Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) (23 page)

Pastor Ted was teaching from Galatians. Laney's Bible lay open on her lap, but instead of following the lesson, she stared at a softly flickering fluorescent light on the ceiling and wondered again, even though she'd resolved to
stop
wondering, what it would be like to kiss Jeb.

She barely noticed when he leaned closer and then closer still to read the verses Pastor Ted was pointing out. When he emitted a frustrated grunt and pulled her Bible onto his own knee, however, her gaze flew to his face.

He was so intent on his reading that he didn't even see her amazement.

Stung by guilt, she quickly looked away. While she'd been indulging in inappropriate thoughts about Jeb, he had been reading the Word of God.

She couldn't wait to find out what was going through his mind, but when the Bible study ended, they were caught up in the tide of chattering people flowing to the refreshment tables. It seemed like hours before she was able to maneuver him to a deserted corner of the room.

"You seemed interested in the Bible study," she said as casually as she could manage.

Jeb's silvery gaze, which had been trained on her while he drank coffee from a Styrofoam cup, dropped like a stone. Lowering the cup, he stared down into the liquid and said, "Uh
 
.
 
.
 
. yeah. I guess."

All right. He wasn't ready to talk about it, and Laney knew better than to press him. "I'm glad we came," she said.

"Yeah." He looked up, his gaze touching her for only a second before moving past her. "There's rich pickings tonight. I counted at least six guys who look about the right age for you."

Somehow Laney refrained from rolling her eyes. She simply had to find a way to get him to give up this matchmaking scheme.

"We'd better split up," he said, and walked away with a purposeful stride.

For a couple of minutes Laney remained in the corner alone, drinking coffee and watching him strike up a breezy conversation with two men. Then she gave her head a small, disbelieving shake and went to say hello to the pastor and a couple of
her
women friends.

She remained aware of Jeb's every move. He made contact with two more men and then politely rebuffed an overture from Amber.

It was hard to wrap her mind around:
Jeb
, being gregarious and polite. It was wonderful, but what had gotten into the man?

She saw him shake hands with Steve, the shy guy he'd suggested inviting on a double date, and then he made his way across the room and back to Laney's side. She must have had astonishment written all over her face, but he was too focused on his mission to notice.

"See that guy by the coffee urn?" he asked. "His wife died three years ago. He comes with four-year-old twin girls, which would give you a nice start on that big family you want."

"That's Paul
Valenti
," Laney said. "I've seen him with his daughters at the grocery store. Once, one of them dropped a jar of pickles and it shattered. And Jeb, he
yelled
at her. It was just an accident, but he called her stupid, and the poor little thing burst into tears."

Jeb shot a disgusted look in Paul's direction. "Forget him, then. As much as those kids need a good mother, I can't let you marry a hothead."

He glanced around the room. "Check out that guy with the big nose and round eyeglasses. He's assistant principal over at the high school, so he must like kids." Jeb paused and scratched his ear, apparently giving that some more thought. "Although dealing with a whole school full of teenagers might make a man reluctant to have kids of his own. What do you think?"

Laney sighed. "I think I'm ready to get out of here." She needed go home and recover from her stressful day and the shock of watching Jeb behave like a Miss Congeniality hopeful at a beauty pageant.

"Yes, it's time." He looked around the room again. "You'll be safe with any of these churchy guys, so go pick one to drive you."

Confused, Laney shook her head at him. "Drive me?"

"To the bowling place," he said.

She'd been talking about going home, not to the bowling alley. And besides— "I'm driving Francine tonight, remember?"

"Leave Francine here. Get a lift with one of these guys. It's a short drive, but it might still give you enough time to see if the two of you are going to click."

"No, Jeb." Laney cupped a hand over the back of her neck and squeezed the knotted muscles there. "I'm going home."

"Hey." His face softened as he studied hers. "It's easy, princess. All you have to do is pick one of these guys and go smile at him. He'll take it from there."

Yeah, right. It would never occur to loyal Jeb that a man might simply be uninterested in her.

Just like it would never occur to him that she was no longer interested in any man but him.

It was crazy, but she just couldn't stop thinking about him in this new way.

He tilted his head to one side and looked her over. "That blue shirt looks good on you, and it's a perfect match for your eyes. But you should put on some lipstick. And smile, okay?"

Laney sighed, instead.

He made a sympathetic noise in his throat. "Bad day at the tearoom?"

"Kind of." They hadn't been busy, but worry had eaten at her all day, particularly when she'd totaled the day's receipts and realized that for the fourth time this year, she was going to have to take money out of her personal bank account to pay the Graces.

"No, that's not it." Jeb eyed her shrewdly. "He upset you, didn't he? Tom."

"Annoyed me," she corrected. "With his refusal to believe that when I said "it's over" all those months ago, it really was over."

Was that a gleam of satisfaction in Jeb's eyes? She had always suspected he thought Tom wasn't good enough for her.

"No wonder you're so unenthusiastic about meeting guys tonight," he said.

Laney nodded, because that was part of it. She just hoped he wouldn't guess the main reason, that thoughts of him were crowding all other men out of her mind.

