Chapter Sixteen
She had no fears of becoming too comfortable. Not when life was all too willing to smack her upside the head.
—The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels
If Jackson hadn’t been in uniform, he would’ve handled this ex-husband business differently. Good-old-boy style. But he was in uniform, and he’d been raised to have better manners than wedding crashers.
Besides, he didn’t reckon he’d get any pie if he got in Anna Grace’s way.
How hiding out in the bathroom was winning, he couldn’t quite figure, but he’d never claimed to understand a woman’s why. Just her what. And Anna’s what was akin to Craig’s baby girl’s I do it myself.
One of the bridesmaids eyed him. She had enough looks going for her underneath all that poofed fabric and big old hair bow that he was willing to bet her biscuits suffered for it.
She gave him a coy smile. Miss Flo and Miss Ophelia would’ve liked this one.
The girl put the right amount of swing in her hip when she took that tentative step toward him.
But he had better plans for tonight, so he pulled Anna Grace’s cake plate closer to him. The girl’s eyes shifted to the plate, then back up at him. Her nose got a crease up top, and she swung her hips right around the other way.
Jackson coughed back a chuckle.
“You are my hero,” Anna Grace suddenly said next to him.
She set the margarita down and flopped into her seat.
All that soft material in her dress rippled around her legs as he hoped his sheets would before the end of the night.
She snatched the cake plate—sans cake—and went to work sorting the mints he’d piled up as high as he could.
He leaned in close to her. She hadn’t said thank you exactly, so he didn’t offer up that it was his pleasure. Instead, he took a sniff of her hair. “Still hoping for some pie.”
“Your odds are definitely improving.” She flashed some tooth with her smile.
Cheri sat on his other side, moving sedately in her mess dress. He had a good feeling she would’ve rather spun the chair around and straddled it as she would’ve in a flight suit, but that ornery spark told him she was having fun in her own right. “She won’t let me take care of him.”
“I didn’t say anything about after the reception,” Anna said. She had five piles of mints going, lightest to darkest. She flicked a glance at Jackson. “What? No that ain’t right fit talk for ladies?”
Funny girl, his Anna Grace. “No, ma’am. I trust she’ll do what needs doing.”
“That’s right forward thinking of you.”
“Forward thinking, my ass.” Cheri leaned around him. “He got on my bad side once.”
Anna mirrored her, talking around Jackson like he was a decoration.
Not that he didn’t think he could be. Mamie liked to tell him he was handsomer than a June bug in uniform, and she swore on her collard greens she wasn’t just saying that.
“What happened?” Anna asked.
“He tried to hold a door for me.”
“Now don’t go getting any ideas that I was playing favorites or think anybody’s weaker,” Jackson told Anna. “I held the door for all of ’em.”
“All the ladies?”
Cheri laughed. “They looked like ladies, didn’t they?”
“That they did,” Jackson agreed. The whole lot of the freshmen on the drill team that year had been a sorry bunch after Hell Night. But Cheri and Lance, twins determined to one-up each other, had come through standing.
Anna rolled her eyes. “Same story, different detachment.”
“I don’t think I damaged anything vital,” Cheri said. “If that helps at all.”
“I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
If he was still getting pie, they could make as much fun as they wanted. Since Anna had slowed down on her sorting with half the plate still to go, his odds were looking better. At least sixty-forty now.
He glanced back at the dance floor.
The ladies were still dancing, but Anna’s ex had disappeared.
He gave the room a casual perusal. Wasn’t really his business why the yahoo was here, and Jackson enjoyed weddings little enough without sitting across from the hoity-toity captain through dinner.
But Anna Grace deserved a nice night, and instead of being giggly and girly over her friend’s big day like females liked to do, she was letting Jackson do her favors.
“Hey, Anna Grace,” her ex said behind Jackson.
Anna’s pretty little nose scrunched up like she’d bitten into a rancid grapefruit. Her fingers vibrated over the mints. Fire flashed in her rapidly narrowing eyes.
“Don’t call me that.” She had the tone of a wounded tiger stalking her hunter.
The captain’s light gaze snapped to Jackson, then back at Anna. He rolled one shoulder and slid a plate to her. “Brought you some cake.”
Jackson might’ve been insulted that his manners were in question over the lack of cake on the plate he had brought her, but the captain’s lack of knowledge of his ex-wife was pitiful.
She eyed him like she wanted to smush that cake over the front of his mess dress and then stick the fork where his sun didn’t shine.
Wasn’t a doubt in Jackson’s mind Louisa would’ve done it, but Anna Grace had the restraint of a proper Southern gentlewoman.
