Stubborn as hell.
And she seemed to know exactly what she wanted.
Until something better came along . . .
Because Laura Baughman was ambitious. And that meant taking risks and opportunities, and to hell with the rest. She’d run once, might again, and Jake just had to be prepared for the latter. And while he shouldn’t like her, he couldn’t get last night out of his mind.
“Knock, knock!” a happy voice rang out. His sister, Erica, came through his front door, letting herself in like she always did. “It’s past breakfast,” she said, eyeing him. “Put on a shirt. I brought muffins.”
He gave her a half hug and grabbed a muffin out of the little pastry box, not caring about the shirt at the moment, because his eyes were back on the trailer.
“You’re here earlier than usual,” he said. It was a Saturday, after all. And even though Erica came by every Saturday morning when she was off shift at the clinic, he’d never seen her before nine.
She walked in, her curly hair swinging way past her back. She had the same dark hair and blue eyes as Jake, but she looked just like their mother. Petite and always sweet, with a smile. Jake apparently looked like his dad. Big, tall, and rough around the edges. Something he hated knowing and being compared to since the man was a poor excuse for a father, husband, and general human being.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.
“Heard you had an interesting day yesterday,” she said with a smile. “Wanted to come check on you a bit early. Get the scoop.”
Seemed the small-town chatter mill was already in full swing. By now, most of Yachats would have heard that Laura Baughman was back and set to work in one of the most lucrative businesses in town. Though she was spinning it that she was an owner. Which was half-true and was already ruffling some feathers. He’d never finished his conversation with Russ last night, but he wasn’t worried. Jake controlled the warehouse, and that was final.
“Day was fine,” he said and took another bite of muffin.
“Fine?” Erica repeated, eyeing him. He may be the oldest, but Erica was sharp. She saw through his bullshit real quick. Always had. “Is that why you’re so fidgety and keep staring at that god-awful monstrosity parked in your driveway?”
“Hey, that was Walt’s.”
“Yeah, and it looks condemned. Thank God he finally moved in with his lady.”
“It’s not condemned,” he said. Sure it was rough, but it was livable. And Laura hadn’t complained once, so that was something. Impressive, actually, considering he’d wager that her shoes were more expensive than Jake’s whole wardrobe put together.
“You should get rid of it. Or at least hide it,” Erica said.
Jake shook his head. Sure, everyone might know Laura was in town, but no one knew the details of her arrangement. Like that she was living in the old trailer in his driveway and drinking hose water. Wow—now that he thought about it, it sounded kind of bad.
The woman might irritate him, but he respected her drive. He just didn’t understand how she could be so tenacious about taking over the shop and living in her dad’s old camper when she had been used to the California city and sun the past ten years.
“I can’t get rid of the camper,” Jake said. He hadn’t told his sister about Laura. Because, honestly, he hadn’t had much time to think about it. But those red heels she wore were stomping all over his life.
“And I don’t need to let anything go,” he added. Because he was trying like hell to hang on, actually. Hang on to the business, and to his own sanity.
He glanced at the camper again.
The blonde holed up inside there was threatening both.
/> Erica looked around his home as if she were examining invisible wallpaper until finally her stare was serious when it landed back on him. Shit, he knew that look. She was scrutinizing. And any minute she was going to tell him exactly what she thought his problem was.
“I think you do need to take a look around,” she said. “You have nothing in your home aside from functional basics, really, but you hold on to things you should be moving past. And I’m not just talking about the trailer.”
He growled low and took a drink of coffee. Oh, he knew what she was talking about.
“I’m not in the mood for this, Erica.”
“I just worry about you,” she said and tucked a thick lock of hair behind her ear. When she did that and put her hand on her hip, she looked just like his mother when he was on the receiving end of a scolding. He knew she cared. It was why she came over every Saturday morning to make sure he was still alive and to feed him pastries.
He still felt the need to say, “I’m a grown man and I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine,” she said. “You’re always fine. But fine isn’t good, Jake. I worry about your emotions.”