A Word with the Bachelor (10 page)

Not for lack of trying. At first what kept her there was the prospect of more assignments and travel. Now she was staying for the man. God help her.

“He wasn't warm and fuzzy when I showed up, but I've seen a lot of layers to him.” Naked didn't count.

“Okay, then. I trust your instincts.”

She wasn't so sure that was prudent. “I'll do my best.”

“Just keep doing what you're doing,” Cheryl said. “I've got another call and need to take it. We'll talk next week?”

“Sure. Bye.”

Erin clicked off and the best she could say about the conversation was that she still had a job. Even though it didn't feel that way because she didn't have anything to do.

This might be a good time to stock up on office supplies. Based on Jack's modus operandi the last couple of days, he'd be locked in his office indefinitely and wouldn't know whether she was around or not. But she left a note next to her laptop on the kitchen table in case he came looking for her. Then she grabbed her purse along with the keys to her rental car and headed out for the town of Blackwater Lake.

During one of their trips to town, Jack had driven by Office Supplies and More, which was on Blue Sky Street, just off Main. She parked in the lot and entered through the back door. The baskets—hand held and rolling—were kept up front by the cash register. She walked past the counter where a cute, petite teenage girl was standing.

“Welcome to Office Supplies and More,” she said automatically.

“Thanks,” Erin replied just as automatically.

“Can I help you find something?”

She scanned the aisles and noted that there were signs clearly identifying where things were located. Pens and pencils. File folders. Notes. Calendars. There was nothing exotic on her list so this should be easy. “I'm just going to browse.”

“If you can't find something, just let me know.”

“Will do.”

Erin picked a rolling basket, which would hold more, then decided to go from one end of the store to the other. Step by step and logical, the complete opposite of the way things had gone for her from the moment she'd met Jack Garner.

“Never too late to turn things around,” she muttered to herself.

From what she'd observed of his office, Jack did a lot of his writing on legal pads, probably blocking out a scene in longhand while his subconscious churned on ahead and ideas came flooding in. She put a box of mechanical pencils in the basket.

On the paper aisle she found a giant economy package of yellow legal pads and grabbed it. Sticky notes in different sizes and colors were next to go in. Those were all over the place on his desk.

And in the bottom drawer he kept condoms. Probably not purchased from the office supply store. The memory of being with him put a hitch in her breathing and regret in her heart. Everything had changed after sex. He'd opened up about Harley and there was that “aww” moment with his army buddy's widow. Since then he'd been avoiding her as if she had cooties. She even missed obnoxious, abrasive Jack and that was pretty pathetic.

After adding highlighters and file folders to her basket she wheeled it to the check out counter, where a pretty, blue-eyed blonde just beat her in line.

“Hi, Miss Fletcher—” The teenager stopped and shook her head. “I'm sorry. Mrs. Miller.”

“Don't worry about it, Glenna. I'm still not used to the married name.”

Maybe it was loneliness, but Erin couldn't resist. She asked, “How long has it been? Since you were married, I mean.”

“Seven weeks.” She smiled dreamily, then looked more closely. “We haven't met. My first name is Kim.”

“I'm Erin Riley. Are you any relation to Sheriff Fletcher?”

“He's my brother.”

“And more,” Glenna chimed in. “He was the man of honor at her wedding.”

“Like a maid of honor, only a guy,” Kim added.

“I met him at Bar None. Big guy. Major hunk factor. I'm trying to picture him in a bridesmaid's dress and just not loving it.”

“He agreed to the job and was absolutely the best. But he drew the line at a dress or carrying flowers.” Kim laughed. “Will mentioned meeting you at Bar None with Jack Garner. You're his research assistant.”

Sort of. Her job description was kind of fluid at the moment. “I work with Jack.”

“Talk about hunk factor—” Kim blew out a long breath. “I've seen him a couple times at Bar None. He's Heathcliff and Mr. Darcy rolled into one.”

“If you're saying he's a brooding loner, you would be absolutely correct.”

“Sorry. That was my inner literature geek talking. I teach honors English at Blackwater Lake High School.”

“So do I. I mean the teacher part. I'm a substitute in Phoenix. My current assignment is temporary.” Saying it out loud stopped her cold. The idea of leaving was remarkably unappealing. It's not the way she'd felt when her time with Corinne Carlisle was up.

