For the first time in as long as she could remember Jenna Armstrong stood up straight, and walked from a restaurant on the arm of a man she could be proud of.
Chapter Ten
Ryker dumped her bags on the back seat while she climbed in the passenger side. The town had grown even busier during the time she’d spent in the coffee shop, and Main Street had been closed to traffic for the parade and other tomato-based celebrations.
Jenna watched the preparations with skepticism as they drove through some of the smaller streets that still remained open. She couldn’t quite figure out what was so special about a vegetable—or was it fruit?
“So, what’s the story behind the tomato fetish?” she asked, glancing over at him as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other arm resting in the open window.
He chuckled. “I think it’s something along the lines of it being the first crop the initial settlers were able to grow here in Arlington. Ever since then, we’ve celebrated the crop that allowed my ancestors to stay here.”
“So your family was all from Arlington as well?”
“Yeah, we’re born and bred.”
“And you haven’t wanted to leave?”
He bit his lower lip and gave a slight shake of his head. “It wasn’t like I didn’t want to. I had plans to move to a big city, live a little. But then I had Mikey to take care of, so I forgot about my stupid plans.” He shrugged. “They didn’t mean anything, anyway.”
She twisted in her seat to face him. “Of course they did! You sacrificed your youth for your brother. That means a lot.”
He glanced over to her and grinned. “What do you mean, ‘sacrificed my youth?’ Is that your way of telling me I’m not young anymore?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, you must be pushing thirty.”
He choked a laugh and reached out to playfully shove her thigh. She noticed his hand lingered on her leg. “Hey, I’ll be twenty-six next month. Nowhere near thirty.”
She tried not to be totally distracted by his hand on her leg. The contact was sending sparks of electricity through her body.
“I won’t make any comments about you aging badly, then,” she said, teasing him through her nerves.
He glanced over again and winked. “Better than looking barely legal.”
“Hey!” She laughed and slapped at his hand, but settled her palm over the top of his. The back of his hand felt big and strong beneath hers, the hairs on the back of his fingers tickling her palm. It took all her courage to leave her hand on his, and he made no attempt to move it himself. Instead, he glanced over at her and gave her that small, thoughtful smile.
Within five minutes, they pulled up into a small driveway. Ryker took his hand back to put the truck into park, and she tried not to wilt in disappointment at the loss of contact.
Jenna looked out of the window. Ryker’s house was a gray, wooden clad, two story home, with a garage and a porch out front. A bike stood, propped up against the outside wall. The yard was simple, with maintained lawns and a small flowerbed containing hydrangeas which added bursts of pink, blue and white to the place.
Ryker slammed the truck door, making her jump. He headed to the back and grabbed her things.
“Come on, then,” he called out to her. “What are you waiting for?”
She had no idea. She gave him a smile and climbed from the truck, trying to quell the nerves roiling in her stomach. Two young men lived here alone, and her imagination was running wild. What if the place was a total mess and she freaked out as soon as she walked in the door? She imagined a sink full of dirty dishes, and a carpet that had never been vacuumed. Even thinking about the possibility of how filthy the bathroom might be made her dizzy.
The front of the house appeared tidy enough—the lawns well-kept and the windows clean. She prayed that was a good sign.
Jenna followed Ryker into the house. The entrance hall led to a staircase, both of which appeared clean and modern. A couple of doors led off the hall, and Ryker took her through one, and into the living room. The room was all cream walls and leather couches, and she couldn’t spot so much as a dirty mug left on the coffee table. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Mikey sat on the couch, staring at a handheld tablet. His feet were up on the coffee table—something Jenna tried not to focus on—but Ryker crossed the room and batted at Mikey’s shoes.
“Hey,” Ryker said to his younger brother. “We’ve got a guest.”
Mikey moved his feet off the table. He raised his chin in a nod of acknowledgment, without lifting his eyes from his tablet, and continued to play his game.
Jenna glanced over at Ryker, but he just gave a shrug of apology and turned to head into the kitchen. Jenna followed him.