“I wouldn’t mind if he did,” he said as he unlocked his apartment door and Kate ran inside. “You tell him to knock on my door anytime with whatever he wants. I’ll always be happy to talk to him.”
While Dani wrapped her head around that, he leaned a shoulder against the open door. “I might know about playing ball, but I don’t recall the batting cages wearing my parents out, though. Are they really that expensive here in Bridgeport?”
“No, but it’s never just about the batting cages. Most of Jeremy’s friends are on the team, so he always wants to go with them.”
“That makes sense.”
“It does to me, too. But that also means it’s not just the cages that I have to pay for. It also means Jeremy needs money for Cokes and snacks. And since he’s fourteen …”
“He’s eating his fair share.”
“He is … and then some,” she said with a mock grimace. “Believe me, I’ve seen the cost of those cages skyrocket from ten to thirty dollars in a matter of minutes.”
He whistled low. “I see what you mean.” He smiled softly. “Sounds about how it is when I take Kate to the movies.”
Pleased he understood, she nodded. “Exactly. No matter how much you try to convince yourself or your child that it’s not necessary to eat at the theater, movies are never the same if you don’t get a soda and have a tub of popcorn perched on your lap.”
“I’m guilty of buying it all myself.”
She smiled at him, pleased that she wasn’t going to have to be embarrassed about her life on a constant budget. “Well, I better go on upstairs. I wanted to clean things up before Jeremy gets home. It’s a rare day that I’m home before him. He’s going to be surprised. And, hopefully, real pleased, too.”
“You know, if you ever want me to watch out for him when you’re not home, all you have to do is ask.”
“That’s kind of you, but he’s fourteen. He doesn’t need a babysitter.”
“Yeah. He’s fourteen. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but sometimes they don’t always make the best decisions.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said as Kate came back to the door.
“Daddy, you comin’ in?”
“Yep. Now tell Miss Dani goodbye.”
“Bye Miss Dani.”
Dani leaned down so she could look in Kate’s eyes. “I’ll see you later, alligator.”
“Crocodile!” Kate cried out before dissolving into giggles as her dad whisked her up in his arms and carried her inside.
The little girl’s laughter echoed up the stairwell as Dani climbed the last flight to her apartment.
Kate was a happy little girl. Jackson really was a good father and a good man. She was thankful that they’d become friends. There weren’t too many people in her life who she could be so honest with about the perils of single-parenthood or let her guard down about her financial problems. Even better, he never tried to have all the answers. He just simply let her vent.
As she let herself into the empty apartment, she decided to not only do a quick clean but make a batch of cookies, too. Jeremy loved oatmeal cookies, and Jackson and Kate liked anything sweet. She could bring them a couple dozen when she went downstairs to babysit later that night.
It was the least she could do for a friend.
CHAPTER 5
From Les Larke’s
You, Too, Can Host
a Poker Tourney:
If you want to go big, you might even want to offer cigars after the game has ended. If you don’t mind the smell, it adds to the feeling of a special night out.
Thursday
Jackson didn’t mean to keep dwelling on his conversation with Ace, but every couple of hours, his buddy’s comments would start to echo in his head again, reminding him that he had a lot to be proud of. Despite his worst fears, he wasn’t washed up yet.
That conversation melded in his head with the most recent talk he’d had with Dani. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d find himself thinking about the things she’d said, some of the words and phrases standing out more than others. All of it reminded him that there might still be more to him than being Beth’s husband the former crew leader of the Spartan Number Nine Mine.
Maybe there always had been.
Most days, Jackson’s doubts would get the best of him, and he’d start believing he’d been blowing smoke, thinking that he could be something more. But then, just when he was on the verge of sinking back into the depression he’d battled a year ago, something would happen that would give him a string of hope.
Part of him resented his weaknesses. He didn’t want to be the kind of man who dwelled on himself like there was nothing more important in the world. But he was starting to realize that, just like his former job, he didn’t always have as much control over himself as he wanted to believe.
No, there was a stronger person in charge and He was stronger than Jackson could ever hope to be. What Jackson needed to do was worry less about trying to control everything and fall down on his knees in prayer every night.
All of these things were stuck on repeat in Jackson’s head as he pulled bottles off the glass shelves and sprayed cleaner. Though Gen had looked at him like he had a screw loose the first time he had tackled those shelves, she’d said more than once that the Corner Bar seemed neater since she’d hired him on.
He had to think that was a good thing.
“Hey, Jackson, come help me with this door!” Gen called out around five that evening.
He strode over to the back-storage door and picked up the keg Gen was attempting to relocate. “Where do you want it, boss?”
“Let’s put it in the bar and hook it up. After I talked to the distributor last week he brought over a keg of his new favorite lager.” She grunted. “Of course, he didn’t give me any notice, he just showed up.”
“Sounds about right.” After he hooked it up and poured a sample, he handed it to her to taste.
She pushed it back his way. “No, I’ve already tried it. What do you think?”
