Page 29 of Don't Fall for a Grump

“That Mr. Shilliday discovers the truth? That the old man thinks it’s a funny anecdote, and the entire town finds out about it?”

No! That does not sound fun at all, but I hardly get the chance to answer before Jackson continues with a more serious tone. “Believe me, you don’t want that.”

When we arrive at Shilliday’s, the old man welcomes us both with a pleasant smile. “I have Ben’s order ready for you,” he says jovially, nodding to a pile of cardboard boxes stacked together near the counter.

“Great,” Jackson says, turning toward them. I am about to do the same when Mr. Shilliday speaks again. “So, how did you get on with that faucet, Bree?”

I glance at Jackson who has already lifted a box. With his back to the old man, he grins at me and winks, before making his way out to the truck.

Putting on my best poker face, I lie through my teeth. “No problems at all, Mr. Shilliday,” I reply. “I now have a fully working faucet.”

I can see his eyebrows rising slightly, conveying his surprise. “Well, good for you, my dear,” he says, clearly believing me.

It feels dreadful to lie, and I don’t ordinarily like doing it, but Jackson had reminded me of the consequences of telling him the truth. The idea of the entire town knowing about my mishap did not bear thinking about.

We carry each box out to the truck until they’re all loaded. When Jackson carries the last box out, Mr. Shilliday follows us.

“Tell Ben I’ll come to see him again this weekend,” Mr. Shilliday says.

I get distracted by someone calling my name. I turn to find Sylvie standing outside the beauty salon, waving at me and inviting me over. I suddenly feel bad. I hadn’t yet rung her to apologize for just up and leaving the fair. I ought to have said goodbye at least. I’m sure she thinks I’m an awful person. I suppose now is as good a time as any to beg her forgiveness.

I move across the street and begin talking before I even reach her. “I’m so sorry about Friday night, Sylvie,” I say. “I should have called you and—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, swiping a dismissive hand. By the time I reach her, I see her smiling warmly at me. “Jackson told me all about it. He’s cute and all, but he can be a complete idiot at times.”

I look at her with a deep frown.

Had Jackson actually told her the truth?

“Oh, he told me why you left,” she says, as though she’d just read my mind. “Jackson Scott has a lot of baggage, and the last place he wants to be is back here in this town.”

Sylvie suddenly shifts her gaze in the direction I just came from and glares. “And that,” she growls, nodding her head across the street, “is the very reason why.”

It’s the first time I have seen such an expression on Sylvie’s face, and I’m desperate to know the cause of it. Following her eyes, I see a very attractive woman standing beside Jackson and Mr. Shilliday. She’s tall and slender with long wavy blonde hair. Her skin tight jeans show off the curve of her backside, and the tiny crop top exposes the flat midriff of her stomach.

I can’t help it. I am immediately jealous. Judging by the way she’s talking to Jackson, they clearly know each other. No surprise there in this town.

“Who is she?” I ask.

“That’s his ex-wife.”

“What?” I blurt.

This wasn’t making any sense. Jackson had told me he had been married and divorced, but I had assumed that his ex-wife was in the city, given that is where he currently lived. My gaze moves from the woman to Jackson. While she’s gushing; I can hear her gooey voice from where I’m standing, Jackson has his arms folded firmly across his chest. His expression is blank, bordering on a scowl. I know that look. I’ve been on the receiving end of it.

“Uh-huh,” Sylvie replies, the bitterness still prevalent in her voice. “They were married a year before she cheated on him with Anthony Fischer. Jackson hates coming back here because of the pain she caused him. I’m actually surprised he was at the fair on Friday. When he comes back to see Ben, he rarely comes into the town. He’s avoided seeing her as much as possible. I suppose the only saving grace is that Anthony isn’t with her.”

I’m astonished at this information, and to be honest, it’s a bit of an overload.

“They’re still together?” I exclaim, glaring at Sylvie in disbelief.

“Oh, yes,” Sylvie replies, now turning back to look at me. She sighs. “I suppose you need to know the whole story for it to make any sense. So, Jackson met Claire after he had moved to New York. It was a whirlwind romance. They were married within a year. Jackson wanted to raise a family in the country, where he had been raised, so they moved back here.”

I’m listening intently, devouring every word.

“He arranged to work from his home office when he could, but as you can imagine, it wasn’t always possible. He would fly into the city and stay for three or so nights a week, and then come home. Clearly, Claire approved of the money he was making,” Sylvie snarls, “she was always about the town spending it. She was a weekly regular with us. Maybe it was the lonely nights that made her stray, who knows.” Sylvie shrugs. “But Anthony caught her eye and that was that. Like I said, Jackson hates coming back here. It’s just too painful for him still. As far as I know, he hasn’t been with anyone else since. He told me once that he would never put himself in a position where he could be hurt again.”

Very quickly, things begin to fall into place in my head. Jackson’s foul mood when he had arrived on that first day had nothing to do with me. He simply did not want to be back in the place where he had experienced such heartache. Perhaps his brusqueness toward me had been a defense mechanism; his way of not allowing anyone in so he could not be hurt again. I can totally understand that.

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