Chapter Nine

Jonah

Jonah wiped the sweat off his brow and took a long sip of iced tea. Maybe if that Beautification Board deadline wasn’t counting down like the timer on a nuclear bomb, he could have justified staying inside today and playing hooky from adulting. Instead of his Sunday routine of staying in his pjs until noon, napping with Waverly after lunch, and watching football with Ryan, he was sweating it out under the blistering September sun—which wouldn’t let up until fall came on the scene—trimming back the damn pomegranate tree.

His sudden motivation had nothing to do with the way Evie looked holding Waverly and everything to do with needing to make some headway in his life—and this was an actionable goal. It was also a reminder of just how badly life had chewed him up.

He didn’t need to do the work himself. He could focus on the job search instead, and then once he got one, he could hire a company to come and make his yard look like Martha Stewart lived here…no. That kind of thinking had led to his problems, and to the garden that had been Amber’s baby going to shit on his watch.

The flowerbeds were filled with weeds, the hedges and trees overgrown, and her roses were bare branches. Three of the many things he was going to fix. Maybe fixing the yard would jumpstart fixing his life. One thing at a time.

Jonah set a mason jar of iced tea on the fence, grabbed the trimming shears, and walked up to the pomegranate tree that launched the neighbor-war of all wars. And for the first time, instead of thinking about his wife, he found himself smiling over how ticked Evie had been with his basket of pomegranates. How those full lips had pursed, and those beautiful brown eyes narrowed in his direction. Man, she was as prickly as a porcupine. Jonah wasn’t usually into prickly but on her he found it sexy as hell.

Reaching over his head and placing the cutters at the crossroads of a branch, he snipped, sending leaves and debris raining down on his face.

“What the actual fuck, Dad?” Ryan said and Jonah could hear his son’s feet pounding across the slate pathway until he was right behind him.

Jonah looked at his son, who nearly topped Jonah’s six-foot-one frame. “Language.”

Ryan ignored the warning. “That’s mine and Mom’s tree.”

There was a frantic and emotional nature to Ryan’s voice that had Jonah taking a softer tone. “I’m just trimming it.”

Ryan yanked the shears out of Jonah’s hands. “No, you’re killing it! We prune it in the spring,” he said, and Jonah noticed the way his son once again used the present tense when referring to his mom. “Not a few months before winter. You’ll damage the branches, and it will die.” His son’s voice cracked on the last word.

“I didn’t know,” he said apologetically. “But I have to trim it back or we’ll get fined by the Beautification Board. And your mom wouldn’t want some stranger in her garden.”

Was there no way to push this off? No, he couldn’t afford a landscaper. One he hired and definitely not one the board brought in.

He couldn’t believe that this was all coming down to his kid’s feelings versus a stupid—and out of his budget—fine. If it hadn’t been for that meeting, the last five minutes wouldn’t have happened, and Ryan wouldn’t look close to tears.

“I don’t care about the board. It’s my tree. Don’t ever touch it again.” Ryan threw the shears on the ground and stomped down the pathway, heading for his car.

“Where are you going?” Jonah called out behind him.

“Anywhere but here.”

“I know you’re pissed, but until those grades are up, you’re staying here and studying.”

“Fine. Whatever.” He burst through the front door and slammed it loud enough for the tree to tremble.

Jesus. What just happened? It felt like every step he took forward was the wrong step. And he desperately needed to find the right direction, only his compass was malfunctioning.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know the tree was so important,” Evie said from behind him, and he dropped his head to his chest.

What had he just done? Ryan clearly needed space and instead of giving it to him, Jonah had sentenced him to an afternoon in the one place that didn’t allow his son to breathe.

“Sometimes I feel like navigating Ryan’s emotions is like walking through a minefield with a blindfold on.”

He looked up and, Lord help him, Evie looked like a PTA president and the gorgeous girl next door had a love child. She was wearing a flowery sundress that flirted around a pair of legs long enough to lock around his waist. Then there were the tiny buttons that went from cleavage to thigh—buttons he wanted to undo with his teeth. Her shoulder-length hair was sleek and silky and made his fingers itch to slide through it.

