Flowers on Main (34 page)

“Absolutely not,” she said at once. “If a man, a boy really, says something like that to you, then he’s not thinking about you at all. All he cares about is his own agenda.”

“That’s pretty much what Uncle Jake and Mom have said.”

Bree was relieved that Jenny had had this discussion with the two adults who mattered. She was hardly the right person to be giving advice to a teenager. Still, since the subject had come up, she felt compelled to ask, “Is your boyfriend pressuring you to have sex?”

Jenny hesitated, then nodded. “Just a little. I get why he wants to. I mean, so do I, in a way, but I’m nowhere near ready. What if I got pregnant? Nothing’s a hundred percent effective. They taught us that in school. Having a baby would totally mess up the rest of my life. I’ve got plans, you know?”

“I do know,” Bree said quietly, thinking of how an unplanned pregnancy had very nearly derailed her life. Ironically, in some ways, having the miscarriage had taken its own terrible toll. She’d lost her relationship with Jake because of how she’d handled it. She’d gotten her chance at her dream career, but even during its very best moments, it had felt tainted.

“Are you okay?” Jenny asked, studying her worriedly. “Did I say something wrong? I do that a lot. My mom says my mouth starts up before my brain kicks in.”

Bree gave her hand a squeeze. “You didn’t say anything wrong. In fact, what you said was very smart. Having sex when you’re not ready for all the possible complications is a really lousy idea.”

Jenny sighed. “I know.”

“Are you sure you can handle the pressure this boy is putting on you? Maybe it would be better to put a little space between you for a while.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” the teenager admitted. “I even tried to tell him that’s how I felt, but he said he really loved me.”

“Those are powerful words,” Bree said, choosing her own words with care. “He might be too young to really understand what they mean, or what they should mean, anyway.”

Jenny’s grin, when it came, was filled with very mature awareness. “I figured he was playing me. You don’t have to worry. Neither do Mom or Uncle Jake. I know what Dillon’s all about. I can handle him.”

Famous last words, Bree feared. This might be a private conversation that she couldn’t repeat to Connie or Jake, but she did owe it to them and even to Jenny to make sure they kept on watching the couple like hawks.

It was nearly 7:00 p.m. when Jake walked into Sally’s to grab a burger. The lights had been off in Bree’s shop when he pulled up, which had reassured him. He figured there was no chance he’d be running into her for a second time in the same day. The earlier encounter had been confusing enough.

Unfortunately, his sense of security proved false. He spotted her not two seconds after walking inside the café, sitting by herself in a booth in the back, a book open on the table next to her half-eaten salad. She was staring into space, her mind clearly on other things.

Since she hadn’t seen him yet, he had two choices. He could leave before she knew he was there or he could join her. Sitting in another booth and trying to claim later that he hadn’t
seen her wasn’t an option. Sally would, no doubt, point out her presence before he’d even settled in his own seat.

Still annoyed with himself for the way he let her keep getting to him, he steeled himself for another round and walked back to her booth. He slid in opposite her, bumping knees with her, before she even looked up. To his surprise, her expression brightened.

“What’s up?” he asked. “You almost look happy to see me. After this afternoon, I didn’t expect that reaction.”

“Yeah, well, don’t take it too personally. I just need to talk to you about Jenny. She and I had a pretty serious conversation after you left.”

He stilled at that. “About me?”

“No, about her and Dillon.”

That unnerved Jake even more. “Oh?”

He had to wait until Sally had delivered his usual glass of tea, then taken his order for a pork chop, mashed potatoes and a salad before Bree offered a reply.

“I’m not going to reveal anything specific,” she told him, “but I think you and Connie need to keep an even closer eye on her boyfriend.”

Jake immediately grasped what she was getting at. He tore the paper off his straw and jammed it into his glass of tea so hard, the plastic bent.

“This is about sex, isn’t it? Dammit, I knew that kid was up to no good! I’m going to forbid her from seeing him, period.”

Bree regarded him with amusement. “And drive her right into his arms? That’s smart.”

