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Besides, Flahertys never failed.
“It isn’t an imposition.” Curt looked at Sam. “It’ll be fun. I haven’t built one of those models in years.”
“Are you sure?” Jenna asked, touched by his generosity. “Because I can fit the pies in later tonight.” She was used to working odd hours.
“I’m sure.”
“Please, Miss Jenna,” Sam said, bouncing up and down. “I really want someone who knows what they’re doing to help me.”
Her resolve frittered away. How could she refuse Sam, especially when she knew he’d craved interaction with adult men ever since his dad had gone to prison? Sam needed a role model, for sure.
Of course, she was assuming a lot about Curt Graham being an appropriate role model, and, obviously, she didn’t know him at all. But she knew his brother Seth, and he was a good man. A great man, actually, with a wonderful family of his own. Besides, Sam and Curt would be right here with her the whole time. She could supervise.
“All right, then,” she capitulated. “I’ll bake while you guys work on the model.”
Sam whooped. “Yippee! I’ll go get it.”
“Hold on, cowboy. You need to go change your clothes first,” she reminded the boy. “Do you remember where we put your change of clothes, in the closet down the hall?”
“I remember.” Grinning, Sam ran out of the kitchen, then skidded to a halt and turned in the arched doorway that led to the formal dining room and living room. “I’ll meet you back here, Mr. Graham, okay?”
Curt saluted. “Okay. See you back here in a few.”
Sam took off again, and Jenna heard his footsteps clomping on the hardwood hallway that led to the closet.
She turned her gaze to Curt. “Are you sure about this? You must be tired after driving in from...” Oh. She had no idea where he’d come from.
“L.A., but I overnighted in Portland, so I only drove a couple hours today. And I’m not tired at all. But I am wet,” he said, gesturing down to his damp clothes. “I’ll go grab my stuff and get changed, and then Sam and I can get busy on his project.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth, bemoaning her absent brain again. “Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry. I kept you in here, talking, in wet clothes.”
He shook his head, his brown eyes glinting. “No worries. I’m tough.”
Yes, she could see that. Tall. Strong-looking. Tough for sure. And handsome with his dark curly hair and café au lait eyes. Something fluttered in her chest and she recognized the feeling for what it was—she was attracted to Curt Graham. No doubt about it.
She cleared her throat, a bit dismayed by her reaction. “Well, thank you for your offer. I really appreciate it, and I’m sure Sam does, too.”
Curt pointed toward the front of the house. “Let me go get my luggage. Where should I take it?”
Oh, yes, another detail forgotten. Curt Graham had her flustered, indeed. “I’ll meet you at the front door and take you up to the Carnation Room.”
“Great,” he said, heading out the same archway Sam had gone through. “I’ll be right back.”
Jenna watched Curt go, appreciating his lean yet broad-shouldered frame and his decidedly masculine, confident way of moving. He definitely was nice to look at. She shook her head and tried to reel her interest in, forcing herself to recall her last relationship during her senior year in college.
Garrett had had the same kind of confidence as Curt, and had been fun-loving and thoughtful, too. She’d gone with her heart 100 percent and had flung herself into a relationship with him. But she’d been wrong in the end about him. And she’d come away with a broken heart and one more reason to believe that she wasn’t good enough.
She’d learned then and there that she needed to be cautious in love. Thoughtful. Picky. She wholeheartedly believed in the romantic gold standard she saw in her parents’, brother’s and grandparents’ marriages. She wanted what they had. Desperately.
She headed out to the foyer, reiterating her mantra: when I fall in love, I will not settle for anything less than a man who will make all my dreams come true. Curt seemed good at a glance, but only time would tell the story about him she needed to hear.
Until then, she had to keep her interest in him under tight control. And her gaze away from those gorgeous brown eyes of his.
Chapter Two
“So, do you have any kids?”
Curt looked at a bright-eyed Sam perched on the edge of the chair next to him. Man, Sam was a curious little guy. So far he’d asked Curt where he lived, what kind of car he drove and if he had a dog because he, Sam, loved dogs and wanted one of his own—the bigger the better—but his mom wouldn’t let him have one because they had a cat instead.
“Nope, no kids.” Curt liked children well enough, but having his own seemed unlikely. Maybe way, way down the road. His goal now was to mend fences and put order into his life.
