To Catch A Player (Second Chance)

by Piper Sullivan

  Instead of the relieved, understanding smile I expected, Reese’s brown eyes glared up at me and I looked back in confusion. At least, until I caught the stunned expressions of the judges. And the customers in line for the people’s choice awards. And the surprised look on Janey’s face. Finally, the smirk on Rafe’s.

  “Maybe we could talk about this some other time,” Reese said, angry and embarrassed. “Literally any other time than right this minute.”

  Oh, shit. “Right. Sorry. Carry on.”

  Reese

  Despite Jackson’s best efforts to embarrass me in front of the whole damn world, I felt good. Really damn good. Even though we’d just started the long journey back to Tulip, alone in a van with a broken radio. Nothing could dampen the good mood winning first place had created. Or taking home the first-place ribbon for most unique sauce. Or the second-place ribbon for overall crowd favorite. It was almost as if I was alone in my van.

  Almost.

  If being alone somehow sucked all the oxygen from the air and filled it with a distinctly masculine scent that was impossible to escape, even with the window halfway down. Other than that, I was all alone savoring the win I couldn’t wait to share with Aunt Bette. Maybe she’d be in a state where we could brainstorm ideas together. Maybe.

  Hopefully.

  “Are you finally ready to talk?”

  I had to stifle a groan and the deep, rumbly intrusion into my thoughts.

  Hell no, I wasn’t ready to talk, especially not about this. But I sucked in a deep breath and summoned all my calm as I blew it out and turned to face Jackson.

  “Oh, so now you care about whether I want to have such an intensely private conversation in front of a county’s worth of people? Unbelievable!” And of course, he chose to bring it up, once again, when I couldn’t escape. I’d managed to go a full year without anyone finding out and now, by the time we got back to Tulip, the whole town would know.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” The more words tumbled from his mouth, the more the speedometer fell, and I braced myself for a Conversation. “You were looking so nervous as the judges got closer and closer, nibbling your lip until I thought it might bleed, and I wanted to say something. Hell, I wanted to say anything to make you smile or laugh, so you’d stop worrying. I chose wrong,” he admitted, defeated. “What else can I say?”

  I looked at Jackson, really looked at him, because for the first time since I met him, I started to wonder if there were some important tidbits I might have missed. His hazel eyes were filled with concern, like he was genuinely worried that I might be mad. I mean, I was mad, but not mad mad. Just a little upset. But dammit, I couldn’t deny that his explanation was sweet as hell.

  “Yes, you chose wrong. Really, really wrong.”

  His broad shoulders fell at my words and I let that settle in, the fact that Jackson was disappointed that I agreed with him on this particular topic. “I know.”

  “But I am willing to concede that your intentions were good. Really good.” I couldn’t remember a time in my life when anyone other than Aunt Bette had cared that much about my comfort. Then I thought about it and realized it wasn’t true—Rafe did all the time, just by threatening to maim Jackson for me. Still, I was touched by the gesture, and more so by the intent.

  His shoulders relaxed and the slow, hesitant smile he tossed across the car hit me in the belly. And, yeah, lower too. “It’s true, my intentions were good, but my timing was shit.”

  “Total shit,” I agreed with a smile to soften the blow.

  “Yeah, thanks, Reese.”

  “No, Jackson, thank you. For apologizing. It means a lot.” And as far as I knew, an apology from a man was about as rare as a unicorn. “And you are forgiven. For blurting my business in front of about a thousand people.”

  He scoffed. “It couldn’t have been more than a few hundred. Tops.”

  “That doesn’t make this any better,” I told him with a glare.

  “But I am forgiven, right?”

  “For that, yes.” I couldn’t hold it against him when his goal had been to soothe me. “Not for everything.” Not for leaving in the middle of the night, no matter the reason.

  “Not for accepting the spot on the task force.” His voice had turned bland, almost cold but not quite. Detached was more accurate. “That’s my job, Reese. Always will be.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Spare me the dramatics, Jackson. I’m not upset that you went to go help people. Obviously. But you didn’t bother to tell me. To leave a note. A voicemail. Or what about when the assignment was over? You didn’t try to explain, not even once.”

  And I couldn’t forgive him for that, not ever.

  “I tried to talk to you when I came back to town and you gave me the cold shoulder every single time.” He let out a laugh that was half bitter and half amused, I guess. “Now I know why.”

  “But you didn’t try to explain or apologize. In fact, my guess is that you forgot altogether.” A fact that burned my skin bitterly and made acid churn in my gut. “It’s fine, Jackson. I accept your apology, all right?” Belated and half-hearted though it was.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “If that’s all I’m gonna get.”

  I folded my arms and focused my gaze on the scenery zipping by at a speed that could be ten or fifteen miles faster per hour. “At least I left you a note.”

  Jackson said nothing about that, focusing instead on passing a tractor that was on the road too late with such limited visibility. We rode in silence for a good long while and I let myself get lost of thoughts of taking home the next two cook-off competitions. The big prize would be the media springboard, and the financial help I needed to get started bottling and selling Reese’s Famous BBQ Sauce.

