Chapter Eleven
He knew the pleasure of a kiss with the wrong woman, but he had yet to discover the power of a kiss with the right one.
—The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels
Alittle over a week later, Anna walked into the lab and found Jules sitting on the floor in khakis and a blue knit shirt amid piles of magazines and old efficiency reports, tossing things into her trash can.
Cleaning.
Anna froze. Maybe if she tiptoed back the way she came, Jules would pretend she hadn’t heard Anna come in. And Anna could pretend Jules’s cube still needed quality time with a backhoe and a label maker, and the world would keep spinning on its axis.
Jules shot her an I dare you to say something look.
Anna smiled, which probably looked as fake as it felt. “Hey, Jules. How’s it going?”
“What’s it look like, genius? Don’t even think of bringing that chipper attitude in here. You didn’t get laid or something this weekend, did you?”
No, she’d apparently hidden her phone number too well for that, because someone hadn’t called.
He had sent a very complimentary note about her pie through Kaci though.
“I studied.” The level one certification test wasn’t for another three weeks, but after squeaking by in thermo with a grade barely high enough for tuition reimbursement, she was enrolled in two classes at Jim-Bob for the semester starting next week.
“You are so lame,” Jules said.
She couldn’t argue with that. She nodded at the garbage can. “What’s going on?”
“This a crime? Because I was even thinking of asking for that label maker back.” Jules flung two more magazines into the trash. Her monitor was dark. Half her drawers were open. Her wedding picture lay facedown on her desk.
Not good. “It’s yours if you want it. You guys have a nice weekend?”
Two binders hit the floor. “Brad took a package.”
“Took a—oh. I didn’t know he wanted out.” The Air Force had been offering voluntary separation packages in overstaffed career fields to cut long-term costs. Neil had mentioned it once or twice, but he’d never sounded interested in taking the offer.
Jules slumped over and buried her head between her knees. “He doesn’t want his parents to lose both their sons to the war.”
She gulped back the instinctive sympathetic noises. It would’ve only pissed Jules off. She gestured toward the mess instead. “Does this mean—”
“It means I’m getting my shit organized to be the primary breadwinner until he figures out what the hell he’s going to do with himself.”
Anna swallowed. Then swallowed again.
It meant Jules and Brad wouldn’t move unless one of them took a job somewhere else. It meant certifications and working toward her degree wouldn’t move her up the RMC chain. She blew out a slow breath. “Doesn’t the base offer some career counseling?”
There was that duh look again. “Please. Like Brad needs counseling.”
Considering he’d given up his career a couple of weeks after his brother’s death, it couldn’t hurt. “You don’t have to need it for it to be helpful.”
“Whatever.” Jules dumped a stack of magazines into the trash. “If you’re going to stand there, do something useful and take this out.”
She took the can, more as an excuse to get away than because she enjoyed being garbage girl. She paused on her way out of the cube. “Jules? It’ll be okay.”
“Take it back to your own office. This is a sunshine-free zone on Mondays. I’m fine, okay?”
Every day with Jules was a sunshine-free zone. “Sure.”
With any luck, biofuels would take off in the civilian sector, and there would be plenty of work for both of them.
In the meantime, Anna still had a lot of studying to do.
RMC might not do as much for her resume as she’d begun to expect, but she’d make the most of the opportunities while she was here.
Anna’s last class of the week let out three minutes before nine the next Thursday.
She stumbled out of the classroom into the darkened hallway behind her classmates.
The rough gray carpet muted their footsteps, and the few talking did so in soft tones that were sucked right into the walls.
Her head swam with equations and theories that made no sense.
Her bed was a thirty-minute drive away.
Might as well have been an eternity.
She slogged out the door. Her skin went clammy in the cooler but still humid air. Nights like this, packing it up and moving in with her parents sounded nice. But then she’d have to move the stack of self-help books her dad kept mailing from his bookshop.
Or maybe she’d donate them to Kaci and the ex-wives club.
She powered her phone back on while she walked to her car. Maybe Beth would still be up to keep her company on the ride home.
Her phone beeped with two text message notifications. She checked the first one.
You in class?
She squinted at the number. Not local. Not from back home. She checked the second. It was from the same number.
I dropped by that Bean place over by Jim-Bob, and they gave me some fancy cold girly drink with my coffee. Said my favorite Yankee liked it. Yours if you want it. Stop on by.
