See Jane Fall (7 page)

“Who lost her father?” he asked gently.

“Wh-what?”

“You said
were
brothers. You can’t
undo brothers. I assume one brother, um, one
father
passed
away?”

“M-mine. I was raised by my uncle. My
father’s twin.”

He couldn’t get a read on what was going on
in her head, but her face was softening as she gazed at him. Her
olive-green eyes searched his face intently and she looked like
someone had just shocked the hell out of her, and like she wanted
to cry.

Talking about losing someone you loved
can do that
, Lars knew from experience.

“I’m really sorry,” he said.

Those vulnerable eyes searched his. Finally,
she shook her head, and he watched as her face softened all the way
to tenderness as she stared at him.
For me?

No, Stupid. She’s thinking about her father,
not you.

“I’m sorry, Jane,” he offered again.

“It was a long time ago.”

Her shoulders relaxed as she said this, and
she offered him a small smile. He reached out and bumped his
knuckles tentatively against the side of her thigh on the seat
beside him.

“Doesn’t matter how long…It fades a little,
but it doesn’t ever stop hurting.”

“Who did you lose?” she asked softly. She
glanced down at his hand, but didn’t say anything, so he kept it
where it was, lightly grazing her jeans.

“My mom. Cancer.”

“Car crash. Both my parents. When I was
ten.”

He winced. “Oh, no. No!
Both
of your
parents? Aw, Jane, that’s…I’m so sorry.”

She placed her hand beside his on the seat
and he gently hooked his thumb under hers. He watched as her
fingers curled softly around his.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her husky voice
even deeper with the emotion.

When he looked back up at her, her green
eyes were slightly glassy. He leaned closer to her, mesmerized,
vaguely aware that if he kept staring at them he might do something
stupid.

She looked away suddenly, squeezing then
releasing his hand and smiling up at him—that wonderful minx-y
smile he was starting to like so much—and lowered her
sunglasses.

“You said
sightseeing
, right?”

He smiled back at her, nodding. Something
unspoken had passed between them, and he felt it, and sensed she
did too. Anyway, she was smiling again and it sure wouldn’t be hard
to get used to that smile.

***

Jane was surprised by how appealingly quaint
she found Gardiner’s Main Street, probably owing to its connection
with and proximity to Yellowstone. She tried to stay focused on the
various stores and businesses Lars was pointing out as they
strolled along, but she was having trouble composing her thoughts.
She was all turned around. What had just happened to her in Lars’s
truck had never, ever happened to her.

When she’d realized he wasn’t aware of the
close familial connection between her and Samara, she’d braced
herself for what always came next. She always found it awkward, and
sometimes downright painful, to settle into a friendly relationship
with someone, then to have them realize she was Samara’s cousin and
look her up and down, wondering why Samara got daintily brushed
with pixie dust and Jane got whacked with the average stick.

Sometimes they registered total and complete
shock before narrowing their eyes and inspecting her face and body
for similarities. Finding none, their reactions would vary.

Once or twice, people in the modeling
business had actually cringed looking at her, mentally comparing
her to her stunning cousin, and finding her lacking. In fairness,
most people were decent enough to just look a little
uncomfortable—sorry for her, maybe, shrugging good-naturedly as if
to say
You can’t win ’em all
. The
most
tactful
people—who were few and far between in the beautiful world of
modeling—just smiled and nodded, probably assuming Jane had been
adopted, because there was no way the two women could possibly
share such similar DNA and look as differently as they did.

He clearly hadn’t known she was Samara’s
cousin; his face had registered total surprise. So, she’d taken off
her glasses and faced him, making it easy for him to stare at her,
make his mental comparison, find her lacking, cringe—or whatever
else he needed to do—and get the whole mortifying ritual over
with.

She wanted to weep when it didn’t happen. He
didn’t inspect her like a third-rate cow at a state fair. Instead,
he asked about her father, told her how sorry he was, shared how
much he missed his own mother. It made her lonesome heart contract
with longing at the unexpected goodness of it, the sweetness of the
reprieve, his sheer kindness. And something substantial shifted
inside of Jane—something instinctually inconvenient and risky to
her heart—as she searched his handsome face for censure and found
none. In that moment Lars Lindstrom felt…
possible
.

