Rules of Protection(58)

I grinned. “That is weird. Did she put pink bows in your hair, too?”

“No, smartass, not that.” Jake held the other dandelion and placed it under my chin. “My mom would hold one of these underneath and if the yellow shined on my chin, she’d say ‘you like butter.’”

“What does it mean?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I never thought to ask. I guess I figured I had all the time in the world to. I had always pictured her doing the same thing to my children one day. But now that’ll never happen.” Guilt darkened his gray eyes. “I guess the least I could’ve done was ask her what it meant.”

His regrets pulled at my heartstrings. I knew how he felt. Though I’d had years to come to terms with my parents’ deaths, the clouded memories of the past still haunted me. But he reeled from a trauma that happened just last year.

“I’m sorry,” Jake said. “I didn’t mean to bring up the past.”

“It’s okay. I liked hearing about your mother.”

“Yeah, but it’s not fair. You’ve spent half your life without your parents. Knowing that, I feel bad talking to you about my own.”

“I don’t mind, Jake.”

A noise startled me and I turned my head to see Hank and the three boys unloading some parts from the truck. I guess we were too deep in conversation to hear them pull up, though I don’t know how, since they were all whooping and hollering. Then Ox smacked Cowboy on the ass.

“Why am I starting to feel like I’m in one of those cowboy butt-sex movies?”

“Come on,” Jake said with a grin. “Let’s wrap this up. I think the heat is frying your brain cells.”

…

Jake didn’t have time to bathe before a whole slew of neighbors showed up and cornered him into chatting with them. Since I didn’t know anyone, it was easy for me to slink back to the cottage and wash off the stink.

I dressed in a pair of green belted cargo shorts, a white knit top, and my stretch canvas sneakers. My melt-proof makeup consisted of cream blush, mascara, bronzer, and a touch of lip gloss. I finished my hair and had just turned off my flat iron when Jake stepped into the bedroom.

“Where’d you get that thing?” he asked.

“This thing is called a flat iron. Floss picked it up for me at a garage sale. She got a good deal on it—two dollars—and it works great.”

He picked up a section of my hair and examined it. “I don’t get it. Why do girls straighten their hair when it’s already straight?”

God, men know nothing. “Do you really want me to explain?”

“Nope,” he said, dropping the section of hair. “It was more of a rhetorical question.” Jake motioned to the door. “Ready to face the firing squad? Everyone wants to see you.”

“See me?”

“Yeah, they all want to get a look at the girl I brought home. You’re the first, you know.”

“Considering the circumstances under which we came here, I’m not all that flattered.”

“I guess I understand, but none of them know about that. They all still think you’re my girlfriend, remember?”

“I’m nervous. What if everyone gawks at me?”

Jake kissed my temple and squeezed my hand in his. “Then it won’t be any different from any other day.”

We barely made it out to the yard when Floss stopped us in passing. “There you two are. Momma Bell is here,” Floss said, pointing across the yard at an elderly woman. “I told her all about Emily and she’s dying to meet her. Be sure you go over and introduce her.”

Jake rubbed at his forehead. “God, maybe we could hide inside for a while, just until it’s past her bedtime and she leaves.”

His callousness toward a little old lady appalled me, though Floss wasn’t the least bit surprised. “Momma Bell may be overbearing at times, but she means well. Say hello to her, Jake. It won’t kill you. But if you don’t, I might,” Floss threatened as she walked away.

“Yoo-hoo! Jakey, over here,” Momma Bell said, waving.

He plastered on the fakest smile I’d ever seen and waved back to her.

“Aww. Look at her. She’s fond of you…Jakey,” I said, laughing.

“Don’t start,” Jake said with a serious face. “You don’t know her. She’s a pushy pain in the ass.”

“She seems delightful. With a name like Momma Bell, how could she not be?”

“Her name is Maebelle, but she constantly mothers everyone, hence the name. I wish the old bat would’ve had kids of her own before her husband died. Then she would’ve left all of us alone. She adopted us the same way a kidnapper adopts a child…against our will.”

“Oh, that’s a terrible thing to say. Maybe she’s lonely. You wouldn’t know anything about it since you have family, but I know how she must feel. I’ve been alone for years.” I glanced back to the elderly woman chatting with Hank and couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. “Let’s go say hello,” I said, starting in her direction.

He grabbed me and yanked me back. “Before I go anywhere near that woman, I need a beer. In fact, you do, too. You just don’t know it yet.”