He sighed heavily and sat back, the tea and his mangled straw forgotten. “I suppose you have a better idea.”

“Actually, I do.”

“Care to share?”

“Spend as much time with them as you possibly can, you and Connie. I don’t mean hanging out in the same house. I mean suggesting that you all go to a football game together or even a concert, if you know there’s one they’d both like. They’ll think you’re cool for asking, and they won’t be out of your sight. Smother them with attention.”

“Jenny’s going to hate that.”

Bree shook her head. “I don’t think so. She might grumble, but to tell you the truth, I think she’ll be grateful for the backup, as long as you guys are subtle about it.” She met his gaze. “Think you can manage that?”

“Me? Subtle? Isn’t that pretty much an oxymoron? Come on, Bree. I’m no good at that kind of thing.”

“Connie is,” she reminded him.

“But she can’t deal with this alone. I usually do better with getting through to Jenny than she does. I guess it’s a mother-daughter thing.”

Even as he spoke, he recalled the fairly placid relationship Bree had with Megan years ago, but she’d been younger than Jenny was now when Megan left. And she’d never been particularly rebellious, either. Abby and Megan, however, had been through their share of turmoil, which made it all the more surprising that Abby had been the first one to forgive Megan and let her back into her life after the divorce.

“So, you want to deal with this yourself?” Bree said.

“As much as I can,” he agreed. “Sam’s no help. He and his daughter have almost no contact. I’m the closest thing she has to a dad on a day in, day out basis. I take that responsibility seriously.”

Bree nodded. “I thought you were going to say that.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a newspaper clipping for an upcoming concert in Washington, D.C., then passed it to him.
“Why don’t I order tickets and we can take them to this. I know Jenny likes this band because she’s been talking about the concert all week.”

Jake shoved aside the plate of food Sally had just set in front of him. He barely glanced at the concert ad. He was too startled by Bree’s words. “
We?
As in you and me?”

“Why not? It could be fun. And it will be less intimidating if we’re both there. It’ll seem less like you’re chaperoning.”

“And you think they’re going to be fooled by that?”

“Probably not, but Jenny will be grateful, to say nothing of delighted to see the two of us together for an evening. I gather she’s a mini-matchmaker in the making. She’s already offered to put in a good word for me with you.”

Jake groaned. “Connie’s doing. Heaven knows what stories she’s filled that girl’s head with.”

“I can summarize it if you’d like,” she taunted. “Plus, she apparently caught us kissing more than once way back when.”

He held up a hand. “Please, spare me.”

“Okay, but what do you think about the concert? Shall I order tickets tomorrow?”

“You really want to go out with my niece and the guy whose lights I’m tempted to punch out?”

“Sure. I’ll consider it a mission of mercy.”

He paused, his knife poised over the pork chop. “You want to protect that punk?” he asked incredulously.

“No, but I do want to keep you from ruining your relationship with your niece and winding up in jail in the process.”

He could see the wisdom in that. “Get the tickets,” he said at last. Protecting Jenny was more important than keeping a firm grip on his own peace of mind where his relationship with Bree was concerned. “Let me know tomorrow what they cost. I’ll reimburse you.”

“Not necessary,” she said. “After all, this was my idea. It should be my treat.”

“Let me know the cost,” he insisted.

“Fine, if that’ll make you happy.”

Happy didn’t really enter into it. This was for Jenny’s sake, he thought. He was obligated to do it.

Apparently misinterpreting his expression for misery rather than resignation—perhaps tinged with a hint of anticipation he shouldn’t be feeling—she patted his hand. “It’ll be painless, I promise.”

He gave up on his meal. The conversation had pretty much made him lose his appetite. He leaned back in the booth and studied Bree curiously. “A couple of hours ago, you didn’t want to see me again unless I’d resolved to let go of the past. What changed?”

She withdrew her hand, her expression somber. “This isn’t about us, Jake. I want that to be clear.”

“It’s you and me together for an evening,” he said. “How can it not be about us?”

“Because I said so.”

Though her logic eluded him, he was wise enough to keep that to himself. She didn’t look as if she was in the mood for an argument on the point. Instead, he just shook his head in bemusement at the twists and turns of life.

