Page 22 of Girl Between

She knew Jake meant well, but she couldn't help feeling like a burden. She was a grown woman, capable of handling her own problems. But the truth was, she appreciated his concern more than she wanted to admit.

As the day wore on, Dana distracted herself with her work. She opened her laptop and began logging her research. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, her mind kept drifting back to George and his earnest offer of friendship.

Maybe, it wouldn't be so bad to let someone in. To have a friend she could rely on in this sprawling new city. And maybe, in time, she could untangle the complicated feelings she had for Jake and find a semblance of peace.

With a renewed sense of determination, Dana closed her laptop and got up to make herself a cup of tea. She couldn't change the past, but vowed to face the future with more hope.

25

Jake sippedthe ice-cold Arnold Palmer that Jenkins placed in front of him. The iced tea and lemonade mixture was refreshing after their hike, but he still wished she’d let him spike it with vodka and make it a John Daly. Jake had stumbled upon the popular cocktail when forced to attend department outings at D.C.’s many country clubs. He didn’t golf, but the drink almost made him want to learn.

Jenkins joined him at the rusted metal bistro set on Wade’s small back porch. Each time Jake sat at the table, his arms ended up caked with flaked red paint. The old, weathered cola symbol was still faintly visible beneath the rust. Jake fully expected the rickety furniture set to give way under his weight, yet somehow it continued to defy the laws of science and nature, so he’d stopped insisting he be allowed to replace it.

He knew it would only be met with Wade’s insistence that,They just don’t make things the way they used to.

Although he despised the ancient piece of tetanus-laden furniture, Jake was inclined to agree with his uncle.

The matching chair Jenkins sat in protested loudly as she scooted closer to the table. She took a sip of her own ice-cold drink, leaving a condensation ring among the rust.

“Still think it would be better with alcohol?” she asked when Jake took another sip of his.

“That’s not a question, Jenks. It’s a fact.”

She chuckled. “And that’s why I poured every last drop into the desert.”

Jake shook his head. “Sinful.”

“Maybe, but you can’t argue with results. Your mom is doing better and so is Wade.”

It was true. His mother’s mental health had improved drastically, and Jake had never seen Wade happier. He knew it was all due to Jenkins being here.

The former FBI badass had adopted the crunchy granola ways of rural Nevada faster than he ever could’ve anticipated. And applying her new holistic agenda to Jake’s mother and uncle might’ve been the best thing that ever happened to them.

Still, it was hard to imagine the ex-FBI bigwig would be happy trading her designer power suits for overalls permanently.

“So, what’s next for you?” Jake asked.

Jenkins set her drink down on the table and smiled as she looked out at the arid landscape. There was nothing but desert and mountains as far as the eye could see. “You’re looking at it,” she said.

“Seriously?” he asked. “You’re not going back to the FBI?”

“Retirement suits me,” she replied.

Jake couldn’t deny that. Honestly, he didn’t want to. He liked seeing his family whole and happy for a change. It’s why he still hadn’t shared what he’d found in Paris with his mother.

Things were going well for her. He didn’t want to disrupt that.

Wade felt differently.

He was on the side of transparency, no matter the cost. Which left them at a stalemate.

Jenkins spoke, pulling Jake from his inner turmoil. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s the next chapter for you?”

“If Wade and I can ever come to an agreement, I’m on the next flight to New Orleans.”