The Friessens: Books 19 - 21

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“You almost finished up there?”

Jeremy heard the scratchy voice of Dot, short for Dorothy, who was the owner of Dot’s Stop, the hardware store just outside the city center of Columbia Falls. Jeremy closed up the box of plastic PVC pipes from where he was crouched in the dusty attic, doing inventory the old-school way, with a clipboard and pencil, because Dot was a believer that going digital was a recipe for impending disaster. No matter how much Jeremy tried to convince her of the efficiency and ease, not to mention the better use of his time, she wouldn’t budge. If everything were digitally recorded, at her fingertips, so she knew exactly what she had, he’d never be stuck in a too-small attic again.

“Yeah, just…” He stood up and banged his head on the sloped attic ceiling. “Ah, s**t!” he yelled and dropped the clipboard. For a second, he thought he saw stars as he took in the century-old attic where all the extra stock was stored—dusty, dark, damp. It was a crime, in his mind.

“You hit your head again, Jer?” Her deep laugh was raspy and almost sounded like a man’s as he made his way to the square hole in the floor where the wooden ladder hung down. Dot was in a red and white shirt that resembled a bowling league uniform, in her fifties, with long thick white hair that did nothing for her five-foot-five plump stature. She was still using the nickname she’d bestowed on him even after he’d reminded her a dozen or so times that he preferred Jeremy. He thought, though, it was her twisted sense of humor, and the fact was that she loved pushing his buttons. It was evident by the expression on her face as she stared up at him now.

“It would be great if there was an actual storage room instead of a spot that only fits a kid. Speaking of which, it would be better if you sent up Ruth or Cady, who are half my size…” He slipped his sneakered foot down on the rail of the ladder, gripping the clipboard, and climbed down. He still couldn’t believe he’d squeezed all the boxes of stock through into the attic, and he knew he was the one who’d have to haul each box down, not Dot or Ruth or Cady.

She said nothing as he stood in front of her, wiping the dust off his favorite Cubs T-shirt and his deep blue wranglers. He towered over Dot, feeling as if he’d breathed half the dust into his lungs, and she held out her hand for the clipboard. “Stop your complaining, would you?” she said. “Ruth and Cady don’t have your brute strength to move the boxes. Besides, I needed the count today, and they’re not working. You are.”

He slapped the clipboard in her hand. She never pulled her amber eyes from him, and then she dragged her gaze down, sweeping over him from head to toe and all the way back up, landing on his face before a slow easy smile touched her lips.

“You sure are a looker, there, Jer, just like your daddy.” She made a sound of appreciation, the kind that totally creeped him out, even though he knew she was married with four grown kids. Something about that cougar type of teasing made him feel like prey. Dot then turned away and started walking back to the front of the store, where she slipped behind the counter. The small cluttered shop seemed to sell just about anything and everything, and even though he’d worked there for just over two years, he still didn’t know where everything was. He wanted to remind Dot to stop calling him Jer, but he knew it would be wasted breath.

“Truth be told,” Dot said, “if you really want to know, Cady actually volunteered to come in on her day off to help with the inventory.” She flicked her gaze up to him as he stopped just short of where she lingered behind the counter, scribbling something down before she flicked the pen and then glanced up to him. “To help you out,” she added with effect.

It took him a second to understand her meaning. “You mean…”

He didn’t finish as another slow smile touched Dot’s lips. Her eyes simmered with that teasing heat that had him wanting to take another step back. “Come on, Jer,” she said. “You have to know the girls here have the hots for you. The customers, too, who come in and wait for you and only you to wait on them. Add in the fact that every time you go up and down that ladder, every girl around is watching you, the way you move all those heavy boxes. Cady’s had eyes for you since the day you started working here over two years ago. She’s been drooling over you ever since. Haven’t you figured that out? You just have to look her way, toss the poor girl a crumb, and the girl is ready and willing to do anything just to be around you, with you, talking to you. Seriously, can’t believe you don’t see it. Told her to knock it off, but it’s as if you’ve cast this spell over her. Then there’s Ruth, the way she watches you when she thinks you’re not looking, all dreamy-like.”

Again, he just stared at Dot, not sure what expression was on his face as he pictured dark-eyed Cady, who wore glasses and was a senior in high school, he thought. Then there was Ruth, thin, young, with two little ones running around. Her husband was a roughneck, always out on the rigs, never home, and he didn’t like the picture that thought painted. Dot had to be wrong.

“Face it, Jer,” she said. “You’re cursed by your father’s good looks, so much so that every red-blooded and breathing woman in a one-hundred-mile radius would likely follow you home if they thought you’d give them the time of day. And don’t forget that arrogance and that badass attitude, the fact you never go with the crowd but always walk your own way. You’re the kind of strong-minded male women love. It sets you apart from every average Joe out there. Women love that.” She tapped the counter, and he couldn’t come up with a reasonable thing to say as he took in the empty store, the locked door, and the clock above her, which was sitting at ten past seven. Jeremy was unsettled by the image she’d placed in his head.