She took a deep breath of air into her
lungs, trying to get out of her head, but familiar doubts already
started creeping in.

Don’t fool yourself. He is out of your
league, Jane. This will end badly if you don’t let go of it
now.

She shushed the voice in her head, but it
was persistent in its concern.

What’s gotten into you today, Jane? Turning
off your phone? Calling Samara Sara? Walking beside Lars Lindstrom
right now like it could actually go somewhere? Like he could ever
actually be interested in a Plain Jane like you? Make no mistake;
if you get involved with him, he will dump you the moment Samara
gets to town. Stop throwing caution to the wind. Remember Ben.
Protect yourself before you get hurt.

She looked up at him. He was pointing out a
bridge up ahead and saying something about the Yellowstone River,
talking animatedly, smiling at her, then gesturing behind them,
talking about the source of the river. She nodded at him with a
vague grin, but she hadn’t paid attention to a word he was saying.
They paused at the bridge, leaning over the railing at the rushing
water below. Finally he turned to her. She could feel his eyes.

“Hey, you know who you kind of remind me of
a little bit?”

She looked up. He leaned on the railing,
staring at her and she felt her heart leap in her chest beholding
those light blue eyes, so searing, so fixed.

She swallowed. “Who?”

“Did you ever see that show
Felicity
?
When the main character cut her hair? It sort of looked like yours
does. Curly and cheerful. Like yours.” He smiled at her, and
reached out, pulling on a curl gently, then watching it spring
back.

She felt the heat flush her cheeks from his
unexpected compliment and fended it off with a saucy rejoinder,
“So, are you big into the chick shows, or…”

“Nah. My Mom liked that one. I pretended I
hated it. But, I—” He shrugged, dropping his hand and turning away
from her.

“You watched it with her.”

He nodded, still looking out at the river.
The sun was getting a little lower now, so Jane took off her
sunglasses, tucking them into the front of her tank top. He looked
over at her and she watched his eyes flick to her breasts, linger
for a moment, and then return back to her face.

Now his cheeks started to color.

Oh, my God. He just checked out my rack and
blushed!

She couldn’t resist teasing him as he had
teased her in the car.

“I’ve heard if you
take a picture it
lasts longer
. Do you want to borrow my camera or anything? You
might need the zoom lens, but you can use it if you want…” She
wiggled, letting the camera strap slip down her shoulder.

His face was an appealing shade of salmon as
he half smiled at her sheepishly. “You stole my line.”

“
Yours
? You stole it from Pee Wee
first.”

“You’re trouble, Minx.”

“Aw, I’m harmless.” She shoved hands in her
back pockets, which pulled her shoulders back and flaunted her
measly—but apparently, compelling—assets.

“Mmm. Harmless my ass.”

“Now, your ass is another story.”

“Minx, again!”

She giggled. “Had enough of your ass and my
chest?”

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.
Damned if I do…”

“Then don’t. Take me to dinner?”

“Now,
that
I can do.”

***

After dinner Lars drove her to the Best
Western where he had already reserved a room under her name. He got
out of his truck and pulled her backpack and bag from the back,
holding them out to her.

“Unless you want the door-to-door service?”
he asked.

“Not necessary, Just-Lars. I’m the
low-maintenance cousin.”

“We’re a full service operation, you know,
Minx.”

She had been smiling at him, but her smile
faded. “Better not call me that when Samara gets here.”

“Why not?”

“She wouldn’t like it.”

“Maybe I’ll take my chances.”

“You’ll make my life harder if you do.”

“What’s
with
your cousin anyway? She
can’t be
all
bad.”

Jane looked away, her face blank, guarded.
Finally she sighed. “How about we talk more tomorrow? While we look
at the shoot locations?”