“Mrs. Miller is the best English teacher I ever had,” Glenna interjected. “All the kids want to be in her class.”

“I love my job and that helps. I enjoy working with kids, although it's not for the faint of heart. But you know that.”

“I do.”

“Is that why you're moonlighting? Working for a famous author?”

Erin smiled. Jack was many things but definitely not for the faint of heart any more than teaching. “I just love the written word. The way each one is put together in dialogue and paragraphs to tell a story. And Jack is very good at what he does.”

Kim's expression turned thoughtful. “I've got some kids in my honors class who are natural storytellers. They might get some valuable information from Jack Garner. And even for the students who aren't great writers it might spark an interest in reading. It's hard to get across to them how important it is, so anything out of the ordinary might jump-start them. Do you think he might be interested in talking to the kids about what he does?”

“I can ask.”

“That would be so awesome,” Glenna said.

“What have I told you about the word
awesome
?” Kim's expression was teasing.

“It's overused. Exercise your brain and come up with something more creative,” the teen said, obviously parroting what was preached in class.

“Exactly.” The teacher beamed. “But it would be pretty awesome if he would say yes.”

Erin didn't want to burst her bubble, but the odds of being struck by lightning were probably better than convincing Jack to give a motivational talk to high school kids.

“I'll mention it to him,” she agreed. “But you may have noticed. He's not particularly social. Please, don't get your hopes up about him.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when Erin realized that same warning could apply to her. She was teetering on the edge of having feelings for Jack and somewhere deep inside she wanted him to return them.

She really should heed her own advice and not get her hopes up about that ever happening.

Chapter Ten

J
ack was standing outside the marina store with Brewster Smith when he saw the rental car return. Erin got out and something inside him relaxed. He'd come downstairs expecting to see her and found the note she left. It crossed his mind that he'd pushed back a little too hard on her reading the chapters and she'd had enough. Left before he'd learned to cook for himself. That reminder about her being gone soon had struck a nerve.

She glanced in their direction and waved, then set a couple of bags on the front porch before walking down the slight hill to join them. Harley ran ahead to meet her and she dropped to one knee and enthusiastically rubbed him all over.

Jack wouldn't mind if she greeted him that way and his body tightened at the thought of having her in his arms and getting her naked.

Not necessarily in that order.

But there was one problem with the scenario. Another intimate encounter would be like walking into an enemy ambush without body armor or a weapon. That's why he was maintaining a safe zone. Although keeping it up was taking a toll.

She gave Harley one more rub, then stood and walked over to them. “Hi.”

“I see you made it to town and back,” Jack said.

“Did you get my note?”

“Yes.” For some reason it wasn't especially reassuring.

“Then what's the problem?” she asked.

“You were gone for a while” was the best he could come up with.

“Did I make it home before curfew?” She lifted one eyebrow before smiling brightly at the older man. “How are you, Brewster?”

“Fit as a fiddle. Yourself?”

“Fine. How is Mrs. Smith's cold?”

“Stubborn. Like her.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “But better. Although she still has a pretty bad cough.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Has she gone back to work yet?”

Brewster shook his head. “Someone is covering for her at the thrift store. She's getting impatient, though.”

“That's a good sign. I wish I could do something to help. Maybe a batch of chicken soup?”

“Lucy Bishop already brought some over.” His blue eyes twinkled. “But Aggie wouldn't mind some of your macaroni and cheese.”

“I don't believe she's ever had it.” Erin laughed. “But I'll whip some up for you to take home to her.”

“If it's no trouble.”

“Not at all. It's easy.”

Jack watched her relate to the older man with a potent combination of friendliness and charm. She made it look effortless, natural. Dangerous to him. She'd been in town about two hours and he'd noticed. The house had never felt empty before. Not until her. That was too damn close to missing her.

“So you went to town?” Brew asked.

“Yes. All the stores are decorated for Halloween. Pumpkins, ghosts, skeletons. Spiderwebs up in the windows. It's so cute. I bet Christmas is really something here.”

The old man nodded. “We're all about holidays in Blackwater Lake. In fact there's a big costume party at the community center for Halloween.”

“Do you and Mrs. Smith go?”

“Wouldn't miss it.” He looked at her, then Jack. “You coming?”

“I don't know.” She looked as if she wanted to.

“Worried about a costume?”

