person in town, especially with Branna having lived here before.

“Annabelle wouldn’t say; she reckons Branna is a private person and didn’t want everyone knowing her stuff.”

Jake snorted. “Someone will get it out of her, or dig up the information; that’s how this town works.”

“Yeah, not much for gossip myself.”

Jake pointed his cup at Buster. “You’re the biggest gossip of the lot, but just hide it behind that piss off face of yours,” he teased.

“I don’t have a piss off face; I just don’t understand the need to be yammering on constantly like some.”

“I hope you’re not accusing me of yammering.” Jake climbed to his feet to take the dishes and put them in the sink. “Because I’ve never yammered a day in my life.”

“Whatever.”

“See you at seven.” Lifting a hand, Jake made for the door.

“She’s planting stuff and digging holes. I told her to call me if she needs help,” Buster said, as he headed back into the kitchen.

“And you’re telling me this why?” Jake turned to look at his friend.

“Just on the chance you wanted to apologize for being a bastard.”

“I am a bastard, Griffin, when are you and the rest of this town going to realize that?”

Buster said something that Jake missed as he walked out of The Hoot.

“Hey there, Jake.”

“Macy,” Jake dug around in his pocket for his keys in the hopes that the woman who’d just walked up to him would take the hint and let him leave.

“The committee thinks you’d be a good man to take the microphone on the night of the reunion,” Macy Reynolds-Delray stated.

“Not really good at public speaking, Macy. If you need any cars tuned, however, I’m your man. Plus, I’m not feeling too social these days,” Jake located the keys and started towards his pickup; Macy followed, tottering on her heels.

Macy Reynolds, now Reynolds-Delray, was the girl who had it all in school. The girl that every boy lusted after; she was certainly the person he’d had plenty of uncomfortable nights dreaming about. Homecoming queen…every girl in school wanted to be her friend. Of course, that club had been exclusive. She was still beautiful, but now it was a forced beauty and the eyes beneath those long fake lashes were cold. Carefully pampered, her hair was colored almost white, her breasts looked bigger, which could mean she’d had some work done, but he wasn’t sure. She looked about as real as one of the dolls his sister had loved as child.

“It’s one night, Jake, at the school you attended.” Even her voice had lost that enthusiastic, if highly annoying, pitch…this one was cold and emotionless.

“Sorry, Macy, I’m busy.”

“I hear Branna O’Donnell is back too, and she’s a teacher and writer,” she added, stopping on the curb beside his pickup. I’m going to ask her to do some handouts and advertising for the committee.”

Why was he surprised that Macy knew this about Branna? Small towns could ferret out even the most closely guarded secret.

“You do that, Macy. I’m meeting Mom for lunch, so I’ll see you around.” He didn’t look back, just climbed in and fired it up and headed out of town. He had a barn, plenty of loud music, and cars that sounded a whole lot better than running into more of the good folk of Howling. Driving past the end of Branna’s driveway, he pushed his foot down on the accelerator; he wasn’t going anywhere near her again. Something about her flashed warning signals inside his head, and then there was the fact that he couldn’t look at her and not want to strip her naked.

***

Branna was still cursing herself when she pulled Georgie’s hat on and walked outside.

She’d overreacted to Jake today and that annoyed her, because it meant that all those years she’d worked hard at forgetting, or at least locking all those feelings away, hadn’t worked. Well, they had, but now they weren’t anymore, because of him, Jake McBride. Why did she care what he thought of her? Why had she ever cared? She’d reacted like an emotional fool and then stormed out of the bakery like a child throwing a tantrum. That was not the woman she had become, the one who’d spent years perfecting the imperturbable façade.

The problem was, she couldn’t get him out of her head. What had changed him into the man she’d seen today?

Stomping around the back of the house, Branna found the garden and began tugging out weeds with her good hand. Georgie would be pissed if she saw her treasured garden being strangled to death by the bloody things, and even one-handed it was good to be doing something, anything to drive the memory of those cold, angry dark eyes out of her head.

Jake McBride was hurting, Branna had seen it, but why?

She’d been working a while when she felt someone watching her; looking over her shoulder, she saw a young boy. Skinny, lots of brown curls, and wide brown eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Penny said I needed to come and say sorry for knocking you over with my bike.”

Branna got to her feet and arched backward; she was stiff from bending for so long.

“Well, say it then.”

“What?”

“Sorry I knocked you over and hurt your arm and made you bang your head,” Branna said.

“Yeah, that,” the boy mumbled.

“It’s not an apology if you don’t actually apologize.”

His brown eyes studied her for a few seconds.

“Georgie said you were the difficult type when you wanted to be.”

“Yeah, well from where I’m standing, you don’t appear very accommodating either,” Branna, added.

He got off his bike and rested it carefully on the ground, which told Branna he treasured that thing, as most kids just dropped theirs when they climbed off.

“What’s your name?”

