Hold On To Me (Welcome To Redemption) Page 4

  “Seriously, man,” Grant added. “I was looking for a reason to leave when you walked in and chased him away.”

  “You need a reason to walk away from rats?”

  Grant gave a touché dip of his head. “Good point. So why’d he tuck tail and run at the first sight of you?”

  “I gave him a personal demonstration as to why it’s not okay to use women as punching bags.”

  Mean-streak was an understatement. Grant’s one minute estimation of Charlie’s character jumped ten-fold. “Good for you—and I’m guessing his wife?”

  Charlie nodded, then glanced up as the blond and the other couple joined them with drinks in hand. She set a beer in front of Charlie before sitting down.

  “Grant Walker,” Charlie said by way of introduction. “This is my fiancé, Dana McClain.”

  They exchanged greetings, and then Charlie gave a chin jerk toward the woman across the table. “You remember my sister, Tara?”

  He looked at her, trying unsuccessfully to recall the dark-haired beauty. “You might have been a little too young when I left Redemption.”

  “That’s okay. I remember you. You were a real snob back then.”

  The guy next to her glanced over in surprise as if he weren’t used to her being so blunt.

  “Snob is the diplomatic word for it,” Grant said.

  She smiled at his response while reaching up to rub a hand across the guy’s back. “This is my fiancé, Wes Carter.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Grant shook the hand Wes offered before shifting his gaze back to Charlie and the blond. He took note of the decent-sized rocks on each of the women’s left ring fingers. “So, you’re all engaged. Is there something in Redemption’s water I should know about?”

  Out of nowhere, a picture of Jenny Clark flashed in his mind. The vision put an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Yeah, he’d admit wanting to get to know the woman better, but her and an engagement ring in the same thought after only two meetings? What the hell?

  “Why, you back for good?” Charlie asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “We heard about your uncle,” Tara said. “Is he okay?”

  Glad for the distraction, Grant nodded as he drank the last of his beer. “He’s still in New York, but he’ll be good as new in a couple weeks. How do you know Frank?”

  “He rides his Harley with our parents.”

  “Ah, got it.”

  “You’re filling in until he’s back?” Charlie asked.

  Grant found it curious that everyone was so interested in the manager’s job. “He’s made other plans, and since I own the building, I’ll be managing it now.”

  “You own Wayside Apartments?”

  Grant met Charlie’s gaze. “That so surprising?”

  “More like troubling.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because of your affiliation with Adams.”

  Grant surveyed the somber faces around the table and focused back on Charlie. “If things had been different fifteen years ago, I wouldn’t feel the need to explain anything to you. However, after meeting him again in person, I understand where you’re coming from.”

  It was the why that still eluded him. He and Charlie’s group of friends had been like oil and water in high school, so what did any of them care if he remained friendly with Roy now? Then he found himself wanting to explain, because it’d taken less than five minutes in each man’s company to decide Charlie was the better of the two.

  “Roy’s the only guy I kept in touch with here, but it’s not like we were pen pals or anything. I hadn’t even finished my beer before I realized he hasn’t changed a bit and I want nothing to do with him.”

  “Seems like a smart guy to me,” Wes quipped.

  Charlie and Tara exchanged glances as her brother lifted his glass. “Heard you stopped by Hutch’s.”

  “Wow.” Grant deposited his empty on the table and leaned back, rocking onto the back legs of the chair. “I see news still travels fast as ever around here.”

  Charlie shrugged. “We look out for each other, that’s all.”

  The sound of his cell phone had Grant reaching into his pocket. He dropped the chair back to four legs as he checked the caller ID. Rising to his feet, he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.

  “I gotta go—it’s the hospital in New York. Good to see you again, Tara, Charlie. Dana and Wes, nice to meet you.”

  Their polite replies sounded behind him as he headed out the door with the phone to his ear.

  “Grant Walker.”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Uncle Frank, how you doing today? The nurses tell you I called earlier?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine other than my whole body hurts like hell. They say that’s normal.”

