Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (19 page)

“Yeah, and guess who has the major hots for him? My
BFF, Blair Hood.” Jade’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “So thanks but no thanks—not that I’d want to go out on a date with him anyway. I’ve got better ways to waste my time, like going bowling with God.” At this she glanced at the clunky watch strapped to her wrist and jumped out of her seat. “Speaking of which, I gotta fly. The Rev had to bring his car into the shop so I’m driving. Think Robocop will give me a ticket if he catches me speeding with the Lord’s main man as my copilot?”

“You could have the whole heavenly host crammed into that car and Rob Cooper would still nail you, so don’t even think about it,” Margot fired back. “Really, Jade, I am serious. You do not want to mess with him.”

“Jeesh, you need to chill. After all, Robo would have to catch me first.” With a grin that probably struck terror in the hearts of her two older sisters, she snagged another lemon square and sauntered out of the dining room. Seconds later, the sound of her feet hammering the wooden steps as she raced up the stairs reached them.

“Dear God, why did she have to inherit Nicole’s Porsche?” Margot asked to no one in particular.

Travis reached out and placed his hand over hers. “She’s just razzing you. Didn’t you see how much she wanted to avoid talking about Brian Steadman? Bringing up Robo—uh, Rob was a guaranteed diversion. Anyway, getting pulled over for a speeding ticket is way too tame for Jade. When she screws up, it’s on a grand scale.”

Margot frowned at her husband. “Thanks. I find that so reassuring.”

Owen cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I know this is none of my business, but I just have to ask. What is bowling with God?”

Owen earned a rare smile from Jordan for having steered the conversation away from Jade’s penchant for trouble. “Jade and our minister, Reverend Wilde, have struck up an odd friendship. After the plane crash we arranged to have
Jade talk to him, hoping it would help her with her grief. The reverend’s an unusual man. Once Jade got comfortable with him, he suggested they go bowling together. He thinks it’s a healthy and safe way for her to release some of the anger inside her.”

Owen considered the idea, taking into account Jade’s character. “Whatever works. I remember I had a drawing teacher at boarding school who counseled going into the school woods, taking a big stick, and whacking the daylights out of the rocky outcrops. Knocking down pins might be even better.”

Margot nodded. “The competitive aspect works for Jade. She and Stuart Wilde have a standing rule that whoever loses buys the pizza for the week. I hope the man doesn’t go broke. So, you went to a boarding school?”

“Yes.”

Jordan noticed the look in Margot’s eye and realized her sister was all set for another round of cross-examining Owen. This was really getting to be too much. “Would anyone like more coffee?” she asked.

Margot would not be diverted. “Was your school in Europe?”

“No, here.”

“So you went back to wherever your parents were posted during the school vacations?”

Owen shook his head. “No, I was on a scholarship and airline tickets were pretty steep back then. But I had roommates who invited me to their homes over the breaks. It was interesting to see how other families lived.”

Jordan found Owen’s casual answers, and the picture they painted of what must have been a lonely childhood, disturbing. As Margot looked ready to continue peppering him with questions, Jordan decided it was past time she cut her off. She stood and began to clear the dessert plates and coffee cups. Margot and Travis immediately rose to help.

Owen followed suit, brushing away objections. “I usually
have to pay to enjoy a meal this delicious, so let me at least help with the dishes.”

That was nice of him, Jordan thought, though she rather wished he wouldn’t be so gallant. Then she wouldn’t feel conflicted in the least. But knowing he was going to be staying at Hawk Hill, and how appealing he could be, would only make it harder for her to ignore her physical attraction to him.

“If you offer to do the dishes around Jade, she’ll probably pay
you
to have dinner with us,” Travis said, taking two fruit-stained plates from him and putting them in the dishwasher.

Owen grinned. “I’ll be sure to mention my love of a well-scrubbed pot.”

“You do pots? That settles it, then,” Margot said lightly. “You have a standing invitation. Right, Jordan?”

