Lake Magic (24 page)

When she and Phillip had first started dating, he’d given her all kinds of notes with what he called scribbles. Now, she saw them for what they truly were: art. His talent had blown her away. No matter how many times she’d tell him he had a true gift, he’d brush her praises aside and say that if he could become a doctor and heal people, that would be a true gift.

As their relationship had grown, she’d found notes and drawings from him everywhere: tucked in her college textbooks, hidden in the library where she’d worked to help pay her tuition, and then later, left on the pillow next to hers after a night of lovemaking.

She pushed all thoughts of Phillip aside and had her sister’s number halfway dialed before she realized how late it was. Cody would be fast asleep by now. She set the phone on the small antique table next to her. She couldn’t believe the whole day had passed without her talking to him. She’d tried calling during her one brief break but hadn’t gotten an answer. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she’d get in touch with him first thing in the morning.

She took a drink of wine and wondered how her sister was dealing with the needs of her thirteen-year-old nephew. If she knew her sister—and she did—she knew the day hadn’t gone smoothly. Jenny had never dealt with responsibility well. Or at all.

Even when she was little, Jenny had loved to fly high, never worrying about how far she’d eventually fall. And why should she? Always there had been someone to catch her. First their parents, then Steven. And now, just when it looked like she was about to crash, another savior had come to her rescue.

And what a rescuer he was. Anna considered herself a levelheaded person, but at her first glimpse of Jenny’s new partner, she’d seriously gotten light-headed. Phillip was a distinguished-looking man. Steven, Mr. All-American. Jared. Jared was . . . gorgeous. There was no other word to describe him.

Leave it to her sister to land not only a partner but one who looked like a god.

Jenny had no idea what sacrifice and hard work meant. She’d never had to learn. And Anna was beginning to fear that Cody was falling into the same trap. He’d always been an outstanding student, but lately his schoolwork was barely passable, his attitude even worse. He didn’t care about anything but drawing and baseball.

Anna looked down at his sketch once more. She knew she’d told Jenny she’d try to find someone else to watch Cody next weekend, but the more she thought about it, the more Anna realized that maybe what both Jenny and Cody needed was a sharp dose of reality. For Jenny to understand—even if only for a few days—what it meant to have to worry about someone other than herself. And for Cody to see what it was like to live in a house where disorder reigned. Maybe by spending a little time with his fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants aunt, he’d come to appreciate his mother a little more.

For the first time since she’d gotten home, Anna smiled.

Where in the hell was the bar in this town?

Twice, Jared had cruised down Main Street looking for the local honky-tonk. Twice, he’d had to endure reading Hidden Lake’s idiotic business names as he scanned the windows for a bright neon sign. But nowhere between John Dough’s Pizza, the Best Little Hairhouse in Town, HosPETal, or a half-dozen other stupid-ass business names had he found the one thing he wanted.

God help him if the tavern was called Buds and Suds. He’d rather give up his left nut than toss back a couple of beers in a bar named Buds and Suds.

Then again, drinking at a Buds and Suds would be a helluva lot better than heading back to Jenny’s and eating burned hot dogs and playing games. Not that the charred food bothered him; he’d been eating her cooking all week. But he wasn’t about to go back to her house and act out some domestic scene she had concocted.

Family dinner. Play games. Talk to the kid.

Yeah, right
.

He was a total fuckup where families were concerned.

We’re sorry, Jared, but this isn’t going to work. Don’t worry, I’m sure your next foster family will be the one
.

But the next one never was. He’d lost count of how many
we’re sorry
s he’d heard during the eight years he’d been a ward of the state. It hadn’t taken him long to see how life with a foster family would pan out. Soon, it became all too apparent that there was something missing in him. Something that came naturally to everyone else. Finally he wised up and stopped trying to fit.

Why did Jenny refuse to see what was so obvious to everyone else? That’s why he’d left her house earlier today. Why he jumped on his bike and tore out of her driveway as if he was being chased by demons.

And maybe he was.

He’d made a mess of it with the kid, just like he knew he would. But somehow she thought if they all sat around, talked, everything would be okay. But Jared knew it wouldn’t. It would just get worse. Like it had every other time he’d ever tried to get close to anyone.

So for hours he’d shot down unfamiliar roads, not caring where they led, only caring that they led away. He opened up the bike and let the speed and the wind drive out his frustrations. But no matter how far he went or how long he drove, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do the one thing he wanted: leave. For good.

About an hour after he’d left her place, he’d called his realtor. The place in Mexico was still available. But for how long? With each day that passed, the possibility of losing that land grew stronger. Jared knew he shouldn’t give a shit. He tried to reason with himself that if that land sold, they’d find something else. But he knew that wasn’t completely true. It had taken months to find this isolated spot. If it sold, it would undoubtedly take them another handful of months. And Jared didn’t have that kind of time. He wanted to get the hell away—far away. Where he could try to forget that he was no longer a fighter pilot. And where he could forget Jenny.

He pushed the thought away.

As much as he wanted to get the hell out of this town, out of Jenny’s life, he knew that wasn’t an option. He did a U-turn on the deserted stretch of road and headed back to Hidden Lake. The peaks of the Olympics were a violent orange and red as the sun set.

For the second time that night, he came to Hidden Lake’s one and only intersection and tried to find a bar. Braking to a stop, he looked up and down Main, trying to figure out where to go from here. Decorative streetlamps cast yellow cones of light up and down the street. Though why the town wasted the electricity was beyond him. There wasn’t a soul—or car—in sight.