He tasted it, tried to look like he had an opinion worth noting, and shrugged. “It tastes all right to me.”
She laughed. “You’re the worst. You really don’t care about beer, do you?”
“I like drinking it from time to time. And I like when other people want to drink it here and tip good when I serve it to them. That counts for something, don’t you think?”
“Always.”
Well at least he had that. When he turned around to rinse out the glass, Gen spoke again. “You might not be the most enthusiastic beer drinker on the payroll, but I’m starting to realize that doesn’t matter much anyway.”
There was something in her voice that gave him pause. “Wait. How come?”
“All these customers aren’t flocking in to the bar to listen to your opinions about beer. They’re here to eye those dimples of yours.”
He felt himself turn beet red. “Come on, Gen.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I’m serious! I watched what was going on the other night, and I promise you this: All the women coming in here sure aren’t buying drinks from you because you’re talking it up. They like looking at you. I even heard a couple of women who had to be in their fifties talking about how good you look in those Henleys you favor.”
Comments like that from her used to make him a little wary, on the off-chance that she was hinting that there could be something more between them than he wanted. But now he knew that was just her way. Gen was as blunt as a worn-down pencil.
“I’ll keep working out then. Glad these muscles are good for something useful.” Instead of, say, real work in the middle of a mine shaft.
“Don’t act so modest, buddy. I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of compliments about your looks before.”
Like any of that mattered to him. “Didn’t your momma ever tell you
that beauty was only skin-deep?”
Just as she was about to answer, Gen stilled and cursed under her breath. “I cannot even believe this.”
Concerned, Jackson turned to see what caught her attention. It was a guy who looked like he’d stepped right out of an old Marlboro Man ad, back when practically every other ad in every magazine was for cigarettes. “Something wrong, boss?” The man didn’t look like he was there to make trouble, but one never knew.
“Nothing’s wrong. I mean, nothing other than that guy over there is my freakin’ ex.”
Her voice sounded bitter. Maybe tinged with hurt. And that brought out all of his protective instincts. Staring at the guy, who was now looking at the two of them intently, Jackson felt his spine prickle. “He’s your ex-husband?”
“Oh, hell no. I wasn’t stupid enough to marry him.” Her voice lowered as a new vulnerability seeped into it. “But I thought we would one day. I mean, we were serious.”
There was a new note in her voice. Gen was usually direct and assertive. This wariness wasn’t like her, and it immediately made him think of the worst. Turning to face the newcomer more directly, he felt his muscles stiffen. “Did he hurt you? Do you want him gone?”
Gen blinked in surprise. “No.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, no, he never hurt me. He’s … he wasn’t like that. The two of us … Well, we just didn’t work out.”
“His name is Seth?”
“Yep,” she murmured as they watched Seth the Old Flame slowly approach, his lanky body clad in worn jeans, broken-in Ariats, and a starched, white button-down shirt.
Jackson might not have been all country, but he’d worn enough hats and boots to recognize that man’s outfit for what it was. The guy had gotten kitted out to come calling on Gen.
Guys didn’t break out the starched shirts without a good reason. This Seth character had come into the pub hoping to capture his old girlfriend’s attention.
Which he certainly had. Course, it was in all the worst ways. Together, they watched Seth study Gen like she was the only person in the room.
“Hey, Gen,” Seth said when he was a couple of feet away. “I was hoping to see you here.”
Jackson waited for Gen to give him crap for entering her place uninvited, but she only said quietly, “It would be a surprise if I wasn’t working, seeing as this is my bar.”
He was still staring at her intently. “You got a few minutes to talk?”
“I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other.”
Seth’s eyes flicked toward Jackson. “Is that right? You already got yourself somebody new?”
Already? Jackson inhaled. He sure as hell wasn’t his boss’ guy but he wasn’t opposed to pretending they had something going on if Gen needed him to. The guy definitely needed to take a step back.
But Gen shook her head. “Get your head out of your ass. Jackson is my newest employee.”
“He works for you?”
He definitely had enough of being talked about in front of his face. “Name’s Jackson Koch. I’m her bartender.” He held out a hand, wondering if the guy would take it or not.
“You’re a bartender? Huh. I’m Seth Parks.” After glancing at Gen again, he said, “I’m an old friend of Genevieve’s.”
Gen grunted. “You’re something, all right.”
Jackson figured he’d had enough of this reunion. Now that he was certain Gen wasn’t in danger, he had a real need to give them some privacy. “Boss, how about I go in the back and do inventory for a few?”
After a beat, his boss nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea. Thanks. I’ll be fine here.”
Jackson walked off, smiling to himself. By the looks of things, Gen and Seth might not have seen each other in a while but things between them definitely hadn’t cooled completely. There were enough sparks between them to light up the Fourth of July. Neither of them seemed to be able to take their eyes off the other one.
Beth would have eaten this up. She always had loved a good romance. Though that memory did pinch his heart a little, he realized that all he felt was a lingering sense of emptiness. No longer the harsh feeling of grief.
