Chapter 44 Leah #2
It didn’t matter where he was in the house or how many closed doors he kept between them, she could feel him.
He avoided her when he could and blanked her when he couldn’t—just like he had in the early days.
He stayed busy from morning until night.
Anything broken or scruffy in the house was disposed of.
The living room floor was sanded and varnished, the front door planed and refitted.
In came a selection of stunning, vintage furniture, designed to show off Amity Court to its full potential.
Kash spent a full day taking photographs and produced a portfolio of artistic shots Leah wished she could show Esther.
Sam worked on plans for an open house and potential buyers began to trickle through the front door; Leah tried not to hate every one of them.
Although there were no immediate offers, the initial feedback was positive.
Finding somewhere to live was proving both time-consuming and depressing. When Leah viewed the unfurnished room rental, it stank of weed and shared a bathroom with three other tenants. Despite knowing she should take it, she kept on looking instead.
She did her best to put Florence off when their planned night out came around; she couldn’t face it. Conversation, company, happy chatter—it was all beyond her. But when Florence resorted to threats and guilt trips, Leah gave in and resigned herself to being sociable.
To stop her from bailing, Florence played chauffeur and drove them to the Rusty Barrel, the best option for a fun and safe night out in Pine Springs.
Within the space of the brief journey, she extracted the full, dismal story of Leah’s crash-and-burn breakup with Jackson and promised an evening of distraction.
Her vow lasted as long as it took them to buy their first drinks.
Tequila shot in one hand, Peroni beer in the other, Leah’s perusal of the bar snagged on Jackson, Sam, and Kash at the pool table. She fumbled the bottle and almost dropped it. “Fuck!”
Florence followed her gaze. “Jeez-o-Pete—what are the chances?”
Jackson lifted his head mid-shot, his stupidly handsome face as severe as always. He straightened to rake her with furious eyes, as if she were crashing his night out instead of the other way around.
With each day that passed, Leah’s reflection in the bathroom mirror had grown more washed out.
She was sapped and miserable but Jackson seemed unaffected.
The lean planes of his face were guarded but fine, his jeans-and-black-tee combo classically simple.
Scruffy hair and scowl notwithstanding, he looked effortlessly sexy and she wanted him so badly it hurt.
Sam and Kash followed his gaze and waved with apologetic smiles. When Jackson bent to take his shot, Sam peeled away to cross the bar. He greeted Florence and gave Leah a squeeze, taking care not to spill her drinks. “Hey, Sunshine. Didn’t know you’d be here. Sorry about that.”
Leah shrugged it off. “Don’t worry. We’ll stick to the other side of the bar. I’m glad you’re out together. He could use some friends.”
“We’ve tried to talk to him but he’d only come out tonight if we promised—”
“—not to mention my name?” Leah finished for him. “It’s OK. This isn’t your problem to solve. Tell Kash I said hey and we’ll catch up soon, yeah?”
Sam left them to it. The girls found an empty booth and sat down.
Leah threw back the tequila shot immediately, shuddering as the alcohol hit her stomach.
One look at Leah’s face and Florence assured her yet again that she was happy to schedule a cab home, then followed suit. This was not a night for solo drinking.
Leah chose to sit with her back to the pool table.
Florence peered around her. “He’s staring this way again. And he looks kind of murderous.”
“That’s his default expression.” Leah took a weary drag on her beer.
“Want me to get my brother to kick his ass?”
“It’s tempting. But, no, thanks.” Leah appreciated the offer. Roman Martinez, Florence’s brother, was the Pine Springs chief of police. “I’m an idiot for thinking we had something special. I always knew Jackson had trust issues. He told me so himself.”
“Seems like he also has ‘behaving like a dick’ issues.”
Staring into the mouth of her beer bottle, Leah thought of the time he’d told her his two defining characteristics were dyslexia and being a dick. And she’d told him he was wrong. “It’s my fault. I should have been more realistic. He’s way out of my league.”
Florence tossed her hair. “Honey, he might be a seriously hot son of a bitch but you can kick ass in any league you choose. You are a Super Bowl–standard, World Series–level slam dunk.”
