Chapter Ten
“Be there for others when they call. You might be the next one picking up the phone.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #39
Cal rose from his kneeling position in the living room where he’d been putting down new subflooring and grunted at the ache in his knees. He lifted his arms above his head, stretching out his back, then bent over and unclipped his kneepads. He’d been at it for too long without stretching, but a setback with the stability of the underlying floor support had meant he’d needed to stay late to catch up.
In fact, several setbacks had kept him late on numerous occasions.
As he worked the kinks out of his neck, a door closed with a soft click above him, and he smiled to himself. Mrs. Wainwright had decided a couple of days ago that she wanted some attention, and she’d been playing with him ever since. It seemed to happen most often when he was there alone.
He glanced at his watch as he moved through the downstairs, double-checking that all the flooring issues had been resolved, then glanced outside to see if anyone was still around. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but he’d cut his crew loose a while ago, with Pete following not far behind. It looked as if the crowd across the street had packed up for the day, too.
No production crews remained, and he caught sight of a lone pair of taillights as a dark-brown SUV drove down the quiet street. Heather was heading home. And he’d seen Trenton pull out some time ago.
He ducked his head so he could make out the house next door from where he stood in the living room, and saw only a navy-blue pickup remaining in the driveway. That made him smile. Jill was still there.
When footsteps shuffled in the room upstairs, he pulled out his phone and sent a text.
Any way you could help me out for a minute? Come over?
He held his breath as he waited for a reply. The tension between him and Jill had definitely lessened over the last week, and although he hadn’t spoken directly to her since she’d warned him about his uncle two days before, they’d passed in the yard several times.
She continued avoiding Patrick’s attempts to interview them together, and Cal had even backed off helping the producer with his plight. But every time Jill thwarted an attempt, instead of seeing anger or smugness written on her face, Cal now usually caught a smile. She was enjoying herself.
A soft knock sounded at the back door, and he made his way to the kitchen to find an unsmiling face peering in at him. He opened the door, but instead of saying anything, Jill shot a look at the upper corner of his kitchen.
“I know, right?” Cal said. “What’ll they think? Cavorting with the enemy.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Competition.”
“No longer the enemy?”
She sighed. “You were never my enemy, Cal. Just my ex. Whom I’m still angry at,” she added quickly.
He nodded with contrition. “And whom you don’t speak to.”
“Right.”
He held the door open wide and invited her in with a nod, and as he did, he didn’t take his eyes off hers for one second. When she smirked, acknowledging his smart-ass comment about her still not speaking to him, a grin spread slowly across his face.
“Stop it,” she grumbled. But she came into his house.
“I’m not doing anything.”
She smelled like sawdust and Sheetrock mud, and he found it strangely arousing.
“You were thinking something, so stop it.”
He was thinking a lot of things. “Fine. I’ll stop it. For now.”
She checked out every inch of the kitchen and new dining space as she walked in a small loop, and after her initial curiosity was met, she returned to the newly installed kitchen island. Where she crossed her arms and cocked out a hip. “So, what did you bring me over for?”
He pointed to the ceiling. “Listen.”
She stood motionless and listened, even closing her eyes to hear better, and Cal could tell by her face when the soft music playing in the upstairs bedroom had made it to her ears. She opened her eyes. “What? You left a radio on?”
He shook his head.
“Then what is it?”
“Mrs. Wainwright.”
Her gaze shot toward the staircase. “No, it’s not.”
The music changed to a jazz number, and Jill’s eyes stayed locked in the direction of the upper room.
“I told you,” he said.
“Pete has to be up there.”
“Pete went home an hour ago. Want to go up with me and see for yourself?”
The music changed once again, this time to an ’80s hair band, and Cal almost laughed out loud. Mrs. Wainwright had a sense of humor.
“I don’t think I do,” Jill answered.
“Scared?”
“Heather’s the one into ghosts. Call her next time.” She inched around to the other side of the unpainted island. The side that was closest to the door.
“I don’t want to call Heather.”
Blue-green eyes locked on his. “Then call your girlfriend.”
“I don’t want to call her, either.”
He took a step closer, putting him at the island as well, only standing on the opposite side as her, and was pleased when she didn’t turn and run. He’d wanted to talk to her again since Monday. Not about anything specific. Just to talk.
Just to see her.
It thrilled him that his text had brought her over.
