Plain Jayne (5 page)

“Hmm. I haven’t been in there for so long,” she said slowly. “But Tilly always was a bit of a pack rat.”

“This goes way beyond being a pack rat. It’s—”

The MC’s voice boomed over the speakers, calling for the first heat, and causing the crowd to start cheering even before the teams left the starting line. Mrs. G leaned forward in her chair and giggled like she was five years old and this was her first Loggers Sports.

The first two beds raced by, cheered on by everyone, but none as much as Mrs. G, who cheered especially loud for any team bringing up the rear. At one point, an entire team of loggers, all dressed in flannel nightshirts, caulk boots, and carrying plastic axes, abandoned their bed to stagger over and kiss Mrs. G for luck. She kissed each one in turn—on the cheek, of course—laughing all the while, then reached for Jayne’s hand and nodded toward the little popcorn cart down the street.

“See what they have to drink, will you, dear?”

Jayne bought them each a cup of lemonade and a popcorn to share. When the eleventh heat was announced, Mrs. G patted Jayne’s arm again.

“Is that him?”

“Who?”

“The Scott boy, silly. Isn’t he the one you came to watch?”

Jayne frowned up at her, but the old woman kept her gaze focused on the approaching racers.

“God rest that sweet little thing he married.” Mrs. G raised her brow and nodded slightly. “But I always thought you two made a cuter couple.”

“Nick and me?” Jayne chuckled and shook her head. “We were never a couple, Mrs. G. Just friends.”

The old woman’s eyes locked on Jayne’s and held them, as though she’d misunderstood. “But Tilly said … and you were always together … I just assumed … Oh, look, here they come.”

Nick and Carter’s team, decked out in fully loaded tool belts and hard hats, had built up the sides around their bed to look like a house, sans roof. Their opponents, the firefighters, ran in
full turnout gear, hoses over their shoulders and a tongue-wagging Dalmatian sitting in the middle of the bed.

The firemen not only won the heat, they finished the course in record time.

“He’s a handsome one, that boy.”

“Who?” Jayne craned her neck, trying to find the firemen again. She’d seen their last calendar; maybe Mr. October was among the racers.

“The Scott boy.” Mrs. G’s sigh was nothing short of disgusted. “Who else?”

“You mean Nick?”

“Of course.” The sigh was louder this time, followed by a click of her tongue. “Don’t you think so?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Nick wasn’t just good looking, he was smokin’ hot, but Jayne wasn’t about to say that out loud and give the old girl something else to assume.

“There’s no guessing on that one, Jayne.” Mrs. G shifted in her chair so she looked straight at Jayne. A soft smile pulled at her mouth and a tiny glint shone in the woman’s pale eyes. “If I was fifty years younger …”

Jayne laughed at the image of that. “Then I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she said, “but he’s got a girlfriend.”

“No! Who?”

“Linda? Lindsay? Lisa maybe.” She shrugged. “Some sort of L-name.”

“Is she local?”

“I think Nick said she moved here about six months ago.” She tipped the popcorn bag toward Mrs. G. “She’s a party planner.”

“
Pfft
. Have you met her?”

“Not yet, but I expect it’ll happen soon.” After all these years, Jayne should have been used to making nice with the women in Nick’s life, but the thought of having to do it again sat like a weight in her chest.

They polished off the last of the popcorn as the final two teams staggered over the finish line. Mrs. G patted Jayne’s arm and bobbed her head ever so slightly toward Nick as he made his way back through the crowd. The second he spotted them, his face broke out into a huge grin, which only made Mrs. G chuckle.

“That’s a mighty big smile from someone who’s just a friend.”

Jayne winked and patted the old girl’s shoulder. “Call me crazy,” she said. “But I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that smile’s for you.”

“Edith.” Nick stepped up, took Mrs. G’s hand in his, then leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Still the prettiest girl in town.”

“Oh, you.” Every wrinkle on her face flushed a deep pink. “Jayne and I have been having ourselves a little picnic while we watched, haven’t we, dear?”

“Let me guess. Candy floss and popcorn?” Nick laughed. “Nice.”

While they talked, a thirty-something man with a bit of a paunch walked up behind the chair and released the brake with his foot.

“Sorry to interrupt, Grandma, but it’s time to go.”

“Jeff?” Jayne frowned, squinted a little. It couldn’t be, and yet it was.
Jeff Goodsen
. No one else would make Nick’s expression go that dark. “It’s me, Jayne. Jayne Morgan.”

