Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Tully couldn’t believe her eyes.
The man had to be an illusion.
And it wasn’t like images of Jaxon Hennessy hadn’t popped into her head a lot in the last week. Standing in the back doorway of Honky Tonk Heaven . . . staring down at her as his muscled body flattened her against the ground . . . cradling her face in his hand in Birdie’s kitchen.
But not one of those images had been of him stretched out on a window seat with a tatted arm crooked over his head and a book resting open on his broad chest. She had never seen his face so relaxed . . . or his hair so mussed from the fingers that absently ran through it as he read.
Seeing Jaxon like this was like seeing behind the curtain of the Most Powerful Oz. She’d always thought Jaxon was a dark-haired wizard who could terrorize or enchant as he so pleased. He certainly wasn’t just a man . . . a man who relaxed in the window seat of a quaint bookshop and read.
But when a cacophony of clock dongs, chirps, and chimes went off and those gold eyes shifted to her, pinning her with their intensity, she knew he was no illusion.
He was real.
Her world tipped and, once again, she felt like she was on the deck of a ship being rocked to and fro. All she wanted was to flee and return to solid ground. But it was too late for that. She couldn’t run without letting him know exactly how unbalanced he made her feel.
Although he already seemed to know.
Once the clocks had quieted, he spoke. “Is there a reason you’re standing there looking like a trapped rabbit . . . Officer Gentry?”
His sarcastic words stabilized her tilting world.
“I don’t feel trapped.” She glanced at the book resting on his chest. “Just surprised. You can read?”
His gaze swept over her faded Alan Jackson T-shirt, cut-off jean shorts, and flip-flops before returning to her face. “I can do a lot of things. Want me to show you a few more?”
The obvious sexual undertone of his words sent her body on a roller coaster ride that started with a lightness in her chest and ended with a heavy tingling between her legs. If the slight lifting of one corner of his mouth was any indication, he seemed to know that too.
“What are you still doing in town, Jaxon?” she asked.
He closed the book and placed it in the windowsill before sitting up.
His long, dark hair fell around his face.
When he was a kid, it had always been messy and unkempt.
There was nothing messy and unkempt about it now.
Whoever had styled it knew what they were doing.
It fell to his shoulders in silky layers that caught the light coming in through the window like rippling midnight waves.
The townsfolk had often compared his brother’s looks to an archangel’s.
But if Dawson looked like an archangel, with his golden hair and perfect features, then Jaxon looked like a fallen one with his hard, rugged features and ebony hair.
Yet, there was something compelling about the raw masculine strength in the harsh angles of his square jaw, Roman nose, and sharp cheekbones.
He lifted his hands and smoothed back his hair, agilely removing the black hair band from his wrist and twisting it around the gathered ponytail.
The pale undersides of his biceps flexed on either side of his head while his strong, capable fingers manipulated the skinny elastic band.
Once he was finished, he lowered his arms and she couldn’t help studying his tattoos.
One was of a skull in a hard hat with oil pumps on both sides and wrenches crisscrossing beneath.
The others were of the Texas Flag, a half-full whiskey glass, a shamrock entwined by a rose, and a church steeple that looked extremely familiar.
“Is that Honky Tonk Heaven’s steeple?”
He glanced down at his arm, and then completely ignored the question and answered her first one. “I’m surprised you don’t already know why I’m still in town. The rumor mill must be slower than I remember. I’m here because I’m reopening Honky Tonk Heaven.”
Her heart almost jumped out of her chest. She couldn’t believe she’d heard correctly. “You’re reopening Honky Tonk Heaven? The Honky Tonk Heaven?”
“That would be the one,” he said dryly.
She couldn’t help it. Excitement bubbled up inside her and spilled out of her mouth.
“You’ll keep the steeple, right? I mean if you have a tattoo of it, you must love it as much as everyone else does.
And it just wouldn’t be Honky Tonk Heaven without the steeple.
And you’re going to rebuild the dance floor, of course.
There has to be a big ol’ dance floor and it’s got to be solid oak.
More townsfolk than I can count have told me what a pleasure it was to glide across that floor.
Melissa Tate said she’d never felt so graceful in her life.
Tamara Sanchez claims it was like figure skating on smooth ice. ”
Tully sighed just thinking about it. “And every young girl needs to feel graceful at least once in her life. And what about the bar? Is it going to be mahogany and run the entire length of the building? With a long mirror framed in horseshoes and barstools covered with real cowhide? And what about the stage? You have to rebuild the stage and have live bands. Where would country music legends sing when they drop by if we don’t have a stage for them to perform on?
And a side door for them to sneak out of when the crowds get too wild.
” She laughed. “I don’t know how many times I’ve heard the story of Roy Clark playing a guitar solo and sending folks out of their minds. ”
Speaking of someone losing their mind.
Tully’s mind was so busy whirling with images of legendary country singers sneaking out side doors, grizzly old cowboys bellying up to a long high-polished bar, and two-steppers gliding across an oak floor like Olympic figure skaters that she didn’t realize she was running off at the mouth.
