To Catch A Player (Second Chance)

by Piper Sullivan

  “Me too. Thanks.” He ran a nervous hand over the top of his head and let out a long breath. “Reese, I’m sor—”

  I walked away before the sentence was over, because I didn’t need his apology. I didn’t want it—and even if I did, work was not the place where I wanted to have an emotional breakdown.

  “Damn, that was ice cold,” Maven said, standing beside me with her gaze focused on Jackson. “I’m kind of proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” I snorted. “Enjoy the show. I’ve got work to do.” I spent as much time as I could in the kitchen, whipping things into some semblance of order before tomorrow rolled around. I needed to be organized and ready to go when the timer started if I stood a chance at finishing in the top three.

  Several trays of biscuits and a big pot of smoky caramel barbecue sauce later, I ventured into the restaurant to see if the chaos had left.

  They hadn’t. They milled around while Janey shot photo after photo of anything and everything, but somehow nothing at all. “We’re almost finished, I swear!” Janey looked up with a wide grin and a wink. “Promise.”

  “Good, because I still have work to do.” I returned to the kitchen and vowed to stay there until I felt the entire building was empty.

  “You planning to ignore me for another year?”

  Jackson. I should have known he wouldn’t go away so easily, now that his ego had been bruised. “Doesn’t seem like I need to ignore you at all, so no. I’m not.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  I turned to him then. “It means you do a pretty damn good job of ignoring me when you want to, so I don’t need to bother!” There was no way in hell I’d lose my cool now. I gathered everything I felt into a tiny ball and shoved it down, deep down, until my shoulders relaxed. “Look, I don’t have time for this so let’s not do it, okay?”

  “I’ll give you a hand.” It was the perfect olive branch, and it would have been so easy to take it. To accept what he was offering and pretend he hadn’t done it. Again. But I couldn’t.

  “No, thanks. I’ve got it.” I knew that wouldn’t go over well, but he’d made plenty sure I could get by without him.

  “This is part of the Hometown Heroes thing, Reese. I’m supposed to be helping you.”

  It was good to know that his loyalty was to Janey and the town, not to me.

  A girl always needed to know where she stood.

  “I know that, but when you didn’t come back—when you didn’t say if you were coming back—I figured out how to get it all done without any help.” Something I realized I needed to get used to, since I could no longer pretend there was a chance of Aunt Bette getting any better. “I don’t need any help.”

  “I’m sorry, Reese, but I really can explain.”

  I held up a hand to stop an explanation I didn’t want or need. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain a thing, Jackson. It’s on me, actually, for misreading things between us.” There was no use pointing out that he’d given me those words to misread, because it would just prolong whatever this was.

  “You didn’t,” he insisted, but we both knew the truth. “You didn’t misread things.”

  “You can hang around the tent tomorrow if you need to for photos and to fulfill your Hometown Heroes agreement or whatever. I’m sure Janey won’t mind.”

  And that was all that mattered here anymore, so I turned away from Jackson and kept myself busy in the kitchen, pretending I was by myself until I was sure I was completely and totally alone.

  Something else I had the rest of my life to get used to.

  Jackson

  I shouldn’t have been surprised when I showed up at the restaurant early the morning of the final cook-off to find that Reese had already left. Without me. She was hurt, and more than that, she was pissed off—and it was all aimed at yours truly. But I had to give her credit, nobody did mad the way Reese did.

  She made it as sexy as it was infuriating.

  I’d spent an hour standing in the kitchen last night, staring at her, silently pleading with her to turn around and look at me. To talk to me. Hell, to yell at me. To say anything at all to let me know there was a reason to keep hoping. To keep fighting. But she was stubborn and had outlasted me by a mile, so I’d left and vowed to come back in the morning.

  Ready to fight.

  She got me again on that front, but I knew where she was and I happened to have it on good authority that she would be there all day. I retraced my steps back home to get my car and managed to arrive at the fairgrounds early enough to find a parking spot that wouldn’t leave me stranded all day if things went south.

  I’d walked about a hundred feet when I spotted Rafe. “Need some help?”

  “Hell yeah. The organizers are real sticklers, wouldn’t let us unload near the tent. Assholes,” he grumbled as sweat streaked down his forehead. “Grab some stuff and let’s get going. Reese’s tent is at the ass-end of Egypt.”

  I laughed at Rafe’s sour mood. It was nice to know the guy wasn’t completely perfect. “How’s it going?”

  He looked at me, immediately understanding my question. “She’s calmer than I would be, but she’s not calm. She’s distracted. Quiet.” He was fishing.

  “She’s mad.”

  “Is she right?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “The worst part is, it’s a mistake I’ve already made—which means no matter what Ma and Steve said, she’s probably done with me for good.”

  Rafe stopped and stared at me. “Who?”

  “My ma and her husband Steve.”

  “So, your stepfather?”

  “Sure, I guess,” I shrugged. “Anyway, I know it’s hopeless, but I figured she could use my help even if she doesn’t want it.” And if she won and was in a listening mood, the better for my efforts and goals.