Oh, no
, she thought. “Of course,” she replied.

Once the kitchen was set to rights, Margot and Travis said good-bye to Owen. “Time for us to do the barn check,” Margot explained. “It was nice to meet you, Owen.”

“The pleasure was mine. Thanks for showing me the house. You and your sisters have done a great thing in trying to keep it in the family.”

“Thanks.” Margot smiled. “Come again soon.”

Travis shook his hand. “Good to meet you, Owen. Ned and I will be happy to answer any questions you have about renovating the barn at Hawk Hill.”

With their departure, Owen noted that Jordan’s skittishness ratcheted up several degrees. She tried to hide it by vigorously wiping the pristine counters and arranging the folded dishtowels hanging over the oven door just so, but he was beginning to be able to read her.

“So, is tomorrow morning a good time for you to come over to Hawk Hill?” he asked.

“Oh … yes, I can be there at about a quarter past nine. Olivia’s sitter comes at nine o’clock.”

“Sounds good. I’d like to start on the kitchens and bathrooms to get the materials ordered as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding.

It was as he’d thought. She calmed down as soon as he brought up the job, which meant she’d been half-expecting him to make a pass. He was exceedingly sorry to disappoint, but he hadn’t a clue how long a barn check took and he wasn’t about to have her sister and brother-in-law barging in. “We should also discuss your fee. But I’ll let you see the rooms first so you get a better sense of the work involved.”

“Oh … I … well, yes, I suppose that’s best.”

And she was clearly uncomfortable about charging people for a talent that was obviously natural.

Remarkably, having deciphered a small part of Jordan’s personality only made Owen interested in figuring out the rest of what made this incredibly beautiful woman tick. For instance, he couldn’t help wondering how she’d react when he kissed her again. And whether she’d taste just as sweet.

S
HE HAD TO APPLY
her makeup extra carefully the next morning. Nervous about meeting Owen at Hawk Hill and providing ideas for a man whose tastes were more discriminating than any audience she’d previously faced, she had sat in front of her computer until well past midnight, surfing design sites and jotting down ideas in her notebook. Still not satisfied, she had leafed through her collection of catalogs, magazines, fabric samples, and color wheels, knowing perfectly well that any ideas she had now would most likely undergo a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree shift once she was actually in the rooms and able to take in their size and gauge the quality of the light in them. Still, it was better to have some ideas, lousy as they might be, to ground her and provide a starting point. Her biggest fear was that she’d walk into Hawk Hill and draw a mortifying blank, unable to see anything but Owen, unable to think of anything but how he’d kissed her and how strangely, perversely disappointed she was by the fact that he hadn’t betrayed the slightest interest in repeating the experience.

The hours of research should have calmed her. They didn’t. Exhausted, she had fallen asleep to dream of strange rooms, each one more bizarrely decorated than the previous. She’d struggled to rouse herself only to be caught in the grip of a new set of dreams that shook her to the core. They were of Owen. For some reason her unconscious had changed him into a little boy, an adorable boy of about nine or ten, his hair neatly combed, and wearing what she
recognized as a school uniform. His eyes were huge in his child’s face, his mouth pressed into a tight, rigid line. He was walking alone along the boulevard of a foreign city—one she couldn’t identify—looking up at the adults rushing past. She knew instinctively that he was lost, exhausted, and afraid but too proud to stop one of the harried grownups and ask for help.

The dream shifted. Now he was the adult man she was coming to know … but just as alone as before. He was seated on a street bench, twilight settling around him. His profile, his posture, too, were fixed while he stared up at the row of houses across the street, their windows aglow, warm gold with life.

Unlike in the previous dream, she was sure she recognized this street, was absolutely convinced she had lived in one of those rose-brick row houses. She wanted nothing more than to approach Owen on his solitary bench, slip her hand in his, and invite him into the bright warmth of her home. A futile wish, for she knew that he would only turn away in a wordless rebuff. She was reduced to watching, part of the scene yet helpless to act, her heart weeping for the lost little boy inside the man as he was slowly enveloped by the dark of the starless evening, and her straining eyes could see him no more.