He picked up the bottle of model glue and handed it to Sam. “Now, I’m gonna hold these two pieces, and you’re gonna put some glue where they meet, all right?”
“’Kay.” Sam took the glue and waited for Curt to get the two pieces into place. “Why don’t you have kids?”
Curt picked up the pieces and held them out, touching. “’Cause I’m not married,” he said, going with the easy answer rather than the one that would require any explaining.
Sam cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”
Curt frowned and then looked over at an apron-clad Jenna as she pulled the remade pies out of the oven, noting the delicate curve of her chin, rosy cheeks and the lovely shade of her large green eyes. Boy, she was pretty.
She set the pies on the counter and then shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile, as if to say, “Yeah, he’s curious. Deal with it.”
“Put the glue right there,” Curt said, stalling while he tried to figure out what to say.
Sam bent over and very carefully applied some glue where Curt had indicated, his brow creased. When he was done, he sat back. “So?”
“So, what?” Curt said, very carefully setting the glued pieces down. Maybe Sam would forget the question.
Sam sighed. “So, why aren’t you married?”
No such luck. Curt looked back at Jenna with a “rescue me” look. She pressed her lips together, shot him a quick, furtive glance, and then in what seemed like a very deliberate manner, set about running water into the sink without looking his way again. No help there. Was she enjoying seeing him on the spot? Or...waiting for his answer?
“Um...well, I haven’t met the right person,” Curt said. True enough—the wild crowd he’d hung out with in L.A. hadn’t been into much beyond scoring their next hit. Committed relationships had been few and far between. But he wasn’t sharing those details with the kid.
“What about Miss Jenna?” Sam asked. “She’s not married, either.”
Curt raised a brow and looked at Jenna. She was washing a mixing bowl with such intense care it seemed as if it were made of spun glass rather than stainless steel. “Really? Well, then, maybe I’ll ask her out.”
The bowl fell into the sink with a clank and her wide-eyed gaze flew his way. “What?”
He just smiled innocently. “Turnabout is fair play.”
“What’s turbinout?” Sam asked.
Curt leaned back against the ladder-back of his chair. “It’s when someone returns what they’ve been given.”
Sam scowled. “Like if I gave a Christmas present back to Santa?”
“Yup, kinda like that,” Curt said.
“Oh. That’s bad,” Sam said. “But what does that have to do with you and Miss Jenna going out on a date?”
Jenna sputtered, glaring at Curt. “Sam, he’s just joking. He and I aren’t going to go out on a date.”
“Oh.” Sam’s shoulders hunched as he fiddled with the tube of glue. “My mom goes out a lot. Maybe you can go out with her, Mr. Graham.”
“Well, thanks, Sam, but I’m not going to have time to go out while I’m here. I’m going to be working for my brother.”
“Who’s he?” Sam asked.
Curt picked up the model’s directions. “His name is Seth and he owns the Sports Shack.”
“Oh, yeah. I know him. I went there to get my stuff for baseball.” Sam smiled. “He’s nice.”
“He has a little boy just about your age.”
“What’s his name?”
“Dylan,” Curt said, looking for the car’s hood piece.
Sam put the tube of glue down. “Dylan’s lucky he has a dad. My dad’s in jail, but my mama says he’s getting out soon.”
Curt’s heart lurched and he looked to Jenna.
She nodded solemnly.
“Oh, wow, Sam. I’m sorry.” Curt knew how rough it could be for a kid to grow up with bad parents. Emotional neglect had been part and parcel of his childhood, and had left profound scars. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“Hey, lookee, Mr. Graham,” Sam said, holding his fingers up. “I glued my fingers together!”
“What?” Jenna came running. “Let me see.”
Sam held up both hands. Curt bent closer to look at the same time Jenna did and they almost bumped heads. Curt backed off a bit, but her flowery-smelling hair hung down in front of him, surrounding him in a soft shampoo cloud.
Sure enough, Sam had glued his two forefingers together. “Er...yep, you sure did,” Curt remarked.
“Oh, no, Sam.” Jenna put her hands on her hips. “This stuff is permanent.”
Sam’s eyes went huge.
Curt squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. I can unstick them.”
“You can?” Jenna asked.
“Sure. Do you have any nail polish remover?” Curt asked Jenna.
“Yes, I do. I’ll go get it. Sam, stay put,” she said with a pointed finger. She turned and left the room.