  “I didn’t even know you had parents.” He laughed and started to walk again, shaking his head. “She might still be pissed, but Reese will appreciate the effort.”

  I hoped he was right. “Yeah, well, I’m here whether she wants me here or not.”

  He snorted and turned down the second-to-last aisle. “Just don’t tell her that. And if you do, make sure I have popcorn and orange soda to enjoy the show.”

  “Thanks, man, your concern is overwhelming.”

  “I’m plenty concerned,” he said casually. “I’m just trying to figure out how you could possibly screw up so badly after I’d already convinced her you had real feelings for her.”

  “Wait, you talked to her about me?”

  “I had to. You were looking all sad and in love. It was disgusting, and I was hoping she would laugh at you with me. She didn’t.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, like those words hadn’t just re-sparked my hope, and he ducked into the tent with a mischievous smile. “Hey, look who I picked up on the way here.”

  Reese looked up, first at Rafe and then, finally, at me. “Thanks. Just sit everything down where it is and I’ll do the rest.” Her words were icy and robotic, like she wasn’t even in her body, and I hated it. I fucking hated it more than I could say, and I couldn’t say a damn thing because this was my fault.

  Rafe whistled and backed out of the tent. “Rough crowd. Think I’ll go check out some place a bit more welcoming. Good luck.” He took off like some woman had just told him she loved him. It would’ve been funny if the look on Reese’s face wasn’t blacker than a Texas midnight.

  When it became clear she was content to continue ignoring me, I got down to work, organizing things the way I knew she preferred. It was one of the things I was most grateful for, that this strange twist of fate had put us together like this and had given us so much time to get to know each other. So much time to fall.

  I started with the aromatics she would use at some point for her sauce, separating them into dry and fresh and putting them into little ramekins for easy use. Then I did the same with all the prep vegetables, including onions, garlic, ginger, and various types of peppers. Reese would take care of the
meat and those seasonings on her own, according to the competition rules.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly as she reached for several ramekins.

  “My pleasure.”

  We worked together easily, even if the silence between us was tense. Unyielding. Eventually, the tent smelled as amazing as ever, filled with the scent of garlic and brown sugar and tomatoes. My mouth watered and when Reese flashed that sexy little satisfied smile, I knew I wasn’t ready to give up.

  “Can you taste this, please?”

  I knew how much it cost her to ask that, so I nodded and turned, saying very little.

  “Sure.” It was tangy and spicy and sweet. “Spicy,” was all I could manage at first. “Really spicy, but so damn good I don’t even care. What’s in it?”

  That one question sparked a grin to life and it reached those beautiful brown eyes. “Everything. Let’s hope the judges love it as much as you do.”

  “If they have working taste buds, they will.”

  It was just the confidence boost she needed, based on the grateful smile she sent my way. “Thank you, Jackson. For staying. And helping.”

  “We’re a team. Sometimes, I’m a shitty teammate, but we’re still a team. And I’m sorry.”

  She held up a hand to dismiss my words and before a syllable left her mouth, disappointment set in. Reese wouldn’t be forgiving me anytime soon, if ever.

  “I can’t do this. Not now.” She pointed to the three judges at the tent across the muddy walkway and sighed. “Not now.”

  Not now wasn’t not ever, so I took it as a good sign and stayed by her side until later came. If she wouldn’t accept my help, she’d have my support. All day long.

  Reese

  Driving home alone after a victory was nowhere near as satisfying as it was with company—a thought that instantly made me think of Jackson. The jerk who’d showed up and helped me all day, even though I hadn’t asked him to, even though I hadn’t wanted him to, and even though I hadn’t made it easy on him. He’d stayed. And helped.

  He made the whole day easier and far less stressful than it otherwise would have been. “Jackson,” I sighed and pulled out of the parking lot, which was thankfully emptying out at a pretty steady clip. If things kept up like this, I might make it home before midnight to enjoy a celebratory cocktail and more pork ribs than any one person should eat in a sitting.

  I planned to do both. Netflix and chill all on my own, all night tonight and probably into tomorrow, as well. Maven had the restaurant under control, so I could sleep in and show up later in the day, refreshed and ready to put the cook-off behind me.

  The drive was so long, I couldn’t help but wish for things I shouldn’t—things like Aunt Bette being at my side. Holding up the first-place ribbons for best pork ribs and best BBQ sauce with a proud smile and telling everyone who would listen that I was hers. But that was a useless wish, because it couldn’t happen. Not ever. I’d gotten Janey to snap a photo and promise to print it out, but it was pointless—it would mean no more to Aunt Bette than if a stranger had given it to her. Because, as far as she was concerned, a stranger had.

  “No more sad thoughts.” I cranked up the music, picking up some old country station with a man with a deep baritone and impressive fingers, strumming a ballad about lost love. The song was sad but it was also beautiful and I listened to each and every word, absorbed the lyrics into my soul until the sadness was infused like a perfect sauce.