“Thank you for letting me know about my uncle the other day,” he said, and at his comment, her gaze moved to his collar. When she didn’t see what she was looking for, her eyes inched lower. “Mic pack is off,” he told her. The camera crew had unwired him before they’d left. “Yours?”
“Gone.” She looked at the upper corner of the room again.
“The cameras in the house don’t pick up sound.”
“Really?” Relief washed over her. “I’d been afraid to ask.”
His brows shot skyward. “What have you been saying over there that you don’t want heard?”
“Nothing.” She laughed softly. “Not really. Just some stuff about Len’s beard that first night. You know, the night I lost my shit on the cabinets?”
His entire body relaxed with her joking reference to the evening he’d gone over to her house, and at the same time that his comfort level rose, Jill’s feet went into motion. Cal stayed where he was, but turned in place to watch as she scoured the area. He feared getting any closer. If he did, he might find an excuse to touch her. And that would send her running the other way.
She stood on tiptoe and peered into the topmost cabinets. He’d taken the storage to the ceiling, though the doors were yet to be hung. They would get painted white before going up.
Next she peeked into the space where a six-burner cooktop would eventually be hooked up, and when she finally spoke, she returned to the topic of his uncle. “I was a little surprised when I smelled beer on him. It wasn’t even noon yet. But even then, I wasn’t going to say anything. Maybe he’d had one with his lunch, you know?” She checked out the pantry, and gave a little nod. “But then”—she looked over her shoulder at him—“he weaved. Not a lot, but I thought I should . . .” She stopped talking long enough to give him a little shrug. She might not have known what she should do, but she’d done the right thing. “Is he okay, Cal? I’ve heard some things . . .”
“He’s fine.” He didn’t ask what she’d heard, nor did he attempt to finish her sentence for her. “He was celebrating his TV debut. Just got ahead of himself.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything else, and the music above them changed yet again. This time to an instrumental. It also increased in volume. Not loud, but just enough to pull at them.
Cal wanted to take Jill’s hand.
“Please tell me there’s at least a radio up there?” She moved out of the kitchen to peer up the stairs.
“There is.” Cal followed her. “I put it in there myself. For her.”
Jill turned, and almost bumped into him. “You what?”
He stayed where he was. “I did some asking around after Heather got me interested the other day, and I managed to locate one of Mrs. Wainwright’s nieces. She doesn’t live too far away, and she told me that Mrs. Wainwright used to sit in that room and listen to music until the day she died.” He let the back of his fingers touch Jill’s. “That was her favorite room in the house. Her niece has a theory that the man who’d been here that night might have been a musician.”
Jill looked toward the stairs again. “That could be.” She closed her eyes, her head tilted slightly back, as if picturing a long-ago woman, unhappy in her marriage, and the man who did make her happy. “Or maybe they just liked to dance,” she said softly.
“That could be it, too.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She opened her eyes and moved away from him, roaming through the front of the house. She trailed her fingers over the custom trim work they’d repaired on the built-in shelving, and as she continued to check out the area, she began to sway. Her hips shifted in time with the music, but her focus remained so intent on the work that had been done to the rooms that he suspected she had no clue she was dancing.
“Whatever the man might have been,” he said, “Mrs. Wainwright has good taste in music.”
Jill’s feet went still with his words, and she quickly looked down at herself. She tossed a casual glance back at him, as if to determine if Cal had been aware of her movements or not, and being the nongentleman that he was, he offered a wolfish grin.
She rolled her eyes at him, but he only grinned wider.
“You didn’t see that,” she muttered.
She crossed back to the staircase and looked up as the music switched once more, this time to a lonely piano tune.
He’d heard that one played before.
“I can’t believe you’re so comfortable with this,” she muttered. She eyed the landing on the second floor, then leaned to her right as if trying to see inside the open door of the upstairs bedroom. She continued speaking, almost too softly to hear. “It’s so weird. I wouldn’t have believed any of—”
Her words snapped off and she whirled to face him.
“You really are just messing with me, aren’t you?” She groaned in disgust and headed up the stairs. “There has to be someone here. I can’t believe I fell for . . .”
Her words trailed off as Cal followed her into the empty bedroom. The small radio sat on the bare subfloor in the corner of the space, and with the closet doors currently propped against the wall instead of closing off the smaller area, it was clear that no other living soul shared the space with them.
“Want to dance?” he asked her. The volume lowered to a more reasonable level.
