Chapter Twelve
Jo
T hey’re so normal.
It’s like watching bees buzz around a hive, except the little girl, Emory, is at the center.
Her mom carries over a slice of pizza and drops it on her plate, her other mom pulls paper towels from the roll beside the sink and divides them out among us while Lochlan lets his niece talk his ear off.
I somehow gathered that they own a brick oven pizza shop and that they’ve been together since college.
Becky is Mommy, Tessa is Momma.
I can hardly take a bite of the pizza sitting in front of me, even though it looks incredible.
I don’t want to blink and miss a moment of this when it’s better than anything I could have imagined a normal family could be.
Because they love each other.
“Jo, can you teach me how to do pretty makeup like you?” Emory asks, focusing everyone’s attention on me suddenly.
“Oh, um,” I don’t know how to respond because I don’t want to step on any toes, but I don’t want to reject her either.
“Emory has been obsessed with all the glamorous things since she saw her first play on Broadway over spring break,” Tessa says, twirling Emory’s pigtail around her finger playfully.
“My moms aren’t very good at girly stuff even though they’re both girls.” She rolls her eyes in an exasperated kid way that makes them both laugh.
“Jo was Miss North Carolina.” The hive goes silent at Lochlan’s announcement.
“Miss Teen,” I correct him.
“A beauty queen!” Emory squeals, smushing her hands to her cheeks.
Embarrassment fills me, and I’m not entirely sure why.
I’m used to that information about me being made known, but I guess I’m used to being mocked for it.
“I would love to teach you makeup, Emory.” I smile at her genuinely, and she erupts in another squeal, clapping her hands.
An hour later, I’m seated cross-legged on the floor in Lochlan’s living room with my makeup bag, teaching Emory how to apply eye shadow in the most age-appropriate way I can.
She, of course, wanted to use the boldest and most sparkly colors, and I would never tell her no.
She giggles endlessly, using her fingertips to smear pink blush across my cheeks, and I don’t need to look in the mirror to know it’s probably the best I’ve ever looked.
“Am I beautiful?” She asks, but her attention is directed at the small lighted mirror sitting on the coffee table, and to the man standing in its reflection behind us.
Lochlan’s leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, watching in amusement .
“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, Eminem.” Her smile widens at his sweet words, and my heart does a little skip.
The man who makes men scurry in fear is wrapped around this little girl’s finger.
“What about Jo?” She asks innocently, but he’s already studying the streaks of purple above my eyes, the fingerprints of blush, and the glitter that glosses my lips.
He looks longer than necessary, and I can only imagine the response he’s trying to articulate to avoid hurting his niece’s feelings.
“Beautiful,” he forces out.
“Jo, can you do my nails like yours, too?” She asks, tearing my attention from Lochlan’s piercing stare.
“I might have some nail polish somewhere, but I get these done at a nail salon. It’s called acrylics.”
“I want acrylics,” she pouts, and it makes me laugh.
“It’s bad for your real nails. You should wait until you’re much older,” I suggest, seeming to appease her.
“When I’m older, I’m going to be a veterinarian,” she exclaims proudly, over-enunciating the word only slightly.
“That’s amazing. You love animals?”
“Yep! I’m going to rescue all the animals and bring them here to take care of them. Lochy said I can do whatever I want since I was hand-gifted in a basket to run this place.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m the only stray he’s ever kept,” she states proudly.
“She gets it all. The sole inheritor,” Lochlan explains.
“Becky and Tessa adopted her after she was abandoned at the front gate. She was only one year old, buckled into a car seat in the middle of March.”
I gasp, but Emory doesn’t look the least bit affected.
She must know this story well .
How can people be so cruel?
Leaving a baby in the elements, not knowing if they’ll be safe or cared for.
It’s unimaginable.
It’s not fair.
“I’m sorry, I need some air.” I jump up from my seat and run to the front porch before collapsing to my butt on the porch steps.
The heel of my palms dig into my forehead, trying to understand this cruel world.
It’s only a few minutes later that Becky comes out of the house and sees me sitting alone.
“I don’t know what your story is, Jo, but this place is really good for giving second chances. My brother can be a bonehead, but I’m glad he’s letting you help him.”
“He didn’t want to hire me.”
“Can you blame him? He has trust issues with women.” She snorts, knowing it’s an understatement.
“He’s also fiercely protective of his own.”
“He warned me not to make friends with any of the guys and plenty of other things, but I keep screwing up. I keep making him mad. Even when I don’t know why.”