“Who’d have thought it?” he said. “You and me double-dating with my niece.”

“
We’re
not going to be on a date,” she reminded him. “We’re chaperoning, remember?”

“Potato, potahto,” he replied, enjoying the splash of bright pink coloring her cheeks.

“Not a date,” she repeated.

“Whatever you say,” he said cooperatively.

She could call it whatever she wanted to. At the end of the night, he could still make another pass like the one she’d almost succumbed to in her shop this afternoon. He had a hunch on a moonlit evening, in the shadows of her front porch, she might not be so quick to resist.

M
egan hadn’t heard from Mick since she’d been down to Chesapeake Shores for Kevin’s homecoming over two weeks ago. By her calculations that meant Kevin would be heading back to Iraq any day now, if he hadn’t left already. Though she knew Mick was probably spending every spare minute with their son, the silence grated. She’d started counting on the nightly phone calls when they talked about their children and caught up on each other’s lives. It was exactly as she’d feared. Mick was already reverting to the kind of distracted, neglectful behavior that had driven her away fifteen years ago.

She was swamped at work, which should have made it easier, but instead made her long for someone with whom she could share all the day’s frustrations. Lately she hadn’t even heard from Abby, whom she’d once counted on to be her sounding board. Now that Abby was caught up in her own life with Trace and the girls, Megan didn’t feel she could turn to her as frequently as she once had. Ironically, the loneliness that had sent her fleeing from Chesapeake Shores for the busy, electric atmosphere of New York seemed to have followed her right into the heart of the Big Apple.

When her phone rang as she was eating a late dinner—a
glass of wine and a scrambled egg, of all things—she seized it eagerly, grateful for any interruption.

“Where have you been all evening?” Mick grumbled, as if she should have been waiting by the phone for him when he eventually decided to check in.

“Out,” she replied, matching his testy tone. Let him think whatever he wanted to about that.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, shocking her.

“Ten minutes? Where are you?”

“In that deli you claimed was your favorite,” he replied. “I kept expecting you to walk in here. When you didn’t, I started calling.”

Megan was flabbergasted. “You’ve been in my deli since when?”

“Got here about six. They told me you usually stop in by seven at the latest. I think they’re starting to feel sorry for me. Here I am with flowers and champagne and no one came to my surprise party.”

“Oh, Mick,” she said, her anger melting away. “I had no idea.”

“That was the whole point. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, you have. I’ll see you in ten minutes.” That would give her barely enough time to clean up her pitiful meal and put on a fresh dash of lipstick.

“Two minutes,” he corrected. “I started walking the second you picked up the phone.”

“Oh, my,” she said, clicking off the call without even saying goodbye.

She’d barely tossed the cold eggs down the garbage disposal and freshened up when the doorman called. “Your husband’s here, Mrs. O’Brien,” Don said, sounding justifiably confused.

“He’s
not
my husband anymore,” she said emphatically.
“But you can send him up.” She figured if she didn’t correct the impression Mick was trying to make on the man, Mick would be taking all sorts of liberties. Since Don was a seventy-something grandfather of twelve, he, like her friends at the deli, liked to keep tabs on her social life. He found the fact that she didn’t date much to be troubling.

“A pretty woman like you should have a man courting her,” he said every time she wandered in alone on a Saturday night. The appearance of Mick would reassure him and the next thing she knew, she’d be finding Mick in her apartment when she was least expecting him.

She was waiting by the door when Mick walked off the elevator, bringing with him the scent of fall in New York—crisp air and roasting chestnuts. He held out a bouquet of bright yellow chrysanthemums, then swept in for a hard, lingering kiss that turned hot, even though his skin was cool from his brisk walk on a chilly November evening.

“You should have let me know you were coming,” she chided when she’d caught her breath.

“I thought you liked surprises.”

“I do, but as you’ve discovered, they can go awry.”

He looked deep into her eyes. “Were you out with another man tonight, Meggie?” Though he managed to keep his tone light, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of jealousy in his voice.