have a name?”
Jensen’s head snapped up. His grandfather had always been good at offhanded prying—and far too accurate.
“No,” Jensen said, just as easily. “The good time didn’t have a name.” He didn’t even have to lie about that.
His grandfather nodded again.
Jensen gave up on the paper and rose to refill his coffee cup. He was exhausted. Sleep had evaded him most of the night. He’d just lain in his childhood bed, remembering. Remembering Katie. Remembering his life here in West Pines.
And remembering the woman with pale eyes and no name. In fact, it was startling how much he’d thought about her. How many times he’d replayed what they had done.
Even now, he could feel her in his arms. He could taste her lips. Smell her heady scent. And feel the tightness of her body. So vivid, so exciting. His body nearly itched to touch her again. A nameless woman who’d hooked up with a stranger, then left. So unlike Katie. So unlike any woman he’d ever imagined himself with. But then, he’d only imagined being with Katie, hadn’t he? Until now.
“You know,” his grandfather said slowly, and Jensen blinked back to his grandfather. He braced himself for what was coming. They’d had this talk before. It always started this way. He didn’t want to hear it again.
“You can’t just hole yourself up here with an old man. You got to do a little living.”
Jensen set his mug down, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have been living. And I’m not holing myself up. I’m here to take over the business you started. I want to do that.”
“But that was never your plan.”
“Well,” Jensen said with a sigh, levering himself away from the counter, “it is now.”
“Jensen, I just want you to be happy.”
He smiled at his grandfather, trying to keep the gesture as genuine as possible. “I am happy.”
His grandfather peered at him for a moment, studying him with eyes so much like Jensen’s own. Then he turned back to his puzzle. The scratch of the pencil resumed.
“ Don ’t think that I didn’t notice that you didn’t deny the old-man thing,” his grandfather said after a few moments.
Jensen chuckled, that response not forced. He picked up his coffee and rejoined him at the table. Riffling through the paper, he found another section. The sports pages hadn’t managed to hold his attention—maybe something else would. He perused the local news section, pausing on an article about a mysterious beast spotted near a farm a few townships over. This was the second article about this creature in the past week.
He shook his head as he read the newest sensationalized report. A giant beast. A wild wolf. Perhaps a mythical creature.
Try a coyote. A feral dog, at the most exciting.
“You got plans tonight?”
Jensen frowned up from the article. Was Granddad still fishing for more information?
Instead of answering, Jensen asked, “Have you heard all this nonsense about the ‘wolf’ sightings?”
Granddad looked up from his puzzle. “Gordon Banks said he’s seen it out on Route 219, near Shady Fork. He says it’s nothing like anything he’s seen before.”
Jensen stared at his grandfather for a moment, trying to gauge if he was making light of Gordon Banks’s claim. After all, the same man also maintained he’d seen a UFO out at the old fairgrounds.
But Jensen couldn’t read his expression before the older man returned his attention to his crossword.
“So you didn’t answer me? Are you going out tonight?”
Jensen sighed. “Nope. I’m planning to stay in tonight.” Going out had proven to be too much. Much, much more than he’d ever imagined.
As if on cue, the phone rang, piercing the quiet.
Lord, he hoped it wasn’t Brian or Jill. So far they hadn’t called to reprimand him for slipping out on them when he’d excused himself to use the rest room. He wasn’t in a frame of mind to hear their irritation with him—he was irritated enough with
Jensen’s head snapped up. His grandfather had always been good at offhanded prying—and far too accurate.
“No,” Jensen said, just as easily. “The good time didn’t have a name.” He didn’t even have to lie about that.
His grandfather nodded again.
Jensen gave up on the paper and rose to refill his coffee cup. He was exhausted. Sleep had evaded him most of the night. He’d just lain in his childhood bed, remembering. Remembering Katie. Remembering his life here in West Pines.
And remembering the woman with pale eyes and no name. In fact, it was startling how much he’d thought about her. How many times he’d replayed what they had done.
Even now, he could feel her in his arms. He could taste her lips. Smell her heady scent. And feel the tightness of her body. So vivid, so exciting. His body nearly itched to touch her again. A nameless woman who’d hooked up with a stranger, then left. So unlike Katie. So unlike any woman he’d ever imagined himself with. But then, he’d only imagined being with Katie, hadn’t he? Until now.
“You know,” his grandfather said slowly, and Jensen blinked back to his grandfather. He braced himself for what was coming. They’d had this talk before. It always started this way. He didn’t want to hear it again.
“You can’t just hole yourself up here with an old man. You got to do a little living.”
Jensen set his mug down, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have been living. And I’m not holing myself up. I’m here to take over the business you started. I want to do that.”
“But that was never your plan.”
“Well,” Jensen said with a sigh, levering himself away from the counter, “it is now.”
“Jensen, I just want you to be happy.”
He smiled at his grandfather, trying to keep the gesture as genuine as possible. “I am happy.”
His grandfather peered at him for a moment, studying him with eyes so much like Jensen’s own. Then he turned back to his puzzle. The scratch of the pencil resumed.
“ Don ’t think that I didn’t notice that you didn’t deny the old-man thing,” his grandfather said after a few moments.
Jensen chuckled, that response not forced. He picked up his coffee and rejoined him at the table. Riffling through the paper, he found another section. The sports pages hadn’t managed to hold his attention—maybe something else would. He perused the local news section, pausing on an article about a mysterious beast spotted near a farm a few townships over. This was the second article about this creature in the past week.
He shook his head as he read the newest sensationalized report. A giant beast. A wild wolf. Perhaps a mythical creature.
Try a coyote. A feral dog, at the most exciting.
“You got plans tonight?”
Jensen frowned up from the article. Was Granddad still fishing for more information?
Instead of answering, Jensen asked, “Have you heard all this nonsense about the ‘wolf’ sightings?”
Granddad looked up from his puzzle. “Gordon Banks said he’s seen it out on Route 219, near Shady Fork. He says it’s nothing like anything he’s seen before.”
Jensen stared at his grandfather for a moment, trying to gauge if he was making light of Gordon Banks’s claim. After all, the same man also maintained he’d seen a UFO out at the old fairgrounds.
But Jensen couldn’t read his expression before the older man returned his attention to his crossword.
“So you didn’t answer me? Are you going out tonight?”
Jensen sighed. “Nope. I’m planning to stay in tonight.” Going out had proven to be too much. Much, much more than he’d ever imagined.
As if on cue, the phone rang, piercing the quiet.
Lord, he hoped it wasn’t Brian or Jill. So far they hadn’t called to reprimand him for slipping out on them when he’d excused himself to use the rest room. He wasn’t in a frame of mind to hear their irritation with him—he was irritated enough with
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