“Are you sure you can unstick me?” Sam asked, looking worried that he was going to walk around with his fingers stuck together. “I’m a tree in the play tonight, and I have to be able to wave my arms.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it right up.”
Jenna returned, a small bottle in her hand. “Here we go.” She handed it to Curt and then went over and got a paper towel. “You sure this will work?”
“I’m sure. I stuck my fingers together all the time when I was a kid, and so did my brothers. We figured out soon enough how to take care of it.” He unscrewed the lid of the remover. “A bit of this and you’ll be good as new.”
It took a few minutes of gentle work, but soon enough Sam’s fingers separated. “See?” Curt said. “Unstuck.”
“Thanks, Mr. Graham,” Sam said, examining his fingers. “That stuff is strong.”
“Yeah, it is. My brother Seth and I once glued the toilet seat down with this stuff. My dad had a fit over it, too.” Dad had stomped around for days after that prank, and had picked a fight with Mom over the whole thing. Somehow that had turned into a battle of epic proportions, with Dad sleeping on the couch for weeks and Mom sobbing behind closed doors.
That was the way things usually went in the Graham household during Curt’s childhood. Fight. Make up. Fight again. Until Curt spent some time in his friends’ houses, he’d thought all parents were in a constant war. Turned out it was just his.
That had been a significant turning point in his life. Unfortunately, he’d turned the wrong way.
And now, not surprisingly, his parents were divorced. Mom had done well. Dad? Curt wasn’t exactly sure.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Jenna said to Sam. “This glue is for car models only.”
“Right,” Curt said, trying to sound stern, hoping he hadn’t inadvertently given Sam any ideas. “Models only.”
“Yoo-hoo, I’m back,” a female voice called.
Curt turned and saw a little gray-haired woman toddling into the kitchen, a huge pink purse slung over her shoulder. She wore a powder blue pantsuit with thick-soled snow-white tennis shoes and sported bright red lipstick on her thin lips.
Curt rose.
“Miss Landry, you’re back,” Jenna said. “Join us.” She pulled out a chair.
As she moved toward the chair, Miss Landry’s gaze landed on Curt. “Well, who is this?” She slowly sat in the chair, holding her purse across her body as if it held the crown jewels.
Jenna made the introductions. “Miss Eileen Landry, this is Mr. Curt Graham, our new guest.” Jenna regarded Curt. “Miss Landry has been staying with us while she is in town visiting her ill sister.”
Curt held out his hand. “Good to meet you, ma’am.”
Miss Landry took his hand in her tiny one. “Yes, it is.” With shrewd blue eyes she looked him over from her perch on the chair. “My, aren’t you a handsome fellow.”
Her directness took him by surprise. “Um...thank you.”
She turned sharp eyes to Jenna. “I assume you noticed, my dear.”
Jenna stilled. “Er, well, of course.” She smiled brightly as she went to the stove, seemingly studiously avoiding Curt’s gaze. “Can I get you some of that chamomile tea you like so much?”
“That would be wonderful,” Miss Landry said. “Then I’m going to go take a little nap before dinner. I wore myself out shopping on Main Street. Of course, the exercise does me good, but I’m old, and I am a bit weary.”
“Do you have anything that needs to be brought in?” Curt asked at the mention of shopping. “My mom never returned from shopping without at least one bag.”
“Why, yes, I do, actually.” She slid a set of keys attached to a stretchy thing off her slender, age-spotted wrist and held them out to Curt. “The bags are in the trunk.”
Curt took the keys, then crooked a thumb over his shoulder, looking at Sam. “You want to help me, bud?”
“Yes!” Sam said, springing to his feet. “Can I push the button that opens the trunk?”
“You bet,” Curt said.
Miss Landry patted her purse, regarding Sam. “I have some candy in here. You can have a piece when you get back.”
“Okay,” Sam said, tugging on Curt’s elbow. “Let’s go!”
He and Sam went out to Miss Landry’s car, a huge baby blue boat of a luxury car, circa 1995. He noted that light blue seemed to be a theme with her.
Sam gleefully pushed the button on the fob and the trunk popped open. He and Curt grabbed the bags in the trunk and carried them back into the house, setting them at the base of the oak staircase near the front door.
Curt followed a skipping Sam back into the kitchen.