“Dammit, Flo—way to strangle a sporting metaphor!” groused a blond guy, leaning on the side of their booth.
“No one asked you to eavesdrop.” Florence aimed a kick at his ankle.
“Who’s the slam dunk?” A second man dragged a seat from a neighboring table without waiting for an invitation and dropped astride it, elbows folded on the chairback. He turned a charming smile on Leah, who couldn’t help but return it.
“Leah, these two interlopers work with my brother.” Florence pointed a finger at the blond—“On duty, this is Deputy Dougie Taggart”—and then the guy sitting down—“and Officer Liam Morgan. Off duty, like now, they’re a liability.
” The humor in Florence’s eyes took any sting out of her words.
“How’s Summer, Dougie? I haven’t seen her in a while. ”
“She’s great, thanks. Girls’ night in tonight with Caitlyn and little Annie.” Dougie grinned, indulgently. He made a “scoot over” motion and slid onto the end of the bench seat. Leah shook the hands they stuck out.
“We didn’t say you could join us.” Florence raised an eyebrow.
“We’ll get the next round,” promised Dougie, and she caved with a shrug.
“You didn’t ask after my girlfriend.” Liam Morgan looked offended.
Florence’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
Morgan winked at her with a grin, flashing his dimples. “I’m not.”
The guys were irreverent company and a nice distraction, cracking jokes and keeping the mood light-hearted.
It felt good to pull out her rusty smile again; Leah was relieved it still worked.
The quick banter forced her to concentrate and ignore the devil-voice whispering in her ear to check on what Jackson was doing.
When Dougie and Liam strolled to the bar for another round of drinks, Florence gave Leah a nudge.
“We can kick them into touch if you’d prefer.
Those boys could make themselves welcome at almost any table here.
” Her gaze followed Liam Morgan, lit with a cloaked interest Florence did her best to hide.
Leah shook her head. “No, they’re fine. It’s not exactly a hardship to put up with them.”
“If it helps any, your grumpy landlord is scowling so hard he might pull a muscle.”
“I have no interest in provoking Jackson.”
“Really? That’s all I’d want to do.”
Leah let out a low snort. “OK, I have a little interest in provoking him—he deserves it. But mainly, I want to pretend for one evening he doesn’t exist. I didn’t imagine I’d have to try to do that with him at the other end of the bar, though.
” With superhuman effort, she refrained from turning around, the heat of Jackson’s stare burning like a laser between her shoulder blades.
Dougie and Liam returned and the conversation picked straight back up. They recounted a recent call to an alcohol-fueled disturbance at the local pool and spa exhibition where Dougie had been forced to handcuff a man who had turned out to have only one arm.
“I panicked and cuffed him to my own wrist. It made the next hour extremely uncomfortable for us both. But he’d upended one of the refreshment tables, punched a hole through an advertising board, and was still swinging, so he didn’t give me any choice.”
“You’ve never seen anyone look more mortified than when he reached for the guy’s other arm and it wasn’t there.” Liam chuckled into his beer.
“Fuck off,” Dougie retorted, his good nature unshaken. “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
Leah took advantage of the break in the conversation to excuse herself. “I need the restroom. Won’t be long,” she mouthed to Florence.
The pool game over, Jackson, Sam, and Kash were nursing drinks at a circular table.
Pinned by a pair of blue eyes that flashed and seared like a blowtorch, Leah missed her footing and tripped on a completely flat section of flooring.
Ever since he’d come back for the barbecue, he’d avoided looking at her at all.
Now, twice in one night, he’d run a sweeping glare over her face like he didn’t know whether to tear into her or wrap his hands around her throat.
Jackson pushed himself up from his chair and, when he started toward her, Leah panicked.
Swerving from her intended path, she veered away from the washrooms and pushed through the main exit instead.
Outside in the lot, she had less than ten seconds to drag in a steadying breath before the door flew open and Jackson stepped out.
Leah wrapped her arms around her upper body, holding herself together, another layer of armor between her heart and the man who had bruised it so badly.