“Not as much fun as finding treasure,” the boy said, his voice a little disappointed.
Topher nodded. “I guess that’s right,” he said, pushing up from the ground and tousling Jackie’s mop of hair. Topher had to stop himself from giving the kid a hug.
Chapter Nineteen
The moo shu pork sitting in the bag on the passenger’s seat of her VW made Jessica’s mouth water. She’d worked until almost 6:30 p.m. trying to decide what, if anything, to do about Caleb Tate’s attempted shakedown.
Hillary thought she should do nothing, but the more Jessica examined the situation and her growing feelings for Topher, the more she felt the need to let Topher know what Caleb was up to.
Deciding to confide in Topher was a big step for her. A few weeks ago, she would have shoved Topher and Caleb into the same pigeonhole. But perspectives change. And Topher had forever changed her opinion of him on Monday when he’d asked her for the truth and then listened to it without judging her.
And then he’d said he was sorry.
It occurred to her that no one, not even Momma or Granny, had ever said they were sorry about what had happened to her. Granny still believed what people had said about her all those years ago. Before she died, Momma had expressed some remorse. But she’d only been sorry about Jessica’s refusal to come home earlier.
Until Topher had come along, it seemed like forgiveness was a one-way street.
She left her car and let herself into the garden by the side gate, her heart thumping as she followed the path to his door and knocked. When Topher answered, her already racing pulse went on a wild ride. She hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, but it struck her right then that she’d missed him.
He was wearing one of his many Hawaiian shirts, this one green and purple. His jeans were faded blue, almost the color of his eye, and he stood there in his bare feet looking sexy as sin.
He turned his head a bit to the left, presenting his unscarred side, and she almost called him on it. She’d grown accustomed to his face; the scars would never be something she had to overlook or “get over” as Granny had suggested. And she didn’t think he had a good side or a bad side. He was who he was.
A whole man. A man who had apologized for something that had probably never been his fault. And boy howdy, she could understand that, couldn’t she?
She held up the bag from Szechuan Garden. “I brought moo shu pork.”
“You brought me food?” He sounded vaguely incredulous. And then his gaze moved down her body, as if he were drinking her in. The look sent a flash of desire through her.
“Are you all right? Why are you here?” he asked, as if he’d read the crazy emotions and fears running rampant inside her.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “But I need to talk to you about something important.”
“Okay.” He stepped back from the door.
She crossed the threshold and headed toward the small table in the kitchenette, only to pull up short. The drawings of his ill-fated castle still sat on the table.
“You didn’t throw those away?” she asked, turning toward him.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “No.”
“Why?”
His shoulders rose and fell as he took a breath. “Because I wanted to be reminded of who I am and who I’m not.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not those drawings. But for a moment I was willing to become that man.”
She didn’t know what to say, and deep within her a slow fire kindled to life.
He seemed to know that he’d surprised her because he pulled his hands from his pockets and rushed forward, crumpling up the drawings and shoving them into the kitchen trash can.
“There, the evidence of our first failure is gone. So”—he turned and faced her—“what did you want to talk about? Something house-related?”
She placed the bag on the table and shook her head. Now that she was face to face with him, she didn’t even know where to begin. So she avoided his gaze and started taking cartons out of the paper sack.
He moved into the kitchen and came back with a couple of plates, which he handed to her. He sat down while she heaped each plate with rice, pancakes, and pork.
“Thanks for bringing food,” he said as she handed him his plate. “I’m starved, and I don’t have