She shook her head, but her eyes remained on the radio. It was as if Mrs. Wainwright had brought them to where she wanted them to be. Cal wondered if Jill had picked up on that, too.
“Bring Marci up here if you want to dance,” she told him.
“I don’t want to dance with Marci.”
Ever again, he added silently. He didn’t share that he and Marci were no more.
“What did she want with you the other day?” he asked. “When she came over to talk to you?”
Marci had been close lipped about her conversation with Jill when she’d returned, but she had talked about other things. Such as the many specifics she—as a Hammery—required in a man.
Jill didn’t answer his question. Instead, she walked to the window, and looked out over the darkening sky. She stood completely still as she took in the scene. Something was definitely running through the woman’s head, though. Cal had no doubt. But he also hadn’t the first clue what it might be.
When she finally did speak again, the subject change caught him off guard. “Did you take Marci to your farm last weekend?”
“No.” He moved to her side. “I didn’t even see her last weekend.”
He didn’t offer up that he’d been out there, though. Nor did he tell her about the table he was making. He’d started building it thinking it would be a nice gift for whoever eventually moved into the place, but after getting to know Mrs. Wainwright, he now hoped the piece would be special enough to entice her into leaving this room. There was sadness in this space, and though he’d never been a big believer in the supernatural before this project, he couldn’t deny that this room felt different than the others.
“Why would you think I took Marci out there?” He had no clue where she’d gotten the idea, nor why it would matter.
And then he realized it was more than that she’d thought it. She’d been upset about it. That’s why she’d made that dig about Marci not getting enough of him the other day. She’d been jealous.
He grinned at that thought, no more able to control the smile growing on his face than he was the urge to be closer to Jill.
“Stop it.” She watched his reflection in the glass.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinking things again.”
He chuckled. God, he’d missed her. “I am thinking things. Want to hear what they are?”
“No.”
“Ah, Jilly. You’re such a chicken these days.” He turned to her, eager to see her face instead of a reflection, and he allowed himself to do what he’d been wanting to do since she’d walked in. He took her hands in his. “When did that happen?”
Her fingers wiggled inside his. “It’s not that I’m a chicken. I’m simply more mature these days. I don’t jump quite as fast. It’s saved me a few falls.”
“Yet sometimes falling is good for you.” He studied her. “You ever go out on dates, Jill?”
Her brows knotted. “Where did that come from?”
He wasn’t sure himself. “I never see you out anywhere. Not with a man.”
And, fair or not, this had pleased him immensely.
“I stay pretty busy,” she answered.
She pulled her hands from his and left the room, stopping only when she got to the open loft. Her fingers closed around the unfinished railing, and she peered out over the space below.
Cal watched her as she stood there, trying to imagine seeing the upgrades through her eyes. The designs for the two houses weren’t identical, but they had similarities. Both with an open concept below and a vaulted ceiling in the back half of the house. And both with a sitting nook in the space where they stood now.
But he’d seen her plans. They would be installing wooden beams and keeping the tone more rustic, whereas he’d decided to go with a more contemporary edge. Not too much, but a hint of sleek and modern. More airy than the look she was going for.
Jill put her back to the railing then and looked at him, and the intensity of her face made him realize that she hadn’t been taking in the design below her at all. She’d been in her head. “Why don’t you get angry anymore?” she asked him. “You used to be as bad as me.”
“I was never as bad as you.”
“Fine. But you were close. That’s why we . . .”
She pressed her lips together instead of finishing her sentence, so he finished it for her.
“Why we connected?”
She nodded. That’s what had drawn them to one another to begin with, and how it had remained strong for so long. They’d both needed the type of person who understood them.
“I still get angry,” he told her. No one in his life knew that about him. He hid it well.
“But you don’t show it. And it’s so unfair. Both then and now.” She laughed drily and looked beyond him. “Everyone watches me with an eagle eye, just waiting for me to blow. And back then, I was the one who had to go to anger-management classes.” She brought her gaze back to his. “And you know you should have been right there with me.”
He gave her a smart-ass smirk. “You shouldn’t have gotten tossed in jail.”
“I didn’t!”
“Almost gotten tossed, then.” He smiled at her again, and for the first time since he’d been a teenager, he felt an honest connection with another human being. “Thank goodness for Blu, huh?”
“Every day,” she said softly.
Blu had saved him, too. He didn’t know if she’d been aware of what she was doing at the time, but without her hiring him at sixteen, giving him a steadying after-school job, he suspected he’d have turned out much differently than he had.