  “Of course it’s normal—you had a triple bypass two days ago.” He reached his car and turned to lean back against it. “They cut your chest open for God’s sake.”

  “I know what they did. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Sorry. The doc say how long they’re keeping you?”

  “’Bout a week. Then they want me to do some physical therapy shit. It could be awhile, so your father invited me to stay with them.”

  Grant felt the tension in his muscles that appeared with any mention of his parents. Straightening, he turned around and opened the car door. “You going?”

  “Yeah. And you should come visit.”

  For the first time in years, he didn’t have the urge to blurt out the words, ‘hell no.’ “We’ll see.”

  “I’ll take it,” Uncle Frank said with a note of hope in his tone. “How are you settling in? Did you started packing up my stuff? Because I was serious when I said I’m done. I’m not going to change my mind, so you might as well—”

  “Relax, I’ve started packing.” He slid behind the wheel of his rental and shut the door. “In fact, I’ve discovered a few things that are quite interesting.”

  “What do you sound so smug about?”

  “I’ve got two words for you...Moonlit Encounter.” He paused a beat, then said, “Wait, let me add Mrs. Martin.”

  A chuckle came across the line that turned into a groan. “Crap, boy, don’t make me laugh.”

  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “It’s all Jenny’s fault. She’s the tenant in apartment two-thirteen.”

  “I’ve met her.”

  “She caught me eyeing up Mrs. Martin at the coffee shop, and the next time we had our dessert exchange, she brought me some books.”

  “Dessert exchange?” Grant repeated.

  “Yeah. I bake, you got a problem with that?”

  “No.” Grant figured his grin translated through the phone, but couldn’t help it. “You and this Jenny seem pretty friendly. She’s a little young for you, but is she giving Mrs. Martin a run for her money?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Uncle Frank blustered. “Jenny’s as sweet as they come and just needed a friend. She hasn’t had it real easy, you know.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”

  His uncle was silent long enough that Grant wondered if he’d answer. He hoped so, because he didn’t figure Jenny would be talking to him anytime soon. Not after she’d been so anxious to get him out of her apartment and lock that bolt behind him.

  A sigh filtered across the line. “Normally, I’d let her tell you herself, if she wanted to. But I spotted that no-good husband of hers near the apartments one too many times, and someone needs to keep an eye out for her.”

  Swift disappointment caught him off-guard. He hadn’t noticed a ring on her finger. “She’s married?”

  “Separated. Waiting on the divorce to be final. Should be soon, if I remember right.”

  Grant frowned, thinking the conversation had a familiar-yet-opposite ring to it. “Who’s her husband?”

  “You knew him back in high school. Seth Adams’ son, Roy.”


  And there it was. The why to all his questions the past couple hours.

  Chapter 5

  No more than had Jenny bussed the table, wiped it down and started to walk away, two more Coffee to Chai For customers filled the empty seats.

  “Good morning,” she greeted with a quick smile. “Someone will be right with you.”

  She hurried behind the counter, passing Dexter Drummond at the regular coffee maker on the way.

  “Dex, you’ve got two at table three.”

  The tall, gangly college student, home for the summer from some high-tech computer programming school, lifted his spiked blond head to scan his gaze over the crowded shop. “Got ‘em, Jen. Thanks.”

  Jenny gave Carrie her soy cappuccino, regular caramel Macchiato, and skim Chai order, then turned to the pastry display to plate up the food items. Over her shoulder, she said, “Looks like everyone and their brother decided to take advantage of their day off and go out for breakfast before the Memorial Day parade.”

  Carrie scooped Chai mix into a tall, insulated cup. “This is crazy busy. Good thing I made two extra pans of cinnamon rolls.”

  “I know. And I’ll still be lucky if I get to take one home with me,” Jenny complained.

  “Set one aside now. You know I don’t mind.”

