JUNIPER
Iput the last of the groceries away, closing the cabinet and leaning against it. My head is still spinning from everything that happened yesterday, but it feels good to do something normal like grocery shop.
Besides, I needed to stock up while I still have money in the bank.
A wave of panic washes over me, settling like a rock in my gut. I haven’t told my mom about Vincent firing me yet. I figured I have the weekend to ease her into the idea of me working at the diner again. For the moment, she’s at a doctor’s appointment to discuss treatment options. I dropped her off before heading to the store, hoping my insurance through Sloan Investments holds out long enough to at least get some solid advice.
I take a deep breath and focus on doing what I can. Clean. Yes, this little cottage needs a good deep clean. I’m talking scrubbing the oven racks, dusting the baseboards, and polishing all the light fixtures. Anything to distract me from the gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be.
The few hours of sleep I got last night were riddled with visions of Vincent, his cold, dark eyes, and the way he sneered at me as he told me to leave. I know I screwed up. He has every right to be upset, but I didn’t expect him to be so cruel. Maybe I should have. He has a reputation, after all.
After gathering the cleaning supplies from the closet, I get to work tearing apart the kitchen and wiping down every surface. The more I think about the awful scene in Vincent’s office, the more distraught I become. Angry, even. Yes, I lied. Yes, I should have said something sooner. But Vincent just took Jennifer’s word for it, without so much as allowing me to defend myself.
And then he went and told Jennifer we slept together! I mean, what the hell?
“Ow,” I hiss, looking down at the steel mesh sponge I’m gripping tightly. The thin threads of metal poke my skin, bringing me back into the moment. I loosen my hold and continue cleaning the trays on our stovetop.
Something catches my eye out of the kitchen window. I drop the sponge and peer outside, furrowing my brow when I see several men with ladders and toolboxes wandering around the yard.
Wiping off my hands and smoothing back my frizzy hair, I head to the back door to see what they are doing. I certainly didn’t call anyone over to fix anything up. I can’t afford it, especially now with my current unemployment situation.
“Excuse me?” I say once I open the door. I cross my arms over my chest and take a step outside. “Hi there, I think you guys have the wrong place.”
One of the men sets down his toolbox and takes off his baseball cap before addressing me. It’s an old-fashioned gesture and makes me soften toward him. “Are you Ms. Juniper Leigh?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply hesitantly. “I didn’t call about anything. I don’t really have the money…”
“All paid for, miss. We’re mostly assessing the place today, but we’ll get started on repairs to the roof and siding tomorrow. The porch is high on the priority list, too. Then doors, a new security system, fresh paint, and a few other things. We don’t do all of that, but I’ll make the call to my buddies when we’re at the painting phase.”
I stare at him, not sure what to say. “Um. But, who…?”
“Juniper.”
That voice. Deep, gravelly, and devastating.
I turn to see Vincent in jeans and a t-shirt. My eyes nearly pop out of my head. I’ve never seen the man dressed so casually, and let me say, he looks just as good as when he’s donning his ten thousand-dollar suits.
“Mr. Sloan,” I squeak out. His shoulders drop as he takes a step closer to me.
“Call me Vincent,” he corrects.
“What are you doing here?”
I sway closer to him, my body moving on its own. Every part of me longs for his touch, his warmth.
“The house needs repairs,” he says simply, as if it’s obvious. “I also talked to your mother’s oncologist. I’m glad she has an appointment today. Whatever she chooses for treatment is already paid for. I gave her doctor the name of a few specialists and pointed him in the direction of some clinical trials, so she’ll have a lot of options.”
“But why…?”
He ignores my question. “I wasn’t sure what your favorite color was, so as soon as you let me know, I’ll have a car delivered here. I don’t like you and your mother driving around in that rusted out death trap.”
“What? That’s too much!” I say exasperatedly. “Why are you doing this? I thought… I thought you hated me.”
Finally, Vincent turns his full attention on me, his dark gaze capturing mine. The untouchable facade crumbles around him, and he lets me see the broken man underneath. “I could never hate you,” he murmurs, his voice full of sorrow. I’ve never seen such depth of emotion from the normally stoic beast.
“But…”
He takes a step closer, cautiously lifting his hand to my cheek. I let him hold me, his tender touch bringing tears to my eyes. I told the man I loved him, and he fired me. I should slap him. Instead, all I want to do is collapse in his arms.