“Daddy,” his daughter called out into the darkness. “Where are you? I had a bad dream and I’m scared.”
Chapter 9
“Did you see Andi Browning’s Insta?” Roan’s younger sister, Rio, asked him on Friday, December 9, two days after he almost kissed Jazzy.
Two days during which they’d spent the evenings from five to ninep.m. stoking the firepit and baking various kinds of cookies. Two days they’d shared good food, laughter, and growing camaraderie. And two days he’d devoted to raking himself over the coals. He had no business lusting after a woman ten years his junior.
Yeah? So why are you still helping her?
Um, it was selfish motivation, but when he’d realized how quickly Jazzy’s baking skills improved, his ego could see that golden cookie trophy in Jazzy’s hands. She was a fast and eager learner. Her win could actually happen.
Living through her vicariously. Sad.
How could he pull out now? After hours of hands-on practice, Jazzy was on the verge of next-level campfire cooking. If he pulled the plug at this point, he doubted she’d have a chance of winningon her own. Plus, he owed her. She’d done so much for him and Trinity.
Sounds like excuses to me, pal.
“Roan?” Rio nudged.
A talented metal artist, his sister specialized in welded Western-themed sculptures. Because it was easier for her work, she kept her dark hair cropped short in a pixie cut. She wore black leggings that looked like leather, an avant-garde blouse with billowy sleeves and an asymmetrical hemline, silver rings on every finger and a pair of knee-high black boots. Dramatic Rio versus reserved Roan. They were night and day. Their mom said, with much motherly pride and affection, that whenever Rio was around you better take a good deep breath before she sucked up all the oxygen in the room, and with Roan, go ahead and leave your valuables out, he’d protect them for you.
He blinked at his sister, who’d come to babysit Trinity while he took Jazzy on the hunt for the perfect cookie recipe that could win her the bake-off.
“Huh?”
“Have you seen Andi Browning’s Insta?” Rio repeated.
“You know I hate social media.”
Rio took out her phone, scrolled through Andi’s social media feed and handed the phone to him so he could see for himself.
The post tagged with #heputaringonit and there was a picture of Andi’s ring finger sporting a glittering diamond.
“Yes,” he said. “I know she’s engaged to Danny Garza.”
“Not that post,” Rio said, leaning over to flick the post away with her finger, bringing in another.
This one was labeled #[email protected], #thegoldencookieismine, #kissmygritsjazzywalker, #goingfortrophynumberthree. Below the hashtags she’d posted a picture of herself with the previous year’s golden cookie and photoshopped into another pane overlaid onto the first picture, was a caricature of Andi kicking Jazzy in the behind. The most disturbing thing? The picture had gotten over six hundred likes.
Anger surged through him. “What the hell?”
Rio raised her head and shot a sidelong glance at Trinity, who was sitting at the table munching cornflakes. “Andi has always been a mean girl and now she’s a mean woman. She’s actively trying to hurt Jazzy.”
That comment erased any lingering doubts Roan harbored about helping Jazzy. He was her secret weapon and together they’d take down the unkind Ms. Browning.
“Thanks for sitting with Trinity,” he said, grabbing his Stetson from the hook in the mudroom. “Hopefully, I’ll be back by noon.”
“Fingers crossed you find the perfect recipe,” Rio said. “It’s past time Andi’s had her comeuppance.”
“Thanks.” Roan went to the table to give Trinity a goodbye hug. “I’m gonna try my best to help Jazzy win this.”
Rio gave him a thumbs-up and all the way to Jazzy’s house, Roan kept stewing over Andi’s tacky posts. He should feel sorry for the woman’sdesperate need for attention, but she was gunning for Jazzy and that didn’t sit well with him. Jazzy was the sweetest person. She didn’t deserve Andi’s ugliness.
It was ten thirty when he pulled into her driveway. Jazzy was waiting for him on the front porch of her modest little cottage not far from the town square. It was a whimsical house that made him think ofThe Hobbit. The stone home had a turret underneath a highly pitched roof, a cobblestone walkway, an overgrowth of shade trees, and a flowerbed filled with colorful chrysanthemums. She’d decorated for the holidays with garden gnomes in Santa caps, twinkle lights dripping from the eaves, and candy cane cutouts lining the drive. Through the bay window, he could see her Christmas tree, lit up and twirling, and a gray tabby cat grooming itself on the sill.
Just looking at the house made him feel as if he’d gotten a wholehearted, full-body hug from Jazzy. The cottage was precious to the core. No wonder Andi had it in for Jazzy. The woman possessed something Andi never would. A magical sense of style that radiated from who Jazzy was—a good and decent person.
He wondered what she’d do with the house when she started with Traveling Nurses. She might have trouble selling a place that so distinctly reflected her tastes. The thought of her leaving town stirred something murky inside him. A sense of melancholia.