“Perfectly.”
This was more like it. Finally, after four long years, Jesse was back in his comfort zone.
HER ELBOWS RESTING on the counter and her head in her hands, Sarah sat in her tiny apartment kitchen late that night with her laptop in front of her. She’d waited until Brian was sound asleep before logging on to the internet, and although she’d been at it for almost an hour searching for information, she’d had absolutely no luck.
Naturally, she’d located several people with the name Jesse Taylor, including a teacher at a martial-arts studio, a couple of teenagers with social-networking pages, a doctor at a medical clinic in Cincinnati and the president of a seafood company in Alabama. None of the individuals listed were of the same approximate age as Garrett’s brother, and she could find no record of a Jesse Taylor ever having lived in the Chicago area. It was as if Garrett’s brother didn’t exist.
On top of that, she couldn’t find a single mention of a legal issue or newspaper report involving a Jesse Taylor. Four years, though, was a fairly long prison term. Whatever he’d done, it’d been serious.
She searched for the types of crimes leading to four-year terms and discovered any number of infractions he could’ve committed. He could’ve been convicted of a robbery or rape. Maybe he’d been dealing cocaine, or gotten busted for operating a meth lab. It was possible he’d embezzled tens of thousands of dollars from little old ladies. Some of the crimes were violent, others were not.
She conjured the image of Jesse’s face in her mind. That smile. Those eyes. His hand had felt so warm, his touch so engaging. It was difficult to imagine that someone as fun-loving as he appeared could’ve done anything to deserve prison time, let alone something violent. Not knowing what crime Jesse Taylor had committed worried her. Finding herself even remotely attracted to him in spite of it worried her much, much more.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SOUND of heavy rock music blaring from a radio in the kitchen, Jesse ignored the two boys standing in the corner of one of the bedrooms in Sarah’s house watching him work. Every day since he’d arrived on Mirabelle more than a week ago, they’d come here wanting to help and every day Jesse had done his best to ignore them. Today, although Zach was clearly interested in the ins and outs of ripping out old carpet, he rifled through the tools in the toolbox lying on the floor. Brian, on the other hand, watched Jesse’s every move.
“Don’t you boys have anything better to do than stand there staring at me day in and day out?” The presence of an audience was a bit disconcerting as far as Jesse was concerned, but at least they were kids. He didn’t feel the need to make nice with a couple of nine-year-olds.
Zach glanced hopefully at Brian. “We could go up to the community center and shoot some hoops.”
This small island had a community center? Jesse might have to check that out.
“I’m sick of basketball,” Brian muttered.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m so ready for baseball to start I can taste the hot dogs,” Brian said. “You ever play any ball, Jesse?”
Hell, yes. There was a time the Taylor boys had dominated the game of baseball in their Chicago neighborhood. With Garrett pitching, Chris on first, Drew catching and Jesse at shortstop, it got to be no one within a couple-mile radius would play ball with the Taylors unless they split two and two between teams.
He almost smiled as the memories flooded his senses. The hot sun on the back of his neck. The dusty, dirt fields. The smell and feel of an oiled leather glove. Back then the worst things he’d had to worry about were skinned knees and how bad of a mood their dad would be in when he got home from work.
“Yeah, I played baseball when I was a kid,” Jesse blurted out before remembering he shouldn’t be engaging these boys. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to think he wanted them hanging around here.
“Zach pitches and I play shortstop,” Brian said. “What position did you play?”
“You boys need to move.” Jesse yanked up the last corner of the carpet and started rolling it. “You’re in the way. You don’t want to play b-ball, fine. Figure something else out. Anything not here is better than nothing.”
“We wouldn’t be doing nothing if you let us help,” Brian said, raising his eyebrows.
“And what if you get hurt? Or screw something up?”
Zach’s shoulders slumped as if Jesse had hit a nerve, and a pang of guilt niggled at his conscience. That kid had had a tough enough start to life. Jesse sure didn’t need to make things worse.
“We’re not stupid,” Brian said, undaunted. “We know how to do things.”
“Yeah,” Zach added. “Even Garrett lets us help with stuff sometimes.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Garrett.” Jesse crossed his arms. “So hit the roa—”
“You lift weights, don’t you?” Brian asked, his attention instantly redirected to the bulk of Jesse’s chest.
Jesse kept his mouth shut. The answer to that question would go over like a lead balloon. Other than work out what the hell else was there to do in prison? Except for read. In fact, he’d read so much he’d managed to get a two-year community-college degree through online courses. At least one good thing had come from his incarceration.
He considered telling the boys about his stint in prison. Better they get the truth from him rather than rumors and lies from someone else, as Garrett had said. What explanation could he give that wouldn’t make the boys think less of him? The fact that he cared the slightest bit about what they thought of him was an entirely different matter.
“We have free weights at our house,” Zach added. “But Garrett won’t let me lift the heavy stuff yet. Says my bones aren’t ready.”
As far as Jesse was concerned, weight rooms were things from his past. He’d quite happily get his workouts through physical labor from here on out. Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of a gloved hand, he rolled up the rest of the dirty green shag and hoisted it up and over his left shoulder. His biceps screamed, his quads burned, he was dirty as a bum and he’d never felt better. He was a free man with a job and a place to stay. Life was about as good as it was going to get. At least until he got off this frozen rock of an island and moved as far south as he could.
Moving south. That thought more than anything suddenly improved his mood. A nice balmy breeze, sand between his toes. Girls in bikinis, golden skin slathered in oil. Mmm, mmm, mmm. How long had it been since he’d kissed a woman? Smelled a woman’s hair? Felt soft, warm feminine skin under his fingertips? And he wasn’t talking about anything like what had happened last week in the bathroom of the Rusty Nail between him and Sherri. That had amounted to nothing more than soothing a physical need. No, what he had in mind was something softer, more tender. He flashed on the way Sarah’s hand had felt in his, and the heavy carpet wobbled, nearly toppling him over.
Steady, man. Rebalancing the roll over his left shoulder, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall.
“I’ll get the front door!” Brian said, running down the hall.
The kid seemed so hungry for male attention, but for the first time since they’d shown up almost an hour ago, Jesse was glad they were around. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about the kid’s father. Garrett had said Sarah was single, but did her ex live on the island? If not, where was he?
Jesse carefully angled the length of carpet through the front door and across the porch before flipping the roll into the Dumpster Garrett had delivered Jesse’s first morning on the island. When he turned, he noticed Brian’s mom, her shoulders squared and her head held high, walking across the snow-covered yard.
Poised.