He nodded. They wouldn’t give him peace otherwise.
“He was with Lauren Perkins,” Sharon said.
Gabrielle and Amber stared, shocked.
“Shit, Jason. You do know how to pick them,” Derek said, one corner of his mouth lifting in an amused grin.
Jason speared his cousin with an annoyed glance. “I thought you were taking your wife and leaving.”
Clara stared at him in silence. Unaware of his and Lauren’s past, she was clearly processing the implications of a Corwin man hooking up with a Perkins woman. As far as Jason knew, that hadn’t happened since the eighteen hundreds and the affair had resulted in the infamous Corwin Curse that had haunted the men in his family for generations. He didn’t much give a damn, but knew there were some in his family who would.
“Ooh, wait until the uncles hear about this,” Amber said, ending her comment with a long whistle.
“I’d rather they didn’t,” Jason said pointedly. No sense putting them into an uproar the likes of which his family probably hadn’t seen since the curse was invoked.
The news might put Uncle Edward back in the hospital, Uncle Hank would run for his shotgun-not that he’d ever used it-and Jason’s father might end up starching his underwear in order to keep that facade of perfection for the outside world.
He stared at his cousin’s wives until they both nodded in understanding.
Derek and Clara knew all too well what would happen if Hank and Edward, especially, discovered this secret.
Satisfied, Jason let out a long breath. “Where’s your husband?” he asked Amber, turning the subject away from himself.
“The town hired him as extra security for tonight, remember?” Amber asked. Mike Corwin was a cop.
After his reunion with Lauren and their short mind-blowing time in the barn, Jason barely recalled his own name.
LIKE CINDERELLA running from the prince after the ball, Lauren entered her grandmother’s house at the stroke of midnight. For someone who didn’t believe in fairy tales any more than she believed in curses, that was a huge analogy for her to make. She should have stayed and faced Jason, but once she realized he’d known it was her all along, she’d panicked at the thought of having some kind of deep conversation.
Childish, immature, but completely rational, she thought, her heart still racing in her chest. She’d just slept with Jason. How on earth did she deal with that after all these years?
With coffee, that’s how. As she headed to the kitchen, a cool draft hit her cheek. She glanced at the window-one she didn’t recall opening earlier-and frowned.
She pushed it down but couldn’t lock it. “Damn.”
Had someone broken in while she was gone? She shook off the thought. This house was just falling apart. The lock was probably faulty, and she must have left the window open. Another thing to tack on to her To Do list.
She walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a container, pouring the last of the cream into a bowl for the cat that had come with the house. She’d been living here for over a week, and until now, she’d only fed him cat food, but she’d run out and had forgotten to buy more on the way home from visiting Beth. So all she had now was cream for the cat. The black cat.
Given her family history, she couldn’t afford to be superstitious, which was a good thing. Lauren wasn’t a cat person by nature and she didn’t know the first thing about having one, but this animal didn’t seem to care. He hung out by the front door despite Lauren’s attempts to shoo him away. From his hefty build, he wasn’t starving. The empty bowls on the porch had led Lauren to conclude that the neighborhood kids must have been feeding him prior to her arrival. The same kids who’d vandalized the windows and walls had a soft spot for a stray?
Stranger things had happened, she thought. Like the cat finding its way inside the house, making himself at home and eating and drinking enough for three.
Said cat now sat at her feet and meowed endlessly.
She glanced at the furry feline. “Fine!” She set the bowl on the floor, realizing there was no cream left for her coffee, but at least now there was blessed silence. The cat happily lapped up the liquid.
“Looks like I’m going to have to make another trip to town tomorrow,” she said to the cat she hadn’t yet named.
He didn’t have a collar. Lauren could put up signs in town advertising a lost cat. And if no one claimed him? She wondered if she could include him with the house. Since there was no way she could take him to Paris, she’d just have to make sure she found him a good home before she left.
He finished the remainder of the cream, looking as satisfied as Lauren had felt after having sex with Jason earlier tonight.
Flushing at the memory, her body still tingling, she rinsed the bowl and headed for the downstairs bedroom. Lauren sat down on the bed and the cat jumped beside her and snuggled onto her pillow.
Right in the middle.
She sighed and stretched out beside her furry friend, wishing the warm body beside her was Jason. A dangerous thought and another reason she knew she had to leave town fast. He’d hurt her once but that was before she’d had her dreams to follow. Maybe that was how he’d felt all those years ago. She had been a potential distraction from his Olympic dreams and her leaving had been for the best. If so, she understood him that much better now.
At least she’d had tonight with him.
Tomorrow she’d head to town and ask around about hiring a contractor to work on the house. The sooner she completed the repairs, the sooner she could close on the sale and be finished with this town.
And with Jason Corwin.
“CATS SHOULD COME with a manual,” Lauren muttered as she picked up items she needed for herself and her pet in the grocery store.
First stop was the cat food aisle. No more cream for this kitty. On awakening, she’d discovered that the midnight snack had resulted in a mess she didn’t want to think about or face ever again.
When she’d called a friend in New York who owned a cat, Liza had burst out laughing. “Didn’t you buy him a litter box?” she’d asked.
No, she hadn’t. Because Lauren had thought the outdoor cat would do its thing in the great outdoors.
She paid for the groceries and a litter box with cash, placed the bags in her car and headed for the hardware store.
When she was younger, the creaking sounds in her grandmother’s old house had frightened her and she’d always slept with a flashlight by her bed. After the scare with the window last night, she’d gone looking for a flashlight only to find it didn’t work. New batteries hadn’t helped, so she needed to buy a new one.
She rounded the aisle and headed for the register.
There was one person in front of her and she waited for him to put his change away and step aside before she walked forward and placed her purchase on the counter.
The middle-aged clerk stared at her “You’re Mary Perkins’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”
The few times she’d come to town to do her shopping, she’d had mixed reactions, from silent acceptance to overtly rude whispers.
“Yes, I’m Mary’s granddaughter.” She didn’t recognize the clerk, but he must have seen her on one of her visits to Beth.
He braced his hands on the counter. “I heard you were in town.”
She nodded. “You heard right.” She pushed the flashlight forward, hoping to urge things along.
“Whatcha doing back here? It’s not like you got any relatives left to visit.”
Apparently manners weren’t his strong suit. She straightened her shoulders and looked at him head-on. “I’m here to fix up the family home so I can sell it and move on. Which reminds me, do you happen to know the name of a contractor I can hire?”
He frowned. “Not off the top of my head, but if I think of one, I’ll let you know.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
He was lying. There was no way a hardware store clerk in a small town didn’t know a contractor.