She touched the plate only as much as she had to and scooted it in front of Jackson. “Cake?” she said.
If it hadn’t been for the keep your trap shut and eat the damn cake message her eyes were broadcasting, he might’ve taken that as a hint that she’d let him into this battle with her.
But he couldn’t deny some curiosity as to how deep that spark of wounded mischief went in her, so he murmured, “Thank you, ma’am,” and picked up the fork.
Cheri caught his eye. She nodded at the idiot. Dumbass, she mouthed.
“You want to dance?” Anna’s ex asked.
Anna crossed her arms and her legs and stared him down like she triple-dog-dared him to repeat the question. But her pulse fluttered in her neck as fast as Jackson’s plans for tonight were tanking.
He didn’t sleep with women who were looking long-term.
He didn’t sleep with women he didn’t trust.
And he didn’t sleep with a woman who was looking to use him after a bad breakup.
Same went for a woman whose ex rattled her up. Wasn’t often Jackson had the urge to punch a guy, but this one’s face looked like it needed some rearranging.
“C’mon, Anna,” the captain wheedled. “It’s just a dance.”
“And this is just a wedding, and it was just a toast.” Her foot jiggled, showing off pretty toes. “If I dance with you, will you leave?”
Jackson twitched.
“Cross my heart.”
Jackson would’ve rather danced with her ex himself than let the yahoo get within touching distance of her, but Anna Grace was broadcasting stubborn again.
He bit down on a forkful of cake.
Darn good cake. Not as good as pie though.
“I’ll pick the song,” Anna said.
If that gleam in her eye didn’t scare the S-O-B, he had no business calling himself a man. “Save my mints, okay?” She said. She pecked Jackson on the cheek.
The captain’s cheeks sprouted thunderclouds. Jackson swallowed a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
The DJ broke into the music. “All y’all ready for a bouquet toss?”
Something passed between Anna and the captain.
A flock of bow-headed bridesmaids and an army of normal-dressed single women rushed the dance floor.
So did a couple of ladies who looked fit to take on Mamie and her friends at the bowling alley.
Anna’s shoulders drooped like they were being tugged down from hell.
She flicked a glance at Cheri. “I’m going to go freshen up. ”
“I’ll join you.”
The captain reached out to Anna. She cut him off with a look hot enough to slice frozen butter. He shifted into an at-ease stance. “I’ll wait here.”
Anna and Cheri waded into the crowd. A bunch of women flashing rings gathered around the dance floor. Kaci peered around, then pointed to the four flower girls. They squealed and ran to join the single women.
“You sleeping with my wife?” the captain asked Jackson.
Jackson held his gaze for what felt like a good five minutes longer than necessary before he answered. “Your momma raise you to talk like that?”
He let that hang between them while he watched for the girls. Anna and Cheri got caught in the throng of men waiting for the garter toss, slowing down to weave between the crowds.
The DJ started his countdown. Kaci did a mock toss-back on three. Then two. Anna and Cheri paused between the crowd wanting the bouquet and the crowd waiting to see who caught it.
Then Jackson realized Kaci’s bouquet wasn’t made out of flowers.
He shot out of his chair. “Stop!” The DJ reached one. Kaci squeezed her eyes shut and flung the lollipops, and Jackson muttered something his own momma would’ve preferred he didn’t say in polite company.
The bouquet sailed over the single ladies who rose and jumped and crashed into each other with all the grace of Auburn fans doing the wave, but the bouquet kept on flying over all of them.
The men all skittered back, leaving a clear view of where the bouquet was headed.
“Anna!” Jackson hollered. “Duck!”
In the span of two heartbeats, she twisted her shoulders toward him, then back toward the bouquet. Her shriek split the air. The crowd gasped. Her knees bent. She flung her arms up, but it was too late.
The glob of lollipops smacked her upside the head.
She teetered. In the span of his next two heartbeats, Jackson made a whole host of promises to God if she’d be okay.
It took him an eternity too long to get to her through the crowd. Somebody had shoved a chair beneath her. Cheri was talking to her. Jackson squatted in front of her. “Anna Grace? You okay?”
She blinked at him, eyes not quite focused. A red welt was already forming on her temple. He brushed his thumb over it, then down her soft cheek. “Anna Grace?”
She blinked a couple more times, her chest evening out into a more normal rhythm. Finally, she looked straight into his eyes. “I need some Windex,” she said.
He crushed her against him, breathing in the soft scent of her shampoo. “You got it, darlin’.”
“Jesus, Anna, are you all right?” Her ex elbowed in.