Jenny crossed her arms under her breast. Jared really wished she wouldn’t keep doing that.
“He’s going through a tough time.”
“Tough shit.”
Her foot began a staccato beat against the concrete. “You can make it up to him at dinner tonight.”
“I wasn’t the one who insisted he come out here. I’m no damn babysitter.”
“He wanted to be with you.”
“Right.” Jared bent down and began to pick up the tools.
“I’m grilling hot dogs.”
His hand stalled on the wrench, and he shot her a sardonic look.
She didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “Even I can’t screw up hot dogs.”
He placed the wrench in the toolbox. “Don’t bet on it.”
“You can apologize to Cody then.”
When hell freezes over.
“I also thought we could watch a movie and play a game after dinner.”
He’d rather chew glass. The whole domestic scene wasn’t for him. Spending more time with the kid would be intolerable; spending additional time with Jenny, unbearable. As it was now, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth. His fingers all but burned with the need to run his hands through her hair, over her body. He wanted to forget she was still in love with Steven, forget that starting something up between them was a bad idea.
As he stared into her angry sky blue eyes, he knew she wasn’t going to give up. If this last week had taught him anything, it was that she was tenacious. But that didn’t mean he had to stick around.
“Fine.”
Surprise briefly brightened her features before doubt set in. “Really?” Her voice was heavy with distrust.
“Sure,” he said smoothly. “Give me a half hour to finish cleaning up, then I’ll be in.”
She hedged, staring long and hard into his face.
Nothing in his expression gave her anything to cling to.
“Okay. See you then.”
“See you then,” he said as she made her way back to the house.
Less than ten minutes later, he was on his bike and roaring out of the driveway.
ELEVEN
It was well past ten when Anna pulled into her driveway. Streetlamps cast long shadows across the lawn and the mullioned windows that stretched across the front of her house. As she waited for the garage door to open, she knew she should be exhausted, but all she felt was exhilarated. Today had been hectic . . . crazy, and at times, completely overwhelming, but most of all, it had been wonderful. Finally, everything she had worked for was coming true.
When the garage door finished opening, she eased her Volvo in next to her husband’s Mercedes. As she turned off the engine, she couldn’t help but glance at Phillip’s car.
Even in the dim light from the single overhead fixture, it was easy to make out the thin layer of dust covering his Mercedes. She frowned.
Why hadn’t Phillip thought to cover his car before he left? Usually so meticulous, the oversight was uncharacteristic. To say he was particular about his vehicle was an understatement. Obsessed was a more accurate term. Whenever he’d had the chance, he’d been outside, washing and waxing and buffing that car until she’d tell him to stop before he rubbed the black paint clear off; she’d only been half joking. But now, his pride and joy sat in the garage, collecting dust.
Had he really been gone for three months?
When Phillip had told her he was considering accepting a position with Doctors Without Borders, Anna had at first felt a swell of pride. It was a noble sacrifice, what her husband wanted to do. All of their friends, family, and colleagues had said so. But as his excitement continued to grow, hers began to quietly dim.
We have so much, Anna, he’d said in his soft voice, the voice she’d fallen in love with, the voice that had calmed and soothed hundreds of terrified patients. It’s time we gave back.
But it wasn’t a we that was giving back, it was a he. He alone was going to be the one to leave, to travel to a place of such profound poverty it had made Anna’s stomach clench in guilt. But her guilt had been two-pronged—a fact she’d barely been able to acknowledge. Guilt because she knew Phillip was right, they were blessed and it was right to give back. But guilt, too, because she didn’t want her life to change. She and Phillip had worked hard for everything they had. And now he wanted to throw it all away. Or, if not discard it, then shelve it.