Mr. February (4 page)

“If he earns his GED, he’ll find a better job.”

“Which I’ve pointed out several times. I even found the website for him to sign up for classes, but he isn’t interested.”

What could Rafe say to that? “Why are you letting him live with you?”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t turn him and Chelsea out on the streets.”

“Sure you can. It’s called tough love. My dad laid down conditions and consequences if I didn’t follow through. That worked with me.”

“Well, my father’s version failed miserably. And, don’t forget, Chelsea’s pregnant.”

There was that. “You aren’t your dad. You could try out the conditions and consequences idea on JR.”

“I supposed so, but it’s not my thing.” Jillian glanced at the clock above the stove and jumped up. “Look at the time. If I want to finish painting before dark, I’d better get back to work.”

To Rafe’s astonishment, they’d talked nearly an hour. He didn’t mind—he’d learned a lot about Jillian Metzger. Including that she was every bit the free spirit he’d imagined.

Still, what a knockout. Big, smoky-blue eyes and that great mouth… He thought about kissing her, to see if she tasted as good as she looked.

But the way they approached life was too different. And as Hank had pointed out, there was no sense getting involved with his neighbor when things would just turn sour later.

*

By the time Jillian finished the trim, the sun had tipped toward the horizon, and the temperature dropped into the shiver zone. After setting down her brush, she admired the building, which looked bright and cheerful and even better than she’d imagined. She squinted up at Rafe. “It’s getting late. Time to quit.”

“As soon as I finish the last little patch, up top.” He strained toward the very peak of the building, his arm muscles flexing and his T-shirt hugging his strong back.

Jillian sucked in an admiring breath. As she’d worked on the trim, she’d thought a lot about their earlier conversation. Unlike most men, Rafe excelled at listening. She really liked that. Liked him. Even if he was a so-called stud.

She owed him for giving up his entire afternoon to help her. “You and Calvin should stay for dinner,” she said. She’d been going to open a can of soup for herself, but Rafe needed heartier food. “I’m thinking about a pizza from Harvey’s, and a nice can of dog food for Calvin.”

“Pizza from the best place in town and food for my dog? That’s a tough offer to turn down.”

“Then, don’t. You worked so hard, and feeding you is the least I can do. What are your favorite toppings?”

“Anything but pineapple.”

“I happen to love pineapple. How about a compromise—half with, half without?”

“Deal.”

Forty minutes and two bottles of beer later, Jillian set the extra-large pizza between them on the kitchen table. “Help yourself.”

Rafe licked his lips and did just that. For a few minutes, they both concentrated on eating.

Before long, he slowed down and sat back. “How did you get into pottery?”

People rarely asked, but he seemed genuinely interested. “My sophomore year of high school, I needed an elective,” she said. “My father pressured me to sign up for advanced math.” She couldn’t help making a face. “But the art teacher, Miss Patterson, suggested I enroll in her class. That sounded a lot more fun, so I fudged the truth and told Dad I needed a credit in art.”

“He never checked your story?”

“Why would he? I was Miss Obedient—I would never make something up. That was my one tiny, rebellious act.” Samantha smirked. “Besides, he fighting with my mother kept him too busy to look into the matter.”

At the time, Jillian had been ripped apart by the strife at home and was lonely and miserable. The observant art teacher had taken her under her wing and made her feel valued and talented. “Miss Patterson mentored me. Under her wing, I blossomed. She taught me the basics of drawing and painting, but I liked throwing pots best. I loved taking a blob of clay and making it into something beautiful. Pottery became my passion. It still is.”

“Passion is always a good thing.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened with unmasked desire. Jillian’s most private places noticed. Self-conscious, she brushed crumbs from the tabletop into her palm.

After a minute, he cleared his throat. “What do you do when you’re not making pottery, teaching pottery classes, or painting your studio?”

“You mean in my free time?” She laughed. “I rarely have any.”

“Everyone needs a life outside of work.”

“I wasn’t raised that way.”

“Come on. All work, no play…”

“Well…” She had to stretch to think of something. “I enjoying going to the movies. Sometimes I get together with friends for coffee or a meal. I date.”