“Jayne. Right.” Jeff’s pale eyes, so much like his grandmother’s, widened slightly, then shifted from her to Nick and back again. He cleared his throat and nodded briefly. “Good to see you. Maybe we can, uh, catch up sometime.”

Okay, that would never happen, but Jayne wouldn’t say that in front of Mrs. Goodsen. Instead she squeezed the woman’s hand and smiled.

“I’ll be watching for you at the parade.”

She waited until the Goodsens were out of earshot, then jabbed Nick in the arm. “Enough with the glare. He’s gone.”

“He’s an idiot.”

There was no question Jeff was an idiot, but if it hadn’t been for him stealing Jayne’s cookies in kindergarten, she and Nick might never have become friends. Nick had chased Jeff across the playground and sat on him until Jeff finally surrendered the snack from his coat pocket. By the time Nick returned them to her, the cookies were nothing more than a crumbled mess, but that’s not what made her cry. At the time, she didn’t understand why she was crying, or why she cried even harder when five-year-old Nick wrapped her in her first hug and promised he’d never let anyone take her cookies again.

They’d been friends ever since.

“You’re gettin’ slow, old man.” Jayne chuckled as she dodged a kid on a skateboard. “Those firemen were easily packing an extra twenty pounds each.”

Nick’s limp suddenly became more pronounced. “Bum knee.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She unlocked the car and climbed behind the wheel. “Want a ride to your truck?”

“I’m good. I’ll go hunt down Carter and meet you at home.”

Jayne nodded, and fifteen minutes later they were all back in the kitchen laughing at how Nick and Carter had had their asses handed to them by Mr. October and company.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Nick muttered over a grin as he filled his water glass.

“Let’s just say, if I was you”—Jayne smirked—“I’d give some thought to trading spots with their Dalmatian next year.”

They were still laughing when the door swung open and in walked a raven-haired woman in khaki capris and a crisp white blouse, looking as fresh and pretty as a spring day. Her hair, cut just below her chin, hung in thick dark waves, her wide eyes almost the same shade as her pants, and that skin … good Lord, she could have been a Revlon model.

The first blip that raced through Jayne’s mind pegged her to be someone Carter would date; if he had a type, she was it: young, pretty, and perfect.

But the second Nick looked up, Jayne knew. This was Linda.

He stepped toward her and kissed her upturned cheek. “Lisa, this is Jayne.”

Right. Lisa.
Not Linda
.

“Lisa.” Jayne stood up and reached to shake the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. Nick’s told me a lot about you.”

“Don’t believe all of it,” Jayne winced over a grin. “I’m not that bad.”

“Yes she is.” Carter wrapped his elbow around Jayne’s neck, then smacked a noisy kiss to her cheek. “Nothin’ but trouble, this one.”

“Oh.” A flicker of uncertainty flashed across Linda-Lisa’s face as she glanced from Carter to Jayne. “Nick didn’t tell me you two were …”

Nick’s brow furrowed a second. “Who? Those two? No, they’re—”

“Us?” Carter choked. “Yeah, right.”

“Thanks a lot, jerk.” Jayne shoved away from him and cuffed him up the back of his head. “What am I, a leper or something?”

“Ow! No.” He rubbed his head and grunted out a loud snort. “Nick’d kill me if he even thought I was looking at you that way.”

Jayne knew Carter was just being an ass; Nick knew he was just being an ass. But Linda …
Lisa
 … well, she didn’t seem to know whether to shit or go blind.

“Just ignore Carter,” Jayne said, rolling her eyes. “We do it all the time.”

“Right. Okay.” She smiled back at them, but it was a careful smile, without the barest glimpse of teeth. “I can’t stay, I just stopped by to see how it went tonight.”

“Not good.” Carter lifted his beer to his mouth and laughed. “Your boyfriend needs to accept the fact he’s no Usain Bolt.”

Nick didn’t deny it, just sort of shrugged and grinned as Linda-Lisa wrapped her arm around his waist and patted his chest with her free hand.

“That’s okay, sweetie. I’m sure you did your best.”

It was all Jayne could do not to frown. There was something about Nick with his arm around this woman that didn’t seem right, but what? She was cute, she seemed affectionate, and she hadn’t flown into a nuclear meltdown at the sight of Jayne, so what was it?