He pulled in a breath, wondering whether someone was going to jump out and tell him this was all a big joke. “I think you’re trying to mess with me, Dot,” he said.

She just rolled her eyes. “Try looking in a mirror, and if that doesn’t work, ask your girlfriend.” She lifted her hand in a wave as she stepped around the counter.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he called out, but she was already walking to the locked front door and flicking the deadbolt to pull it open. A relationship was the kind of commitment he really wasn’t into. s*x was s*x, but commitment was something else.

“Go home, Romeo,” Dot called out over her shoulder.

Jeremy pulled out the keys to his F150 from his front pocket and started to the door. He shook his head at Dot and her peculiar personality as he stepped out onto the concrete sidewalk beside her, taking in his pickup across the half-empty parking lot, which they shared with the bingo hall, an old-time record store, and a sandwich shop.

“Hey, Jer, for the record,” Dot said, “all that teasing and stuff is just that: teasing. I like you a lot. Seriously, you’re a good guy even though you are easy on the eyes and a player. But here’s some advice that you should take to heart. Find yourself a girl, a nice one, and leave that game-playing behind.”

He took in Dot, trying to figure out where all this was coming from. “Thanks, but I like my single unattached life the way it is,” he replied. The fact was, he didn’t answer to anyone.

She shook her head and adjusted her big bulky purse over her shoulder as she locked the door. “Oh, there likely isn’t a guy around who hasn’t said that, and I bet your father said it, too, from the looks of him. But look at your parents, your family. You think your father is saying he wishes he had a simple, unencumbered, unattached life? I guarantee you he wouldn’t trade you all for anything. We all see the way your parents are together, the way they look at each other when the other isn’t looking. It’s that kind of deep love that everyone wants but not everyone has. At the same time, women have been throwing themselves at good-looking men’s feet since the beginning of time, and you not noticing isn’t anything new.”

“Dot, you’re exaggerating,” Jeremy said, but then, he also knew he’d never had to talk a woman into bed, into anything. He wasn’t sure now why that bothered him, but it did, the way she made him seem almost…shallow. Then there were his parents, their life, their marriage—but he wasn’t ready to be tied to anyone.

“Jer, I’m not,” she said. “Listen up. There’s worse things, and besides, you have a lot of other great qualities, too. You’re reliable, a hard worker, and…” She tossed him the keys, which he caught as she started out to the parking lot. “And now you’re in charge.”

“What? No, wait!” He watched as she lifted her hand, walking over to her silver Dodge Ram four by four. “I’m not in charge,” he said. “There’s no way. I have commitments, college.” He thought of the business course he’d finally agreed to take, how he’d compromised with his father instead of picking some Ivy League university for a degree he wasn’t interested in. “And I’m only part-time.”

“Just pop in when you can during the day,” she said. “Ruth and Cady are there. You’ll do fine, and besides, I trust you. I’m gone only two weeks. Just handle any problems and do everything I do.” She climbed into her truck, and he just stood there with the keys. He didn’t have a clue what Dot really did other than drink coffee, talk to customers, and tell all her employees what to do. Not only was he weirded out by what she’d said about Cady and Ruth loving him from afar, but he didn’t like the idea that he suddenly had to be their boss.

He climbed into his truck and dumped his cell phone and wallet onto the center console, then pulled out of the lot and turned left instead of right, going into town. His phone beeped, and he lifted it, taking in the text as he stopped at a set of lights about three blocks from where his brother Gabriel lived. The text was from his best friend, Alex.

Party tonight at Kurts, got the keg!!

His thumb hovered over the reply when he heard a car honk. Seeing the light was green, he pressed the gas and started through the intersection.

It was then he spotted Alex’s sister, Tiffy Cahill, in the oncoming traffic, behind the wheel of a beige older-model Volvo. Dark hair, gorgeous, and the image hit him from so long ago—how his hands had enjoyed the feel of her skin, her body, the night they’d spent together. It had been two, maybe three years ago, and her car was beside him as she passed.

She took him in, and he lifted his hand in a wave, thinking it’d be great to hook up, have some fun with her again, even though he shouldn’t. But she pulled her gaze away as if she didn’t have a clue who he was. Like, what the hell?

He kept driving and glanced in the rear-view mirror until he couldn’t see her car anymore. His best friend’s sister, one of the hottest nights of s*x he’d ever had. Unforgettable. The memory alone stirred his interest, his desire. It wasn’t smart on his part, considering guys never went after their friends’ sisters if they wanted to stay out of the ER. He should put her out of his mind, never think of her that way again, never think about the touch, the kiss, how she tasted and felt, and the fun they’d had under the moon by the lake in the middle of summer.

Not long after that magical summer night, he realized now, Tiffy Cahill had all but disappeared.