A combination of animal attraction and irritation coursed through him. Animal attraction because, damn, just look at her. Irritation over the fact that his failings as a dad were no longer private. Evie must think he was parentally inept—again. Then there was her stubbornness in ignoring this surface-of-the-sun heat that arced between them.

If the way she was staring at his bare chest was any indication, she was remembering that night, too.

“My eyes are up here,” he said, because she’d been eye-ogling the happy trail that led to the forest. His pecs bounced and she jumped back with a gasp. He laughed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You have leaves stuck to you.” She reached out and plucked a leaf off his chest, careful not to touch him, then held up the leaf as proof. “See.”

“Then why do you look like you want to stick a wad of ones down my shorts?”

“I do not!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m here on official business,” she said primly.

Unless “official” referred to her stance on him going to town with those buttons, he wasn’t interested. “If you came with more HOA to-dos, leave it in the mailbox. I’m kind of stretched thin at the moment.”

Evie looked at the driveway behind her, likely for an escape, but surprised him by stepping closer and extending a container of cookies that she had been holding behind her. “I come in peace.”

He closed the distance. “Are those your mom’s snickerdoodles?”

She smiled. “Two dozen.”

“It will take more than some cookies to turn my day around.” Which was a lie. Just being close to her made the pressure between his shoulders relax.

She set the cookies on the fence next to his tea. “How can I help?” Suspicion skated up his back. “Why do you look so startled?”

“Because you’ve never once offered to help,” he said and her gaze quickly darted away. “So why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ve had a week, too,” she admitted. “Do you want to talk about yours first?”

“I think I need something stronger than iced tea for that kind of chat.”

Jonah walked to the deck and grabbed two beers by the neck from a cooler. Spending time with her would be anything but a hardship, but when he twisted off the cap and extended one to Evie, she eyed it like it was Pandora’s box.

“Is that such a good idea?”

“Probably not.” He took a long pull and leaned against the railing.

“What am I doing?” she whispered to herself.

“Staring at my chest again,” he informed her, since she didn’t seem to know that her gorgeous eyes had darted south.

“Then maybe you should put on a shirt.”

“Didn’t know that a little sweat would turn you on.”

She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m not turned on.”

“Did you know that you play with your hair when you’re lying?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Really? Then why do you look like I just asked you to play strip Jenga?”

“That’s a game?”

“It is now,” he said and she laughed.

“Look, I just spent my morning with my dad at dialysis, the afternoon going over the shop’s numbers for the third time, and I’m avoiding an important conversation with Camila. I can barely manage things as they are, so this probably isn’t the right time for me to be making questionable decisions.”

“Then let’s make a good decision. You, me, those beers, and nothing more than two friends throwing back a few. I won’t bite.” She reached for the beer but he didn’t let it go. “Unless you ask me to.”

She yanked the beer from his hand and sat next to him. The step wasn’t very wide so their thighs brushed when she sat. She tried to scooch away but there wasn’t enough room so her attempts only caused their bodies to rub back and forth.

He tapped her bottle with his, then took a sip. “Now why are you buttering me up?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“You brought me cookies and they don’t look laced.”

She stared up at the sky as if seeking divine intervention. “I need a favor.”

It must be a doozie because he knew she worked tirelessly to appear like she had it all under control. Accepting help, especially from him, went against her cool-as-a-cucumber facade.

“My family’s driving me crazy,” she said. “Like batshit crazy.” Funny, that. Evie was driving him crazy every time the bottom of the short-enough-to-ride-above-her-knees skirt moved with the summer breeze, tickling his leg.

She took a long sip, nearly draining her bottle.

“You need another?”

“No. Yes.” She laughed but the lines around her eyes didn’t crinkle. “My family and friends have become obsessed with my dating life.”

