that was then and this was now. And finding the new Lucy all heated up in a skin-Âtight sports bra and workout pants, kicking the shit out of a heavy bag, did something funny to his gut.
Or maybe he just needed a distrac tion.
It had been a hell of a week. Watching the urns that contained his parentsâ ashes being placed inside a marble vault for eternity had shaken him to the core and rocked the ground beneath his feet. His curiosity with Lucy really could be nothing more than a need for interference from all the emotional weight heâd been carrying. Or maybe he just needed to finally apologize to her for graduation night. Get it over with so the guilt no longer held his conscience in a strangle hold.
No.
It was more.
Something about Lucy intrigued the hell out of him. Maybe it was only because she didnât seem to respond to his flirting the way most women did. He didnât know what to do with that. Yes, sheâd always been more of the serious type, but even old ladies responded to a wink and a compli ment.
He wondered what sheâd been doing all these years besides becoming a schoolteacher and changing her last name. Had the name come from a marriage? Once heâd recognized her, heâd immediately looked at her hand for a ring. But her long, feminine fingers, painted with some light blue nail polish, had been jewelry-Â free.
By tomorrow afternoon heâd have his answers to what sheâd been doing and his curiosity would be sated. Hopefully. Then he needed to focus on the promises heâd made to his family while also trying to figure out a way to get back to his team.
No matter what, he couldnât let anybody down.
Struggling to find the keyhole in the darkness, Jordan finally unlocked the door to the Creekside CottageâÂformerly known as his grandparentsâ houseâÂand now a part of the three guest cottages that made up Sunshine Creek Vineyards Bed-Âand-ÂBreakfast. Prior reservations on the cottages had been canceled upon the death of their parents. Currently he, Ethan, and Declan were in residence, while Aunt Pippy stayed up at the main house with Nicki. Parker had returned to his houseboat in Portland. Ryan and his daughter, Riley, remained at their farmhouse a couple miles away.
Stepping inside the old brick building, Jordan once again thought of the summers heâd spent right here in this house. His grandfather had been full of life and always game to try something new. His grandmother had been a patient woman who put up with his grandfatherâs practical jokes. Together they made quite a team and Jordan didnât need to guess where his father had learned the phrase family f irst .
He tossed the keys on a table near the door and walked through the living room, which had a dated yet comfortable feel, with a suite of leather furniture and a whitewashed brick fireplace. He continued into the kitchen and dining area, where he set the grocery bags down on the counter and began pulling out the contents. After fifteen years of basically eating and sleeping alone, he wasnât looking forward to adding one more night of solitude. Not when the memories of his parents and the cause of their deaths continued to haunt him.
And not when he knew his team would be playing without him.
With the groceries put away, he popped the top off a Naked Blonde microbrew and grabbed the Styrofoam container of take-Âout brisket from Cranky Hankâs Smokehouse. Instead of sitting out back on the deck that overlooked the creek, he turned on the TV to watch his team go against PittsburghâÂthe first game in three years in which he had not pl ayed.
Come rain or shine, broken bones, or mild concussion, heâd been ready to score goals and make the crowd cheer. The only thing that had prevented him from hitting the ice three years ago was a spilt above his eye that caused so much swelling he couldnât see to play.
Tonight he sat on a worn
Or maybe he just needed a distrac tion.
It had been a hell of a week. Watching the urns that contained his parentsâ ashes being placed inside a marble vault for eternity had shaken him to the core and rocked the ground beneath his feet. His curiosity with Lucy really could be nothing more than a need for interference from all the emotional weight heâd been carrying. Or maybe he just needed to finally apologize to her for graduation night. Get it over with so the guilt no longer held his conscience in a strangle hold.
No.
It was more.
Something about Lucy intrigued the hell out of him. Maybe it was only because she didnât seem to respond to his flirting the way most women did. He didnât know what to do with that. Yes, sheâd always been more of the serious type, but even old ladies responded to a wink and a compli ment.
He wondered what sheâd been doing all these years besides becoming a schoolteacher and changing her last name. Had the name come from a marriage? Once heâd recognized her, heâd immediately looked at her hand for a ring. But her long, feminine fingers, painted with some light blue nail polish, had been jewelry-Â free.
By tomorrow afternoon heâd have his answers to what sheâd been doing and his curiosity would be sated. Hopefully. Then he needed to focus on the promises heâd made to his family while also trying to figure out a way to get back to his team.
No matter what, he couldnât let anybody down.
Struggling to find the keyhole in the darkness, Jordan finally unlocked the door to the Creekside CottageâÂformerly known as his grandparentsâ houseâÂand now a part of the three guest cottages that made up Sunshine Creek Vineyards Bed-Âand-ÂBreakfast. Prior reservations on the cottages had been canceled upon the death of their parents. Currently he, Ethan, and Declan were in residence, while Aunt Pippy stayed up at the main house with Nicki. Parker had returned to his houseboat in Portland. Ryan and his daughter, Riley, remained at their farmhouse a couple miles away.
Stepping inside the old brick building, Jordan once again thought of the summers heâd spent right here in this house. His grandfather had been full of life and always game to try something new. His grandmother had been a patient woman who put up with his grandfatherâs practical jokes. Together they made quite a team and Jordan didnât need to guess where his father had learned the phrase family f irst .
He tossed the keys on a table near the door and walked through the living room, which had a dated yet comfortable feel, with a suite of leather furniture and a whitewashed brick fireplace. He continued into the kitchen and dining area, where he set the grocery bags down on the counter and began pulling out the contents. After fifteen years of basically eating and sleeping alone, he wasnât looking forward to adding one more night of solitude. Not when the memories of his parents and the cause of their deaths continued to haunt him.
And not when he knew his team would be playing without him.
With the groceries put away, he popped the top off a Naked Blonde microbrew and grabbed the Styrofoam container of take-Âout brisket from Cranky Hankâs Smokehouse. Instead of sitting out back on the deck that overlooked the creek, he turned on the TV to watch his team go against PittsburghâÂthe first game in three years in which he had not pl ayed.
Come rain or shine, broken bones, or mild concussion, heâd been ready to score goals and make the crowd cheer. The only thing that had prevented him from hitting the ice three years ago was a spilt above his eye that caused so much swelling he couldnât see to play.
Tonight he sat on a worn
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