Chapter Four

Jonah

Jonah watched Evie work the crowd like a pro. She’d managed to greet every guest with a warm, personable hug, asking about their family, their hobbies, how their garden or home projects were coming along. The woman knew everything about everyone. Not in a busybody way like her parents, but like she genuinely cared about each and every guest in her house.

Him, on the other hand, she was avoiding. Well, as much as one could avoid when stuck in a tight space where they could smell one another’s shampoo. By the time he’d joined the meeting, there was only one vacant chair—way in the back. Since she’d practically ushered everyone to their seats, he knew she’d left the one farthest from the podium for him.

Without ceremony, Jonah picked up the chair, dragged it to the front of the room, and placed it directly in front of the podium, creating his own row. She narrowed her eyes, and those full lips went into a full-on pissed-off line.

He smiled.

She did not smile back. In fact, she made a big show of looking over his head and ignoring him, which he found amusing.

Sunshineindeed.

“Did everyone get a copy of the agenda?” Evie asked, all prim and proper from her makeshift podium, which looked more music-stand-from-the-local-middle-school than presidential.

No one listened. Not even Jonah. He was too busy taking her all in. She’d opted for the pink top and ass-hugging jeans and she looked lickable. The silky pink number cupped her breasts to perfection. Then there were her legs. Covered in denim so tight, the fabric hid nothing. Long and toned and the kind of legs a man could spend hours exploring—yoga legs. He knew this because he’d caught glimpses of her from his back window doing downward-facing dog.

Not that he should be thinking about her in spandex while sitting so close he could hear her breathe. Besides, he was still unnerved about how his heart had reacted to seeing her hold Waverly. The simple act of the moment had jumpstarted it.

There hadn’t been a lot of simplicity in Jonah’s life recently. He’d been so connected with Amber that when she had passed his world unraveled. He was through the worst of the grief and finally in a place where moving forward didn’t feel like a complete betrayal. Only he didn’t know which direction to go. His GPS had gone dead at the funeral. Now it was flickering back to life, but he didn’t want the chaos left behind to overflow onto the people around him.

Evie cleared her throat. “Let’s bring this meeting to order.”

“Good,” Mr. Karlson said. Karlson was in his later sixties with a white crop of hair and grew petunias like he was one of the King’s botanists. “I would like to talk about ethical choices when it comes to the community garden.”

The community garden was three lots down from Jonah’s and looked like something out of a Disney movie. Apple and cherry trees, lamp-lined walkways, and a bunch of vegetables and bright flowers that changed with the season. This community took their gardening seriously.

“The key word there is ‘community,’” Moira said, those usually friendly eyes hot enough to scorch. “I live in this community.”

“You’re growing marijuana,” Mr. Karlson pointed out.

“Which is completely legal.” Moira stood and addressed the crowd. “As a Colorado resident, I am allowed to have six personal plants.”

“At your house, not where the neighborhood teens can make a doobie.”

Moira rolled her eyes. “Kids don’t call it ‘doobie’ anymore. It’s hemp. And it’s medicinal.”

Evie shot her mom a look that could fry an egg. “And it’s not on tonight’s agenda.”

Mr. Karlson stood. “It’s offensive and against community policy. Which is why I’m starting this petition to have the plants torn from the garden.”

“You do that and I’ll have Lenard pour bleach on your precious petunias.”

“Enough,” Evie said in her mom voice, and everyone fell silent except Jonah, who took the moment to chuckle at her stern expression. She was in boss mode. And damn if that wasn’t attractive. “We’re only here to talk about the 452 Spring Street situation.”

Jonah arched a brow because that was news to the owner of 452 Spring Street. “I thought that my house was on the agenda, not the agenda.”

“Didn’t she tell you?” Mrs. Gomez asked. “This is a special hearing. Had to miss my Jeopardy! to make it.”

Jonah had spoken to Mrs. Gomez that morning about just this issue, and while she said she’d come in support of him, she’d never mentioned that Evie had called a special hearing. So much for giving him a chance.

He met Evie’s gaze and her cheeks pinkened. “So I’m special, huh?” he whispered for her ears only.