Or that Jaxon was staring at her as if she’d grown horns as long as the Texas Longhorn’s mascot, Bevo.
Her face flamed with embarrassment. “Sorry. I guess I’m just excited to hear the bar will be reopening.”
Jaxon squinted. “I’d call that a little more than excited.”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, well, I’m sure the entire town will feel the same way.”
The look on his face didn’t say the information made him happy. In fact, he looked downright grumpy as he grabbed the book from the windowsill and rolled to his feet.
“I’m sure everyone in town will be thrilled to hear about their beloved bar reopening.
” He grabbed the cowboy hat hooked over a cuckoo clock hanging on the wall and tugged it on.
“But I’m not sure why you are. You were too young to get through the door before it burned down .
. . unless sweet little Tully snuck in with a fake ID. ”
“I didn’t sneak in with a fake ID.”
“Of course, you didn’t.” He moved closer, his gaze steely and intense.
She had the strong urge to step back, but held her ground.
Even though it wasn’t easy. Not when he stopped with the toes of his boots inches from the edge of her flip-flops, forcing her to tip back her head to keep eye contact.
A silky strand of hair had come loose from the ponytail and gotten caught in the dark stubble that covered his jaw.
She had to clench her hand to keep from smoothing it back.
“Always the rule follower, aren’t you, Little Tully? Which makes one wonder . . . why is such a good girl so intrigued by a bar . . . and by me?”
Her stomach felt like it had moved up to her throat. She struggled to get words out. “I’m—not infatuated with you.”
“No? Are you sure about that? Because you seem awfully rosy and fidgety . . . exactly like when you were a kid and couldn’t seem to take your eyes off the town bad boy. And I have a theory on why. You want to hear it?”
He didn’t wait for her reply. “Good girls are infatuated with bad boys because deep down in their goody-two-shoes hearts they want to break the rules. They just don’t want to take the blame for it.
” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “They know whatever naughty things they do with a bad boy, they can blame totally on him. ‘That bad boy forced me to go to a bar . . . to drink . . . to take off my panties.’” His breath fell hot against her lips as he leaned closer.
“But here’s the thing, Tallulah Gentry. I’m sick and tired of taking the blame.
So stay away from me, Good Girl, and this bad boy will do the same. ”
But he didn’t stay away. He didn’t move an inch away. He just stood there with his gaze lowered to her mouth and his hot, heavy breath brushing her lips.
For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.
Which made no sense at all.
Bad boys were not interested in rule-following good girls. And rule-following good girls weren’t interested in them.
And yet, she didn’t move either.
She just waited.
And hoped.
“Oh!”
Magnolia’s surprised voice had Tully startling and dropping her book and Jaxon taking a step back. His molten gaze held hers for only a second before he turned to Magnolia.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I was just coming to see if y’all needed help finding anything.” She glanced at Tully and smiled knowingly. “But it looks like you found what you wanted.”
“I don’t know about Tully, but I did.” Jaxon held up the book. “I’ll take this one.”
The book reminded Tully of the book she’d dropped. She glanced at the floor, relieved the cover was face down.
Magnolia nodded. “You want me to ring you up or do you want to do it yourself?”
Tully didn’t know who was more surprised by the question.
She or Jaxon. Everyone in town was allowed to check themselves out .
. . everyone but the Hennessys. They were the only people in town who hadn’t been trusted to open the cash register.
As a kid, Tully had thought it grossly unfair.
Even after the Nutty Buddy incident, her Time To Read cash register privileges hadn’t been revoked.
But stealing an ice cream treat as a kid was different than stealing a couple thousand dollars as an adult .
. . even if the money had been returned.
After her daddy had arrested Jaxon, the money had been found in a bag outside the back door of the gas station.
Her daddy believed one of his siblings had returned the money in hopes the charges against their brother would be dropped.
That wasn’t why the charges were dropped.
They’d been dropped because her daddy hadn’t had enough evidence to hold Jaxon.
But if her daddy believed Jaxon was guilty. He was guilty. As a sheriff’s deputy whose job it was to protect the community, she should speak up and warn Magnolia about giving a fox the key to a henhouse. But she just stood there with her face burning and her lips sealed tight.
Maybe because those brown-butter eyes were staring at her, daring the rule follower to rat him out. Daring her to be the good girl who placed all the blame on the bad boy.
Finally, after a long tense moment, Jaxon spoke. “Why don’t you ring me up, Maggie?” His gaze remained on Tully. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of anything.”
Magnolia sent a confused look between them before taking the book from him. “I’d be happy to.” She turned and headed for the staircase.
Tully expected Jaxon to follow. Instead, he bent down and picked up the book at her feet. She quickly snatched it out of his hands and clutched it to her chest. But if the knowing smirk on Jaxon’s face was any indication, she hadn’t jerked it away fast enough.
“Enjoy your book, Officer Gentry.” He turned and followed Magnolia.
Once he was gone, Tully lowered the book and looked at the cover.
A heavily muscled, half-naked, tattooed guy stared back from beneath the title.
Sweaty Nights with a Bad Boy.