“I want them to take those things down.”
“What I’m saying is, that because they are still up there, you feel responsible to uphold them, to keep them true. And because your dad taught you to throw, you think a bad day out will somehow sully his memory. Once upon a time you threw because you loved it.”
With a great inhale, his chest expanded. “You’re wrong. I’m fine with losing.”
See? she wanted to say. It’s either “losing” or “winning” with you. No in-between.
“Then prove it.” She pushed her mug away. “Throw in the games next weekend. One last time before you leave for good.”
He spread his palms over the table. “Can’t. I’ll be transporting a lot of big equipment down here and finally meeting with Hal Carriage to get his approval on his yard plans. It’s a big weekend for me. A lot rides on it.”
It was a good reason, one she could definitely relate to, and she nodded, her stomach suddenly pinching in hunger.
“Trying to fix me, too, Jen?” Suddenly he was smiling again, wiping away all that she’d just said. Just like he’d done with his father’s house: ignoring it, pushing it to the side.
She wadded up a napkin and threw it at him. He snatched it out of the air and tossed it back onto the table.
“I’m not afraid of failure.” He stood, taking her hand and drawing her to her feet and into his arms. Framing her face, he kissed her, and she couldn’t deny that he tasted like the warm sunshine filling her apartment.
“What I am afraid of,” he murmured during a break in the slow kiss, “is not seeing you naked again until after the games.”
So she fixed that and, two hours later, they left her apartment separately.
Jen had her hand on the gate latch, about to head up the flagstone path into the Thistle, when her phone chirped with a text message.
Back in Gleann tomorrow. Can’t wait to see u.
Like a schoolgirl, she read Leith’s words over and over again, hearing them in his voice. The drive back up north from the city had flown by, her little rental zooming over the highways on a warp speed that seemed fed by this crazy new energy zipping through her system.
Leith had returned to Connecticut to make sure his project was moving forward and to check out more locations for a permanent move of his business. It was an aspect of him she’d never witnessed before, this businessman who clearly knew what he was doing and whose love for the work transcended that knowledge. It made her exceedingly proud, and it endeared him to her even more.
Ugh, listen to her. Forget the flowery language. It made him hot as all hell.
For the second time, a very calm, very rational voice asked, How on earth do you expect to make this work with your jobs, your lives in different states, your separate lifestyles?
The first time it had happened was when they’d been lying naked, when he’d asked again if she wanted to try a relationship. Her immediate thought? Yes. Hell yes. The thought that came quickly afterward, however . . . So he moves to Connecticut. Still an hour by train, more with traffic if he drives in. She doesn’t own a car. She works insane hours, often at night, plenty on the weekends, nothing that would fit neatly into a train schedule. He works weekends during every season but winter. When could they possibly see each other? Would phone calls and occasional visits work? Could that ever be enough?
And then there was the possibility of her partnership within Bauer Events. The very real chance she could be sent to London. More distance, more time away.
Yet she and Leith were adults, not kids with a world of unknown spread out at their feet. They were more grounded now, more passionate and reasonable. Maybe it would work. So she’d agreed to try, and told him so, and prayed that it would be enough.
The Thistle’s front door opened and Ainsley bounced out, wearing a two-piece bathing suit covered in sequins over her flat chest. Denim shorts just barely covered her bottom and her flip-flops had even more sparkles on them. A beach towel swung over her shoulders.
“Hey, Aunt Jen.”
“And where are you going, Sparkly McGee?”
“T and Lacey are working at the pool and I wanted to go say hi.”
The local pool was still open? Ten years ago it had been nothing more than a concrete hole in the ground, and Jen doubted it had changed much in her absence. She pictured T and Lacey snapping gum behind the stainless steel counter of the snack stand.
It worried her that Ainsley was going to go see Owen and Melissa’s girls when it sounded like she’d invited herself. It worried her that her niece was attaching herself to older girls whose connection to her could very well snap at any moment.
Jen tousled a wave of Ainsley’s dark blond hair. “What happened to Bryan and his slingshot?”
Ainsley made a thoroughly confused face. “I’m not bringing Bryan to the pool.”
Jen smiled, though it felt forced. “How silly of me.”
Ainsley walked down the sidewalk, doing a little dance and snapping her fingers to some song Jen couldn’t hear.
“You’re back in town,” came Aimee’s voice from the front steps. “Looks like I’ll win that bet.”
Jen turned to her sister. “What bet?”
Aimee crossed her arms and wore an inscrutable expression. “Whether or not you’d come back again from New York. I knew you would. Vera wasn’t so sure.”
Jen pulled the gate shut and latched it behind her. “The trip to the city was worth it. Everything’s falling into place for the games.”
“Come on in and tell me about it.”
As they entered the kitchen, which was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla French toast batter, Jen told Aimee about Shea Montgomery’s whiskey tent and how Duncan had called earlier this morning to tell her more about the group of heavy athletes he’d rounded up at the last minute to compete this weekend. None of them were pros, but Jen didn’t care. There would be enthusiastic bodies on the field, throwing heavy weights around, and that’s all that mattered.
“There was a rumor that Chris’s band wasn’t going to play?” Aimee dipped slabs of white bread into the egg batter and set them to sizzling on the hot skillet.
Jen frowned. “Where’d you hear that? I may have teased him a bit, but I’m not about to turn them down. I love their sound, they’re local, Chris seems really excited. Man, he can play that fiddle, can’t he?”
Aimee shrugged. “It’s just what I heard. There was that fight over at their house a few months back, and then Chris moved out. The sheriff said there was trouble at his bandmates’ place two nights back; I thought maybe they’d broken up. Guess not, though.”
Jen vowed to look into it.
She turned in her chair and realized what was different about the Thistle. The plastic work drapes in the front sitting room had been taken down, and the new drywall was up and taped. The furniture was covered, the room ready for the paint cans stationed around the perimeter to be opened. The place would be finished by that weekend, just in time for the Scottish Society president to stay here.
“Wow,” Jen said, impressed. “Owen works fast.”
Aimee’s voice pitched low. “Only when he has to.”
Jen winced and turned back around, but said nothing. Sex had never been something the sisters talked about, not even in playful terms. Maybe because it had been such a big deal because of Frank’s constant cheating. Maybe because it had gotten Aimee into such trouble when she was younger.