“Anyone special?” Rafe asked, his gaze hooded and unreadable.

She considered telling him how she wanted to find her Mr. Right, but she didn’t know him well enough. “Not at the moment. What about you?” she asked. “What do you do when you aren’t fighting fires or out running with friends?”

“I own rental property and do most of the repairs myself. That keeps me busy. And I buy old houses and renovate them to sell. This year, though, my main focus will be on the home I’m building.”

“Are you planning to do the construction?”

He shook his head. “I want the house finished by fall. There’s a lot to do, and I don’t have time to tackle that job. I’ve already hired a construction company.”

The whole idea put Jillian in awe. “That’s so cool. I can’t even imagine.”

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, but I needed to find the right place. Now that I have, the house can’t be built soon enough. Once I move in, I’ll never move again.”

“Ever?”

He shook his head. “During the first nine years of my life, my mother and I moved constantly. We never stayed anywhere for more than a few months.”

“And I thought being an army brat meant moving a lot. I hated that, but I got used to it. So much so, that once I settled permanently in Guff’s Lake, I kept moving around. But now that I’ve found this place with its perfect studio, I’ll probably stay for a good long while. What about your dad? Did he move around, too?”

Rafe shook his head. “He’s still in Sacramento, in the same house where he raised me. I want to put down roots, too.”

“How do you know you won’t get antsy and want something different?”

“I just know. It’s all in here.” He pointed to his head.

Jillian wished she was that certain about anything. “Half the time, I don’t know what I’ll want in an hour—except to make pottery.”

“That’s—”

The door suddenly opened, and Rafe never finished. JR and Chelsea burst in.

Chapter Five

‡

“I
smell pizza,” the tall kid who had to be JR said as he plodded into the kitchen. He and Jillian shared the same long limbs. His girlfriend followed, a skinny little thing except for the slightly rounded belly. JR eyed Rafe. “Who are you?”

Jillian frowned. “Don’t be rude, JR.”

Determined to make nice, Rafe stood and extended his arm. “Rafe Donato.” He shook hands with Jillian’s brother and nodded at the girl. “You’re obviously JR and Chelsea.”

Chelsea’s eyebrows disappeared under cherry-red bangs before she smiled at Jillian.

JR gave Rafe a hard stare. “You’re the guy who walked my sister home yesterday.”

Rafe understood his wariness as a protective gesture toward his sister, and respected JR for it. “That’s right.”

The couple sat down, and JR started to reach for a slice of pizza.

“Hang on. I don’t think your sister expected you for dinner. She may have other plans for the rest of this pie,” Rafe said.

“It’s okay,” she muttered, with obvious reluctance.

Again, JR reached for the pizza, and again, Rafe stopped him. “You might want to wash up before touching our food, man.”

JR bristled. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I know exactly who I am—a senior firefighter who spent the afternoon helping your sister paint the outside of her studio because you didn’t. And, yeah, I scrubbed up before dinner.”

Rafe fixed JR with a straight-on look the younger man couldn’t hold. His gaze dropped. Grumbling like a teenage kid, he pushed to his feet. Chelsea did the same, and they meandered down the hall, toward the bathroom.

“I’m in shock he actually obeyed you,” Jillian commented.

“A guy can’t argue washing his hands before he eats. They probably want to sit together.”

Rafe scooted over, closer to Jillian. Under the small table, their thighs almost touched. She smelled good, of the great outdoors and beer and something sweet underneath that he definitely wanted to check out.

After returning from the bathroom, JR and his lady friend sat down and helped themselves.

“So, JR, I hear you’re looking for a job,” Rafe said while the two of them inhaled the remains of the pizza.

“That’s right. I’ve applied for a couple things, but, so far, nothing has come through.”

“What type of work are you looking for?”

“Anything.”

“Tell me about your work experience.”

“What is this, a job interview?”

Jillian sucked in an audible breath and stiffened. Her brother seemed to have an attitude problem. Rafe shrugged. “Just asking.”

“I delivered fast food. I worked on a farm, clearing land to make a pasture and doing odd jobs. For a couple months, I apprenticed with a carpenter.”

“What happened with that?”