Jill pushed away from the railing and prowled through the other rooms on the floor. There was a converted attic space not large enough for a bedroom, which he planned to turn into a small library, as well as an even smaller bathroom. The bath was large enough for a claw-foot tub and pedestal sink, both original to the house, and other than the toilet, that was it.
When she resurfaced from the bathroom, she stopped in the doorway and propped herself against the frame. “So how do you do it? If you still carry around that anger, then how do you never let it show? You’re always so . . . charming.” She made a face with the word, and he chuckled. “Always laughing.” She pointed at him. “Like now. You seem so happy. So . . . content,” she finished on a whisper.
He went silent. Because he wasn’t content. He’d merely learned how to pretend better than she had. He wasn’t willing to show that much of himself, though. Letting her see his place was one thing. But see him?
Best to get back to joking.
“How do you know I’m so charming?” he teased. “You been watching me, Sadler?”
She huffed in disgust. “Not watching so much as hearing. The whole damned town loves you. Every time we lose out on a bid, we get told how that nice Reynolds boy just seemed like the better option.” She fired off a knowing look. “You go after our bids on purpose, don’t you?”
Cal found himself nodding. He’d gone after them for years.
“Why?”
“I wanted to win,” he said. Because it had infuriated him that she’d come home and refused to speak to him. As if she’d been the only wronged party in their breakup. Blocking her company from winning bids had been his only way to fight back.
“Same way as you want to win this competition?” she asked. “You said you agreed to do it because of me. But you didn’t actually say why.”
“I agreed because I wanted to make you speak to me again.”
Shock colored her features for a moment, then she angled her head in acceptance. “And you did. I’ll give you that one. You got me to speak to you.” Then she did a quick one-eighty on the subject. “So since we’re talking again, tell me how you forgave him. Because there’s no way you still hold as much anger as you once did.”
Cal stared at her, unblinking. She didn’t have to say who “him” was. She meant his dad.
And whether she realized it or not, she was talking about her mother, as well. Because he suspected she’d never figured out how to forgive her mom, either.
He didn’t immediately give her an answer. His dad was high profile in banking, both when he’d lived in Red Oak Falls and even more so now. And that was pretty much all he cared about. Cal had always compared his father to his uncle, which had only made the divide between the two of them wider. Neil and Rodney Reynolds had both lost a brother early in life. Tragically. They both had the same parents, both came from identical circumstances.
Yet Rodney had turned out normal. He could care about people.
He wanted to care about people.
But Cal’s dad . . .
Cal ground his teeth together. He’d never understand why the man couldn’t love his only son. Even when they were all the other had.
Jill kept her gaze on his, unwilling to look away even though Cal knew the message he was sending made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about this. She simply stared. Demanding he provide an answer. And damned if he didn’t feel locked into her gaze. As if he physically couldn’t look away.
Eventually he sighed. He’d give her something, and hopefully she’d back off.
“I didn’t forgive him,” he admitted. “But I also don’t let that anger run my life. I’ve learned that two grown men can be cordial when need be. He sees Granny twice a year and sends a care package once a month. That’s enough to make me cordial.”
“And how often do you see him?”
He looked away from her. “Twice a year.” The man had never once come back to the house he’d grown up in. Didn’t visit his only son.
And Cal had never done anything but try to love him.
“Then why does no one see your anger?” Jill asked again. The anger that he knew she could see resurfacing now.
“Because I don’t want them to,” he snarled out before he could stop himself.
He stomped down the stairs then, not looking to see if she would follow, and slammed out the front door.
Jill remained rooted at the top of the stairs as the echo of the slamming door reverberated through her ears, and the second Cal’s footsteps disappeared from the porch, the music in the other room stopped. She eyed the bedroom, now cast in shadows, and she swore she could feel the other woman in there urging her down the stairs.
“What?” Jill asked. “I suppose you want me to follow him?”
The piano music started again.
“Fine,” she ground out. She couldn’t believe she was listening to a ghost.
She hurried down the steps and out the front door, slamming it as Cal had, hoping he’d hear her and slow his strides. But he kept plowing ahead. She’d been pushing at him back there. Intentionally. Because every time she’d looked his way over the last five years, he seemed to have pulled himself together with no lingering effects from his own childhood. While she bumped into metaphorical walls at practically every turn.
