CHAPTER TWO #2
Sometimes my cousin and her gift for arguing her case really grated on my nerves.
Particularly since, it wasn’t like Jagger was just an annoying mosquito I could slather myself in repellant to keep away from me.
Jagger McEvoy was my arch enemy. The Joker to my Batman, the Megatron to my Optimus Prime, the Sheriff of Nottingham to my Robinhood.
Since the moment I met the man—okay, maybe not the exact moment, but pretty damned close—he rubbed me the wrong way.
And yes, maybe it was technically, sort of, just a slight little bit my fault.
But he went and made the whole thing so much worse by being a butthurt baby about it all.
He called me a stalker. He called me an ice queen, and a cheat.
I was none of those things. Circumstances, and the path of my life thus far, just made me look and possibly come across that way.
But I wasn’t a stalker. Nor was I an ice queen. And I definitely wasn’t a cheater.
He was just infuriating. He was like a bird, just pecking, pecking, pecking constantly.
Opening up old wounds and creating new ones.
He pushed every single one of my buttons and managed to successfully create new ones.
He could make me see red with just a look.
Just a look from his impossibly deep, blue eyes—god, those eyes.
Deep, dark and mysterious pools. Like that Great Blue Hole in Belize.
Where you can’t see the bottom, and nobody really knows how far down it goes.
But what we all knew to be true was that there were places down there that the light had never touched, secrets and creatures that nobody had ever discovered.
Monsters. He hid those lurking monsters and terrifying secrets behind unassuming, wire-rimmed glasses.
And fuck me, they actually made him hotter.
My heart hammered against my ribcage now, for absolutely no reason.
I hadn’t sprinted into my house. All I did was think about Jagger McEvoy and his deep, crooning voice.
The way he sang Kenny Rogers was exasperatingly good.
The man had decent pipes. Like honey coated gravel.
Low and raspy. Dark and dreamy. He could sing in key and seemed to know all the words without bothering to read the teleprompter.
“Mom?”
I jumped nearly clear out of my skin at Marco’s voice. I hadn’t even heard the shower shut off, let alone the bathroom door open, or his footsteps.
With my hand against my chest, my pulse still racing, I blinked a few times and tossed on a big smile. “Sorry, honey. You spooked me.”
He gave me a curious look, his hair damp from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. “You okay?”
“Just tired, sweetie.” I stepped away from the door, ignoring the slick feeling in my panties and the continuous acceleration of my pulse.
With my hand on his shoulder, I ushered him toward his bedroom.
“Go get into your pajamas.” With a noncommittal shrug that said he wasn’t going to push it any further, he headed to his room.
I waited until I knew he was dressed before knocking on the door. “Teeth brushed?”
He nodded and climbed into bed beneath his Pokémon comforter. “You had fun tonight. Right, Mom?”
Sitting on the edge of his bed, I ran my hand over his head and down his right arm. “Of course I did. Why would you ask that?”
“Because you were complaining to Aunt Gabrielle about the duet you sang with Jagger McEvoy. And you didn’t look happy about it when you did it. It was like you two were trying to out-sing the other person. Which I didn’t even know was a thing.”
“Jagger McEvoy and I have a very confusing relationship. We’re not exactly friends.”
“Then why’d you go to their party?”
“Because I happen to really like the rest of the McEvoys. I just don’t get along with Jagger.
And I really like the women the McEvoys have welcomed into their lives.
I shouldn’t have to miss out on a great party because one person I don’t care for is going to be there.
We just did what we could to avoid each other. ”
He snorted and glanced away, almost seeming irritated. “Well, that didn’t work. You two sang together.”
Giving his hand a playful shake, I brought his gaze back to me. “Where’s this all coming from, bud?”
“I just don’t like knowing people don’t like you.” His eyes softened. “You’re great, Mom. You’re funny, and smart, and pretty. The idea of someone not liking you just … I don’t like it. I don’t think you should have any enemies.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that kind of a response, let alone one that would hit me in the feels as hard as this one did.
I choked back the emotion clogging my throat in the form of a thick spiky ball, and ignored the burn of tears behind my eyes.
“Baby,” I started, inching closer to him, “Jagger McEvoy isn’t my enemy.
” Yes, he absolutely was. “And it’s okay for people not to like me.
I don’t like everyone. Do you like everyone? ”
Now he looked at me like I told him the sky was green.
“Yeah.” Then he paused. “Well, maybe not Jagger because he doesn’t like you.
But I like everyone else.” God, he was such a sweetheart.
Given the absolutely terrible genes from his father, Marco was turning out to be one hell of a kid.
Hopefully that never changed. Hopefully Josiah’s genes stayed repressed forever.
“I’m okay not being everyone’s cup of tea. We’re adults, and we’re able to be around each other, even if we don’t get along.”
He didn’t seem convinced. “Why don’t you guys get along?”
With a heavy sigh, I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “That’s a story for another day.” Another day decades from now. “Now, it’s time for bed. Please don’t lose sleep over people not liking me though. Okay?”
The expression in his eyes said I shouldn’t hold my breath.
Chuckling, I squeezed his hand one more time, then let go and stood up. “You still need to let me know what you want for Christmas.”
“I have everything I could want.”
“So … cash, then?” I reached the door and turned off the overhead light.
Marco settled down into the pillows and turned onto his side. “That’s a story for another day.”
Smirking at my cheeky child, I blew him a kiss, then closed the door almost completely.
He was a tough, but sensitive child who still sometimes got a little scared of the dark.
So we made a deal that we’d close the door almost all the way, but leave it open a crack so the light from the hallway slipped in enough that he could see.
He didn’t want a nightlight because he was worried his cousins would make fun of him—they wouldn’t—but I didn’t bother to argue. This system worked for us.
I went about getting undressed and ready for a shower. I was chilled to the bone, and needed to warm up … and if my hand happened to make its way between my legs so I could relieve the tension headache forming in my temples, and the tight ache in my shoulders, then so be it.
One thing was for sure though. I absolutely would not, under no circumstances, not even for a second, be thinking about Jagger McEvoy—or his barely-there freckles, or his thick luscious beard, or impossible blue eyes—as I did it.
No way, no how.