Chapter 31
From Esther’s diary
I’m so jealous of Hazel and the way she loves her job. Yes, I enjoyed learning languages in school. No, I don’t enjoy translating legal documents! I want a family and a husband. I want to make things up and be creative. Life feels very rigid sometimes. I wonder where I’ll be this time next year.
At least I have a lunch date in the park with Atherton tomorrow. The best way to start the week!
Leah
She fidgeted all day on Friday, annoying herself with her inability to concentrate.
She’d heard from Jackson a couple of times early in the week, via voice notes to tell her when the decorators would be arriving to paint the living room.
He said he hoped to make it back to Pine Springs that evening.
He rarely messaged her; when he did, it was usually brief, factual, and blunt.
She knew how much texting stressed him out.
He’d admitted that sometimes his spelling was so off even autocorrect couldn’t recognize what he was trying to say. She wished he’d call but he didn’t.
It was tough to be understanding when her insecurities took to the floor like they were holding a rally.
He’s too good for you.
What if it was just a weekend fling?
Wham, bam, and thank you very much, ma’am.
But, God, she missed him.
He was the peanut butter cup in the cupboard it made sense to resist. Tempting her with its sugary beauty, waving away any concerns that it might be a little bad for her, a short-lived, empty energy boost. Jackson was not a clever choice but, try as she might to be sensible, Leah was beyond caring. She needed her fix.
In an attempt to occupy herself, she went out for groceries—and yes, peanut butter cups, too.
Overheated and sweaty, she wandered the aisles, itching to get home but wary of disappointment.
This thing between her and Jackson was so fragile.
As substantial as bonfire smoke. Her heart wasn’t much more robust. Leah didn’t know if she was more scared he didn’t share the turbulent feelings keeping her awake at night, or that he did.
She emerged from the general store, blinking in the sunlight, and walked straight into the path of a huge man built like a tank. His meaty hands reached out to steady her and Leah looked up into a full beard, flat lips, and a sharp nose. Aviator sunglasses mirrored her own face in duplicate.
“I’m so sorry—did I tread on your foot?” Leah was pretty sure she had. They both looked down. Her sneakers seemed comically dainty next to The Tank’s black work boots. “Probably didn’t hurt too much, huh?”
She smiled. He didn’t.
“I’ve got a message for you.” His voice held a light lisp. He ran his thumbs over the inside of each of her biceps. The creepy caress was unwelcome.
Leah stepped back, twisting out of his grasp. “For me?”
“Well, no, not actually for you.”
“I didn’t think it could be. Since I don’t know you.” Leah squinted, trying to make out his eyes through the mirrored lenses.
“You need to deliver it.”
“Who to?”
“I was just about to tell you.” A note of irritation crept into his voice and she shifted on her feet, relieved that this odd anti-meet-cute was taking place in the middle of the sidewalk with passersby in earshot.
The Tank pushed at the bridge of his sunglasses with one solid finger.
“Tell Mr. Hale we’re keeping an eye on you. ”
“Which Mr. Hale?” she asked, playing dumb. It was a trick she’d learned from Clayborne Knight’s fourth outing—Too Little Blood. Sometimes the villain of the story could be prompted to give the game away out of sheer exasperation.
He rolled one of his shoulders and sighed. “Both.”
“And you are?” She was almost enjoying this now, leaning into her gumshoe detective character, feeling protected by spotting Ava and Elias Martinez in the window of Diner 43.
“You don’t need to know,” the man growled.
“I do if I’m telling them who’s keeping their eye on me.” Leah ran her gaze over him, paling when she caught a glint of something shiny at The Tank’s waist. She took several quick steps backward. “Actually, don’t worry. I’ll go with a general description.”
Behind her, the door to the general store opened with a ding. “You OK, Leah?” Suspicion coated Marjorie’s query. “Gerry’s inside if you need him.”
“I’m all good!” she squeaked.
The Tank stalked closer until she could count the hairs in his nostrils. His parting words made Leah’s stomach flip. “Pretty flowers on your porch. It needed a splash of color.”
While she was still trying to think of a reply, he spun on his heel and lumbered away. A younger guy joined him from the opposite sidewalk and the pair disappeared around the corner.
Smothering the shiver that trickled over her bare arms, Leah flashed a quick smile at Marjorie to reassure her. Who had she been kidding, acting like some amateur detective? She felt lucky to live in a small town among friends.
“Don’t know what that was about,” she said, with a laugh as fake as her composure, “but thanks for the backup! I’ll see you soon.”
Though she stewed over it on the drive home, the unnerving episode was shoved straight into the shadows when Leah found Jackson’s car parked in front of the house. A burst of wild happiness shimmied through her veins, sending her bouncing up the steps and in through the door.
Still immaculately dressed, although he’d undone the shirt button at his throat and taken off his tie, he sat on the edge of the couch, dangling a glass of water by the rim in one hand.
His smile, as he watched her drop the bags in a heap in the foyer and spill into the living room, was slow and exhausted.
“Hey.” Leah pushed her hair off her face and took in the tightness of his shoulders and the kink of his eyebrows.
“Hey, Raven.” The heated welcome in Jackson’s eyes eased through her muscles like a mouthful of brandy. “It’s good to be home.”
Removing the glass from his fingers, she knelt between his knees, and something incendiary flared, arcing from his skin to hers. Oh, thank God!
Leah brought her lips to his mouth, keeping the kiss gentle. Now wasn’t the time to jump him . . . not just yet. She could taste his stress, felt his weariness as he pulled her closer. Jackson’s long exhale brushed her cheek.
“Such a nice welcome,” he murmured against her ear. “I missed you.”
Weak with relief, Leah curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. The muscles were rigid. She’d tell him about the confrontation in town but not just yet. It could wait.