“Excellent work, young man,” Miss Landry said to Sam. “Here’s your reward.” She handed Sam two snack-size candy bars.
Sam took the candy.
“What do you say, Sam?” Jenna asked.
“Thank you,” Sam said dutifully.
“Would you like some, Mr. Graham?” Miss Landry asked.
“I never turn down chocolate.”
Miss Landry dug two more pieces of candy out of her cavernous purse and handed them to Curt. “So, Jenna told me you grew up here in Moonlight Cove.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Curt said, leaning a hip against the counter as he unwrapped the candy bar. “I’m here to run the Sports Shack for my brother Seth, while he and his family are in Seattle getting a new store set up.”
“It’s too bad you couldn’t stay at his house.” Miss Landry turned to Jenna. “No offense, dear.”
“None taken,” Jenna said.
“I would have,” Curt replied, “but while Seth and his family are gone, they’re remodeling the house to add a bedroom for their new baby girl, and to bump out the kitchen, too. With construction going on, it made more sense to stay here.”
“Ah, I see,” Miss Landry replied, nodding. “So, what took you away from this lovely burg, in the first place?”
Miss Landry’s question hit him like a bullet and filled him with dread. Of course, he was going to have to explain things to people. But he couldn’t just blurt out the truth. It wasn’t as if he could say, “Oh, well, yes, I ran around town as a surly teen, creating trouble, crashed my motorcycle while drunk, and left with my tail between my legs and now I’m back ’cause I’m clean after three tries in rehab and I want to start over.”
He settled for part of the truth. “I’m a musician, and I went to L.A. to play in a band.” The heady lifestyle of L.A. had called to him. Especially after what happened with Dad.
“Hmm.” Miss Landry’s eyes sparkled. “A musician. I went steady with a musician once. He played piano.” She opened a candy bar. “What do you play, dear?”
“Guitar.”
Miss Landry nodded approvingly. “Excellent. An artist. And handsome. And single, I presume?”
Curt could only nod.
“Just as I thought—no ring.” Miss Landry slanted a glance at Jenna, who was checking the pies on the counter. “Are you paying attention, Jenna?”
Curt’s jaw fell. Miss Landry wasn’t wasting any time at trying to get him and Jenna together, was she? He’d have to keep his eye on her. She was sharp and dating wasn’t on his to-do list. Staying on the straight and narrow and proving himself capable was.
“Why, Miss Landry, are you matchmaking?” Jenna said without missing a beat.
“Well, maybe just a bit,” Miss Landry said with a sheepish smile. “I don’t want someone as lovely as you to be alone forever.”
“What makes you think I’m going to be alone forever?” Jenna asked, taking the teapot off the stove.
Curt’s ears perked up.
“Well,” Miss Landry said, “if you don’t come up with a more realistic checklist for the man you want, you’re never going to find him.”
Curt frowned. Jenna had a man checklist?
“I like to think I can keep my list and still find love eventually,” Jenna said, pouring boiling water into the flowered mug she’d set on the counter.
Apparently, she did. Huh.
“We’ll see,” Miss Landry replied with a quirk of her lips.
Jenna’s comment reminded Curt that with his troubled history, he wasn’t sure any woman with any kind of checklist would be interested in him. No way. The scars of his past ran deep and would be hard—perhaps impossible—to overlook. And with small-town gossip at work, it wouldn’t be long before Jenna knew all about his checkered past—or maybe she already did. His gut clenched at that idea.
Miss Landry turned to Curt. “So, what do you do for a living, aside from working with your brother? Music still?”
He geared himself up for giving his rehearsed answer. “I’m between jobs right now, and I want to eventually go to school to become a therapist.” He owed his life to his drug counselor, Marv, and wanted to help others in the same way someday.
“Oh, excellent. Very noble of you,” Miss Landry said with a warm look. “There’s always a need for compassionate listeners and advisers.”
“Well, thank you.” Curt figured it was about time he did something worthwhile with his life.
“Do you plan on staying in Moonlight Cove permanently?” Miss Landry asked, surreptitiously handing Sam another candy bar under the table. She winked at the boy. He grinned, showing he was missing his two front teeth.
“I hope to,” he said, giving the easy answer. But in a small town like Moonlight Cove, people often didn’t forgive and forget. He’d need both and was worried neither was possible. “Seth knew I was looking for something here in town, so he offered me the store job to get me started. My goal is to get a permanent job at my brother’s store, and go to community college part-time to work on my psychology degree.” He definitely had a lot of hard work ahead of him. He liked to think he was ready for the challenge. Or as ready as he’d ever be.