Jonah was a little obsessed with her dating life, too. Like wanting to know if she had one. And if she did, was it serious? And why did that bother him so much?

“To the point that they have schemed behind my back to find me my soulmate using social media. I’ve gone viral, Jonah.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” he said.

“Men show up at my work with roses, asking me out on dates, professing their undying love, and trying to convince me that we’re a perfect pair. I have to publicly turn down each one and it’s not only embarrassing, I feel awful. I don’t want to be the turn-down queen,” she said. “There was practically a Bachelorette episode shot at the coffee house the other day, which was streamed live on ClickByte. Someone even left a poem comparing my body to a Ferrari on my front windshield. It’s not just my family and friends now. It’s as if all of America has an opinion on my dating life.”

“You want to hear my opinion?” he asked softly, making sure to have zero judgment in his tone. He knew how many cooks she had in her kitchen. He’d been around her family and friends enough to know how much they ran over her wants and needs. Never in a malicious way, it came from a place of love, but he imagined the outcome was the same—Evie feeling like her life wasn’t her own.

“Nope.”

He bumped her shoulder with his. “That’s a shame because I was rooting for Ernie.”

“Are you shitting me?” She smacked his bicep. “You let me tell the whole humiliating story and you already knew?”

He chuckled. “Well, I didn’t know about the poem. And a Ferrari, huh? I’d say you were more a Chevrolet SUV.”

She glared at him. “You just downgraded me from a sports car to an SUV.”

“A sleek and sophisticated SUV that is efficient and dependable and safe. I would trust it with my family.”

Shock and tenderness filled her eyes, and when she spoke her voice was barely a whisper. “Even if I did make you almost kill Ryan’s tree?”

He rested his hand on her leg and gave it a squeeze. He tried not to focus on the way her silky skin felt beneath his palm, or the way his thumb moved back and forth along the gentle slope of the knee. “Even then.”

Evie’s phone rang. She didn’t move to answer it, just tilted her beer back and downed it in one gulp.

“I’ll let you get that and”—he paused—“thanks.”

This was his chance to get out of there, but instead Jonah found himself saying, “It could be your prince coming to save you.”

“I’m not looking to be saved. Plus, I don’t believe in princes. Unless they come bearing wine, then I might think about—”

Her phone rang again.

“You should probably get that,” he said again but didn’t move.

Evie looked down at the screen and groaned.

“Ernie?” he asked.

“No. It’s the butcher from Marnie’s Meats and More. My mom gave him my number after he saw my video.”

“And you’re avoiding him because you don’t want to date a butcher?”

“I’m avoiding him because I don’t want to—”

Her phone rang again.

“You can’t just keep ignoring him and hoping he’ll go away.”

“You know what? You’re absolutely right.” She handed him her phone. “Here.”

“No can do. I’m not into butchers.”

“Neither am I. Just answer and tell him I’m already taken,” she begged. “Then we’ll be even.”

“Even?”

“From me picking up Waverly at the last minute the other day.”

The phone rang, louder and more demanding than the last time. Evie rubbed her head as if the ringing was causing her acute pain.

The phone gave one final ring and went silent. Evie sagged against the steps with relief.

It immediately rang again.

“You don’t have thirty seconds to help an old friend out?”

“Fine. I’ll do it. But then we’re even. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” There was a raw vulnerability that nearly did him in.

He took the phone. “What do you want me to say?”

“Make something up. Be creative.”

He hit speakerphone. “Evie’s phone, who’s this?”

The phone remained silent.

“Hello?” he prompted.

“Brad,” a male’s voice came through the phone. It was perturbed and pissy and, Jonah was pretty sure, presumptuous. “Is Evie there?”

Evie’s big brown eyes gave a please-don’t-rat-me-out plea. “Unfortunately, she’s a little indisposed at the moment.” Jonah flashed Evie a wicked smile, and wariness stopped her cold. “Hey baby, your bra is over there. No, hanging from the ceiling fan.” Then back to Brad. “Women, am I right? Anyway, can I take a message?”

