A Week Till the Wedding. Linda Winstead Jones

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СКАЧАТЬ forced her to look long and hard at the present. The truth of the matter was, she thought about Jacob entirely too much. That’s why she hadn’t had a serious relationship since they’d broken up. That’s why she never had more than two dates with the same guy, why she found something wrong with every man who expressed an interest in her. She wasn’t as pretty as Lily, but she wasn’t exactly a troll, either. She could’ve had several serious relationships in the past few years, if she’d wanted to. She might even have found a man who’d make a good husband and father. And it took having Jacob right under her nose to allow her to see what she’d done.

      Sitting in that porch swing alone, Daisy could see that she’d put her life on hold for a man who didn’t deserve it. Where romance was concerned she was marking time, stagnant, stuck in a rut. A man was really all her life lacked. A man was the only thing Bell Grove had not been able to provide. How incredibly stupid! She couldn’t give up the opportunity to build a family of her own just because her first love had disappointed her.

      That’s all Jacob was; her first love. Not her last, not her only. She didn’t try to fool herself into thinking that she’d never loved him. She had. Deeply and completely. But that was then and this was now. Somehow her now had gone seriously askew. If this little charade—painful as it was—helped her to truly put Jacob in her past where he belonged, then it would be worthwhile.

      He must’ve heard her leaving the house, because she hadn’t been in the swing long before Jacob stepped onto the porch. Of course he knew just where she was. The gentle squeak of the porch swing, as she pushed herself back and forth with her toe, was a dead giveaway.

      “Sorry,” he said when he saw her there.

      For so many things … She didn’t go there. What was the point? “Not your fault.” This time. “Bless her heart, one minute she seems just fine and the next she’s completely befuddled.”

      “Yeah.” Jacob walked toward her, and for a moment she wondered if he would sit beside her on the swing. It was more than big enough for two, but she wished, very hard, that he wouldn’t make that move. She didn’t want him that close; she didn’t want that stark reminder of the old days.

      The old days were gone, and there was no getting them back. Now all she had to do was convince herself that she didn’t want them back.

      He stopped a few feet away, almost as if he’d had the same thought. “I didn’t know about the … the …”

      “Wedding,” she said briskly, providing the word he apparently could not.

      “She’ll forget about it.” It sounded like an order, as if he thought he could sway an old woman’s memory by will alone.

      “And if she doesn’t?”

      He didn’t have an answer for that question.

      Daisy couldn’t be too angry with Jacob, much as she wanted to. He was a career-focused, ambitious workaholic who’d let her go when keeping her had become inconvenient. He’d chosen his career over her. He hadn’t loved her enough to sacrifice his grand plans for her. Family obligation had kept her here, while a job opportunity had taken him far, far away. They hadn’t been able to make her need to provide a familiar home for her sisters and his desire for a new career to work together. He’d moved on, and he hadn’t looked back, and she shouldn’t hate him because he’d managed to do what she could not.

      But he loved his grandmother and would apparently do anything to make her final days good ones. Maybe he did have a heart under that expensive suit, after all. That heart just wasn’t meant for her.

      “So,” she said softly. “How’s your life?”

      He seemed surprised that she asked. “Good. Busy, but good. You?”

      “Spectacular,” she said, her voice low. “I like my life. I love my life.” Maybe if she said it often enough she’d be able to gloss over the lack of romance in her almost-perfect life.

      “Good.”

      Daisy wished she was the kind of woman who could purposely hurt someone who had hurt her. She wished she could tell Jacob how ecstatically happy she was, how active her sex life was, how she’d never wanted for a man’s attention in the past seven years, how she hadn’t missed him at all. But while she could lie to protect an old woman, she couldn’t make herself lie to purposely cause pain.

      As if he cared …

      Jacob looked at Daisy as if he were seeing her for the first time. When she caught his eye he didn’t turn away, didn’t try to pretend that he wasn’t studying her as if he could see beneath her skin. He looked at her with an intensity that was so much a part of the man she’d once loved.

      “I’d forgotten,” he said.

      “Forgotten what?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

      “I’d forgotten how you get to me.” He looked her in the eye, shifted slightly as if suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin, though he still didn’t turn away or drop his eyes. And Daisy could see what was coming so clearly it hurt. He’d get to her; they’d end up in bed; he’d break her heart all over again.

      And she could not allow that to happen.

       Chapter Three

      Perhaps he’d made a mistake when he’d let Daisy go. He hadn’t had a choice, he couldn’t see how his life could’ve unfolded in any other way, but dammit, had he made a mistake?

      This was the thought that plagued Jacob as he pulled his rental car to a stop in front of Daisy’s home. He never second-guessed his decisions, never looked back and wondered.

      The sooner he finished up here and got out of town, the better off he’d be.

      Daisy still lived in the house she’d grown up in, a yellow cottage a mere five blocks from the shop where she worked. The house was square and wide and one-story, with a large wraparound porch complete with a pair of matching white rockers and healthy ferns. The yard was dotted with ancient trees; the branches intertwined overhead, and while he couldn’t see it from here he imagined there was still a vegetable garden out back.

      Her car was parked in the driveway, but instead of pulling in behind it he stopped at the curb. A concrete sidewalk ran in front of her house, and a leg of that sidewalk shot from the street to her front porch. This was a neighborhood where the residents walked, both for exercise and for more practical reasons, where they visited one another—on special occasions and sometimes for no reason at all. Both sidewalks saw a lot of wear. Or at least, they once had. He imagined that hadn’t changed.

      Daisy’s entire life was right here, a general store, doctor’s office, pharmacy—and her work—within easy walking distance, while he flew from one time zone to another on a regular basis. He was good at what he did, a whiz with numbers and an unshakable faith in his own instincts. The men he worked for trusted his instincts, too. They trusted him with billions of dollars in investments, and he hadn’t let them down yet. In fact, he’d made them all lots and lots of money.

      In the early days they’d called him a whiz kid. These days he was a highly valued member of a company that continued to grow, in large part thanks to him. And what had it gotten him? Insomnia. An almost nonexistent social life. And a fat bank account.

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