She leaned over the podium and whispered back, “You wish.”

The position did amazing things to her cleavage so he took the moment to enjoy the view, then wiggled a brow.

She glanced down at her chest and then snapped upright, pressing her hand to the gaping neckline. Then she pushed her shoulders back and chin up, her tone dialed to President of the United States about to give the State of the Union. “Spring Hill Community Beautification Board meeting, September ninth, is now in session. If you’ll all turn to the agenda, we can get started.”

Jonah’s hand shot up.

“Yes?” she said overly brightly.

“Back to this special agenda. Why was I only given twenty-four hours to prepare?”

“The agenda was posted on the community website last week, as per regulations.”

“I didn’t see the posting.”

“Not my fault. You’ve had a total of three warnings about the state of your yard. You’ve ignored each one.”

“That’s not true. I did pick all the rotten pomegranates up off the sidewalk.” Then he’d put them in a gift basket on Evie’s porch step as a little joke. The fury in her eyes told him he was the only one who found the humor in it.

“And it brought the rats that are feasting on the fermented pomegranates to my house. I can hear them in my walls, Jonah. This has become a health hazard.”

“I’ll hire an exterminator.”

“Which only works if you cut back the fruit trees in your yard or maybe, I don’t know, actually eat the fruit? Or they’ll just come back and continue to devour my grandmother’s rose garden. Some of those roses are fifty years old and the rats are gnawing at the roots.”

Wow, he didn’t know it had gotten so bad. “I’ll fix it. I just need time. I’m sure you all understand I’ve been a little busy,” he said. “Swinging single parenthood and being my own boss keeps me on my toes.”

The brackets around Evie’s mouth became more prominent as she fought to keep her professional smile in place. “Which is why we are considering giving you a one-week extension to get your yard in order before we send in a team to relandscape your yard. And maybe get rid of those fruit trees.”

Anger like none other mixed with panic. “Anyone who touches those trees will be sued. Understood?”

The whole group went silent at his threat. But he intended to be clear. Nobody but him would ever touch his wife’s orchard.

“And seriously, one week?” How the hell was he supposed to clean up nearly two years of neglect in one week? Especially with Waverly still potty training and Ryan’s pressing school and football schedule? Not to mention his son’s grades. He needed to be on top of things inside his house. He didn’t have the extra bandwidth to deal with hedges and sod.

“That does seem a little excessive,” Mr. Karlson, Moira’s nemesis, chimed in.

Mrs. Lichfield, community dictator when it came to beautification, put on her usual scowl. “He has been given three warnings. We need to send in the landscapers, and he’s paying for it!”

“All I’m asking for is a little more time,” Jonah said.

Moira elbowed Lenard in the ribs and whisper-yelled. “You remember how hard it was when Camila was going through the terrible twos.”

Great, so the entire house heard him trying to get his kid asleep.

“Which is why we’ve been talking and we think a week is asking a lot,” Mr. Karlson said with authority.

Evie looked around the room. “Who’s been talking?”

“We all have,” Mr. Jamieson said.

“Not me,” Mrs. Lichfield said. “I say we fine the man now. Hell, let’s bring in the bulldozers and landscapers Monday morning.”

Jonah stood. “One person sets foot on my property, and I’ll weed-whack your hedges to the ground,” he said to Mrs. Lichfield, who gasped like she was a lady on Downton Abbey.

“No need for all of that,” Mr. Jamieson said and motioned for Jonah to sit, which he did. “The majority have decided to give you and your family another six weeks to bring your yard up to code.”

“Six weeks?” There was a hint of panic in Evie’s voice that piqued Jonah’s interest. It was gone as quickly as it had come. She nervously smoothed her hands down her jeans. “That doesn’t work for me. And since when do we discuss board matters outside of board meetings?”

“Seeing as Jonah didn’t have a babysitter for the evening, he took it upon himself to come and chat with us individually to explain his situation,” Mrs. Gomez said sweetly.

“You did.” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

“I didn’t want any more neighbors calling you on my behalf,” he said steadily.

