Jane's Gift (7 page)

Chapter Seven

“Do you need any help? Tell me what I can do.” Jane stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her sister bustle to and fro, stirring pots, checking the oven, grabbing things out of the refrigerator.

“You can keep Mom from coming in here. She’s still with all the kids in the playroom, right?” Mindy rubbed a hand over her forehead, mussing her hair. Her face was flushed, and she looked positively frantic. “You can take the pies out of the refrigerator in the garage so they thaw.”

“Thaw?” Jane grabbed an olive and popped it into her mouth. She was starving, and Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t going to be on the table for at least another two hours.

“I made the pies earlier this week and then froze them. Forgot to take all the pies out until last night and I can’t leave them on the counter. One of the kids or Marty would probably eat everything.” Mindy reached into the oven with both hands and brought out the giant turkey, setting the pan on top of the stove.

Jane watched as her sister cut open the bag she’d cooked the bird in and dipped the turkey baster into the juice at the bottom, squirting it all over the top of the turkey.

“This thing is going to be perfect. Ha!” Mindy shot Jane a triumphant grin. “Watch Mom eat her words.”

“Yeah, she’ll eat her words, along with a mouthful of scrumptious turkey.”

“Cook it all night at a low temperature my butt,” Mindy muttered as she shoved the turkey back into the oven. “This is the way to do it.
Sunset
magazine said so.”

Jane laughed and started for the door that led out to the garage. “I’ll go get your pies.” She went out into the garage, dodging the tipped-over bikes and scooters scattered across the cement floor. The garage door was open, letting in the brisk air and a view of dark, foreboding clouds hanging low in the sky.

She shivered, tucked her sweater closer to her, and swung open the refrigerator door. The interior was packed with food, every kind of soda, and a couple of extra gallons of milk. Her sister knew how to stock up.

Grabbing the two pumpkin pies that sat on the top shelf, Jane shut the door with a push of her elbow and glanced up to see her brother Mac pull into the drive.

And he wasn’t alone.

Her feet froze in place and she watched, her mouth gaping open, as Mac climbed out of the driver’s side of the car and Chris withdrew from the passenger side. Of course, he caught sight of her standing there, mouth hanging open, a stack of pies clutched in her hands. She felt like a fool.

“Hey, Janey! How’s it going?” Mac slammed his car door and approached her, a big grin on his face.

“Hi, Mac.” Her voice was weak, her knees even more so as she watched Chris walk toward her, his gaze intense, locked on her face.

As if he dared her to say something, anything.

“You remember Chris, right?” Mac flicked his head toward his friend.

Jane had to remind herself to close her mouth as a second wave of surprise coursed through her. So Chris hadn’t mentioned the time they spent together to her brother. Maybe she’d been right and he really hadn’t been that interested in her.

She should be relieved. So why was she offended?

“Of course. Hi, Chris.” She nodded at him, a polite smile on her face, and he flashed her one of those bone-melting grins right back.

As if he knew how much he affected her. Which he probably did.

“Hey, Jane. Want some help with those pies?”

“I’ve got them, thanks.” She winced, hadn’t meant to sound so haughty. To make up for it, she decided to tease. “I’m worried if either of you got your hands on Mindy’s homemade pumpkin pie you might eat it all before we even got a chance to get it to the table.”

Mac laughed and rubbed his hands together. “She’s right. Wait till you try them, Chris. My sister makes a better pie than my mom.” His expression turned somber. “But don’t ever tell my mom I said that.”

They all laughed. As they entered the house, Chris seemed to lag back, following behind her. Too close behind, she thought as she set the pies on the counter. She glared at her sister, tried to silently communicate with her.

Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?

Mindy shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
I didn’t know
, she seemed to say.

Jane fled the kitchen, went into the dining room to straighten up the table. Various appetizers were set out on plates and in bowls. Jane grabbed a couple of chips, a slice of cheese, trying to ease her growling, and now nervous, stomach.