  That was where my attention belonged, on building up my business and making a secure and stable life for myself. Since my cousins all helped out with Aunt Bette’s care costs, it wasn’t the financial strain it could have been. Which meant, Jackson aside, I had nothing to complain about. So, I shouldn’t hang onto this. That was what Aunt Bette would tell me—Life is too short to hang on to hurt that can’t be lessened or demolished.

  I hadn’t known what that meant until just this moment. “I forgive you, Jackson. For all of it. No conditions. Full stop.”

  “Thanks, but why?”

  I sighed. “Because you don’t owe me anything. We had a good time. Every time. That’s all it was, and that’s all that was promised.”

  “Dammit, you stubborn woman, I’m trying to tell you right here and right now that I’m trying! I want to see you, more than naked and writhing underneath me, okay?”

  I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

  “I screwed up a year ago, I know that. You know that.”

  “Now everybody knows that,” I added with a grin.

  “Yeah,” he sighed and shook his head, slowing down as the van entered Tulip. Finally. “That.”

  “On the bright side, they also know you screwed up. Big time.” I laughed at the glare Jackson sent my way and it felt good, like a weight had been lifted.

  “The point is that I know I screwed up, and I’m a quick study. Chances are very slim I’ll make that mistake again.” The van came to a stop outside my restaurant and I looked outside, feeling disappointed the ride was suddenly over.

  “And other mistakes?”

  His lips quirked into a charming grin. “I’m handsome and charming Reese, not perfect.”

  Okay, that was fair. “Or modest.”

  He shrugged. “Modesty is overrated. If you’re good, you should know you’re good, dammit.”

  I laughed and got out of the van, rounding to unload it quickly. “At least you know your worth, Detective.”

  It took less than ten minutes to get everything unpacked and where it belonged, at least until tomorrow, so I shut off the lights and locked up, ready to turn in for the night.

  “I do,” he said, trapping me between his big body and the van. “I know that I’m a good man. Sometimes I’m grum
py as hell and I don’t always think before I speak, but I’m a good man. I won’t hurt you on purpose. And I deserve a shot. No, we deserve a shot.”

  Did we? What if I fell prey to the same habits as before, falling for an out-of-towner only to have him pack up and leave. It would be even more horrifying the third time around.

  Jackson brushed his lips against my earlobe. My collarbone. “Stop overthinking things, Reese.”

  “O-o-overthinking is my specialty.” My words were breathless, even to my own ears.

  “Well, stop it. Don’t think about anything other than the feel of my breath on your skin.”

  I closed my eyes and did exactly what he said, focusing on the warm gust of wind that brushed the microscopic hairs on my earlobe, the line of my jaw. It was sinful. It was delicious.

  “That’s it, Reese, just focus on my breath. The sound of my skin. The feel of my fingertips… right… here.” His fingers brushed the exposed skin at my midsection, back and forth, slowly, until my lids were as heavy as my breathing. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Jackson,” I whispered.

  “Yes, Reese?” Was his voice infused with honey right now, or was it some trick of the moonlight?

  “I don’t know.”

  His chuckle was a deep baritone that reverberated through me, causing a rush of goosebumps to cover my skin. “Give me a lift home?”

  I nodded and then blinked, and when the lusty fog cleared, I looked up into smug, smiling eyes. “Sure. I’ll give you a ride.” I pushed off the van and made a show of sliding away without touching him. “Let’s go!”

  I could do this. Whatever this was. I didn’t know but it felt right, so I decided to go with it and see where it went, instead of trying to force it.

  Might be a nice change.

  “Where’s your car?”

  He shrugged. “I walked over this morning, had to get rid of some nervous energy.”

  That was good to know. Really good. “Interesting.” The drive to his place was quick and I pulled in behind his Mustang with a grin. “Here we are.”

  “Yep,” he nodded and looked at me, heat and intensity in his eyes. “Here we are.”

  “Jackson?”

  His gaze met mine. “Yeah?”

  “Invite me in?” I flashed a smile and the heat intensified; I swear I could feel it all the way down to my toes.

  Jackson cleared his throat. “Reese, would you like to come in for a nightcap? Maybe a really hot make-out session?” The wicked grin he sent me promised a night of hot fun that I wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

  “I think I could be persuaded into a make-out session.”

  Playful Jackson was back, and he jumped from the car and ran around to open my door. “My specialty is persuading a very ornery chef to do wild and wicked things.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded and brushed his lips against mine as he helped me from the van. “Hell, yeah.” Grabbing me by the hand, he tugged me inside of his house. Then, inside of his bedroom, where Jackson kept me until early the next morning.

  But not too early.

  Jackson

  “Hey, Ma, how is everything?” I masked the frustration in my voice, because it wasn’t aimed at her. It was just bad timing.

  “Is everything all right? Did I get you at a bad time?” The quiet stammer in her voice, the uncertainty did piss me off, but it shouldn’t have. I should’ve been used to it.

  “No, Ma, your timing is perfect, actually. I just finished eating.”

  “At the restaurant run by the pretty little chef?” The smile in her voice was hard to ignore, no matter how hard I shook my head at her words.

  “Who do you mean?”

