What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(47)
There was a message unspoken that he didn’t understand. “Do you want me to have Laurel call you when she gets home?”
“No!” Sarah caught a quick breath and stepped back in denial. “I mean, I’d better be getting back now. Uh—nice to see you again.” She raised her hand in a brisk farewell, walked quickly to the curb, and made her way across the street without looking back.
Chapter Twelve
Jase watched to be sure Sarah made it across the street.
What the hell was that all about?
He shrugged. Oh well, he had other things to tend to, and first on his list was the dishwasher. He walked to the den and picked up the phone, offering an extra twenty if the repairman got to the house within fifteen minutes.
The guy made it in ten.
*
Laurel paused for a second after entering her driveway. She’d given Jase a key in case he got back first, but she hadn’t expected him to have company. There, in the parking area in front of the garage, angled beside Jase’s Cadillac, sat an appliance company van.
She entered through the kitchen door. What now?
God help her. Jase, Mr. Cool, was leaning against a kitchen counter, his long legs crossed at the ankles, as he carried on a conversation about the Baylor Bears’ upcoming season with a uniformed repairman who was down on the floor doing something to the innards of her dishwasher.
A twinge of anger zinged through her. Now she’d have to pay for something else she couldn’t afford.
Jase came over to her, encircled her waist with one arm, and kissed her cheek in greeting. “I didn’t think you’d let me put in central air, honey, but I’m going to insist on this thing being fixed.”
Slipping out of his embrace, she affected an air of indifference. “I’ve been meaning to have it taken care of, but it just didn’t seem worthwhile with me being the only one in the house.”
Moving to the pantry, she began to prepare sandwiches for their lunch, which gave her an excuse to stay in the kitchen and keep an eye on developments.
How much would the work cost? Could she ask to be billed?
But when the repairman started to present her with an invoice, Jase hauled out his wallet, peeled off a couple of large bills, and handed them over. It was a relief, but it also made her uncomfortable.
Guests don’t pay for food, and they don’t pay for dishwasher repairs either.
After lunch, they retired to the den. Jase had some calls he needed to make, and she wanted to read a little—not that she could concentrate on Georgette Heyer’s historical with all the talk of CPDs, LOIs, and Phase I Reports going on. None of the terms meant a thing to her, but Jase’s way of handling things was an eye-opener.
The business side of him was all business. His voice became clipped, his face hardened into granite, and he brooked no nonsense. Want and hardship had forged him. He’d gone through fire and come out steel.
Maybe she should have been repulsed, but actually this hard-as-nails aspect fascinated her. If Daddy had possessed even half of Jase’s business acumen, she wouldn’t be pawning clocks on the sly. Laurel winced in sudden sorrow—Daddy had had more weaknesses than letting money flow through his fingers like water.
The phone rang again, but with the opening bars of “Five Foot Two.” Jase’s voice changed, becoming more humanoid.
“Hi, sweetheart. Good to hear from you.”
Laurel smiled. He’d switched into father mode.
“You want how much money for what?…Lolly, don’t you think the one you have is good enough? It’s not as if you’ll be playing tennis at school this fall. You’ve already committed to the volleyball team…My permission?…Okay, give me the guy’s name and where I send it…”
Jase was gesturing at her now, making a wiggling motion with his hand. Laurel stared at him, trying to understand. Did he want her to write something down? There was a tablet in the desk. She stood up and rolled back the top.
He turned away from the mobile for a second.
“My pen, Laurel!” he hissed. “I left it in the kitchen when we were making the grocery list! I need my pen!”
“Gotcha.” She raced down the hall, picked up his Mont Blanc, and was back within seconds, grabbing a notepad on the way.
Jase seized the pad and uncapped his pen. “Thanks, babe. I was about to write on my palm.”
Still holding his phone to his ear, he scribbled an address on the pad. “Uhm-hmm…uhm-hmm…well, okay, but I want to see some follow-through…okay…yeah, uh, okay, I’ll tell Laurel you said that…I love you too, sweetheart. ’Bye now. Take care of Aunt Maxie for me.”
He ended the call, looked at Laurel, and breathed deep. “I never know what she’ll be into next.”
“The tennis camp?”
He smiled in paternal resignation. “Lolly’s usual idea of an emergency. Her instructor mentioned a particular racket he liked, and she wanted permission to go out and buy it immediately—two hundred and fifty dollars on the hoof, and she’s just been playing for three days.”
“Was that all? The conversation sounded a little odd toward the end.” She’d heard her name mentioned.
Jase came around and captured her waist from the back. “That was because she caught on that I’m still at your house.”