She could go into the living room, but all the men were in there watching football, and she’d never been a big fan. Or she could go check on the kids, but they’d all gathered in the playroom with her mother, who’d been banished from the kitchen. Mindy had wanted to take over the Thanksgiving holiday this year, demanding that their mom get a break. Though Jane secretly thought Mindy needed the distraction so she didn’t have to face the disaster her marriage had become. Marty had been sullen and antisocial since Jane and the kids had arrived this morning, so she’d simply avoided him.

It was obvious he was unhappy. And so was Mindy. But Jane couldn’t do a thing about it.

She grabbed another chip, sinking it into the creamy French onion dip before popping it in her mouth. Should she go check on the kids? She knew the family touch football game would start soon and her little ones would definitely play. Besides, they were happy hanging out with Grandma.

Hopefully Mac and Chris would head into the living room, where they could drink beer and grunt at the big screen TV like the rest of the guys. That way she could avoid him until dinner was ready—and then she would just need to make sure she didn’t sit near him.

Jane hadn’t seen Chris in almost two weeks. He’d been out of town for work and had called her that following Saturday, but she’d been busy watching Mindy’s kids. The conversation had been brief, polite, and with no indication of what happened between them the last time they’d seen each other.

Yep, she’d avoided talking about it. A classic male move she’d learned from her dear late husband, as well as her brothers and father. And that was just the way she liked it.

This past week, she’d been swamped with various Thanksgiving activities at the school and at home, plus helping Mindy prepare for today. While the holiday preparations had filled her with a wistfulness for days past, of happy occasions with her husband, children, and in-laws all together at her home, where she’d hosted the dinner every year since their marriage, the week’s activities had also been the perfect distraction, allowing her not to dwell on Chris. Or on what he might want from her.

What
did
he want from her? She honestly didn’t know. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, either.

You want nothing. Absolutely nothing. Remember that.

Seeing him again made it very hard to remember that.

“Hiding out?”

Jane closed her eyes at the sound of his rumbling, deep voice, and she reached out to clutch at the edge of the table. This was exactly what she’d wanted to avoid, and yet here he was, standing right behind her.

Opening her eyes, she whirled around to face him, a smile pasted on her face. “I’m hungry. I was looking for a snack.”

“Looks like you found plenty.” Chris approached the table and stood next to her, his arm brushing against hers. She took a step sideways, arousal knocking into her stomach like a swift, hard punch. Just like that, her body reacted. And just like that, she wanted him. Wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to tell her everything was going to be all right.

God, she was weak when it came to this man. So weak it scared her.

“Take your pick,” she offered, her voice shaky. She cleared her throat, hoping he didn’t notice.

Daring to look up at him, she saw the intense glow in his golden eyes as he studied her, and she knew he hadn’t missed a beat. “I think you know what I want.”

She backed away, afraid of the temptation after hearing him say those words. He reached for her, clasped her upper arm with long, firm fingers, and she stumbled, nearly fell into him.

“Are you all right?” His brows drew down in concern. He was too close—way too close.

She wrenched free from his grasp and took a step back, then another one. “I’m fine.”

“Forget I said that, Jane. I’m not here to make you uncomfortable.” He grabbed a couple of tortilla chips and dipped one in salsa, then ate it.

“Then why are you here?” She sounded accusatory, but couldn’t help it. It felt almost planned, his being here.

“Mac invited me. He knew I had nowhere to go and had the time off. He didn’t want me to spend Thanksgiving alone. I probably would’ve ended up at the station.”

“What do you mean you have nowhere to go?”

His expression darkened, his eyes shuttered closed. Shutting her out. “I have no family close by. I’m a transplant, remember?”

“You won’t go see them?”

Chris shrugged. “My mom lives in Portland. She’s busy.”

“And your dad?”

“Is dead.”

“Oh.” Remorse filled her for prying. It was none of her business; she felt as if she’d rubbed a sore spot. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” He smiled but his gaze remained dark. “I was an only child. I don’t come from a big family like yours.”

“When I was little, my biggest dream was to be an only child. A few of my friends had no brothers or sisters, and they loved coming over to play at my house. But I always wanted to go over to theirs. I envied the quiet.” She’d go to sleep at night wishing she could wake up just once in her own bedroom, with no other siblings to deal with, her parents’ attention solely on her.