“Wrong number.”

The line went dead.

Evie blinked at the phone and then him. “Ceiling fan? That’s what you came up with?”

“You said I could be creative. Should we call Brad back and ask his opinion?”

She jerked the phone away. “Don’t you dare. I mean, now he thinks we were…”

“Were what, sunshine?”

Evie blinked twice and then this amazing smile overtook her expression. “Oh my God! That was actually perfect!”

“I’m sorry? Did you just compliment me?”

“I’m as surprised as you are.” She turned to face him. Her eyes went wide as saucers, her lips slightly parted as she drew in a breath. It was an a-ha expression if he’d ever seen one. His gut told him to run. “He thinks I’m taken.”

“Wasn’t that the point?”

“Yes. And it worked perfectly on Brad.” She clapped with glee. “Now we just need to convince America that I’m off the market.”

“We?” A sinking feeling started in the pit of his stomach and his warning bells sounded. “How do you intend to accomplish that?”

“By getting myself a fake boyfriend. And since you and I are at the bra-on-the-ceiling-fan point of our relationship now, and I trust you, I was thinking that you’d make the perfect—”

“You hate me.”

“Hate is a strong word. But our dislike of each other makes it even better. It will ensure no lines are crossed!”

Dislike? That word was like a stake through his chest.

He jerked his hand away and stood. “Nope. Never going to happen.”

“Just hear me out.” She was standing now, too, and since they were still on the steps, they were within kissing distance. He could feel her breath skate across his skin when she spoke. “By the time they announce the Best Coffee Shop in Denver, I’ll have a better handle on the shop. The publicity alone will be enough to pull us out of the red.”

“It’s that bad?”

“We’re a few months from going under and my parents are acting like we’re short milk money. Please, Jonah, I just need a few weeks of the appearance of being off the market to get my family off my back.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It can be. All it would be is maybe some hand-holding, a couple of casual and public dates, and we upload a few videos. Maybe I play fairy godmother and give you a little makeover. Easy peasy.”

“I’m not seeing an upside to this.” Plus, it would take more than a little bippity-boppity-boo to turn his life into Prince Charming status. He was as far from being a prince as Evie was from letting rats destroy her grandmother’s roses.

“How about I help you get your life in order? I’m a professional organizer, or I was, and you need some organization in your life.”

Ouch. She wasn’t wrong, though. He lifted a brow. “You really aren’t helping your case.”

“Please, Jonah. Between my dad’s health, the shop, Camila, and now ClickByte, I’m desperate.”

“So your solution is to lie to our families?”

She dropped her forehead to his chest. Her voice was threadbare. “I don’t have time for a real relationship. I’ve put my goals on hold for so long, I don’t want to do it again. I just want a break from it all.”

He wanted to be that break for her. Wanted to be more than just her neighbor who occasionally shared a beer. What he wanted, he couldn’t have. She’d made that crystal clear. Plus, there was Amber and her memory. And the kids. God, Ryan would kill him if he started dating his best friend’s mom. And when these weeks were up, what would that mean for their relationship? She could finally be within kicking distance and knee him in the nuts.

Then there was the obvious.

“Do you think you and I spending time together like that is a good idea?” He cupped her hips and let his fingers slide low on the curve of her back. Then he leaned in and ran his nose along her cheek and nuzzled her ear. She shivered. “Do you think that we can be around each other, pretending that we’re having sex, and not cross a line?”

Evie’s breath hitched, but she pulled back to stare him down with those sultry eyes. “I can. Can you?”

Jonah grinned. “What if I said I couldn’t?”

“Then I’d call you chicken,” murmured Evie, running her hands up his arms gently.

Just then, Evie’s back porch door banged open, and she jumped back as if she’d been scalded. The distance between them might as well have been a chasm, filled with all the reasons why Jonah couldn’t let himself get that close to her.

“Sorry, sunshine. You’re gonna have to figure this one out on your own.”