Yet the last few minutes had shown her that all was not as it seemed. Cal did have unresolved issues with his father. And that should not make her feel better about herself.
She jogged along the sidewalk and crossed the road, heading for the path that ran parallel to the stream. Cal hit the head of the path, and she picked up speed, but she also noticed that he finally slowed. By the time she caught up with him, his feet were barely moving.
They walked in silence while she caught her breath, the lampposts that lined the walkway casting light on them every thirty feet, and once they reached the footbridge that led into the city park, Cal stopped walking altogether. She moved to his side as they both faced the railing and stared at the water beyond. There were still a handful of people in the park, and kids’ squeals and laughter could be heard, as well as the lower tones of their parents trying to round them up. A couple of vendors that were routinely in the area were likely still there, as well, no doubt closing up shop. The hot dog cart made a repetitive squeaking noise as it rolled, and after a few minutes of standing on the bridge, Jill picked out its squeak heading their way.
“You okay?” she finally asked.
Cal nodded. “Told you I still get angry.”
“That was nothing compared to me.”
He looked at her then, a wry smile on his lips, and motioned toward the entrance to the park. “Let’s walk.”
Together they turned to pass under the double rows of elm trees, whose canopies were so wide and overlapping, they blocked what was on the other side. She and Cal were greeted by a lone biker and several harried mothers on their way out, and then they found themselves on the other side of the trees, where a quieter, more private space awaited them. The acreage for the park had been donated to the city over three decades ago, and along with the traditional playground equipment, picnic tables, and walking paths, it also backed up to Red Oak Lake. That’s where the beauty came alive.
Without either suggesting it, they headed for a bench overlooking the lake, which also overlooked the sunset. Though the sun had officially dipped beneath the horizon, pink-and-purple-hued clouds remained stretched flat across the sky.
They met the hot dog vendor heading in the opposite direction, and Cal lifted a hand.
“Hot dogs?” the vendor asked. He opened a cover to show that he still had several available, and Cal glanced her way.
“You haven’t had dinner, right?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hot dog in the park.
“I’m starved, actually,” she told him.
Cal paid the man for four hot dogs and two drinks, then passed half of everything over to her. They each added mustard and relish, before Cal handed the vendor a large tip, and with food in hand, they made it to the bench offering the best view of the lake. As they ate, the remaining colors in the sky faded away.
Jill stretched her legs out in front of her and propped her elbows on the back of the bench. “Want to talk about it?”
Cal shook his head, so she let it drop. It was enough to know the two of them weren’t so different from each other, after all.
They began to talk then. About everything, but about nothing at all. Each told funny stories from different jobsites over the years, a tale or two about something goofy one of their friends had done, but neither ventured anywhere close to forbidden territory. As they swapped stories, Jill ended up shifted on the bench so that she could steal glances of him as he spoke. Cal had always had a way of capturing her attention, whether it was with his quick wit, his charm, or simply the strength in how he carried himself, and she found that nothing about that had changed. He had her attention now, whether he wanted it or not, and though she knew she shouldn’t be enjoying the moment as much as she was, she also couldn’t stop herself.
He cut a quick look down at her during a break in a story, and caught her watching him, and she grinned with guilt. Busted.
“Want to tell me what you’re thinking?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Probably just as well.” He picked something out of her hair. “You’re likely plotting revenge on me for tricking you into following me to the park tonight, anyway.”
“Probably.” She chuckled. But she knew he hadn’t tricked her. He’d been legitimately upset, and she’d authentically wanted to help. Even if her brand of helping only meant being with him.
She shifted so she couldn’t watch him anymore, elbows once again on the back of the bench, and tilted her face to the night sky. It was beautiful out there.
Water lapped gently near their feet. “Ever seen Aunt Blu drunk?” she asked.
She thought Cal might fall off the bench the way he jerked in his seat. “I can’t imagine Blu drinking, much less being drunk.” He turned to her. “How did you get her drunk? And when?”
Jill grinned, but kept her eyes on the sky. “We make her play whiskey rummy. She has game night at the house at least once a month. When there are no girls around, one of us often calls rummy before Aunt Blu can choose another game. She’s horrible at cards.”
“And the whiskey?”
Jill chuckled softly. “When someone gets rummy, everyone else takes a shot.”
“That’s brutal.”
