Always and Forever (17 page)

But the fact that she’d fallen much harder for Jamal than she had for Kevin—than she had for
any
man—was the major difference when it came to the anticipated recovery time for this particular broken heart. This recovery would take forever.

She gave herself a mental shake and got back to work. The quicker she was done here, the quicker she could move on.

An hour later, as she wiped down the mantel in the parlor, an eerie feeling tiptoed down Phil’s spine. Seconds later, she heard a rumbling coming up the driveway. She left the dust cloth on the mantel and went out the front door onto the porch.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as Jamal’s black-and-chrome pickup truck pulled to a stop and the driver’s side door opened. When he stepped out, Phil’s heart ached at the sight of him.

Time stood still as they stared at each other across the expanse of the front yard. After several long, uncomfortable moments, Jamal broke the silence.

“I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” he said.

Phil had to clear her throat before speaking. “I have a job to do,” she said.

He closed the door to the truck and took a few steps forward. He stuffed his hands in his front jeans pockets then pulled them out again and ran a palm over his head and down his face. His fidgeting was unnerving, but Phil maintained her composure as best she could.

“Is that the only reason you’re here?” he asked. “Are you leaving once the job is done?”

“I figured that’s what you would want,” she managed to get out.

Jamal shook his head; the sincerity shining through his eyes pierced her heart. “No,” he said. “I don’t want you to leave, Phylicia.”

Phil’s chest expanded with the deep breath she pulled in. She was afraid to read too much into his words, afraid to hope. In a few strides, Jamal was on the porch, standing before her.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

Phil shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I have never spoken to a woman the way I spoke to you. Phylicia, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for how I treated you back in Arizona. I’ll never forgive myself for sending you away the way I did.”

“I stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong,” Phil said.

“Don’t make excuses for me. You were trying to make me see what I was too stubborn to see for myself. You were trying to give me my family back.”

Phil nodded. She couldn’t speak even if she tried.

“You were right.” After a beat, he said, “I talked to my father.”

Instant tears sprang to Phil’s eyes, her throat clogging with emotion.

Jamal gave a slight shrug. “We didn’t instantly hug and put the past behind us, but things...they’re better. We’re going to work on our relationship.”

“Oh, Jamal, I’m so happy for you,” Phil said. She pulled her trembling lips between her teeth, trying her hardest to rein in her emotions. “That’s all I wanted for you,” she continued. “I swear I wasn’t trying to intrude or force you to do something you didn’t want to do. I just didn’t want you to live with the same regrets I live with every day.”

“I know,” he said, taking her hands and placing a kiss upon her fingers. “And because of you, I won’t. Because of you, I’m moving forward and not wasting another minute hiding from my future. I bought the house on Saint Charles Avenue, Phylicia. J. Johnson Architectural Design will open its doors by the spring.”

Phil grabbed his face between her hands and pulled it toward her. “I am so proud of you,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s going to be amazing. Just wait.”

“I know it will,” he said. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. “Thank you for not giving up on this house, or on me. Thank you for challenging me to be a better man.”

Her eyes slid shut, the love pouring through her suffocating in its intensity. “I love you so much, Jamal,” Phil said.

“Not as much as I love you,” he returned. “I never thought this kind of love was possible, Phylicia. And it wasn’t, not until I found you.”

Epilogue

U
sing her foot to slide open the pocket door that led to Belle Maison's dining room, Phil carried in another batch of homemade biscuits and a pot of steaming coffee, replenishing the cups of the ten guests seated around the large table. The bed-and-breakfast had been open only for a week, but already it felt like a warm, inviting home that had never been unoccupied.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asked one of the women who was part of a trio of friends from Pensacola.

“You can get me about five jars of these strawberry preserves,” the woman answered.

“Sorry,” Phil answered with a laugh. “It's not for sale.”

“Well, it should be,” the woman said. “It's one of the best I've ever had. You should package this and sell it. You'd make a killing.”

“Thank you.” Phil beamed. “It's my grandmother's recipe. She used to make it right here in the kitchen of Belle Maison. I'll bring out more, along with some of the honey. It's also made here in Gauthier.”

“I just love this little town,” the woman said.

“There's a lot to love about it,” Phil said, pride blossoming in her chest.

She cleared the plates of several of the guests and carried them back into the kitchen, depositing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher—one of her concessions to modernizing the Victorian. If the reservations continued to pour in the way they had over the past couple of weeks, Belle Maison's new caretaker, who was scheduled to arrive next week, would have enough on her hands without adding hand washing dirty dishes to her plate.

A part of her resented the thought of someone else coming in to run the B&B. This week had been challenging, but Phil couldn't deny that she'd enjoyed it. Seeing the faces of the guests as they took in all of the nuances of her family's home was so satisfying. She'd loved giving tours this week, imparting anecdotes about what it was like to grow up here.

She'd even enjoyed the cooking, something she hadn't done in a long time.

Jamal came up behind her and buried his face against her neck, pressing a quick kiss to the sensitive spot under her ear. “I had no idea you knew your way around the kitchen,” he said. “I think it's sexy.”

“Sexy, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. He nibbled her ear. “You know what would be even sexier? If you were wearing those denim overalls you work in. But just the overalls. No shirt underneath.”

“Um, that would leave me pretty exposed.” Phil laughed even as a seductive little tremor of need raced across her skin.

“That's the point.”

Phil slapped him on the arm and handed him the jar of strawberry preserves and the honey from Claude Babineaux's honey farm. “Bring this out to your guests, and remind them that the van will be arriving in a few minutes to bring them on their tour of downtown Gauthier.”

“Will you be waiting for me in those overalls when I clear the people out of this house?” he asked. “We haven't christened the kitchen yet, have we?”

They'd christened every room in the B&B—some twice.

“You know what?” Jamal continued. “On second thought, forget the overalls. Just you on the kitchen table will work for me.”

The naughty tremors that rushed down Phil's spine made her itch with anticipation, but her body's demands would have to wait.

“No fooling around today,” Phil told him. “Mya is waiting for me. The civic association is putting the finishing touches on the Christmas decorations in Heritage Park. I promised her I would help.”

Jamal's incredulous frown wrung out a laugh from her. “You would pick hanging decorations over wild sex on the kitchen table?” he asked.

Phil's body released a mournful sigh, but whatever she didn't get to experience on the kitchen table would be more than made up for in Jamal's bed tonight. Or her bed. It didn't matter which one they used. For the past two weeks they had not spent a single night alone, and Phil had no desire to ever do so again. She needed this man in her life. And, thank God, he seemed to need her just as much. The engagement ring he'd placed on her finger a few days ago said it all.

“Fine,” he said. He leaned over and placed a kiss on her lips. “Are we going to pick up your mom this afternoon?”

“Yes,” Phil answered. “Dr. Beckman thinks she will be okay for a few hours. It's been a long time since she's seen Gauthier. Maybe it'll spark something in her memory.”

“I hope so,” Jamal said with another kiss. She would never, ever get tired of his kisses.

He reached his hand behind her and gave her butt a healthy pat. “Leave this mess. I'll take care of it. I want you to finish up with Mya so we can have a little free time before we have to pick up your mom.”

Phil shook her head. “You really can't wait until tonight?”

He shrugged. “Probably, but give me a good reason why I should.”

Phil's brows lifted. “You know what? I can't think of one.” She slapped him on the behind. “I'll clear the table. And, Jamal?” She reached over and took the jar of honey from his hand. “I can think of a better use for this.”

A wickedly sexy smile broke out across his face.

“God, I love an insatiable woman.”

* * * * *

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ISBN: 9781460300800

Copyright © 2013 by Farrah Roybiskie

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