  “Oh, Jackie, you are still a terrible liar. Reese is her name, according to the Tulip Facebook page.” I grunted and she laughed again, a sound I welcomed even if it was at my expense. “I guess that means you don’t want to talk about it?”

  “It means I don’t really know what to say.” Things with Reese were complicated and confusing, two things I generally tried to avoid.

  “Just apologize. That always works.”

  I sighed and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. “It’s not something an apology will fix, Ma. It’s just… complicated.”

  “I understand complicated,” she said, sounding more exhausted than I’d ever heard her in my entire life. “But things are usually less complicated than we make them in our heads.”

  “All of us, or just me?”

  “All of us.” It was more of an admission than I’d expected to hear her make, at least while Steve was alive.

  “How have you been, Ma? How’s Steve?”

  “Better. He’s home now, which seems to have calmed him down. A lot. Some days, I’d even say he was subdued.” The surprise in her voice matched the look on my face.

  “Maybe the doctor finally got through to him.” Or it was more likely he was still too tired to rise to his full capacity for being an asshole.

  “I hope so. Things have been nice. Peaceful lately.”

  I knew what she was getting at, and I couldn’t commit to a visit with Steve, not when one unavoidable fight could send him back to the hospital. Or to the grave.

  “I don’t know, Ma. Maybe when Steve is all better, you can come see Tulip for yourself?” I was a terrible son. I knew it and accepted it, because once in a while, I tried to do better.

  Her long pause was all the answer I needed. Nothing had changed. She would always choose Steve. Always.

  “Never mind.” This was exactly why I didn’t want complicated, I had enough of it in my life.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to come, Jackson.”

  It was just that she refused to leave Steve’s side for even a few days. He was a grown man, yet he couldn’t be left alone for any length of time. “Listen, Ma, my lunch hour is over and I need to get back to work. I’m glad to hear Steve is doing better.”

  “You want to talk to him?”

  “No, Ma, I don’t.”

  She sighed, disappointed. “He had a heart attack, Jackie.”

  “And I’m sorry about that, for you.” It was too late to change things and her attempts only made things worse, but that wasn’t something a good son said to his mom. “Love you, Ma.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. “Love you, too. Be safe.”

  I hated disappointing my mother as much as any other son, but what she needed more than a visit from me was for Steve to get better. To stop being an added burden on her shoulders. So, I wouldn’t go for a visit. Not now.

  Not for a while, probably.

  With my lunch hour officially over, not that Tyson was a stickler for things like that, I went inside and got busy on the thing I avoided until I couldn’t avoid it any longer. Paperwork.

  There was paperwork for everything from the speeding ticket I’d had to give Eddy when I’d caught her going fifteen miles over the speed limit, and for the warning I’d written the farmer who couldn’t keep his cows off the highway. Every interaction, every citation issued—they all required paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork.

  You were more likely to die of boredom or papercuts than because of a suspect, but it was certainly better than nonstop violence that there seemed to be no cure for, just stop gap measures. That’s why I’d left, but it wasn’t why I stayed away.

  Steve was, but that wasn’t fair to Ma. Was it? It didn’t matter, because I couldn’t go now, anyway. There was too much to do around here, and this was where my life was.

  Not there.

  As soon as the day was over, I made my way over to the Black Thumb for a beer or two, maybe some shallow conversation with a few of the guys. Anything to distract me from thoughts of Ma and Steve. Thoughts of Reese. Complicated thoughts and emotions I wanted no part of. Not now.

  Not ever.

  “Let me get your finest brown ale, Buddy.”

  The old guy who owned the place snorted a laugh in my direction and shook his head.

  “Rough day
, Detective?”

  “I just got done with a phone call from my mother.”

  “Say no more. The brownest I can find, just for you. Coming right up.” With a half-smile, he shuffled off, ignoring the shouts of young women for fruity cocktails he wouldn’t make for them, anyway. Between his attitude and Nina’s, it was a miracle the place made any money.

  But it was the best bar in a small town with just three options—and the others didn’t have pool tables, trivia night, or the comfort of home the way Black Thumb did. “Thanks, Buddy.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go gettin’ all emotional about it.”

  I slid the money across the bar and raised my hands carefully. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” With a grunt, Buddy was gone and I was alone—left with nothing but my thoughts, which kept returning to Reese. She was the last person I wanted to think about, because there were no answers there. No clarity. Just more questions and feelings that confused me, and if they didn’t confuse me, they scared the hell out of me. I stood, hoping a game of pool or a round of darts would keep my mind focused on something more productive.

  Hell, anything other than that. Other than her.

  “Jackson. Just the man I wanted to see.”

  My shoulders fell in disappointment at the interruption, but at least it wasn’t a drunk tourist looking to get her rocks off with a local. “Janey. What can I do for you?”

  She pursed her lips to hide a smile. “I wanted to let you know that I have the perfect idea for your Hometown Heroes photoshoot, so don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I deadpanned and Janey kept right on talking.

  “I want to schedule it the day before the final cook-off. If Reese agrees, that is.” Janey mumbled that last part to herself, ignoring the frown I wore as she typed a note into her phone.