He was curious about Samara Amaya, but
honestly he was more curious about Jane, and how exactly Samara, of
whom she didn’t seem overly fond, fit into her life. He predicted
it was complicated. Lars hated complicated. Lars avoided
complicated like the plague. “Sure. What time do you want me
here?”

“I still have to unpack a few more of her
bags too.”

He nodded. “I can take you to the cottage at
nine? I don’t mind helping, if you need me.”

Jane smiled. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll be very
effective lining up her Jimmy Choos. I tell you what. Maybe I could
give you a grocery list while I finish the unpacking?”

“Who’s Jimmy Choos?”

Jane giggled. “Definitely groceries for you,
my fine Scandinavian friend.”

“Okay. I’ll be here at nine, drive you to
the cottage, head to Arnold’s, pick up whatever you need, and I’ll
get some lunch for us too. We’ll drive out to the shoot locations
around eleven? Have lunch somewhere in the park.”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you, Lars.”

“Well, I’ll—” He sort of saluted her
awkwardly but as he was walking back to his car door he heard her
call his name. He turned around.

Jane approached him, a leather bag on each
small shoulder, slight smile, sweet brown curls, her shiny eyes the
color of spring moss in a summer shower. For a moment it seemed
like she didn’t know why she had called him back, and for a brief
instant he considered leaning forward and kissing her.

He didn’t, but he wanted to.

She tilted her head to the side, must have
remembered what she wanted to say.

“If it’s sunny tomorrow…Beach Boys?
Endless Summer
to mark the end of summer?”

He swallowed and nodded at her as his heart
kicked into high speed—
Please let it be sunny for her
tomorrow—
before she grinned and turned, walking away from
him.

***

Jane lay in bed staring at the ceiling,
unable to fall asleep. She had finished all of her e-mails, sent
several texts and made the few phone calls that required immediate
attention. Samara had evening plans tonight and tomorrow night in
the city—a vodka launch tonight and a gala at the MoMA
tomorrow—which usually made her happy, but less so with Laney
unavailable to join her. Though she loved to be on display, Jane
knew Samara preferred to attend these events with a wingman. Jane
talked to Samara’s agent, Sebastian, who was traveling with her on
Tuesday morning, and he said he’d offer to join her for the launch
tonight. Samara wasn’t a fan of Sebastian, but Jane knew she’d
probably say yes to his company and end up ordering him around all
night. Jane had two thoughts. First,
Poor Sebastian
, quickly
followed by,
But, better him than me!

She tried to sleep, but she was
exhausted
. Beyond
exhausted. She checked her phone: eight
o’clock here was ten at home. If she were at home, she would pad
out to the kitchen and put a cup of milk in the microwave as her
mother used to do when she was little and had trouble sleeping, but
there was no milk and no microwave in her motel room.

She got out of bed and flicked on a light,
putting her cap back on and grabbing her bag. She glanced in the
mirror at her black fleece yoga pants and Boston College t-shirt,
and shrugged—she wasn’t about to change for a quick walk to find
warm milk, and anyway, besides Lars, it’s not like she knew anyone
in town.

She hadn’t seen a Starbucks during her
sightseeing tour of Gardiner, but she was fairly certain she had
noticed another coffee shop, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it was
just down the road from her motel. She slipped her feet into her
flip-flops and locked the door behind her.

At the front desk, she was told that yes,
there was a bookstore and coffee shop about a tenth of a mile walk
from the motel called the Prairie Dawn Café & Book Shop. Jane
hoped a short walk, resulting in a warm cup of milk, would be all
she needed to fall back into bed and sleep until morning.

The streets of Gardiner weren’t buzzing with
activity, but they weren’t dead either. Jane saw a few people who
looked like tourists out and about, presumably having dinner or
getting the supplies they needed for their outdoor adventures in
the morning. She saw a little boy and his father walking along with
new fishing rods resting on their shoulders, and a group of four
women in bikini tops, short shorts and hiking boots headed for a
local bar.

It didn’t take long to get to the Prairie
Dawn, and when Jane opened the door, she gasped lightly in
pleasure, her lips turning up as she stood in the doorway with
delight, taking in the quirky little bookstore-cum-café.