“Maybe,” she admitted.

“Thrift store. Good place to get ideas.” Brew nodded then glanced up at the house. “So what's in those bags you brought back?”

“That's what I'd like to know,” Jack said.

“Stuff to make you a better writer.” She grinned wickedly.

He wondered if she'd read the chapters yet and found what she thought about his writing really mattered to him. “What's wrong with my work?”

“Not a thing,” she assured him. “Love the beginning, by the way.”

Did she really? Or was she just being nice in front of Brewster? Give him body armor and a tactical mission and he was secure and confident. But coughing his guts onto a page? The doubt made him feel like a teenage boy afraid to ask a girl out on a date. Later he would grill Erin for her real opinion.

“So what did you get that's going to make me brilliant?”

“Sticky notes. Index cards. Pencils. Highlighters.”

Brewster scratched his head. “That's just stuff.”

“Writers love stuff,” Erin explained. “It makes them feel empowered.”

“That true?” the man asked him.

“Yes.” Jack slid his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans.

“Seems to me ideas come from here.” Brewster tapped a finger to his temple. “Taking your head out for a spin now and then couldn't hurt.”

“He means filling up the creative well.” Erin's tone clearly said “I told you so.”

“I know what he means,” Jack said.

“Talking to people is fun. You should try it sometime.”

Apparently it was too much to hope her needling would be contained in front of the older man. “I have no beef with talking. It's people that are the problem.”

She got a funny look on her face. “Have you ever talked to kids?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“You offered to talk to Maggie's daughter about her dad,” Erin pointed out.

“That's different.”

In the waning daylight Jack studied her. Something was up. He knew her and this wasn't idle banter. There was something on her mind and he wasn't going to like it.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She folded her arms over her chest and met his gaze.

“Something's going on. You might as well come clean.”

She stared at him for a few moments, then nodded. “It's Saturday in Blackwater Lake—”

“The edited version,” he suggested.

“I ran into Kim Miller—”

“Who?”

“She's Sheriff Fletcher's sister. You remember him. Your friend from Bar None, the place where you take your inner writer out for a spin to make friends?”

“I know who he is. It's her I don't have a clue about.”

“She teaches honors English at Blackwater Lake High School.”

The dots were not yet connected but he had a bad feeling about this. “So you two bonded over teaching Shakespeare. I felt the ripple in the Force all the way out here.”

She tilted her head and gave him a you're-going-to-the-principal's-office look. “Sarcasm is so unattractive. And you're going to feel really bad when I get to the good part.”

“Regret is my middle name. Go for it.”

“Kim is a fan of your work. And a teacher. A good one, according to Glenna.”

“Who is Glenna?”

“She works at Office Supplies and More. And she's one of Kim's students.”

“And what does her opinion have to do with anything?”

“She's a fan of Kim's. As a teacher myself I can tell you that a good educator never overlooks a teachable moment. She's hoping to highlight the importance of reading. And when you think about it, giving of your time is an investment in job security. You need readers to buy the books you write.” Erin glanced at Brewster, who seemed to be enjoying this back-and-forth a lot. “Kim wants you to speak to her honors English class about what it's like to be a career writer.”

Jack had his doubts about whether or not he had a career as a writer. He'd sucked at being a son and husband. Soldiering was the only thing he'd ever been good at. And his publisher had sent him a babysitter to get this book done. How could he talk to kids when he didn't know what the hell he was doing?

“You shouldn't have promised,” he told her.

“I didn't. Just said I would ask you.”

“Mission accomplished and the answer is no.”

“Why, Jack?”

He was an imposter? Had nothing to say to them? A guy like him was not a good role model for impressionable teens?
Pick one of them
, he thought.
Or all of the above
.

“How about I don't have time,” he finally said.

“Baloney.” She put her hands on her hips and might have been glaring at him. The sun had just disappeared behind the mountains throwing them into shadow so it was hard to tell. “It won't take more than forty-five minutes to an hour. You'd lose a couple of pages but those kids are giving up valuable instruction time. Because their teacher believes it's important. I do, too.”

Damn it. Those words turned out to be heavy artillery because, for reasons unclear to him, he didn't want to disappoint her.

Maybe just one more try to back her off. “Now isn't a good time.”

“You could live anywhere you want, but you settled in this town.” Brewster didn't butt into a conversation unless he had something to say. Apparently he did now and it wasn't good. He wasn't smiling.