As he sat at the deserted four-way stop, he looked to the left, then the right, then back to the left. But even as he did, he knew there was only one place he really wanted to see.

Slowly, he looked up. Overhead, an ebony canvas stretched out over him. Bright stars sparkled against the dark sky, and a sliver of a moon shimmered across the still lake. Staring at the sky, with a soft wind stirring through the tall trees, he felt his chest tighten. Once, he’d owned that sky. Now . . . now he was nothing.

Pulling his gaze down, he revved his engine and thought about his options. To his right was the lake and Mrs. Murphy’s B and B. The darkened windows and drawn shades told him she was still out of town. Straight ahead was Lakeshore Drive, the winding road that hugged the shore and was populated with homes. To his left was the main road that would take him back out of town. And behind him, the way back to Blue Sky Air.

Screw it
.

If this town didn’t have a bar, he’d find a place that did. He wasn’t about to show back up at Jenny’s house too early. He wanted to make damn sure she and the kid were fast asleep when he returned.

Gunning the bike, he turned left and roared out of town. Less than half a mile out, a break in the trees caught his attention. Slowing, he turned off the main road and into a large gravel lot lit up by a handful of Mercury vapor lights. On three sides, tall evergreens surrounded a parking lot. A huge structure took up nearly three-quarters of the cleared space. The aged siding told him the building had been around for quite some time, but it had been well-kept.

There wasn’t a neon light in sight or even a Buds and Suds. The only name he saw was a crude, white hand-painted sign that read: The Sawmill. On any other night, Jared would have turned around and left. But in this town, with the parking lot packed, the doors open, and twangy country music spilling out, Jared knew he had found Hidden Lake’s one and only bar.

After angling into a parking spot, he pushed down the kickstand with his boot heel and swung his leg over the bike. Without the rumble of the v-twin engine, the music was even louder. He made his way up the wide wooden steps to the open door.

Only in Hidden Lake would a tavern be called the Sawmill. But then, the more Jared looked around, he got it. The Sawmill had obviously once been part of a working lumber mill.

The vast interior was constructed almost solely of wood. Huge clear-cut cedar beams stretched from one side to the other. Thick wide planks covered the floor. Under the bar’s lights, they glowed with a soft sheen from years of use. In the center, an enormous U-shaped bar was in full swing, as were the pool tables off to the right and the dance floor to the left. As he stared at all the couples crowded on the floor, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to dance with Jenny, to wrap his arms around her and pull her tightly to him, until all her soft curves were pressed against him. He wondered if it would be as good as he imagined and then knew it would be better. A hell of a lot better.

He jerked his gaze away.

Even with all the activity and noise, people began to note his arrival. Jared walked toward the crowded bar unfazed by the attention. With his military lifestyle, he was always the stranger rather than the regular. Finding an open spot at the bar, he waited.

It took only a moment for the bartender to make his way over. A white apron was tied around the large man’s belly, and the overhead lights gleamed off his bald head. When he spoke, Jared couldn’t help but think that his thick black mustache looked like a caterpillar. “What can I get ya?”

“Anything on tap.”

“Bud?”

“Works for me.”

The bartender disappeared and then was back with a large frosted glass foaming with beer. Jared dug out his wallet, but the bartender waved him off.

“Aren’t you that new partner of Jenny’s?”

Nothing like the small-town gossip mill. “Short sentence only.”

The bartender barked out a laugh. “Then this one is on the house.”

“Thanks.”

The bartender moved on, and Jared made his way through the crowd. Toward the far end of the dance floor, he found an empty booth near a propped-open door. The fresh air felt good, and the open door helped diffuse the god-awful music. Why did every tavern—no matter what continent he was on—think country music was the only thing people wanted to hear?

Back in the far corner, the lights weren’t quite as bright, and the high-backed booth afforded him some privacy. For the first time since leaving Jenny’s, he began to relax.

He took a long drink and leaned back against the red vinyl. He tried to tune out the whiny song about somebody being done wrong or some such crap, but the more he ignored it, the more his own thoughts pushed through.

Or, more accurately, one thought.

This time there was no pushing it away.

Jenny
.

Steven had been right; she was one tight little package. But Jared was quickly discovering there was more to Cotton Tail than met the eye. Gorgeous, hell yes. But stronger than he’d anticipated. He’d been sure that moving into her house would be enough to drive her to Mommy and Daddy to beg them for the money to pay him off. But she was standing her ground, proving him wrong. And her passion was as intoxicating as it was surprising. Instead of caving at the first spark of opposition, she seemed to grow more determined. She stood her ground, fought for what she loved. Her home . . . her business . . . her family. A grudging smile tugged at his lips as he remembered how she’d stormed to Cody’s defense. Every kid should have family like that. And then there was the information Zeke was unknowingly feeding him, about the new business ideas she had created and was implementing.

Jared took another drink. But was it a passion and desire to keep the business going that propelled her forward, or was she still clinging to Steven’s dream?

Steven had made it clear that the charter business had been his idea, his dream, and Jenny had just been along for the ride.

But was that the truth?

Yes
, he told himself. The business had been Steven’s vision. Jared would be doing Jenny (and Steven) a favor by forcing her to see the truth now, before she lost everything.

“This seat taken?”

A tall man wearing a suit slid onto the bench seat across from him.

Great. Exactly what he didn’t want: company. “Listen, mister, I—”