“And do you have family besides your brother still in town?”
Jenna brought a steaming cup of tea over and set it in front of Miss Landry.
“Thank you, dear,” she said to Jenna.
Curt hesitated, not sure how much to share about his dysfunctional family. Old habit, one he was going to need to break. Somehow.
“Forgive me,” Miss Landry said before he responded. “I’m way too nosy for my own good.”
“No, no problem.” He was going to have to get used to fielding questions like this, and to talking about his family; there would be no running from people’s interest here. “Yes, my parents are still in town. My younger brother, Ian, lives in San Diego.”
“So your family called you back?” Miss Landry asked.
“In a way. Seth and his wife, Kim, visited me in L.A., and I met my niece and nephew for the first time. I realized how much I was missing by being away.” That realization had surprised him; it had been a long time since he’d actually longed for the connection of family. Interesting how being clean had cleared his mind and made him want things that had never seemed important before.
“Ah, so you have a young niece and nephew. No wonder you returned,” Miss Landry said.
“I’m looking forward to being in their lives.” He liked the fact that Dylan and Charlotte viewed him with a clean slate. A small thing, Dylan’s and Charlotte’s rosy views of him, but he was holding on to it like a lifeline. He desperately wanted to be good Uncle Curt, someone whom his niece and nephew could look up to in the future without the shadow of his bad choices shading their opinion of him.
He wanted that fresh start.
“Excellent. Children are such a blessing, though I was never fortunate enough to have any.” She stirred some sugar into her tea. “So you said your parents are still in town?”
His shoulders tensed. “Yes, they are.”
“Well, I’ll bet they’re thrilled to have you back.”
Mom, yes. Dad? Not even close. He thought Curt was a worthless loser, and while that opinion hurt, Curt knew he’d earned the attitude with his bad choices. No doubt about it—he had a hard road ahead proving his dad wrong.
But Curt wasn’t going to dump details of his and his dad’s dysfunctional relationship on Miss Landry. He barely knew her, and he sure didn’t want to shock her, or lower her opinion of him. Though...he had to keep in mind what Marv had drilled into him—that Curt had to own up to his past behavior to move beyond it. He’d have to ease into that approach; his shame still had the upper hand a lot of the time.
So, for now, he simply said, “Well, I haven’t connected with them yet, so that remains to be seen.” He did his best to sound relaxed when he was anything but. He and his dad hadn’t spoken since Curt left town.
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll welcome you back with open arms,” Miss Landry said with a knowing nod. She patted his hand. “What parents wouldn’t?”
Curt’s gut pitched. His parents wouldn’t. Well, not Dad anyway. Mom had always been more forgiving, and they’d talked weekly for the past few months. Curt only hoped he had the courage to deal with his dad—and the Graham family’s problems—while continuing to make good choices that would keep him on the path he’d mapped out.
Apprehension formed a knot in his chest. His resolve would be tested soon enough; he had no place to hide as he’d had in L.A. He was bound to run into Dad sooner rather than later. Curt preferred later. Or never, actually.
There would be no running for cover this time, no distance to soften the harsh reality that hung over the Graham family like a sickening haze. And that fact had him worried more than anything else he’d had to face since he’d OD’d and looked death straight in the eye.
Chapter Three
With nervousness eating away at him, Curt opened the door to the Sports Shack and stepped inside. The bells above clanged as the door swung closed behind him. Instantly, the smell of sporting goods—leather and rubber and something indefinable yet totally distinctive—hit him.
He paused and breathed deep, taking it all in, feeling as if his new life was actually starting. He’d saved himself from his messed-up old life, and he only wanted to see it in his rearview mirror.
Excitement bubbled inside, warring with gut-munching apprehension. This store would be his “home” for the next month—and maybe longer if things worked out the way he wanted.
He focused on the excitement, choosing to savor the moment, which had been so long in coming. There had been times in the past ten years he actually thought he’d die before he ever returned to Moonlight Cove, much less actually set foot in Seth’s store. Curt had burned a lot of bridges in his life—demolished them, actually—and this opportunity meant everything.
Seth was counting on Curt. He couldn’t screw this up.