“The boss was a mother fu—A butt.”

It seemed clear JR was no picnic, either. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for you,” Rafe said.

“Thanks, man.” JR shut the empty pizza box and nodded at Chelsea. “Let’s go watch TV.”

“How about cleaning up your mess first,” Jillian said, sounding irritated.

“Chill, Jill. Okay.”

After clearing their plates, the couple sauntered to the living room.

“You see what I’m dealing with,” she said, compressing her pretty mouth into a thin line. “JR makes me want to scream! But Chelsea’s sweet, even if she is too passive. And she is carrying my niece or nephew.” A smile danced across her face.

“You’re excited about that.”

“You’d better believe it.”

“What was that knowing look she gave you?”

“You saw that?” Jillian blushed. “She, um… She recognizes you from the calendar.”

Rafe rolled his eyes.

“You don’t like having your photo on it, huh?”

Rafe shook his head. “I do it because we bring a lot of money in to help others.” Darkness had fallen, and he checked his watch. “I should get home.”

He whistled for Calvin, stretched out on the kitchen floor. When the dog trotted to his side, he leashed him and stepped out the kitchen door and moored the leash to the stoop railing.

Jillian joined him. “Thanks again for your help.”

In the cold air, her breath looked like wisps of smoke. Rafe nodded. “No problem.”

Under the yellow porch light, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, a quick good night. But she tasted sweeter than he’d imagined, and one brief kiss wasn’t enough. What started out as a casual gesture quickly flared into something bigger and hotter.

She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back. Forgetting their philosophies on life were as different as night and day, Rafe angled closer, coaxed her lips apart, and deepened the kiss. He couldn’t get enough, even enjoyed the vague taste of pineapple.

In no time, he was ready to combust. He wanted to shed his clothes, strip hers away, and take her, right there against the siding.

The inferno raging through him brought him up short. This kind of thing didn’t happen to him, not after a couple of kisses.

Confused and a little freaked, he tore his mouth away.

Jillian’s eyelids fluttered open. She looked as dazed as he felt. Through sheer strength of will, he resisted pulling her in for more.

He unfastened Calvin from the railing and then offered a gruff, “Good night, Jillian.”

“Night, Rafe.”

He strode for his car.

*

Thanks to a habit ramrodded into her by her father, Jillian had never been able to sleep in. Even after working until the wee hours Saturday night, she woke before dawn on Sunday, with a craving for a Samantha’s cinnamon roll. She could get one at Rosemary’s Breakfast Nook.

After showering and dressing, she scribbled a note for JR and Chelsea. This morning they deserved to sleep. For once, they’d pitched in, staying up late to install shelving for the six students who’d signed up for the four-week pottery class. Jillian reserved the two walls of existing shelves for her own work.

If the class went as well as she hoped, she would offer a more advanced version to the same group. She would also encourage them to post comments about the class on her website and to tell their friends about the class. In these ways, Jillian hoped to spread the word.

She let Pooh out and penned her in the fenced area. Only a week until the official first day of spring, and this morning the whole world seemed poised and ready. The air, crisp but not cold, the rising sun filling the sky with color, and the trill of songbirds in the newly leafed trees. Jillian couldn’t help but be happy.

Humming the tune to “Sunshine Day,” even though she couldn’t carry a tune for anything, she climbed into her car and drove off. Normally, the trip from the cottage to Rosemary’s took a good twenty minutes, but at this hour on a Sunday morning, she had the road to herself and made great time.

A few blocks from Rosemary’s, she made an inexplicable detour, turning right instead of continuing straight. Seconds later, she passed the fire station. Rafe worked Mondays and Tuesdays, so, of course, he wasn’t there today. All the same, she let out a soft sigh.

The man sure knew his way around a good-night. It had been more than a week since he’d kissed her, but even thinking about it made her lips tingle and her whole body warm.

Absently, she touched her mouth and knew she wouldn’t forget those amazing kisses anytime soon.

“Rafe Donato is trouble, plain and simple,” she told herself out loud.

Although he wasn’t nearly as rigid as she’d first assumed. Not at all like her father. Still, he had a reputation even among his coworkers.