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Authors: Susan Mallery
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despising the weakness inside and her for causing it.
With a slow gesture, too deliberate to be ignored, he pulled away from the contact. Jane bit her lower lip and stepped back. It wasn’t even close to a draw, he thought. He’d hurt her, but nothing like what she’d done to him, all those years ago.
“If you could just let me explain,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I never meant to—”
“I don’t give a damn about your explanations. Or you.”
Her hazel eyes studied him. Tears threatened again, but she brushed them away impatiently. “You’re too angry to not care, Adam. Your temper gives you away.”
One point for her, he thought grimly. “All right. I care enough not to want you in my life. How’s that?”
She turned and walked toward the hallway. When she reachedthe door, she looked back over her shoulder. “Be careful what you throw away, Adam. You may find you need it after all.” After she fled into the quiet morning, he stood alone in the kitchen, drawing deep breaths into his body. Once lost, the control was difficult to recapture. Random thoughts raced through his mind. Memories from the past—lost dreams, half-forgotten moments. He’d offered her all he had and she’d turned him down flat. Publicly. Now she expected exoneration for her behavior. Hell would freeze over before he’d ever—
“Was that a discussion you’d want her daughter to hear?”
“What?” He spun toward the back door.
Charlene stood in the pantry. “I could hear you clear outside. Now I’ve sent the child off to find the berry patch. If you two are going to quarrel, please find a more suitable location.”
“We weren’t arguing.”
“It sounded like an argument.” Interest sparkled in her blue eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he said curtly, then instantly regretted his sharp tone. “It doesn’t matter, Charlene. Jane just wanted me to get in touch with my feelings, and I did.”
*
Stupid, Jane thought as she pulled the brush through her long hair. Just plain stupid. She’d been stupid to think about coming back to Orchard, stupid to think she and Adam might be able to resolve anything by discussing the past, and stupid to plan to let him know about his daughter.
“Not my finest hour,” she muttered, as she dropped the brush, then reached back and began braiding her hair. Her fingers moved efficiently, weaving the long strands into a French braid. The mirror over the dresser reflected her image. She averted her eyes, not wanting to see the guilty flush on her own face. Morning light filtered through the lace curtains and onto the carpeted floor. Like the room Billie slept in, this guest room had been decorated with warm colors and cozy prints. A handmade quilt covered the bed she sat on. The bright yellows and peaches blended in a star-shaped pattern. It should have been soothing. Despite the room, the cool shower and the stern talking-to she’d given herself, her heart still thundered in her chest. Her hands shook from the recentexchange with her former fiancé, and a strand of hair slipped out of her grasp, causing her to release the half-finished braid.
“Stupid.” She picked up the brush and began vigorously stroking.
“You’re gonna pull it all out,” Billie said as she walked into the room.
“What?”
“Your hair. You’re brushing too hard. Are you mad at me?”
“No, honey.” Jane set the brush on the bed and held open her arms. “Come here.” Her daughter stepped into her embrace and they hugged. “I’m not angry at all.”
Billie had managed to stay reasonably clean, despite a quick trip to the berry patch. Jane held her at arm’s length and studied her. The peach-and-cream floral print sundress brought out the tan on her face and arms. Her hair showed signs of recent contact with a comb. Brown eyes, so much like Adam’s that it hurt to look at them, glared back mutinously.
“I’m not wearing that hat,” Billie said. “And you
With a slow gesture, too deliberate to be ignored, he pulled away from the contact. Jane bit her lower lip and stepped back. It wasn’t even close to a draw, he thought. He’d hurt her, but nothing like what she’d done to him, all those years ago.
“If you could just let me explain,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I never meant to—”
“I don’t give a damn about your explanations. Or you.”
Her hazel eyes studied him. Tears threatened again, but she brushed them away impatiently. “You’re too angry to not care, Adam. Your temper gives you away.”
One point for her, he thought grimly. “All right. I care enough not to want you in my life. How’s that?”
She turned and walked toward the hallway. When she reachedthe door, she looked back over her shoulder. “Be careful what you throw away, Adam. You may find you need it after all.” After she fled into the quiet morning, he stood alone in the kitchen, drawing deep breaths into his body. Once lost, the control was difficult to recapture. Random thoughts raced through his mind. Memories from the past—lost dreams, half-forgotten moments. He’d offered her all he had and she’d turned him down flat. Publicly. Now she expected exoneration for her behavior. Hell would freeze over before he’d ever—
“Was that a discussion you’d want her daughter to hear?”
“What?” He spun toward the back door.
Charlene stood in the pantry. “I could hear you clear outside. Now I’ve sent the child off to find the berry patch. If you two are going to quarrel, please find a more suitable location.”
“We weren’t arguing.”
“It sounded like an argument.” Interest sparkled in her blue eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he said curtly, then instantly regretted his sharp tone. “It doesn’t matter, Charlene. Jane just wanted me to get in touch with my feelings, and I did.”
*
Stupid, Jane thought as she pulled the brush through her long hair. Just plain stupid. She’d been stupid to think about coming back to Orchard, stupid to think she and Adam might be able to resolve anything by discussing the past, and stupid to plan to let him know about his daughter.
“Not my finest hour,” she muttered, as she dropped the brush, then reached back and began braiding her hair. Her fingers moved efficiently, weaving the long strands into a French braid. The mirror over the dresser reflected her image. She averted her eyes, not wanting to see the guilty flush on her own face. Morning light filtered through the lace curtains and onto the carpeted floor. Like the room Billie slept in, this guest room had been decorated with warm colors and cozy prints. A handmade quilt covered the bed she sat on. The bright yellows and peaches blended in a star-shaped pattern. It should have been soothing. Despite the room, the cool shower and the stern talking-to she’d given herself, her heart still thundered in her chest. Her hands shook from the recentexchange with her former fiancé, and a strand of hair slipped out of her grasp, causing her to release the half-finished braid.
“Stupid.” She picked up the brush and began vigorously stroking.
“You’re gonna pull it all out,” Billie said as she walked into the room.
“What?”
“Your hair. You’re brushing too hard. Are you mad at me?”
“No, honey.” Jane set the brush on the bed and held open her arms. “Come here.” Her daughter stepped into her embrace and they hugged. “I’m not angry at all.”
Billie had managed to stay reasonably clean, despite a quick trip to the berry patch. Jane held her at arm’s length and studied her. The peach-and-cream floral print sundress brought out the tan on her face and arms. Her hair showed signs of recent contact with a comb. Brown eyes, so much like Adam’s that it hurt to look at them, glared back mutinously.
“I’m not wearing that hat,” Billie said. “And you
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