The First Time Again: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 3 (24 page)

Warily he looked in the direction from which the voice had come. “Over here.”

The sun was still bright and the day had been hot. Matty squinted toward the house next to Mamacita’s. A figure rose from a rocking chair on the front porch, and a young woman came into view. She held an infant against her shoulder and gently patted its back. When she smiled at Matty, he realized he knew her. Correction. He knew
of
her. Jasmine Kendall was in his class at Hendersonville High, but so far above him in social status, he’d never spoken to her. She was an honor student, a varsity cheerleader and class secretary. Although he had no yearbook of his own, he’d seen she’d been voted Best Smile as well as Most Likely to Succeed in the junior class.

He took a couple of steps up the crumbling walkway and paused. “Hi.”

She walked to the end of the porch and sent him one of those winning smiles. “I heard you’re helping Mamacita.”

“Yeah,” Matty said. He ambled closer to Mamacita’s porch. There was no reason he could think of that Jasmine Kendall would start a conversation with him.

“My cousin Cecily had twins. She’s staying here with my aunt Micheline until her husband gets out of the military. My mother decided I should help Cecily with the babies because it will discourage me from having any of my own anytime soon.” Jasmine grinned at him. He found himself smiling back. “I could come over later maybe. Visit with Mamacita.”

“Okay.”

“You’re Matty, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Jasmine. See you later, then.” She awarded him another smile and went into the house.

Matty stayed where he was a moment longer, trying to recover from the surprising discovery that Jasmine Kendall knew his name. Maybe Mamacita had mentioned it to her aunt when Matty wasn’t around. He proceeded up the steps, leaned his bike against the porch railing and secured it with the rusty bike lock. Jasmine Kendall had acknowledged his existence. Jasmine
saw
him. He had an odd, tingly sensation inside at the thought that he might be in her company again before the evening was through.

At seven thirty that evening Jasmine arrived with a plastic bowl filled with chunks of fresh melon and sliced strawberries. She greeted Mamacita with warmth and allowed herself to be held against the older woman’s bounteous bosom. Over Mamacita’s shoulder, she grinned and winked at Matty. He smiled back. He thought he’d smiled more in the past couple of hours since Jasmine had said hello to him than he had in the past month. There was something about Jasmine that made others want to smile, like she was sharing a joke everyone wanted to be in on.

In Mamacita’s kitchen Jasmine dished up the fruit like she’d been doing it forever. She knew which cupboard held bowls and where the spoons were. She treated Mamacita like an old friend, answering her questions about school and her family and going into detail about helping with her cousin’s babies.

Matty relaxed when he realized nothing would be expected of him conversation-wise. He only had to blush and duck his head when Mamacita told Jasmine how much his help meant to her and Desmond. “Your mama would be proud,” Mama told him.

Around nine thirty, Mamacita went to bed, admonishing Matty and Jasmine to behave themselves.

“We could sit on the porch,” Jasmine said after Mamacita’s bedroom door closed.

“Okay.”

Outside the air had cooled. Crickets chirped and a light breeze stirred the scent of warm flowers through the air. They took seats side by side in the old metal chairs.

“Mamacita’s the best, isn’t she?” Jasmine asked. “She used to babysit me when I was little.”

“I think she babysat everyone at one time or another.”

“Is that how you know her?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, I’ve seen you around at school. We were in geometry together last year.”

Matty offered a noncommittal grunt. He’d taken notice of her in geometry class. He’d never imagined she’d noticed him.

“You weren’t very friendly,” Jasmine informed him.

Matty turned to look at her. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You aren’t shy, are you?”

“Am I?” He wasn’t afraid to talk to anyone. But he found it prudent first to gauge the recipient’s level of interest. Otherwise conversation was a waste of time and words.

“I don’t think so.” Jasmine tilted her head to one side, studying him. “I haven’t quite got you figured out yet.”

“Why would you want to? A girl like you?”

“A girl like me?” Her teeth gleamed in the dim light. “What kind of girl is that?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t. I’m a girl. You’re a boy. Why does it have to be complicated?”

Matty shifted in his chair and gazed out at the street. Only a few cars passed by. Down the street two young boys took turns dribbling a basketball and good-naturedly taunting each other. Somewhere nearby a screen door slammed.

“I think you’re cute.”

Matty silently thanked the darkness because it covered his blush.

She tiptoed her fingers along his arm, electrifying his skin. “Do you think I’m cute?”

He could tell she was smiling, teasing him, waiting for his answer. “No.”

She withdrew her fingers. “No?”

“Cute’s like a puppy or a, I don’t know, what girls say about clothes. You’re more than that.”

“Okay, then, what am I?

Matty turned to look at her. In the dim light he could see the curve of her cheek. He’d already memorized each of her facial features, her coffee-colored eyes, the slope of her eyebrows, her smile. “You’re beautiful.”

“Every year my parents throw a Fourth of July party. Want to go?” They were watching
The Hangover
, which was one of Trey’s favorite movies. The irony had not escaped either of them. Baylee had to admit the movie was mindless, ridiculous fun. She finished chewing a mouthful of popcorn and set the bowl on the coffee table. The Christophers’ Fourth of July parties were local legend. Baylee had never been invited, but it seemed half the county had. Friends and relatives contributed food, drink, live music and fireworks. She’d heard about the barbecue pit and the fireworks display.

She still wasn’t comfortable being seen with Trey in public unless it was work-related. Luckily most of his “work” took place via conference calls and e-mails or meetings in New York or Atlanta. She didn’t mind running errands on his behalf as part of her job or driving him to his doctor or physical therapy appointments if his knee was bothering him. But the few times he’d insisted on taking her to dinner, at her request they’d driven to various restaurants in Asheville or Shelby.