“Honestly, I send you to work nice and relaxed and you come back tight as a drum. What’s been going on?”
“Don’t even ask.” He shook his head, reaching for her again, but she ducked out of his grasp and plopped herself onto one end of the couch.
“Lie down.” Leah patted her lap. “Put your head here.” Without taking his eyes from her face, Jackson tugged at his laces, toed off his shoes, and stretched out on the cushions.
His feet and ankles hung over the opposite arm of the couch.
She snorted. “I forgot you’re a sky-high swizzle stick who needs giant furniture for his giant body. ”
Jackson’s mouth quirked at the corners as he rested his head on her thighs.
“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never been so comfortable.
You’ll get no complaints from me.” At the first touch of her hands in his hair, his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned.
Leah felt the sound between her legs. She ran her fingers over his forehead and temples exactly as she had during his migraine, drawing them lightly through his hair and down the sides of his neck.
Though the searing heat was beginning to tail off, the early-evening sun poured in through the dusty windows, and the silence was restful.
“The decorators are getting on well.” He ran his eyes over the room.
“That’s an understatement.” The woodwork and high ceiling, with two topcoats of bright white, gleamed. Once the smoky blue-gray went up on the walls, it would be stunning.
“My guys OK to have around?”
“They’re great. They work hard, keep the music down. Only forty-seven cups of coffee each, per day. Low-maintenance.”
He grunted. Leah moved her hands from Jackson’s scalp and ground her thumbs experimentally into the bunched mass of his shoulders. A layer of tension coated the powerful muscles she’d spent indeterminate hours ogling—it would never be enough. “Gym rat or sports jock?”
“Hmm?” The noise from Jackson’s throat was a peaceful rumble.
“Your physique isn’t entirely hideous, so you must work out in some way or other.” Leah took advantage of his eyes being closed to drink him in. “I’ve never asked what you do.”
“I run and swim.”
“Swim?”
“Yeah, my building has a pool.”
“Of course it does.” Leah rolled her eyes.
“I heard that eye roll.” Jackson smiled, his own eyelids still closed. “I usually run in the mornings, maybe three times a week, and swim every evening.” He was quiet for a couple of minutes. “Swimming helps me switch off.”
“Yes?” She encouraged him to continue while she dug her fingers into the knots at the base of his neck.
Jackson squinted up at her through one eye. “You might not have noticed but I find it hard to unwind.”
“No way.”
He reached down to pinch her calf. “When I swim, my brain goes into standby mode. I don’t have to think about anything.”
She pictured him cutting through the water in an effortless front crawl, length after length. No wonder his shoulders were so broad.
“Even if you put in a full day of hard work here, you don’t seem drained.”
Jackson closed his eyes again. “The business is a whole different layer of stress. There’s a lot of shit going on right now and the constant emails and messages are draining.
Even using the dictation option on my computer, I have to read everything through multiple times to make sure I haven’t said something stupid, and the more I read it the more confused I feel .
. .” His sigh was cool against her wrist. “I’d take a physical task over an email any day. ”
Leah marveled at the whirlpool of doubt beneath his outwardly steely facade. No one would guess Jackson Hale was anything other than completely in control. “It’s good you’ve found something that helps you chill out then. I can’t remember the last time I swam.”
“I had a feeling that might be the case.” Jackson’s eyelashes lifted, the intense blue of his irises softened by a new lazy calm. “How do you feel about a trip to the beach?”
“For real?” Leah blinked. “This weekend? Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
She leaned down and kissed him hard, breathless with excitement. “Oh, yes, please! Yes, yes, yes!”
“I think I’ll enjoy seeing you in a bikini, since your physique is not entirely hideous either.”
“I burn pretty easily. So you might get less sexy-beach-siren and more demure-Victorian-miss.”
Jackson’s smile turned wolfish; he sat up and twisted in one smooth, predatory movement.
She noticed with satisfaction that much of the tension had cleared from his face; her own had melted away alongside.
“But, if I behave myself, you’ll show me your ankles, right?
” He grabbed one of her feet, tipping Leah back onto the cushions. “You have quite passable ankles.”
She squeaked as he nipped the inside of her instep, and almost kicked him in the face. “Ticklish! That’s so ticklish—”
Jackson gripped her ankle tighter, the grin on his face wicked.
His weight forced most of the breath from her body, his smile stole the rest. He bit her calf and pressed his lips to the curve of her knee.
Overly sensitive and already anticipating where his mouth would travel next, Leah twisted and twitched.
“Lie still,” he growled. “I’m trying to ravish you.”
A breathless giggle burst from her throat. “To borrow a phrase from Hazel—you, sir, are a cad and a bounder!”
“A what and a what?”
“A rogue. A reprobate.”
“Ah, yes. Yes, I am.” Jackson’s grin should have come with a health warning. “But can you blame me?”
Those huge hands of his parted her legs as he kissed a trail from her knee to the inside of her thigh, and Leah’s stomach swooped.
Jackson’s mouth hovered around the rolled hem of her shorts, his fingers sliding over her sensitive skin.
He hooked a finger around the narrow bridge of material between her legs and she almost choked. He was—oh God, he was breathing her in!
A low hum of appreciation rumbled in his chest and swept away any embarrassment she might have felt. Heat bubbled in her veins as the need for more coursed through her. She was so turned on it wasn’t funny, and he’d barely touched her.
“You are very good at ravishing, Jax.” Leah moved her hips, unable to lie still.
“And you are outstanding at distracting me from office politics.”
Jackson pushed himself further up her body, although his hand remained in teasing distance of the edge of her panties. His hair was mussed, his eyes glittered. Unraveled and dangerous, he almost stopped her heart.