A night spent dreaming of Owen Gage would have rattled her under any circumstances, but for him to appear in the guise of a lonely little boy was especially troubling. Striving to be rational, she reminded herself that it was ridiculous to be swayed by the games her subconscious played.

Whatever his childhood may have lacked, Owen Gage had overcome the deprivation and developed the skills necessary for a successful life.

Yet no cool argument could prevent her from recalling how he’d looked in that schoolboy’s uniform, struggling to hide his fear as he made his way through the unfamiliar city peopled by indifferent adults. The image was as stubbornly
clear in her memory as if she were looking at a snapshot of him from twenty-odd years ago.

She cursed her psyche for having latched on to the one representation of him that was sure to pierce her heart and leave her vulnerable. That road led to folly. The worst thing she could do was to get soft and mushy-hearted around Owen.

As she wielded her makeup brush, she resolved to maintain a strict professional distance. It was too bad that attitude wasn’t shared by the rest of her family.

Her own little boy couldn’t stop talking about him. Max was at that age where he was intensely curious about what grown-ups did, especially men. When he learned that Owen designed and built homes, he immediately wanted to know whether Owen would be willing to come over and build a super-duper tower with him, maybe even a whole city full of super towers. She blamed her foggy brain for her ill-considered response: she told him that Mr. Gage would be too busy to come and build towers as he was working on Hawk Hill, the house just down the road. Eyes lit with excitement, he’d asked whether Owen would be hammering and sawing and everything. Max was already a tool junkie, a future Home Depot weekend warrior. Before she could figure out a way to divert his interest, he was clamoring for a trip to Hawk Hill to see Owen at work, and she knew he was already imagining hammers pounding long, shiny nails and circular saws buzzing their way through planks of wood.

Owen remained Max’s principal topic of conversation all the way through his maple syrup–coated waffle and cup of juice. Margot and Travis, working their way through the pot of coffee and bowls of steaming oatmeal, didn’t help matters when they agreed that he should go see Hawk Hill, especially as Mommy would be decorating the interior of the house. That got Kate into the act: she wanted to go, too, so she could help pick out colors. For Kate, so meek and careful, to ask for something, well, what could Jordan
say but that she’d try to arrange an afternoon for them to go over and see the work being done on Hawk Hill.

“And did Mommy tell you Owen’s going to be rebuilding Hawk Hill’s barn, too, Max? Isn’t that neat?”

Max managed to smear maple syrup over his face as he nodded enthusiastically.

Jordan shot Margot a look for having fanned the flames to bonfire proportions. Max really liked barns.

“What?” Margot asked, all innocence.

“We don’t actually have to help Owen Gage modernize the barn, you know.”

“Why not? If you and he are going to all the trouble of making over the house, the barn should be equally spiffy. The higher the selling price for the house, the more people will be talking about the work you’ve done. Besides, I like Owen. He obviously felt bad about how Nonie treated you, so he’s provided a brilliant way for you to get back at her. And what about those flowers he brought you? They’re as lovely as Jade claimed—I was sure she was exaggerating. Weren’t those flowers Mommy got from Owen pretty, Katiebug?”

Kate nodded solemnly. “I like the big fluffy pink ones.”

“Those are called peonies, sweetie.” Jordan leaned over and kissed her daughter’s brow. “Of course Owen Gage has good taste in flowers. With his background he’s probably constitutionally incapable of giving an ugly bouquet.”

Margot shook her head. “You’re as stubborn as Jade.”

“Y’all talking about me again?” Jade asked, coming into the kitchen and making a beeline for the cupboard that held her favorite sugar-loaded cereal. She sat down next to Olivia’s high chair, poured herself a heaping bowlful, and then liberally sprinkled some on Olivia’s plastic plate.