Cross My Heart (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

repainted the cabinets a few years ago. But she’d left the knobs pink, purple, and yellow.
    The farm had been flourishing for several years now, and the house looked great these days. Growing up, though, it had felt like the Landry home was perpetually falling apart. Shingles off the roof, paint peeling, plumbing and wiring needing repair. There was always work to be done, as if there wasn’t enough to do out in the fields to keep the farm going.
    Jenna had loved and hated that work, just as she’d loved and hated the farm itself.
    Her feelings for her family hadn’t been so complicated. For them, she’d felt only love. But as much as she adored her parents and siblings, she’d itched to leave home from the time she was thirteen. And when the band she’d started with some high school friends started to take off, she hadn’t hesitated. She’d been out the door a few days after her eighteenth birthday.
    Now, twelve years later, she was back in Iowa again.
    Not that she was living here, of course. This was just temporary. Her teaching job was over in August, and then the Mollies were getting back together for a reunion tour. That would last a couple of months and then she was off to L.A. for a new gig—music supervisor for an indie movie.
    Her doorbell rang. Jenna set down her scraper and rinsed her hands, glad to be finished for the night. It was time to dig into a large pizza with sausage and mushrooms and black olives.
    She dried her hands quickly and went to the front door.
    “Am I glad to see—”
    The words died on her lips, and she found herself blinking up at her handsome next door neighbor instead of the pizza guy.
    “Oh,” she said in surprise. “Hello.”
    He was even more gorgeous up close, in the understated way that had appealed to her when she’d first seen him a few weeks ago.
    His brown hair was cut conservatively short, and his eyes were the same shade of warm mahogany. Straight nose, firm jaw, nice cheekbones. He had a nice mouth, too. She bet he had a great smile, even though his expression, the few times she’d seen him, had always been serious.
    In the music business, a man that good-looking would a) be aware of it and b) use the fact to his advantage whenever possible. But you could tell by the way he held himself that this man wasn’t conscious of his appearance at all.
    Jenna, on the other hand, was very conscious that she was wearing old sweatpants, a faded Ramones tee shirt, and no makeup, with her hair tangled and wild beneath her faded blue bandana. In the occasional fantasy she’d entertained about her neighbor, she’d been wearing something a lot sexier.
    “Hello,” he said. Unlike her, he looked like a grownup in khaki pants and a button down shirt. “I’m your neighbor. From next door,” he added, waving a hand towards his beautiful white clapboard house.
    “Sure, of course. I’ve seen you around.”
    Ogled him would be more accurate. Like the day she spent half an hour watching him out the window while he mowed his lawn. She hoped he might take off his tee-shirt in the ninety degree heat, but her wish hadn’t been granted.
    Right now he was looking a little uncomfortable. Maybe he’d come to tell her the weekend jam sessions were too loud, even though she was keeping things unplugged.
    “It’s the music, isn’t it?” she said contritely. “I’m so sorry. We’ve been playing acoustic but if it’s too loud I can…”
    He was shaking his head. “No, your music is fine. That’s not why I’m here. My name is Michael, by the way. Michael Stone. And...okay, I’m just going to come out with it.”
    He took a deep breath. “My daughter Claire is here for a visit. She lives with her grandparents and I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like. She’s fourteen and hates my guts, and the closest thing we’ve had to a civil conversation in two years was just now, when she recognized you. Apparently you’re a member of one of her favorite bands.”
    He took another breath. “And that’s why I’m here. I’m pretty much throwing myself on your mercy, Ms. Landry. I’m hoping you’ll come to my house for dinner tonight and make me look like father of the year.”
    If he’d planned it out deliberately, he couldn’t have said anything that would have melted her more. What woman wouldn’t be a sucker for a dad trying to improve his relationship with his teenage daughter?
    “Call me Jenna. And of course I’ll come over.”
    He looked surprised.