And for once, instead of feeling guilty, he said a little prayer of thanks. It was nice not to be hurting for a change.
CHAPTER 6
From Les Larke’s
You, Too, Can Host
a Poker Tourney:
If you aren’t sure how many people to invite, start with eight. There are usually eight spots on a standard poker table. This will make everyone feel like they’re at a “real” game.
Thursday
The moment Jackson closed the door leading to the storage room, everything between Gen and her old flame ratcheted up a couple of notches.
It seemed it didn’t matter that they hadn’t seen each other in almost two years, or that their last words to each other had been cruel. Or that she almost, almost never thought about him anymore.
From the moment their eyes met, she realized that whatever had been between them was still there. And it wasn’t even lying there limply like old celery in need of the trash. No, it was alive and kicking.
Just like one of those cockroaches that didn’t want to die.
While Seth continued to silently stare at her with his dark eyes, she did the same thing right back. Studying him. Looking for flaws. Then, after finding none, looking for everything she used to find so darn attractive.
Of which there was a lot.
She wasn’t exactly proud about that, but who could blame her? She might not have ever wanted to see the guy again, but she wasn’t blind.
Fact was, if those fifty-year-old women who’d been eyeing Jackson like he was a piece of Godiva chocolate were present, they would be practically panting at the sight of Seth. Shoot, they’d no doubt be staring at Seth Parks like he was the whole damn box of their favorite truffles.
Gen wouldn’t have blamed them, either. Seth Parks, with his painted-on jeans, pressed shirts, permanent tan, and perfect jaw was simply too handsome for his own good.
He was also too cocky and full of himself. And way, way too familiar.
Continuing on her awful food analogies, she kinda figured he was staring at her like she was his favorite dessert and he’d been on the cabbage soup diet for two years.
He exhaled. Stepped forward. “I gotta say it, Gen. You look great. Happy.”
The air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding released from her lungs. “Thanks. You look the same as I remember.” It was faint praise, bordering on surly. With another man, that wouldn’t have been much of a compliment. With Seth, though? Well, nothing more needed to be said.
True appreciation lit his eyes as he laughed. “Some things never change, huh? Once again, I’d have to be starving to get a little sugar out of you.”
That wasn’t true. Back when she’d been dating him in Lubbock, there’d been a time in their relationship when she’d lit up at the sight of him and hadn’t cared who noticed. She’d used to pretty-up when he was going to take her out, sometimes even going so far as to put on a dress and heels that killed her feet but drew his eyes to her legs like a fly to honey.
He would never disappoint, either. He would always say she looked beautiful, pull her close, and ruin her carefully painted-on lipstick. And she, instead of giving him grief about it, would simply laugh and slap some more on, warning him that she would one day make him start paying for those expensive tubes of lip color.
But that was before everything between them had soured.
Before they’d shared one too many words and she’d taken off to Bridgeport. Before she’d made a mental promise to never, ever see him again.
Speaking of which …
“Care to tell me why you’re here?” she asked at last. “The last time we talked, you told me that if I left, I’d be out of your life forever.
That you’d never step one foot out of Texas.”
One brown eyebrow arched. “You know you can’t take anything I said that night seriously. We weren’t talking as much as trading barbs.”
He was right. Their relationship hadn’t been calm, and it hadn’t always been easy. Toward the end, all they’d seemed to do was yell or fume. “Even though you yelled it, I still heard the words loud and clear. Even whispered, the message would’ve been the same.”
He nodded. “You’re probably right.”
No, she knew she was right. And because she found herself about to apologize, too, Gen hardened her heart and her voice. She needed to guard her heart, or it was going to get stomped on again. “You still haven’t told me why you are here.”
“Gen, can we settle down? You know I have a lot of regrets about the way I spoke to you.”
She did too. But before she opened herself to him all over again she wanted to know where they stood. “So that’s why you came up north to Ohio? So you could tell me that you regret the way we used to talk to each other. You could have written me a letter.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Like you would have opened up anything I mailed you.”
He was right. She would have thrown anything he sent her away. Probably. “Why are you here? Because you have regrets?”
He looked down at his feet. “Not exactly.”
Impatience and disappointment settled in her stomach. Souring it. She shouldn’t have even crossed the bar to talk to him. “I don’t have time for guessing games. I think you ought to head on out of here.”
“Settle down, Genevieve. I aim to tell you, but now ain’t the time. Not while you’re working.” He stepped closer, making her chin lift so she could peer into his eyes. “What about later tonight?”
She felt like rolling her eyes. He didn’t have a clue about her current life. “I’ll still be working, Seth. We won’t start shutting down the place until well after midnight.”
“You can’t let that beefcake bartender of yours hold down the fort for a few?”
Seth’s descriptor wasn’t exactly wrong. Jackson did have that calendar-guy look to him. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told him that his swoon-worthy looks were bringing in women by the droves.
Hold on Tight Page 4
