M. Leighton: Some Like It Wild

Jake starts to turn away again, but stops himself, his brow furrowing. “Holt. You’re not related to Graham Holt, are you?”

“Yes, I am. He’s my father. Why?”

Jake throws back his head and laughs heartily. “Oh, God! That’s perfect! The preacher’s daughter!”

It seems like he’s making fun of me, and I bristle. “And why is that perfect ?” I ask sharply.

Jake lowers his head and looks me square in the eye. “Because I’ve got a thing for forbidden fruit, Laney Holt. Consider yourself warned.”

With another cocky grin tossed my way, Jake turns to mount the steps, leaving me feeling nothing short of breathless.

The following afternoon, I’m driving home, thinking to myself that this unforeseen, undesirable incarceration in Greenfield on my family’s peach farm is looking decidedly more promising. Between the part-time job I just got and the tasty little piece that’ll be wandering around my house for the next couple of weeks, I’m feeling pretty optimistic about the time I’ll be spending here. Boredom and I don’t mix, but it’s looking like I won’t have to worry about that any time in the near future.

When I turn into the driveway, I see a speck of blue through the trees. That’s bound to be Laney. She said she’d see me today, but she didn’t say when. I just assumed she’d call. Luckily, hers is the kind of unexpected visit I could get used to.

As the lane widens just in front of the house, I see Laney marching angrily toward her car. I steer the Jeep toward the garage and cut the engine, hopping out before she can leave.

“Where you off to?” I ask as I approach.

She doesn’t answer, just yanks on the car door handle. It doesn’t open on the first try, which seems to make her that much madder.

“Hey,” I say, reaching out to touch her arm and turn her toward me.

She whirls to face me, her eyes flashing furiously. “Don’t touch me!”

I hold up both hands in surrender and take a step back. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

I’m not irritated, just curious. It’s a simple question, but she gets all huffy. Which totally turns me on.

Laney takes a deep breath and pokes me in the chest with one finger. “Listen here, Mr. Theopolis , I didn’t come here to be trifled with. I’m here to do a job, but if you refuse to show me the most basic respect and common decency, I’ll be more than happy to turn your case over to another paralegal.”

I feel my lips twitch. “Trifled with?”

First her mouth drops open, like she can’t believe I just said that. Then she makes a growling sound and turns around so fast, her hair nearly whips me in the face.

Quicker than she is, I reach out and grab her arm again, spinning her back toward me. I pull her in close and look down into her beautiful sapphire blue eyes. They’re sparkling with irritation and indignation, and I’ve never before wanted a woman so badly.

“Hold on just a second. What have I done to show you anything less than respect and common decency?” My voice is low and reasonable, and my hold on her is light. Just enough to keep her from leaving.

“I told you I’d be back today and you didn’t even have the decency to be here.”

“If I’d known when you were coming, I’d have been here. You said you’d see me today, but you didn’t say when.”

I see the doubt flicker through her eyes. They lose a little of their heat as she relaxes in my arms.

“I told you . . . I mean, I thought I told you . . .”

I shake my head. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t give me a specific time. I figured you’d call first.”

Doubt turns to reluctant contrition right before my eyes. “Then I must apologize for getting angry. I just thought . . .”

“You thought the worst,” I finish for her. “Lucky for you, I’m used to it.”

“Mr. Theopolis, I—”

I reach up to lay one finger across her lips. “First of all, call me Jake. Secondly, don’t go apologizing too soon.”

“But I owe you an apo—”

“Not after this,” I reply as I lower my mouth to cover hers.

Her lips are just as soft as I remember and, when I slip my tongue between them, she tastes just as sweet, only without the hint of peach this time.

I caught her off guard and, for a few seconds, she responds to me, tilting her head and dragging her tongue along mine. But then, as if someone dumped a cold bucket of water on her head, she snaps out of it and pulls away.

She glares at me, all the fury back like it never left. She raises her hand to slap me, but I catch it, winding my fingers around her wrist and pulling her arm behind me. Her chest crashes into mine, and I whisper in her ear, “Now that was disrespectful. And I won’t do it again until you ask me to.”

With a featherlight kiss to her jaw, I lean back and let her go. For a few seconds, she stands staring at me with her mouth hanging open before she huffs once, pivots on her high heel, and flings open her car door to climb inside. I watch as she starts the engine, backs up, and speeds down the driveway without a backward glance.

Damn, this is gonna be fun!

Jake Theopolis is bothering me. I feel like my insides are in turmoil, yet I can’t stop thinking about him long enough for them to settle down. That both frustrates and angers me.

My lack of sleep isn’t helping matters. Neither is the memory of our phone conversation.

I had to call Jake last night to tell him I’d be by around nine this morning. The call was short and he was agreeable, but there was something about his tone—something smug and satisfied and . . . teasing—that has left me feeling off-kilter. And I don’t like it.

“Why are you up so early?” my mother asks as she makes her way into the kitchen. She’s wearing the same robe she’s worn since I was a little girl—dark blue with tiny pink flowers embroidered across the chest. Her short, sandy hair is perfectly coiffed, like she didn’t just sleep eight hours on it, and her brown eyes are soft and sleepy, and as angelic as always.

I shrug, bringing the coffee mug to my lips and taking another sip. “A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Is it all this mess with Shane? I don’t know why you can’t just forgive him and move on. It’s the Christian thing to do, no matter what he did.”

I bite back my waspish response. She has no idea. But that’s not her fault. I haven’t told my parents the details of my breakup with my fiancé, Shane Call. They just think I’m being impulsive and petulant. “Mom, I’ve told you, Shane and I are not getting back together.”

She shakes her head, a sad expression on her face. “I hate to see you let anything get in the way of your happiness, sweet pea.”

“Sometimes it’s not up to us, Momma.”

“It’s always up to us.”

I feel my frustration rise and realize it’s high time for a change of subject. “Do you remember Cris Theopolis?”

“Of course,” she answers, moving right along with my new direction. “He was a wonderful man. Such a tragedy, especially after what happened with Elizabeth.”

“Who’s Elizabeth?”

“Cris’s wife. She died many years ago. She was very sick. It just broke Cris’s heart. I don’t think he ever really recovered. But he always made sure to do right by those kids of his. At least he tried.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘he tried’?”

“Well, it’s not an easy thing, to be a single parent and tend an orchard as large as his was. It’s no wonder—”

“Who’s a single parent?” my father asks as he strolls into the kitchen. He’s already dressed in slacks and a white button-up shirt, his dark hair still damp from the shower. His commanding presence fills any room the instant he walks into it. This one is no different.