  Jenny cast a quick glance around to make sure no one was nearby. “Letting me sell my photos is enough, and besides, it’s not like I need the extra calories. Not after all I ate at your barbeque on Saturday.”

  “You look good, Jenny,” Carrie assured her as she finished making the drinks and set them on the serving tray Jenny rested on the counter. “Better than when you started.”

  “Thanks. Which reminds me—you remember tomorrow’s my court date, right?”

  “Been marked on my calendar for weeks, and with Dex back on the schedule, we’ll be fine. Make sure you celebrate tomorrow night, too.”

  She just smiled as she balanced the tray on her shoulder and went to take care of her customers. Yes, she would be happy to finally be legally free of Roy, but who did she have to celebrate with? Besides, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to bring more attention to something she’d let continue for five long, painful years. Better to file the papers once they were signed and quietly move on with her life.

  Morning flew by, and though business eased during the Memorial Day parade, it picked up again afterward, carrying into the afternoon. After thinking she’d spotted Roy’s blue Charger on the way to work that morning, she was happy to keep busy. About two-forty-five, things slowed down enough that she didn’t have to rush from table to table.

  A large group of seven got up to leave, and Jenny grabbed a dish tub to clear and reposition the tables. As she filled the tub, she glanced to the side to see Tara Russell talking with a redhead whose nose was blanketed by freckles. She took a moment to register the startling contrast between the extended length of Tara’s straight dark hair and the other girl’s bright red curls that hung a bit below her shoulders.

  Tara caught her eye and gave a smile. “Hi, Jenny. Any chance you’re almost done?”

  Immediately conscious of her aching feet, she glanced at the clock on the back wall. “I wish, but I’ve got another forty-five minutes.”

  “I was going to see if you wanted to sit with us. Maybe next time?”

  Jenny hid her surprise by reaching for more dishes. What was with the invites lately? First Carrie and Matt’s barbeque, then Grant Walker the other night, and Tara today? She’d gone to the cookout out of obligation, but what was with the unexpected urge to accept the last two?

  Especially Grant’s. Regret had surfaced shortly after his departure, and each time she saw him around the apartment building over the weekend. He’d been nice and polite, but distant.

  “Maybe she just wants to go home after a long day at work,” the redhead said to Tara. “I know I usually do.”

  Having recently dwelled on her lack of friends, it didn’t take but a second for Jenny to realize she was plain tired of being lonely. She’d enjoyed herself at Carrie’s the other night, so now she offered the two women more than her usual reserved smile.

  “Honestly, it would be nice to have someone serve me for once.”

  Tara shot her friend a triumphant grin. “Hah.”

  Her companion laughed. “Great, and I was just about to ask for a refill.”

  Jenny abandoned the dishes to take her empty cup with a smile. “What kind?”

  “Regular house blend. Thank you.”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

  When Jenny returned with the refill, Tara pointed from one to the other. “By the way, Jenny Adams, this is Joy Dolinski.”

  “Hi.” She cast Tara a glance as she set the coffee down. “Actually it’s Clark. I’m taking my maiden name back.”

  “Good for you.”

  She smiled before turning back to Joy. “Any relation to June?”

  “She’s my grandmother,” Joy confirmed. “And the reason I’m back in Redemption. I’m a nurse, and with her dementia getting worse, my grandfather is having a hard time handling everything on his own.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. We love having June come in.”

  “As long as she leaves Sweet Pea at home, right?”

  Mention of the old woman’s pet pig made them all laugh, but Jenny’s heart squeezed at the sorrow evident in Joy’s eyes. She’d never had a grandparent to lose, but imagined it wasn’t easy when it was a prolonged diminishing of the mind. Switching the subject, Jenny asked, “Do your grandparents still have their horses?”

  “Grandpa just got another one, so now there’s six. I can’t wait to ride again this summer. It’s been too long.”

  “I always wanted to learn to ride a horse,” Jenny said.

  “Then why haven’t you?”

