Page 28 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
He showed up around four that afternoon in his non-work uniform of a white T-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes and a faded green baseball hat. Rowen sprinted out the front door and practically attacked him the second he stepped foot outside his truck.
“Are you a police officer?” she asked, bouncing around his legs.
He chuckled. “Yep. I’m the sheriff.”
“That is so cool! Do you catch bad guys and put them in jail?”
“Sometimes.”
Before she could ask her next question, I interrupted, “Rowen, what do we do when we meet new people?”
She looked at me for a second before sticking her little hand out to Jess and reciting, “Hi. My name is Rowen. Nice to meet you.”
Jess took her hand in his. “I’m Jess. Nice to meet you too, Rowen.”
“How does jail work?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
He smiled at her without answering and then gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Just that little kiss and I was woozy again, swaying a little as I shifted weight from one foot to the other.
Damn.
Jess turned back to Rowen and gave her his undivided attention, answering all her questions regarding jail, bad guys, speeding tickets, badges and police cars. I finally had to pull her away so he could get to work on mowing and we could go inside to start on dinner.
Roe selected the dinner menu of hot dogs wrapped in Grands biscuits, Velveeta shells and cheese, green beans (my requirement) and watermelon.
Dinner conversation was light and easy. Rowen peppered Jess with her “why” questions and when I could finally get a word in edgewise, I asked, “Roe, did you know that Papa Ben was friends with Jess?”
She gave me a long stare but didn’t respond.
Turning back to Jess, she said, “I go to Quail Hollow and my teacher’s name is Miss Billie.”
Jess and I shared a look. It wasn’t lost on him that her reaction to Ben’s mention was odd.
I shrugged and let her change the subject. I wasn’t going to press. Not tonigh
t.
After dinner, Roe showed Jess all around the farmhouse.
I remembered the look he had given me the night I handed him Ben’s letter. The disapproving glare he’d had when I sat on the swing. So all through the tour, I watched him closely, seeing if I could catch a glimpse of the same behavior. I was eyeing him so intently that I tripped twice.
But not once did he let on that he knew the house better than she or I did. And I never got the impression that he felt like we were intruding on his space. That he should have been living here instead of us.
Was I was reading too much into Maisy’s comment about Jess living at the farmhouse? Regardless, I wasn’t ready to trust Jess. His actions earlier in the week had left a mark.
I had given Nate my trust after one night. A colossal mistake. Until I could say with confidence that Jess was not a jackass, I was on high alert.
Around eight o’clock, Jess announced it was time for him to be heading home. Roe and I walked him to his truck, where he knelt to say good-bye to my girl. He caught her chin between his thumb and the side of his index finger.
“I had fun getting to know you tonight, Rowen.”
She gave him a wide, beaming smile and turned to me. “He’s like a prince from my movies. Can Jess be your boyfriend, Mommy?”
“Ah . . . we’ll see.”
It should have made me happy that he was so good with her. That she liked him. And deep down, it did. My heart swelled with warm and fuzzy feelings because he was so sweet to her.
But on the surface I was annoyed. My own daughter had just foiled my plans.
