Man of the Month (Willowdale Romance Novel) (8 page)

Brad scratched his head. “The State DOT is coming to town to decide if they should install a stop light on Main Street.” He let it hang there for a moment.

“Oh.” She blinked a few times and blew out her breath.

“I can handle it. Just half a dozen people or so. We really only need one person to serve.”

She nodded. “I wonder why they’re looking into that now.”

He knew she was trying to brush it off, but he heard a current of pain in her voice that wouldn’t be noticeable to many other people.

His flexed his fingers, uncertain whether or not he should reach out to her. “There’ve been other accidents there over the years. It’s some publicity thing, fixing dangerous roads around the state.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Of course, any road is dangerous when you’re drinking.” He pulled her into his arms. She fit just perfectly against him, like she was made for him. “I’m sorry, you know. I’ve never told you that.”

She looked up at him while tears slipped down her cheeks. “I’m sorry for you, too.”

He smudged away a tear with his thumb, his hand cupping her face. “We’ve never really talked much about it. It was always such a taboo thing. Stay away from the Clark girls. It was stupid that they did that in school. Guess it just seemed impossible or wrong to talk about it once we became friends.”

“But what would we even have said? My parents are dead. Your mother is gone.” She looked away.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He rested his cheek on the top of her head, crying. But he didn’t care. Not with Jeanne. She tightened her grip around his waist.

He tipped her chin up to make her look at him. “You deserved a family.”

Tears clung to her eyelashes like jewels. “So did you.”

He bent down to kiss her but thought better of it. He brushed his lips across her cheek and pressed her head against her shoulder. They clung to each other for a good while until she sniffed and pulled away.

“Maybe now you understand why I so desperately want the family I never had.”

He took a step back. “And maybe you can understand why I’m not willing to take the chance that I’d ruin a family, just like both of my parents did. Look at what the two of them did.”

Jeanne pointed at him. “You wouldn’t be like them. You’re your own person. You can learn from their faults.”

“See, this is why—” He stopped himself. Admitting how he felt about her would be wrong. “This is why you and I getting together again would be a mistake.”

“Yep. A great big
mistake
.” She took of her apron and tossed it on the island. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

THEY DIDN’T TALK about the traffic light meeting again, but soon enough the day arrived, and Brad was finishing up the luncheon for eight. As he prepped his chicken salad sandwiches—croissants and pecans, his signature ingredients—he kept glancing at Jeanne.

She set down the peach she was peeling and put her hand on her hip. “I’m fine. It’s been almost twenty years. I can come and help you serve if you want. I even got dressed up for it, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Oh, he’d noticed. Her black pants fit her curves nicely, and he might suggest buttoning the top button on her blouse if she did come to the meeting. “We don’t need two people to serve eight.”

She banged her fist on the countertop. “Dang it, Brad, I want to be there. This involves my family, too.”

He gulped and nodded, too much of a coward to tell her he didn’t want her to come because he didn’t want to risk seeing any sadness in her face. “All right, can you get the coffee service ready?”

They loaded the food and equipment without saying much. He’d once laughed through a talk show Jeanne made him watch featuring a woman who claimed she could see people’s auras. Invisible colored lights hovering around people? Bullshit. But right now, it felt like they were both surrounded by muddy blue halos.

They’d just finished setting up in the police department conference room when Tommy led in a group of suits. Their mood was somber, too.

“Good, the food’s here,” Tommy said. “Hope you brought extra for Dolly. She perked right up when she heard you were bringing your chicken salad.”

Brad forced a smile. “We’ve got extra.”

Tommy put his hand on Brad’s shoulder. “This is my little brother, Brad. ’Course, he’s taller than me now, but he’ll always be my little brother.”

Some of the men came over to shake Brad’s hand. The lone woman in the group just smiled at him.

“So sorry for your loss,” she said.

Brad looked over at Jeanne, who was spending more time than necessary arranging the sweeteners and tea bags for the coffee service. He walked over to her. “This is Jeanne Clark. Both her parents were killed in the crash.”

Murmurs of condolences filled the room. Jeanne just nodded.

Everyone took their seats, and Brad unwrapped the salads. This had seemed like a good idea two months ago, but now faced with the memories, he regretted taking the gig. His skin felt clammy, and sweat beaded above his lip. Working beside him, Jeanne looked paler than usual.

The group got right down to business, explaining the increase in funding the town could get for installing the light.

“It’s a no-brainer,” said one of the men.

“I know it sounds like no big deal,” Tommy said, “but folks around here like our small town feel. You might be surprised to know not everyone wants a traffic light.”

A portly man in a suit that had probably fit him a few years back adjusted his lapels. “But what about the triple fatal accident? People have got to feel strongly about that, too. Wouldn’t want to see that happen again.”

“I think people have made peace with what happened. I know I have,” Tommy said. “This is gonna stir up a lot of old memories that have been laid to rest.”

Brad glanced at Jeanne who was gripping a coffee mug.

The woman in the group shuffled through some papers. “The driver had a blood alcohol level twice the legal limit. It was a horrible wreck—the victims didn’t die on impact. From what it says here, they suffered until they died in ICU.”

Jeanne dropped the mug, her eyes wide. It shattered on the floor. Everyone in the room turned to her.

“Jeanne?” Brad whispered.

She shook her head. “They died at the scene. That’s what Aunt Betty told me. That’s what everyone told me—that they didn’t know what hit them.”

The portly man cleared his throat. “According to the report here, the drunk driver died instantly.”

“But not my folks.” Jeanne’s voice cracked.

Tommy shifted in his seat. “Jeanne, I’m sure people were just trying to make it easier on you girls.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. Brad reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “I think you should put up that light. Maybe my parents would have had a chance.”