“I meant what I said, he’s a bonehead, but he also sees you as someone to protect now. He’ll do that in the only way he knows how, even if it doesn’t make sense.” Her cryptic advice reminds me of Lochlan.
“Well, he’s definitely hard to interpret sometimes.” I laugh when she does.
“Thank you for helping him here. And, Emory. I think she’s going to talk about meeting a beauty queen all week at school.” She stands up, noticing them coming out of the door, Lochlan right behind them.
“She’s wonderful. It was nice meeting all of you.” I smile as Emory comes from behind and snakes a hug around my neck.
“Bye, Miss Jo. I’ll see you next time!”
Once they say their goodbyes and leave, the air is thick with Lochlan’s presence.
“You alright?”
What a silly question.
I’m never alright, not truly.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He sits down next to me for only a second before he shifts a few feet to the side to lean against the porch railing instead, as if he can’t stand to be near me.
“Hearing about Emory being abandoned just upset me, I guess.”
“Becky and Tessa were newly married, still figuring things out, but they knew they could give her a good life. It worked out.”
I nod, not really sure what to say.
“What’s really bugging you?”
“Nothing, I’m fine. Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”
* * *
Fresh spray tan, fresh coat of matching paint on my fingers and toes, and a new white dress to wear on the biggest weekend of summer.
Tonight’s charity event will host all the biggest businesses and prominent families.
Charities and politicians of all statuses will mingle and negotiate for their cause.
And, it’s my job to make it look like Second Chance Sanctuary belongs there just as much as everyone else.
“Lochlan, are you ready?” I yell as soon as I open his front door, stopping so hard my shoes pinch my toes when I see him thumping down the stairs.
The man attempting to button the cuff of his black dress shirt is not the Lochlan Dane I know.
His hair is still long but trimmed and styled back so it’s not obscuring his face.
There’s a rogue curl falling down over his forehead that looks perfectly imperfect.
His beard is gone, but he’s not completely clean-shaven.
There’s enough stubble to leave a shadow, and you can see an indented white scar that curves along his chin and disappears underneath.
But, most surprising is a mustache that matches his features impeccably.
It’s trimmed precisely along his top lip, not too long on the sides or unfitting in any way.
I’ve never felt drawn to that style of facial hair, but I’ve never seen it look so right.
He has always been attractive, I’m not blind, but at this moment, I realize how attracted I am to him .
My heart thunders erratically as I cope with my spiraling thoughts…
I’m attracted to my boss.
His thick fingers struggle with the tiny buttons, and the veins in his forearms strain as I blink at him.
“I only own this shirt and one tie. I wore them to my grandfather’s funeral.” He holds up a gray and black striped tie that I didn’t notice he was holding.
My tongue is thick in my throat, and I can’t come up with thoughts to put into words.
Black hair, black shirt, dark denim wranglers, and cowboy boots.
He’s a tall, dark, and dangerous southern gentleman.
He’s still holding his tie, looking at me expectantly.
“Jo?”
“No tie.” I throw it over the banister and fix the top button on his shirt so it hangs open just enough to show a peak of his sun-tanned skin, but not the dark chest hair hiding just beneath.
The testosterone oozing off of him is authentic and natural to his environment.
He’s a man who has nothing to prove to anyone, but he’s doing what’s necessary to take care of this place that he calls home.
I’m already less nervous about how tonight will go because he’ll be with me.
“I like your haircut,” I finally admit, softly, buttoning the cuff at his wrist for him, and hiding away the ink of his tattoo just barely.
“Hayes insisted.”
“He works on cars and does haircuts?” I straighten his collar, making sure it’s creased just right, purposefully letting my fingers linger longer than necessary.
“He did my tattoos, too.” Plural.
He has more than one.
That means the lightning bolt is the only one I can see.
“He does everything, then?” I tease.
“He does everything because he’s good at everything.” He huffs in an annoyingly proud big brother way.
Not that I know what that’s like, but it makes me smile regardless.
“Are you nervous?” My hands smooth the imaginary wrinkles across his chest, giving me an excuse not to look him in the eyes .
“No,” he lies.
I can tell.
“Are you?”
“No,” I admit, truthfully.
“This is your world behind these gates, but my world is out there. I can play the game with the best of them,” I smile and look at him finally, but he’s staring at me fiercely.
My hands are motionless, resting on his chest.
“Let’s go.” I clap them against him playfully, pretending that my touch was only friendly.
And, not at all curious.