“That's just an address,” he countered.

“Not in Blackwater Lake. If you're bleeding or on fire folks call 911. For anything else they pitch in when asked. They share what they've learned, what they know.”

“What if they don't have anything to share?”

“You'd be surprised. Won't know unless you try,” the old man said. “And you try because being neighborly is a way of life here. If you don't get involved, the magic of this place doesn't work.”

Jack kept his mouth shut even though he wanted to ask, “What magic?” The grizzled, practical old guy talking about it at all was enough to get his attention. If he said no now it would look like he had a heart the size of a sunflower seed. He knew when he'd been outflanked. “Okay. I'll talk to them.”

Erin smiled, a cheerful, satisfied smile. As if she'd known he would give in. “You won't regret it, Jack.”

“I'm pretty sure that's not true.” The look on her face irked him so he added, “I'll do it on one condition.”

“Oh?”

“I'll talk to the class, but you're coming with me.”

She saluted, being a complete smart-ass. “Yes, sir.”

Her job was to take care of him—body, mind and spirit. His body was pretty happy what with being well fed and the spectacular sex. She'd managed to touch his mind, too, in ways she didn't even know. But he had his doubts about the spirit thing.

Still, he figured the job description included having his back while attempting to communicate with teenagers.

God help them.

And him.

* * *

Erin wouldn't exactly say Jack looked afraid to go into the high school classroom, but it was a good bet that facing heavily armed enemy combatants was a more comfortable fit. The two of them stood just outside Kim Miller's room while teenagers swarmed up and down the hall, hurrying to their last class of the day.

After Jack's less-than-enthusiastic agreement to show up, Erin had contacted the teacher and they'd agreed Friday would be best. With the weekend staring them in the face, the kids were restless anyway and they'd probably learn more from Jack. Judging by his dark and brooding expression, he didn't agree.

“Take a deep breath, Jack. The kids are going to love you.”

“Why?” He shot her a don't-give-me-that-crap look. “It's too late for a personality transplant and no one has ever accused me of being charming or approachable.”

“Doesn't mean you aren't.”

“Seriously?”

“Never too late to turn over a new leaf.” She met his gaze, trying to infuse him with some of her optimism. The dark look in his eyes didn't falter. “Come on. Embrace the moment. You're just here to talk to them.”

“About what?”

“Didn't you prepare some notes?” Now she had a knot in her stomach.

“No.”

Oh, boy. The hall was much less crowded now. In a few minutes there would be some kind of signal to let students know they'd better be in their seats. And Jack had nothing ready for the class he would face. She was his research assistant/book coach. This situation was the equivalent of thirty seconds left on the clock in a football game, just enough time for one or two plays to win the game. It came down to coaching and she had to give him something.

“Okay, this is basically the same principle as writing what you know.”

He stared at her. “Not even close. Two different things.”

“What I mean is, start out by telling them your personal story. You know yourself.” Better than anyone, she thought. “Talk about you.”

“That will take fifteen seconds.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. This man was complicated. She could talk about him for hours. “Give them the high points. Maybe five minutes or so. Then open it up to questions.”

“And if there aren't any?”

“You thank them for not hitting you with spitballs and we leave. It will give us more time to poke through the thrift store for Halloween costume ideas.”

“What?”

“We're shopping.”

“Torturing teens isn't enough? You want to torture me, too—”

A loud signal broadcast over the school's public address system interrupted his protest. “Saved by the bell,” she said.

With the kids in their seats, Kim saw them in the doorway, smiled and motioned them to come in. “Class, I have a surprise for you. The test will be on Monday. Anyone who didn't study just got a reprieve.” There was a collective sound of relief. “We have a guest speaker.”

Erin nudged him farther into the room, where about twenty teens sat in several rows. The teacher's flat-top desk was in the front with the chalkboard behind her. They walked over and Erin introduced him to Kim.

“I'm a big fan,” she said, gushing.

“Thanks.”

In a low voice Erin said, “I'm going to sit in the back. You'll be great.”

“I'll get even with you,” he muttered.

She slipped quietly to a chair against the rear wall, trying not to be a distraction, but there was no worry about that. The guys stared at him in awe and the girls were smitten at first sight. It was like being in the same room with Indiana Jones.