Jane had always felt lost in the shuffle, fourth out of five, the second girl and never a troublemaker. Mac had been the precious baby, Mindy had been the favored, dependable child. Patrick the responsible older brother and Cameron was the maverick.

And then there was Jane. Poor plain Jane. That’s what they’d called her in elementary school.

“How about now? Would you want to get rid of them?”

“No.” Jane shook her head, thinking of how they’d supported her right after the accident, when she’d been in a medical-induced coma and unable to take care of her children, take care of anything. They’d been there for her, helping her parents, helping her, giving her so much. “I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“I envy you that,” Chris admitted quietly, and she wanted to ask him more questions. Why was his mother too busy to see him? When did his dad die and how? Was his relationship with his mother rocky? She couldn’t imagine having a bad relationship with her parents. Her mother drove her crazy, yes, but she loved her. She loved her father, too.

“It looks like Mac has adopted you,” she said, wanting to avoid the heavy stuff. All of that would only make her fall for him even more, and she didn’t want to do that. She couldn’t.

Chris smiled. “Your brother is a good guy, a good friend.”

“He
is
a good guy,” Jane agreed. And he’d always been one to take in strays. As a child, he’d brought home endless injured animals or lost pets, begging their parents to allow them to stay. It looked as if Mac had carried the habit into adulthood.

“Jane.” Christian took a step closer and she couldn’t move, nerves making her stomach flutter, her legs waver. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable by being here. Maybe you’re right. We should—forget what happened between us before and move forward. Consider each other a friend and that’s it.”

She blinked, her eyes actually watery, and she turned away, afraid she might start to cry
.
“You’re right. It’s probably best.” She leaned over the table and brushed a few stray crumbs into her palm, then walked over to the makeshift garbage can Mindy had set up and dumped them into it. “I’m sure I’m not ready for something like this.”

“Right. Something like this.” His echo of her words sounded hollow, empty.

She ignored it. Put on a brave face instead and turned to find him standing directly in front of her, his expression…lost. As if he couldn’t quite comprehend what just happened.

Her heart cracked and she wanted to reach for him, offer him comfort, but she held back. Rubbed her hands in front of her instead, hoping to calm her nerves, stop the shaking that seemed to come every time he came close.

He watched her, his gaze dropping to her clutched hands, and he grabbed her right one, held it in his own. Turned it this way and that as if he admired it. A million tingles broke out across her skin and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything.

Friends don’t react to each other like this. Never like this.

“You have the tiniest hands I’ve ever seen.” His voice was soft, his touch gentle, and she watched, held her breath as he brought her hand up to study it close. Too close to his mouth. That sensual, beautiful mouth that knew exactly how to kiss her.

He lifted his lids, his golden brown eyes meeting hers, and she was lost, caught in his spell, everything she’d said earlier forgotten. She wanted him to kiss her again. Would give thanks on the most thankful of days if he pressed that delicious mouth on hers right at this very moment…

“Touch football game in ten!” Mac yelled from the doorway.

Jane jerked away from Chris and he dropped her hand. She turned, saw her brother standing there with a confused expression on his face, and she flashed him a smile.

“Have fun. I don’t do touch football.” She started to move past him but Mac stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

“Are you sure, Janey? You used to play every Thanksgiving.”

“I used to do a lot of things.”

She left the room, unsure of where to go. Didn’t want to be outside with the rest and watch them play, didn’t want to go back into the kitchen because even as busy as Mindy was, she’d notice Jane was upset. So she hid in the bathroom like some sort of forlorn pre-teen. Slammed the toilet lid shut and sat, burying her face in her hands.

And proceeded to cry her eyes out.

…

“What’s going on with you and my sister?”

Chris tensed, stared straight ahead. Mindy’s husband was sacking the kids before the game even started, tossing the football to Mac’s older brother Patrick. The kids ran around like squealing, whirling dervishes, bouncing off one another, giggling and shouting their demands.