Read Online The Perfect Coed (Oak Grove Mysteries Book 1) by Judy Alter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Judy Alter
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meet Jake. Buy the makings for chicken and dumplings.”
Susan hung up the phone and held her head in her hands. She loved Aunt Jenny more than she could ever say, but she didn’t need her underfoot right now. And here it was Thursday already, and she’d have to have her house sparkling by Sunday. Wearily, she called Jake.
“I need you,” she said without saying hello or asking where he was and why he hadn’t started cooking her dinner.
He was still at the office. “Susan? Is this an invitation? I didn’t think we parted on the best of terms at the memorial service.” He was laughing at her.
If only you knew, she thought. “Yeah,” she said, keeping her voice light, “it’s an invitation for Sunday night supper. My Aunt Jenny says she’ll be here in time to cook.”
“Aunt Jenny! I’ve been wondering when I’d be invited to meet her.”
“Jake, what am I going to do with a seventy-plus dither-head sharing my house with me?”
“I guess,” he said, “you’re going to learn a lesson in patience. And the two of us are going to learn a lesson in stolen moments of passion—you won’t let me spend the night, will you?”
“Aunt Jenny would be horrified.”
He sighed. “I was afraid of that. How long’s she staying?”
“She didn’t say. She knows all about Missy Jackson being found in my car, and she’s worried about me.” As she talked, Susan paced as far as the long phone cord would let her, traveling toward the kitchen bar and back again as many as ten times.
“Well, let me go with you to meet her plane.”
“She’s driving,” Susan said flatly.
He was amazed and indignant. “From what you’ve told me, she’s too old to drive here from Wichita Falls. Susan, how could you let her do that?”
“Wait till you meet Aunt Jenny, and then you’ll wonder how I could have stopped her.”
He chuckled. “I’ll be glad to meet the person who can stymie you, Susan. Meantime, I do have a couple of things to report on the murder. Want to forgive and forget over dinner?”
“Yes.” Her answer came so quickly that she heard Jake chuckle again, but she wanted him to come and comfort her and bury the poor kitten. “What time will you be here?”
“Not your place but mine,” he said. “I’ve got beer and wine and hamburger meat, buns, tomatoes and onion, dill pickles—all the makings of your kind of meal.”
Susan rarely went to Jake’s house, and it was a source of argument between them. “It’s not that I mind coming to your house,” he’d told her once, “but I think we ought to share.”
“In Scott’s eyes, it’s bad enough you spend the night at my house, but if I were to spend the night there…” She had thrown her hands up in the air.
“He probably wouldn’t even know,” Jake said, “as far away from campus as I am.”
“Don’t bet on it,” she’d told him.
Tonight, she was about to say, “Jake, I need you here,” when she realized that she wanted to be away from her own house for a while.
“I’ll pick you up, so you don’t have to go home late on the moped.”
She drew her own personal line in the sand. “I’ll ride the moped,” she said with determination. Maybe, she thought, the ride will get rid of whatever I’m feeling. What? Stress? Tension? Fear? That was it—good old-fashioned scared-to-death. “I’ll be there before dark, and I’ll spend the night,” she said.
“I’ll be waiting with open arms.” When he hung up, Jake shook his head in exasperation. Sometimes Susan was so hard to help that it frustrated him and made him wonder about their relationship. Where he came from a man protected a woman, and yet Susan seemed to reject protection—even when she needed it most.
* * *
Jake lived in the country, beyond where Susan lived. Outside, his was the perfunctory ranch-style house with red brick, evenly spaced windows, ordinary landscaping—lots of nandinas—and not much to distinguish it from most suburban houses except that
Susan hung up the phone and held her head in her hands. She loved Aunt Jenny more than she could ever say, but she didn’t need her underfoot right now. And here it was Thursday already, and she’d have to have her house sparkling by Sunday. Wearily, she called Jake.
“I need you,” she said without saying hello or asking where he was and why he hadn’t started cooking her dinner.
He was still at the office. “Susan? Is this an invitation? I didn’t think we parted on the best of terms at the memorial service.” He was laughing at her.
If only you knew, she thought. “Yeah,” she said, keeping her voice light, “it’s an invitation for Sunday night supper. My Aunt Jenny says she’ll be here in time to cook.”
“Aunt Jenny! I’ve been wondering when I’d be invited to meet her.”
“Jake, what am I going to do with a seventy-plus dither-head sharing my house with me?”
“I guess,” he said, “you’re going to learn a lesson in patience. And the two of us are going to learn a lesson in stolen moments of passion—you won’t let me spend the night, will you?”
“Aunt Jenny would be horrified.”
He sighed. “I was afraid of that. How long’s she staying?”
“She didn’t say. She knows all about Missy Jackson being found in my car, and she’s worried about me.” As she talked, Susan paced as far as the long phone cord would let her, traveling toward the kitchen bar and back again as many as ten times.
“Well, let me go with you to meet her plane.”
“She’s driving,” Susan said flatly.
He was amazed and indignant. “From what you’ve told me, she’s too old to drive here from Wichita Falls. Susan, how could you let her do that?”
“Wait till you meet Aunt Jenny, and then you’ll wonder how I could have stopped her.”
He chuckled. “I’ll be glad to meet the person who can stymie you, Susan. Meantime, I do have a couple of things to report on the murder. Want to forgive and forget over dinner?”
“Yes.” Her answer came so quickly that she heard Jake chuckle again, but she wanted him to come and comfort her and bury the poor kitten. “What time will you be here?”
“Not your place but mine,” he said. “I’ve got beer and wine and hamburger meat, buns, tomatoes and onion, dill pickles—all the makings of your kind of meal.”
Susan rarely went to Jake’s house, and it was a source of argument between them. “It’s not that I mind coming to your house,” he’d told her once, “but I think we ought to share.”
“In Scott’s eyes, it’s bad enough you spend the night at my house, but if I were to spend the night there…” She had thrown her hands up in the air.
“He probably wouldn’t even know,” Jake said, “as far away from campus as I am.”
“Don’t bet on it,” she’d told him.
Tonight, she was about to say, “Jake, I need you here,” when she realized that she wanted to be away from her own house for a while.
“I’ll pick you up, so you don’t have to go home late on the moped.”
She drew her own personal line in the sand. “I’ll ride the moped,” she said with determination. Maybe, she thought, the ride will get rid of whatever I’m feeling. What? Stress? Tension? Fear? That was it—good old-fashioned scared-to-death. “I’ll be there before dark, and I’ll spend the night,” she said.
“I’ll be waiting with open arms.” When he hung up, Jake shook his head in exasperation. Sometimes Susan was so hard to help that it frustrated him and made him wonder about their relationship. Where he came from a man protected a woman, and yet Susan seemed to reject protection—even when she needed it most.
* * *
Jake lived in the country, beyond where Susan lived. Outside, his was the perfunctory ranch-style house with red brick, evenly spaced windows, ordinary landscaping—lots of nandinas—and not much to distinguish it from most suburban houses except that
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