“Michael Tucker. What’re you doing?” he added, coming forward to look down at the small patch she’d weeded.

“Baking double chocolate muffins.” He snuffled a little laugh that made Branna smile.

“I could help, seeing as I hurt you and all.”

“Now, that’s an apology.” Branna pointed to the shovel she’d found leaning on the house. “You get that and start digging a hole over there so I can plant something in it.”

He did as she asked, and soon they were both working.

“What are you putting in?” Michael asked.

“I’m thinking a small row of trees around the back to shelter the garden first; it was something Georgie always wrote to me that she wanted done, but just never got ‘round to it.”

“She sure loved her garden.”

“Why aren’t you in school?” Branna looked at him as she asked the question, and was glad she did, because he looked guilty as hell.

“We don’t got to go in today.”

“I don’t have to go to school today,” Branna, corrected him. “So, the school just decided to give you all a break?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so,” Branna added. “You’re playing hooky?”

“I hate school; it’s boring.” He dug the spade into the dirt with force.

“You’re breaking my heart, Mikey. You want to try working for a living. Then you’ll have something to moan about.”

“You’re not working.”

“Why is it boring at school?” Branna asked, ignoring his statement, as she did need to get back to work, but hadn’t found the enthusiasm to do so yet.

“They don’t teach us anything new, so I just sit there all day bored.”

“How old are you?” He was tall and thin, all knobby elbows and knees.

“Ten and a half.”

“You smart or something?”

“Maybe.” He muttered the word, and Branna wondered if he was like her. “You read, Mikey?” If he was like her and Georgie had found out, chances were she’d had him reading all the books she loved, like she’d made Branna do.

“Molly Browning says reading’s for people who ain’t got any friends.”

“Have not got any friends sounds better,” Branna corrected him.

He stopped digging and looked at her again, with those big brown eyes that could melt a person in seconds.

“Georgie used to say things like that.”

Branna swallowed the lump in her throat at the mention of her dear friend. “Yes, well, she was right.”

They carried on in silence for a few more minutes.

“So, I’m guessing this Molly Browning’s real perky? Pretty face, popular with the boys, plenty of giggling friends hanging around?”

“Kind of, she’s not that pretty, though. She has real pointy ears that she tries to hide under her hair. She can be pretty mean when she wants to be, but Georgie said there will be something nice inside her somewhere.”

Branna had also received that particular speech from her friend.

“So, what does your mom think about you playing hooky?” Branna sat down on the dirt, because she was tired all of a sudden and her arm was beginning to ache, even though she’d been using the other one.

“She’s in L.A. for work.”

“Someone has to be looking after you. What will they say?” Branna questioned him.

“Gran won’t find out, she doesn’t leave the house much, and Connor doesn’t care about that kind of thing.”

“Connor being?” Branna slowly dragged the information out of Mikey, until she found out his gran cared for him, while his mom traveled about with her job, and Connor was his uncle and sounded like a size ten asshole, but she kept that to herself. The man didn’t seem to work, just lounged about, living off his sister and grandmother. There was another uncle who was a lawyer and lived in Boston, and an aunt who lived in Portland. Reading between the lines, it sounded like Mikey pretty much did as he wanted with no one watching over him. Not an ideal situation, but Branna was pretty sure he wouldn’t get into too much trouble here in Howling.

“You looked in there yet?’

Dragged from her thoughts, Branna looked to where the boy was pointing and felt her heart sink as she saw it was towards the large shed behind them.

“Not yet.”

“You want me to go in with you?”

He knew, Branna could see it in those intelligent brown eyes; the boy knew she didn’t want to go into that shed and see the car that had meant so much to her dear friend. Seeing that would bring it all back again. It had all started with that car.

“I don’t know if I’m ready, Mikey,” Branna said, surprised she’d told him the truth.

“She said you were strong.”

Branna closed her eyes at his words. He may be ten and a half, but he had the insight of a far older person. She rose to her feet and swiped at her butt to remove any lingering dirt. If Jake McBride saw her now, it would just reinforce his belief in her ‘70’s look, especially with Georgie’s large straw hat on her head.

“You go inside for me and get the keys that are beside the front door on the rack then, Mikey.” Decision made, Branna started towards the building that had been standing silently waiting for her to open it since she’d arrived. She heard the thud of his feet approaching seconds later.

“I’ve forgiven you for knocking me down, Mikey, so you don’t have to beat yourself up about it anymore.” Branna patted his head as they walked towards the shed.

“You should have been watching where you were going anyway.”

“You’re not actually trying to blame me?” Branna watched his agile little fingers slip the key into the padlock and heard the click as it opened. She felt the pressure in her chest increase, as he pushed the doors wide.

“Come on,” Mikey urged her forward.

“All right, gee, you’re a nag.” Branna took the hand he held out and gripped it hard as they walked inside. She felt the tension inside him too, the anticipation of the memories they both knew would be waiting for them.