She knew Trey was humoring her, and she couldn’t explain to him why she didn’t want anything about their personal relationship made public. Maybe he had shaken off the small-town minds and eyes, but she hadn’t. He’d escaped the confines of Hendersonville, North Carolina, for a time, but she had quite publicly lost her job, her husband, her career and every dime she had. At least Trey had made it big before he fell from grace. She’d been scrambling to obtain some kind of status and security in her hometown, and she’d ended up flat on her face. There was no way to hide her father’s drinking nor Matty’s juvenile record.

She wished she didn’t care, but she was pretty sure there were rumors about why her marriage had failed. Even if Scott spent most of his time in Asheville, even if he didn’t come out, there were whispers about his lifestyle Baylee couldn’t ignore. It embarrassed her to have every mistake she’d made scrutinized and examined and tutted over by the community she’d grown up in. Realistically she knew they probably didn’t give two cents about her predicament, but she couldn’t shake the sense that if she gave them more to talk about, they would. They’d positively salivate over the possibility of her liaison with the womanizing former town hero.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I know you’re ashamed to be seen with me.”

Baylee turned to stare at Trey. His gaze was fixed on the television screen. Sometimes she had a hard time telling if he was teasing her or if he was serious.

“I’m not ashamed to be seen with you,” she said.
I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
A further truth, if she were willing to admit it, wasn’t that she feared what others were saying or thinking about her. It was Trey she didn’t trust. He was too good to be true, and if she’d learned one thing the past few years, it was when something appeared to be too good to be true, it probably was.

While she would have liked to believe the fantasy she sometimes fed herself, that Trey was her Prince Charming and they’d live happily ever after, cold, hard reality had taught her otherwise. What they had now, this no-commitments-necessary relationship and mind-blowing sex, could not continue forever. Trey had admitted up front his track record with women was not good. At the time she’d thought it didn’t matter. But it did. When it fell apart, she would prefer to pick up the pieces in private.

He turned his attention away from the television and pinned her with his gaze. “Yes. You are.”

She’d hurt him, she could see. Telling him the truth would hurt him more, but she didn’t see a way around it. “I’m scared.”

He muted the television. “Of what?”

“I’m not sure. Remember when you told me you don’t have a good track record?”

Trey nodded.

“What if it continues?”

Trey’s jaw clenched. His gaze cooled. “I screwed up and the whole damn world knows it. I crawled back inch by inch. It wasn’t easy, but I cleaned up my act. I’ve tried to make amends, but no one wants to give me a second chance. All they remember is that I let them down. Everybody’s so sure I’ll do it again, they’re waiting for it to happen. I thought with you—ah, hell, forget it.” Trey stood and stormed out of the room.

Baylee scrambled after him. “Don’t you walk away. You thought with me what?”

He’d made it to the kitchen. He whirled on her so fast, she skidded to a halt and had to take a step back. “I don’t have a history with you. I get to start fresh. Get it right the first time.”

“You have a history with me.”

“What?”

“Come here.” She took his hand and led him to the swing on the back porch. He sat willingly enough, and she sat sideways, facing him, tucking her knees up near her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I used to come here as a child with my grandparents. Millie and Rufus Gruber. Do you remember them?”

“Grandma J and Grandpa Mike had a lot of friends.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you remember them or not. What matters is I came with them a few times when they visited and you were here, usually with a bunch of your rowdy boy cousins or friends. I don’t know who they were, but none of them wanted anything to do with me. Including you.”

“We were kids,” Trey said defensively.

She nudged him with her toe. “Stop interrupting. But there was one time when I came with my grandparents and you were here by yourself. You asked me if I wanted to go down to the creek with you.” Baylee could still remember the blond, blue-eyed Trey, stubbing the toe of his sneaker in the dirt, pinning her with his gaze when he offered the invitation.

Maybe that’s when her crush started. She’d been wary, but without his gang around, Trey’d seemed as vulnerable and unsure of himself as she was. She fell into step with him, and they’d cut through the orchard to the trickle of water that ran through the Pritchards’ land. He and the other boys had built a crude tree house in the branches of an old oak tree. They’d hammered unstable pieces of wood into the trunk for steps. After Trey climbed up, swiftly and sure of himself, she took hold of the highest plank she could reach and pulled herself up, first one rung and then the next. Trey peered over the edge of the uneven platform. “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.”

Baylee looked up at him, reached for the next handhold, hoisted herself up and screamed when the crude piece of wood came away from the trunk. She fell awkwardly, with an “Oomph” of surprise, her right ankle twisting when it hit the hard dirt.

Trey sent her one horrified look, then swung himself off the platform and climbed down the planks like a monkey, jumping to the ground from the second one.

“You okay?”

Baylee nodded even though she was having trouble getting air into her lungs. From behind, Trey pushed her into sitting position. He gazed up where the broken step had been. “We’re going to need some more nails. And another piece of wood.” The broken one lay in two pieces on the ground nearby.

“We can catch tadpoles,” he informed her, quickly offering an alternative form of entertainment.

“Okay.” Baylee would have agreed to almost anything to remain in his company.

He offered her his hand to help her to her feet, but when she got there, she yelped and fell against him. She lifted her foot and stared at her ankle, which was swollen to twice its normal size.

Trey stared too. “Wow, cool. Look how big it is. I bet you sprained it. High five.” Baylee stared at his offered palm. He wasn’t kidding. Her injured ankle evidently garnered some sort of male respect. She slapped his palm with hers.

She was still leaning on him, holding her injured ankle off the ground. She could smell his unique boy scent, a mix of perspiration and heat from the sun, and something else, something underlying it all that was just him. “I bet I can carry you.”