Page 8 of Don't Fall for a Grump

He immediately notices me, and looks just as surprised as I do. I am about to open my mouth and say hello when, without a word, he swiftly looks away, turning back to Mr. Shilliday.

Hello? We met in your father’s kitchen yesterday. Don’t you remember?

Jackson Scott was a strange character, that’s for sure. And, I have deduced, nothing at all like his father. The cave-man was cold and distant yesterday, and it is evidently clear that nothing at all has changed in the last twenty-four hours.

I hadn’t seen him again after that horribly awkward interaction. Whether he had deliberately avoided going to any place I could be in, who knows? It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d done that. Once I left Ben and Jackson to their father and son reunion, he spent a whole fifteen minutes in my head. I was trying to figure out what the heck his problem was, with no success. I finally kicked him out without an eviction notice, and thought about more important things.

He is totally delicious to look at though, there is no doubt about it. But all the looks in the world do not compensate for the caveman behavior that I was subjected to.

I hadn’t seen him again all day. Ben was on the porch again when I was leaving, watching the sun slowly set. He lifted a hand to bid me farewell, but Jackson was nowhere in sight. I didn’t know whether I was relieved or disappointed. When I reached my car, I saw Ben’s son and Jackson’s younger brother, Daniel, driving up the lane. I decided to wait until he got out of his car just to say hello. And then, goodbye.

Daniel Scott is the exact opposite of his older brother. Friendly, open, kind, and always with a smile. He welcomed me into the family home as though he’d known me for years. It’s unusual for a boy his age, but I blame Ben. Clearly, the father’s character has rubbed off on this son, unlike the older one. The only similarity between the brothers is the looks. He is still only nineteen, nearly twenty, or so he tells me, but Daniel is a heartbreaker. In this town, I reckon he’s the subject of more than one girl’s diary. If I knew him better, I’d tell him to get out and see the world. I’d hate him to be stuck here another sixty years and become a relic, like Mr. Shilliday.

Back at the shop, I stand at the counter wondering what I am supposed to do. Do I mirror Jackson’s demeanor and pretend we’ve never met? Clearly, he does not want to acknowledge my presence; but seriously, are we ten years old?

If he wants to act like a child, that’s fine. But I’m a grown woman. I refuse. Point blank. Besides, I work for Ben. Jackson is going to have to talk to me sooner or later. The longer I let this go on, the more awkward it’s going to get.

“Hi, Jackson,” I say, donning my politest smile. It’s not my best one, but it’s all I can muster under the circumstances. For a long moment, he doesn’t move. Not an inch. Just like yesterday in the kitchen. I don’t know why, but my heart begins to race. Maybe it’s the idea that if he doesn’t speak, I’m going to look like a complete idiot. Especially because Mr. Shilliday is now watching us with interest. I wait as the seconds pass; one, two, three, four…

“Hey,” he replies, with about as much enthusiasm as roadkill.

He throws a nod in my direction as he speaks, but doesn’t turn or even look at me. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut. Clearly, this is not going to get any better, or easier. But I started this conversation, and standing here feeling heat rise in my cheeks, my nerves get the better of me and I feel compelled to continue.

“How’s your dad this morning?”

It’s a stupid and shallow question, but I have nothing else. It’s not like I know anything about him personally. The only connection we have is Ben. But it makes me sound like I’m trying too hard. I was going to be at the farm in another twenty minutes and find the answer to that question myself. Besides, Ben will be no different today than he was yesterday. He’s got a broken leg, not some dreadful deteriorating disease that’s worsening every hour.

“Fine,” Jackson replies.

Oh, good grief! I nearly want to shake him and see if he can cough up more than a single word. Ben tells me his wonderful son is some sort of business whiz kid in the city. Sure. I hope he’s capable of speaking more than a single word to his clients, or he’ll soon find himself bankrupt.

“Great,” I say, joining him in the single-word-reply revolution.

From the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Shilliday’s mouth curling at the corner. At least the old bird’s entertained at my expense.

“Well, I need to get going. I’ll see you again, Mr. Shilliday,” Jackson says to the old man. As an afterthought, he nods his head to me. “Bye, Bree.”

I nearly collapse on the floor at the sound of my name. Not because he’s this beautiful hunk of a man, and I feel blessed that my name has left those thick, soft lips. Nothing like that. Although, he is indeed a beautiful hunk of a man, and those lips do look rather lush. It’s more to do with my shock that, despite yesterday’s encounter and his behavior this morning, Jackson Scott remembers my name.

The bell tinkles over the door again as Jackson leaves, and I place my washers on the counter. Mr. Shilliday is full-on smirking now. “So, you’ve met Ben’s boy?”

I would hardly call the rather spectacular specimen that just walked out of the store a boy, but I keep that information to myself. “Yes, we met yesterday.”

Not that anyone could tell, after that little encounter. Of course, I don’t say this out loud. I’m sure Mr. Shilliday has far more important things on his mind.

My mind, on the other hand, has now moved from washers and leaky faucets, and is back to what Jackson Scott’s problem is with me. Did I do him harm in a past life for which he’s still holding a grudge? Did I cut him off in traffic on Eighth Avenue at some point? Who knows? I sure as heck don’t.

So far, I’ve enjoyed working for Ben. I love the house, the wide-open space of the farm, I’m even growing fond of the chickens. But the arrival of Jackson has put a spanner in the works. First of all, I came here to avoid any involvement with men. And from what I can tell about him so far, I just know he’s going to make my time here utterly miserable.

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