A smile tugged at her lips. He’d found her number. And she really was his favorite Yankee. That made her heart tingle.
She rubbed her eyes. A caffeine boost would get her home. Stopping was the smart thing to do.
Maybe not the smart thing for the rat-a-tat-ing in her chest, but definitely the smart thing for operating a vehicle.
Eh. Her heart could use the exercise.
She cranked the engine and buckled up. Five minutes later, she walked into Jimmy Beans. Jackson was stretched out at the far table, staring at his iPhone. Before the bells on the door finished tinkling, he’d tucked the phone into the pocket of his jeans and stood.
Jeans.
He’d dressed up.
“Hey, there, Anna Grace. You look right pretty tonight.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“For a lady who got into it with a possum,” he amended with an ornery grin.
She dropped her purse under the table and collapsed into the chair. “What do I owe you for the drink?”
“One of them pretty smiles sure would be nice.”
“I’m not sure one drink will be enough for that.”
He stretched back out. “Rough day?”
She took a sip and closed her eyes. Chai latte. He was good. Or, more likely, Kaci was easy. “Yum.”
She opened her eyes and found him watching her with too much interest for tonight.
“I’d say I’m glad the weekend’s almost here, but I have to study.
Study study study. I hate studying. I already did this once.
I’m tired of doing it again. I just want to be done.
Finally.” She thunked her head on the table. “I used to like school.”
“You work full-time the first time?”
She rolled her forehead. “Nuh-uh.” It took some effort, but she forced herself upright and took another sip. “Thank you.”
His leg bumped hers under the table and stayed there. “My pleasure.”
Anna rubbed at an uneven line in the tabletop.
She slid her leg closer to his, solidifying the connection.
Her body wanted to flirt, but her mouth had other ideas.
“You know the worst part of all this? By the time I finally finish my bachelor’s, I’ll need a master’s to even apply to take the professional engineer exam. It’ll take me years.”
“You still like what you’re studying?”
She blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He slid a china plate stacked with three chocolate chip cookies back and forth with slow fingers. “People change.”
“Living that, thanks. Not because I wanted to.” The middle cookie should’ve been on the bottom. It was biggest. She fisted her hands to keep from fixing it.
Or stealing a cookie.
His leg slid against hers. A pang of longing squeezed her thighs. She’d taken the physical contact for granted when she was married. What was she supposed to do now?
“I had a family thing of sorts,” he said.
She squinted at him.
“The day you fixed my kitchen.” A flattering red crept up his ears. “Supposed to head over Friday night, but a cookout sounded fun.”
“Your momma let you get away with being late?”
The blush in his ears faded in direct proportion to the grin dimpling his cheeks. “She was right proud I tricked a Yankee into doing what she usually does for me.”
“Uh-huh.” She decided she’d leave an extra dollar and snatched a cookie off his plate. “So how many master’s degrees do you have?”
Jackson’s grin dropped off again, and his ears switched course until they glowed an unnatural pink. He stacked the last two cookies, leaving the top one slightly off-center. He eyed her, but she didn’t so much as twitch at the disorder.
Not that she didn’t want to.
“Three,” he finally said. “According to Uncle Sam, anyway. I only count one.”
It took a minute to process that, until she remembered Neil had mentioned some of the Air Force continuing professional development programs counted as master’s degrees when they were done in residence.
If that was the case, Jackson outranked Neil.
She wanted to laugh. How was that for a rebound?
Jackson stacked the two cookies evenly. “Been thinking about that night you didn’t share any good fishing stories.”
“I’m boring.”
“I hear tell you’re pretty good with firecrackers.”
She looked up from watching his long fingers on the cookies. “You’ve been talking about me?”
“Mostly listening.” His dimples seemed extra-dimply tonight.
Her face was hotter than Jim-Bob’s parking lot, but she found a cheeky grin of her own. “So you got the briefing about getting on my bad side?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Yet he’d still asked her to coffee.
Better and better.
But just to make sure— “Do you want to get married?”
His eyes went wide and a strangled gasp escaped his lips. “No, ma’am.”
Kaci must’ve been right about his momma raising him right, because even though Anna heard about a hundred expletives hanging in the air between them, they hadn’t come from his mouth.
Better and better had just become nearly perfect. She took a nonchalant sip of her chai, then gave him a sassy smile. “Me neither.”