“Glass of wine?” Nick was already reaching for a glass, but Linda-Lisa stopped him.

“I can’t, but thanks. I still have work to do. It was nice to meet you.” She smiled at Jayne, then turned back toward the door she’d just come through. “See you, Carter.”

“Hang on.” Nick hurried after her, seemingly determined not to look at either Jayne or Carter. “I need to talk to you about something.”

She and Nick disappeared into the foyer, and though Jayne could hear Nick’s voice, she couldn’t make out exactly what he said. She could, however, make out the long gaping silence that followed before his girlfriend’s soft voice answered.

“Well.” Jayne slapped Carter on the back and tried not to laugh. “I’m going to go hide in my room now. You’ll give me a heads-up if things start going sideways, right?”

“ ’Course. But if she yells half as loud as Abby did, I’m gonna come hide in there with you.”

*  *  *

The next morning, Jayne stayed in her room until she heard Nick and Carter leave for their run. Who went running at six o’clock on a Saturday morning? Certainly not her. If she was going to be awake at such an ungodly hour, she sure as hell wasn’t going to do something crazy like
exercise. No sir. She was going to make breakfast, because that’s what she did.

Happy? Eat.

Sad? Eat.

Angry? Eat.

Feeling uncomfortable and somewhat awkward with living at Nick’s when he had himself a pretty new girlfriend?
Definitely
eat!

She hunted around the kitchen, pulling out what she needed, and trying not to click her tongue too much at the boxed pancake mix in the cupboard. Sad, that’s what that was. She piled everything on the counter, then stopped and looked around the room again.

Did the man not own a radio? Just as well; there was too much talk on radios anyway. She dug her laptop out of her suitcase, set it up in the kitchen, and opened iTunes.

Eighties playlist. Check.

Volume up. Check.

She put the coffee on, cracked a couple eggs into a bowl, then measured, poured, and whisked the rest of the ingredients, all the while singing every song that came on. She hacked into Nick’s wireless (he really needed to get more original with his passwords), checked emails and online news sources, and played a quick game of solitaire before she plugged in the griddle.

Humming along with Bon Jovi, she poured batter on the hot griddle, then pulled a couple wooden spoons out of the drawer so she could drum along with the song.

“Your love is like bad medicine, bad medicine is what I need, oh oh—!”

The spoon in her right hand snapped in half, sending the top sailing across the kitchen and landing right at Nick’s feet.

“Oh!” Jayne scrambled to turn the volume down, then stood there frozen, too embarrassed to do anything other than laugh. “I … um … oops. I’m making breakfast.”

Sweat trickled down his cheek and his faded Toby Keith T-shirt clung to his chest like an extra layer of skin as he bent to scoop up the broken piece.

“Is that right?” He swiped his forearm across his face and smirked back at her. “ ’Cause it sounded more like you were trying to wake the whole neighborhood, Ringo.”

“Ringo my ass.” Carter stumbled into the kitchen, his crazy hair even wilder than normal, sweat dripping down his face. He patted Jayne on the shoulder as he walked past her to get some water. “Tico’d be proud, Jay.”

Nick tossed the broken piece of the spoon back to her then turned to go, calling back over his shoulder. “Go easy on the rest of the dishes,
Tico
.”

He was halfway through the living room before Jayne called him back.

“Are we okay?”

“ ’Course.”

“If this is a problem—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He
looked
sure, and he
sounded
sure, but he’d looked and sounded sure about Abby, too, and look how that turned out. After a few seconds, he thumbed toward the hallway.

“Shower.” Still smirking, Nick headed through to his bathroom, leaving her staring after him. She hoped he took his time because Springsteen had already started singing, and she preferred to do her Clarence Clemons imitation in private. All she needed was a ladle.

By nine o’clock, Jayne was standing beside a giant dumpster that now took up both parking spots behind her store. Over her shorts and T-shirt, she wore a white Tyvek painter’s suit, the ankles and wrists secured with electrician’s tape, and tossed on the passenger seat of her car were half a dozen dust masks, a pair of safety goggles, industrial-sized garbage bags, a shovel, and some sturdy work gloves, all courtesy of Nick.

He was going to be ticked off she didn’t wait for him to get back from his job site, but the sooner she got started, the sooner she’d be finished. She just wouldn’t think about it; she’d just do it. And she’d try not to breathe too deeply.