  She shifted uncomfortably and returned to clearing dishes. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

  In truth, Roy had promised her a horse when they were engaged, but when she brought it up again shortly after the wedding, he’d told her to forget it. It didn’t take but one more request for her to give up the dream of ever having one of her own. On days when she felt particularly brave, when Roy was at a conference or going to be late, she used to walk the couple miles outside of town to sit in the corner of the pasture and watch the horses graze. Sometimes they’d come visit her. For such big animals with superior strength, they could be so gentle.

  “You should come out to the farm,” Joy suggested. “I’ll teach you to ride.”

  Jenny tamped down an initial spurt of excitement as she wiped the tables with a damp cloth. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I didn’t say that to get an invitation.”

  “I know, but I’d love the company. I can’t possibly keep them all exercised myself, so really, you’d be helping me,” Joy insisted. “Though I’ll give you fair warning—you ride, you have to help clean stalls.”

  She paused mid-swipe, trying to gauge the other woman’s sincerity. Joy’s expression convinced her to give in to the anticipation fluttering in her stomach. “If you really mean it, I’m more than fine with that.”

  “Hey, I want to ride, too,” Tara said with a joking little pout. “I miss that from high school.”

  Dex brushed by, full tray in hand. “One at table seven, Jen.”

  “Thanks,” she called after him. As busy as it’d been, the ding of the bell above the door no longer even registered.

  “How about Saturday?” Joy suggested.

  Jenny caught Tara’s nod as she glanced toward her new customer two tables away.

  The moment she met Grant Walker’s gaze over the top of his menu, her heart thumped in her chest. It beat faster when he smiled at her before she returned her attention back to the girls. Joy watched her expectantly while Tara’s gaze swung over and narrowed on Grant.

  “I work until noon, but could come out afterward,” Jenny said after she recalled the question.

  The redhead clapped her hands, her enthusiasm catch
ing. “Perfect. How about we meet at two?”

  Everyone agreed, and as Jenny lifted the bus tub to take it into the kitchen, she noticed Tara’s gaze back on her.

  “You know who that is?” Her ebony hair shimmied as she discreetly tipped her head in Grant’s direction.

  After a swift glance at her good-looking landlord, Jenny nodded and lowered her voice. “I met him the other day. He’s Frank’s nephew—owns my apartment building. Why?”

  “Just...be careful, okay?”

  “O-kay,” she agreed, confused by Tara’s guarded tone. She shifted her gaze to Joy. “I better get back to work, but it was very nice to meet you. I can’t wait until Saturday. You guys have a good afternoon.”

  She hurried off to get rid of the dirty dishes before going to take Grant’s order. On the way back out to the dining area, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror beside the door and paused to tuck a few loose strands of hair back into her ponytail. As she reached into her apron for lip gloss, she spotted Matt watching in the background. Darn it.

  Skipping the gloss, she exited the kitchen and stopped at the drinks station for a glass of ice water. On her approach to the table, Grant’s gaze swept down and back up again—slower on the way up. She resisted the urge to make sure she hadn’t spilled something on her shirt and instead, she took the moment to admire his golden-brown eyes framed by dark lashes.

  He’d crossed her mind more than once the past couple days. Especially when every glimpse of him completely captured her attention. She just wasn’t sure yet if that was good or bad.

  “Good afternoon,” she greeted.

  “Hello, Jenny Clark. How’s your day going?”

  “Busy.” Thankful her voice didn’t match her unsteady pulse, she set the water on the table and dipped a hand into her apron for pen and paper as she met Grant’s gaze. “Yours?”

  “Boring.”

  “Not enough things to fix at the apartments?”

  “It appears my uncle took good care of everything but himself,” he agreed, leaning back to brace one arm on the back of his chair. His tan, button down shirt stretched across his chest, and like the other day, she noticed he was more lean and compact than broad and bulky. That was not to say he didn’t have muscles—she recalled them quite vividly from that first morning with his open shirt. Today, his rolled up sleeves also revealed the well-defined forearms that’d easily handled her closet door.