Still watching her, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and appeared to be considering something.

"All right," he said decisively. "You can ride with me."

Laney hesitated. She was getting a headache, but if Jeb was willing to continue rubbing elbows with a bunch of Christians, shouldn't she encourage him?

"Come on. Let's just go have some fun." He held out his hand to her.

She stared at it, uncomprehending. What had happened to his concern that people might assume they were a couple?

"Come on," he repeated, waggling the fingers of his extended hand. "We haven't been bowling since high school."

Well, why not? She could always take something for her headache. Laney put her hand in Jeb's and they went out the door together.

It was after midnight before a mug of hot cocoa did its job and made Laney drowsy. In a faded flannel nightgown that had belonged to her mother, she padded back upstairs to return to the rumpled bed she'd left in frustration nearly an hour ago.

She paused before the bedroom window that overlooked Jeb's house. Between the curtains she never closed, she saw light pouring from his ground floor windows and smiled with sleepy satisfaction. He'd be up for another three or four hours, but the light filtering into Laney's bedroom wouldn't disturb her at all. That friendly illumination meant Jeb was home at last, and safe.

At least for now.

She fluffed her pillow
and crawled back under her quilt.

For once, it wasn't worry about her financial situation keeping her awake. She simply couldn't stop thinking about Jeb.

She'd had a wonderful time at the bowling alley. Jeb had refrained from interviewing eligible men on her behalf, and yet he hadn't reverted to his usual reticence, but had actually seemed to enjoy himself with the other singles.

They had already parted for the night when Laney realized she'd forgotten to ask why that Bible verse had captured his attention earlier. But there was always tomorrow.

Settling more comfortably on her pillow and pulling the quilt up to her chin, she smiled sleepily at the faint, shifting shadows on the wall beyond the foot of her bed.

Shifting shadows?
Laney sat up.

There was no tree between her house and Jeb's. No branches to be stirred by the wind and interrupt the light from his windows and create dancing shadows on her wall. Puzzled, Laney got out of bed and crossed the room to her other window, the one overlooking Mulberry Street.

Peering out into what should have been tranquil darkness, she was momentarily frozen by horror.

Mrs. Lindstrom's house was on fire.

O
n the sofa in his music room, Jeb was hunched over an acoustic guitar inventing a new finger-picking technique when his B-string snapped. He got up to hunt for a new one in the old walnut desk that even nine years after his father's passing, he hadn't quite made his own.

There were still three whiskey bottles in the bottom-right drawer, but Jeb wouldn't touch his old man's stash for anything. Not even tonight, when he had a powerful craving for something stronger than coffee.

He wouldn't sit in his father's chair, either, so he simply bent over it to open the center desk drawer and paw through the mess of string packets, coiled pickup cords, and small boxes of guitar picks.

Laney said the chair was a beautiful antique, elegantly crafted, so Jeb couldn't get rid of it. He was too ashamed to admit that the scared kid inside him was haunted by the notion that if he sat in that chair, he'd become as hard and cold as his father had been.

 
It was nonsense, of course. But while his brain accepted that truth, his deformed heart
just
couldn't seem to absorb it.

He was growing desperate to talk to some knowledgeable Christian about spiritual matters. He'd thought about sneaking off to visit one of Laney's pastors, but had discarded that idea because Laney deserved to know his news before any of her friends did.

He found what he needed and shut the desk drawer. Absently shoving the new guitar string into a back pocket of his jeans, he wandered over to the tall bay windows and stared up at Laney's dark bedroom window.

He hoped she was sleeping soundly. He cared more about her health and happiness than he did about drawing his next breath, and he hated the purple half-moons he'd been seeing under her pretty eyes lately.

Moved to pray for her, he leaned his forehead against the window. He was just about to close his eyes when he became aware of a faint, flickering light outside. Vaguely disturbed, he went to look out his living room windows, which faced the street.

What he saw from there shoved his heart into his throat. He tore out of the front door, racing in a blind panic toward Mrs. Lindstrom's burning house.

"
Jeb!
"

Laney's voice. Nothing else could have penetrated his shock and halted him. At the end of his driveway, he whirled around to locate her in the semidarkness and assure himself that she was all right.

"I'll get Mrs. Lindstrom out!" he yelled as he took off running again. "Call
9
-
1
-
1!"

Pounding across the quiet street, he noted that only one end of the long, ranch-style house appeared to be burning: its two-car garage. If Mrs. Lindstrom was in a bedroom at the opposite end, she might be okay.

Her front door was locked, naturally. Jeb kicked it as hard as he could, slamming his heel against a spot right next to the doorknob in hopes of breaking the lock.

It wasn't as easy as it looked in the movies. It took five or six tries before the door burst open.

Smoke poured into Jeb's face, making his eyes burn and water, but he didn't see any flames inside, so he plunged into the darkness. Over the shocking staccato blare of a smoke alarm, he shouted for Mrs. Lindstrom.

Something brushed past his legs. The old lady's cat?

He reached for his cell phone. Using its lighted display as a flashlight, he found the central hall.