“It’s fun.” She closed her eyes and felt the falling dampness whisper across her cheeks. “And it’s one of the things in my life that I most look forward to. Not because of the drinking, but the fact that Aunt Blu quits worrying about teaching us or taking care of us for a while. On those nights, she’s just one of us.”
She could sense Cal nodding in understanding. “I was happy to hear the three of you had come back,” he told her. “She missed you.”
Jill was certain she had. Though she, Heather, and Trenton had only been foster daughters, Jill now understood that in a way they’d taken the place of Blu’s own children. They’d filled her need to be a mom. Their ages had been similar to Blu’s girls’ when the girls had died, and they’d always picked at each other—same as any other sisters would do.
And then they’d all left her.
“We missed her, too.” Jill blew out a breath. “Though I had no idea how much until I came home.” She cracked open her eyelids and peeked at Cal. His dark gaze was on her. “She misses you, too.”
His brows lifted.
“You were always around,” Jill continued. “Always a part of the family she’d replaced.”
Blu had a nephew who’d been sent to prison not long after she’d opened her home to others. He’d been found guilty of killing a man. It had broken Blu’s heart when Trey had been locked up. He’d been like a son to her. To Gerry, too, before Big Gerry’s death.
“When I finally came home,” Jill began, and then she cut off her words and intentionally broke eye contact. When she’d come home, though she’d been unaware of it at the time, she’d severed the relationship between Blu and Cal.
It had never occurred to her the two of them had stayed close during her absence, but then she’d run across Aunt Blu’s box of hand-carved saints. After getting hired to work at Bluebonnet Farms, Cal would carve out a different saint of the Catholic Church for Blu every Christmas. From a young age, he’d liked to make things with his hands. Both furniture as well as carvings, and he’d been good at it. There had been only four statues when Jill moved away, but they’d been displayed with pride in the corner of Blu’s china cabinet. Jill hadn’t thought about those figurines when she’d come home, but earlier this year, she’d been helping with spring cleaning, and she’d unearthed the box of them. Only, there had been sixteen saints in pristine condition, all tucked safely away in tissue paper.
Jill had questioned Aunt Blu about them, and while Blu admitted she and Cal continued exchanging gifts every year, she also kept the carvings put away so they wouldn’t upset Jill. Additionally, Blu had confessed that Cal used to visit her at least once a month. Until Jill had come back home.
“You should visit her,” she said now. “I know you used to. You didn’t have to stop.”
“I felt like she was yours,” he explained. “Like I shouldn’t get in the way of that.”
Jill nodded. She understood that, just as she’d gotten why Aunt Blu had kept her prized gifts from Cal hidden away. But Jill shouldn’t have allowed that to continue after she’d discovered them. She needed to rectify that. “Go see her,” she told him. “I know she’s always meant a lot to you.”
He didn’t respond at first, but finally he nodded, his eyes registering his gratitude. “Thank you for that. And I will.”
He motioned with his head. “Should we head back?”
“Probably.”
Jill got to her feet, and they strolled side by side the way they’d come in. No one else remained in the park, and singing insects, along with the water trickling over the rocks in the stream, made for a peaceful way to end the day. When Cal’s fingers brushed against hers, she thought about that moment earlier at the house when he’d taken her hands in his. It hadn’t even occurred to her, at first, to pull away.
He glanced down at her now. “Thank you for following me out here.”
She nodded in reply. He hadn’t asked her to come with him, but at the same time, she’d understood that he’d hoped she would.
“And for setting your anger aside long enough for us to take a walk.” He winked with his words. “This was nice.”
She smiled. “Yes, it was. And thank you for the hot dogs.” She bowed her head in a tiny curtsy, but then she shot him a crooked grin. “But don’t worry. I’ll find my anger again tomorrow.”
Both laughing, they made the turn toward the bridge as one, and as they walked under the trees that would empty them out of the park, she held her breath in a manner similar to when she’d been a child and her mother would drive over railroad tracks. She didn’t make a wish as she would have done back then, but she did appreciate the too-short moment of seclusion they’d had inside the park.
The second they cleared the trees, however . . . there was Len. Capturing the moment.
Neither of them broke stride or so much as glanced at the man—or the sound guy following them with a boom mic. They made a right on the other side of the bridge and headed for the houses, and as soon as they were out of earshot, Jill stepped in a little closer. “We totally should have asked for more money to do this show,” she whispered. “I had no idea how popular we would be.”
Cal tossed his head back and laughed, and they finished out their walk, both of them with smiles on their faces.