He could tell she wanted to argue but couldn’t because he was only repeating what she’d told him—instead she ground her teeth.

“Well, if we’re all in agreement, then why don’t we call this meeting to a close and enjoy some of the cookies. They smell delicious,” Moira said.

“If anyone has a different opinion, please feel free to voice it,” Jonah said, daring Evie to go against the majority.

She looked at Mrs. Lichfield, seeking support, but she let out a sigh and said, “Six weeks, but not a day more.”

“Snickerdoodles it is,” Moira said, standing and surprising Jonah. He hadn’t spoken with either of Evie’s parents and had expected the most pushback from them.

He looked at her father, waiting for the lecture, but Lenard just shook his head disappointedly at Jonah, who now felt like a class-A jerk.

Moira led the way to the kitchen, where the rest of the group followed. Except Evie, who was gathering up the abandoned agendas off the seats and, for a brief moment, Jonah thought he saw her hands shake as she stacked them together, and something didn’t settle right in his gut.

Then her gaze met his and it was hot enough to nuke his nuts. “You blindsided me.”

“I took responsibility for my yard and apologized to each and every neighbor.”

“A fun fact you could have explained when we were in my room.”

Yes. He could have. He should have. But he thought it would be funny to see the look on her face when she realized that her whole plan to screw with his life backfired. Only he wasn’t laughing now. “I was going to tell you but then Waverly went ballistic.” And I saw you in nothing but panties and my mind was scrambled. “I should have told you.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. You already rigged the vote. You used that single-dad charm and won them over.”

“So you think I’m charming?”

“I think you are a gigantic asshole.”

“You said you wanted everyone off your back. That’s what I did.”

She stepped into him, toe to toe. “What you did was go charm everyone into getting”—she poked his pec—“your”—poke—“way.” Poke. Poke.

He trapped her hand beneath his. “Just like you went around riling everyone up about my yard. Well, checkmate, sunshine.”

Unexpected hurt flickered through her anger. She jerked her hand back and crossed her arms around her belly. “I didn’t ask for this meeting, Jonah. Mrs. Lichfield did. I’m guessing she left that out during your morning coffee.”

“I didn’t meet with Lichfield. Knew it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“So you admit the point of your surprise neighborhood visits was to get people on your side?” she asked quietly.

“There aren’t sides here,” he said, watching emotions play across her normally schooled face. “What are you not telling me?”

Evie stared at him for a long moment, and he could see the exhaustion and a hint of vulnerability seep in. She brought one arm across her chest and defiantly gripped the bicep of her other arm, then gave a tired shake of her head. “Nothing I can’t work out. Good night, Jonah.”

He watched her walk down the hallway, away from the party, a party he knew she’d never pass up. For one, she was a people person. And secondly, she lived and breathed party etiquette and leaving her guests to fend for themselves went against every host-rule she possessed.

Jonah was about to go after her when Mrs. Gomez approached. She was dressed in mourning black, pink orthopedic shoes, and a cloak of grief. She clutched a stack of documents to her chest.

Gloria had lost her husband a few months back to a heart attack and was having a hard time bouncing back. In fact, tonight was the first time he’d seen her outside of her yard since the funeral.

“I know you need to get your little one home, but I need a minute.”

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s about my Raoul’s life insurance. Those little pricks at the insurance company are giving me the runaround about my payout, and I know that you gave them hell when they tried to deny your claim after Amber passed. I can’t even make heads or tails of what it says. It’s like trying to understand the inner workings of the male brain. I swear they write it that way on purpose to confuse people.”

Unfortunately, that was the truth. Jonah only knew his way around a policy because when he’d been a broker at the firm, he’d specialized in investing and growing insurance payouts.

“If you want, I can take a look at it.”

Mrs. Gomez’s eyes took on a grateful sheen, as if she finally felt like she had an ally in the fight. It made Jonah wonder if Evie had any allies and who they were, because tonight she’d been on her own. Even though her parents clearly loved and adored her, her mom didn’t hesitate to question her stance on the vote.

“Moving on is just so hard,” she said with a sniffle.

Jonah put a supportive hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “I know.”