Brad folded his arms. “My mother was drunker than a skunk. Probably would have driven right through it.” Which was another reason Jeanne deserved better than him. If they were together, he’d be a constant reminder of what his family had cost her.

Jeanne was wringing her hands in front of her. She probably didn’t even know it.

“Can you wrap things up here, Brad? I’ve gotta get back.”

“Sure.” Brad watched her slip out of the room. He turned to the group. “That woman’s opinion counts more than anyone else’s in this room. You folks put in that light.”

JEANNE SOBBED in the parking lot for a good fifteen minutes before she was composed enough to drive back to Elegant Eats. By telling her not to come, Brad had been looking out for her best interests. She should’ve listened.

Picturing her mama and father suffering hurt more than anything she could remember. But knowing how much of the blame Brad was shouldering crushed her, too.

She wasn’t going to share this news with her sisters. It didn’t change anything. And as much as she wanted to go home, hide under the covers, and cry, she needed to wait for Brad.

Two hours later, the clatter of chafing dishes told her he was back.

“Did they like the food?” she asked when he came into the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah. They all wanted one of our cards.”

“Good.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry for taking off like that.”

“I don’t blame you. That was news to me, too, about your folks. I’m so sorry.” He blew out a breath.

“You can’t blame yourself, Brad. You aren’t responsible for your parents.”

He shrugged. “I can’t remember that night, but who knows if I pissed her off, and she drank a few extra?”

“Brad
 . . .
” She sighed. “Even if that were the case, she was responsible for her own actions.”

He shook his head. “I can’t ever make this up to you, Jeanne.”

“You don’t have to.”

But he left the room.

And then there’s that,
she thought. Besides the baby issue, being with her would be too much of a guilt trip for Brad.

She crossed her fingers.
Come on, Mr. March.

Man of the Month was making a lot more sense now.

MR. MARCH, also known as Jeff Burns, pulled out her chair at the new restaurant in Whitesville she’d been dying to try out. She smiled as she sat down and realized the first impression wasn’t bad. He was almost six feet tall, with a strong build and thick hair. Smelled good, too. Huh.

“I’ve been looking forward to this, Jeanne. You’re just as beautiful as Brad promised.” He smiled at her, and she noted his two dimples.

Didn’t have one in his chin, though. She looked down, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “Thanks.”

“Almost couldn’t make it. My babysitter got sick, but luckily her sister was able to fill in.”

She took a sip of water. “Is their mother in the picture?”

Steepling his fingers, he frowned. “She passed away two years ago.”

“I’m sorry. Brad didn’t tell me.”

“Car accident.”

Jeanne had to fight for a breath.
His poor children.
“I’m so sorry,” she managed to whisper.

He nodded. “It’s been tough on us all. Hard being a single parent.”

She knew exactly what he meant, but she wasn’t ready to share that chunk of her history just yet.

The waitress arrived with menus and took their drink orders.

“Do you have any children?” he asked.

Ignoring the hitch in her heart, she shook her head. “I’d love to, though.” Would a guy with kids want more kids? Because she wanted a baby of her own.

He leaned across the table and smiled. “Tell me what you like about kids.”

She sighed, remembering how good Emma felt in her arms. “They’re just so special. A little piece of you. It’s like a second chance to see the world through innocent eyes. I imagine, anyway.”

“Yeah, those baby years are wonderful. Now at four and seven, well, I’m usually just Dumb Old Dad.” He tilted his head. “I’m having all sorts of problems with my son, Eddie, the seven-year-old. Talks back all the time. Tells me he hates me.”

“Ugh. I know it’s not all sunshine and roses. That must be tough.”

“What would you do if your child told you that?”

She blinked, thinking about it. “I don’t know. Tell them it hurt my feelings to hear that, but they’re entitled to their feelings?” She’d never really thought that far ahead. She’d been quite focused on the baby scenario.

“What about discipline? How would you handle that?”

“Oh, time outs, for sure.”

He nodded. “Good, me too. What do you like to do with kids? Play games? Color?”

She shifted in her seat. “You know, I’ve never really had that much experience with kids. My older sister doesn’t have any, and my younger sister has a three-month-old.”

He frowned and nodded, and the waitress arrived with the drinks then took their orders. Jeff continued talking about children and questioning her about her views on raising them. It seemed like personal questions for a first date, a blind date nonetheless, but she’d never been out with a father before. Maybe he wouldn’t want to waste any time on a woman who had different child rearing views. Why even start up something when there were huge differences?

Luckily, he sprinkled in some funny stories, too, and talked a bit about work. He didn’t ask her a whole lot of questions besides those concerning kids, but he also didn’t rush to the emergency room or leave her with the check.

Jeff paid the bill, helped her into her coat, and escorted her out of the restaurant to her car. “That was really nice, Jeanne. Would it be okay if I called you?”

Her heart didn’t jump, but it didn’t sink, either. Maybe that’s how it was going to be for her, a slow-growing burn instead of an instant, hot flash in the pan. “Sure, that would be nice,” she said. She felt him coming toward her and turned her cheek to him, where a soft kiss landed. Again, zero reaction from her heart.

She climbed into the car, and he watched her drive away. When she dove into bed in her comfiest jammies and thought about Jeff calling her, she felt—nothing.

BRAD SET DOWN the apple he had been peeling when Jeanne walked into the kitchen, but he held on tight to the peeler. Her threats to use it on him after the disaster with Sam had seemed pretty serious. He crossed his arms and widened his stance.

“So, how was it? Did I do better this time?” Part of him was hoping things had gone well, so he could say
See? I was right
. And another part was hoping for another disaster story.

Jeanne set her things on the island in the kitchen of the banquet hall. “No allergic reaction. And he paid.” She shrugged.