Daisy's Back in Town Read Free Page B

you that I was in town before you heard it from someone else."
    "Too late." The rain pounded the rooftop and the silence stretched between them. She could feel his gaze on her.
    It touched her face and the front of her yellow rain slicker; and just when she thought he wasn't going to speak again, he said, "If that's what you came to tell me, you can go now."

    There was more. A lot more. She'd promised Steven that she'd give Jack a letter he'd written a few months before his death. The letter was in her coat pocket, now she had to tell Jack the truth about what had happened fifteen years ago, then hand over the letter. "It's important that I talk to you. Please."
    He looked at her for several long moments, then he turned and disappeared into the depths of his house. He didn't open the screen for her, but he hadn't slammed the wood door in her face either. He'd made it clear that he was going to he as difficult as possible. But then, when had he ever made things easy?
    Just as it always had, the screen door squeaked when she opened it. She followed him through the living room toward the kitchen. His tall outline disappeared around the corner, but she knew the way.
    The inside of the house smelled of new paint. She got an impression of dark furniture and a big-screen television, saw the outline of Mrs. Parrish's piano pushed against one wall-and she wondered briefly how much had changed since she'd last walked through the house. The light flipped on as she moved into the kitchen, and it was like stepping into a time warp. She half expected to see Mrs. Parrish standing in front by the almond-colored stove, baking bread or Daisy's favorite snicker-doodle cookies. The green linoleum had the same worn patch in front of the sink and the counter tops were the same speckled blue and turquoise.
    Jack was in front of the refrigerator, the top half of him hidden behind the open door. His tan fingers were curled around the chrome handle, and all she could really see of him was the curve of his behind and his long legs. One pocket of his snug Levi's had a three-corner tear, and the seams looked like they were just about worn through.
    Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Then he rose to his full height, and everything seemed to slow, like someone flipped a switch on a movie projector. He turned as he shut the refrigerator door, and he held a quart of milk in his hand by his thigh. Her attention got momentarily stuck on the thin line of dark hair rising from the waistband of his Levi's and circling his navel.
    She lifted her gaze up past the hair on his flat belly and the defined muscles of his chest. If she'd had any lingering doubts, seeing him like this removed them. This was not the boy she'd once known. This was definitely a man.
    She forced herself to look up at his strong chin, the etched how of his tan lips, and into his eyes. She felt the back of her throat go dry. Jack Parrish had always been a good-looking boy, now he was lethal. One lock of his thick hair hung over his forehead and touched his brow. Those light green eyes that she remembered, that had once looked at her so full of passion and possession, looked back at her as if he were no more interested in seeing her than a stray dog.
    "Did you come here to stare?"
    She moved farther into the kitchen and shoved tier hands into the pockets of her raincoat. "No, I came to tell you that I'm in town visiting my mother and sister."
    He raised the milk and drank from the carton, waiting for her to elaborate.
    "I thought you should know."
    His gaze met hers over the carton, then he lowered it. Some things hadn't changed after all. Jack Parrish, bad boy and all around hell-raiser, had always been a milk drinker. "What makes you think I give a shit?" he asked and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

    "I didn't know if you would. I mean, I did wonder what you'd think, but I wasn't sure." This was so much harder than