  I understood the song well: falling for someone who was totally wrong for you and hoping for the best. It was the story of my life. I’d done it with Chad and Ricky, and now I’d done it with Jackson. If the universe had a heart, Jackson would roll out of town in the next few weeks.

  Thankfully, the country station played enough sad songs to get me back to the restaurant, where I quickly unpacked everything and put each item where it belonged before I rushed out and headed home.

  Aunt Bette’s home was mine now, she’d signed it over to me when we’d updated her living will and power of attorney, but today, it felt like mine. It felt like the life I lived here had happened to someone else a lifetime ago. It felt like it was someone else’s life. Someone else’s story.

  But it wasn’t someone else’s story. It was mine. Reese St. James, chef and permanent orphan, destined to be alone forever. I couldn’t run from the story, and I no longer wanted to. That was progress, I supposed.

  A hot shower fixed me up pretty good, washing off the smoky grill scent that wouldn’t go away completely for a few days at least. It wasn’t perfect, but the shower was the first step in soothing the aches that pained me on the outside and the inside.

  I used the last of the body butter Aunt Bette had bought a couple Christmases ago. The stuff was thick and luxurious, expensive, so I’d used it sparingly—and now, it was all gone.

  “Dramatic, much?” It was ridiculous. It was a small fling, and here I was acting like the greatest love story ever told when it never was. I had been silly enough to fall for a playboy. Again.

  A sound came from downstairs, startling me, and I let out an annoyed groan. “Not tonight, bad guy,” I mumbled and made my way down to the kitchen, hoping to take out my anger on some unsuspecting burglar. Or worse. “I’m armed, and definitely in the mood to use it,” I called out, hoping there was steel in my voice rather than cotton candy.

  The noises stopped, right along with my heart. “Yeah? What kind of weapon is it?”

  “Jackson? It’s a machete. What are you doing inside my house?” I stepped inside the kitchen and froze.

  “I was trying to go big, as they say. Too big?” Damn, he was cute when he was all sheepish and unsure of himself.

  And I was really, really easy.

  Apparently. “It’s… nice.” The kitchen counters were filled with flowers, tulips and daisies and roses and orchids. A vibrant rainbow of colors that tugged the corners of my mouth up into a smile. A bottle of Maker’s Mark sat inside an iceless ice bucket, and a romantic place setting covered the kitchen table. Between the nice plates and fancy champagne flutes was a pizza box, with two smaller boxes on top.

  “Well? What is all this?”

  “This—” He glanced around the kitchen with a smile. “This is the beginning of an apology. A much-needed one that you do deserve, dammit.”

  I shook my head, unsure what else to say about a moment that was quickly spiraling out of control. “Jackson, seriously.”

  “No, dammit, it’s your turn to listen.”

  My mouth snapped shut at the authority in his voice and I felt my body respond immediately. The traitor. “I’m listening,” I told him, and made a big display of walking around the kitchen table so my back was against the wall as I listened.

  “I was wrong a year ago for not reaching out to you and telling you what was going on with me. It was childish and stupid and, honestly, I really believed I learned my lesson.”

  A snort of disbelief escaped at those words. “Impossible.”

  “It’s true,” he insisted and took a step forward, stopping short when I raised a hand to keep some distance between us.

  “You brought Jarrod to Tulip and still decided to ignore me. To say, screw Reese, she’ll understand. She doesn’t matter.”

  “You do matter!”

  I smiled. “I don’t, Jackson. I don’t matter to you, and you know what? That’s all right.”

  “The hell it is,” he growled and stepped forward until only my kitchen table was between us. “You matter to me a lot. A hell of a lot, actually, and that’s why I, apparently, didn’t learn the lesson good enough.”

  “You’re not making any sense, and it’s been a long day. Really, a long few weeks, so…” I stood, hoping to get my point across, and when Jackson didn’t budge, I did. Heading toward the front door. The exit.

  Toward goodbye forever.

  “I went to check on Ma and Steve.” He let the words sink in until my feet stopped moving before he went on. “He’s still ornery and a terrible patient
, but he made me see things in a different light.” A bitter laugh escaped. “Turns out he’s a better boyfriend than me.”

  My brows arched. “Boyfriend?”

  “Wishful thinking?” He asked, and I shrugged playfully. But my mind wasn’t fully made up yet, no matter what my heart thought. “Ma and Steve’s relationship messed me up worse than I realized, and in Mexico I knew I wouldn’t be any good to you unless I could let it go.”

  “You went there… for me?”

  “That’s what I’m saying, Reese.” Jackson’s deep voice was a mixture of exasperation and affection, and the look in his eyes caused butterflies to take flight in my belly. “I care about you. A lot. I’m pretty sure this nauseous feeling in my belly is love.”

  I snorted and shook my head even as the butterflies moved north, fluttering like crazy in my chest and my throat. “That’s how you tell me? That being in love with me makes you sick to your stomach?”

  “That’s not… no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying I love you, Reese. I’m in love with you, full stop. End of sentence. End of sentiment.”

  Jackson Slater was in love with me. How could that be true? It just didn’t seem like something that was true, that could even be true. “Are you sure this isn’t guilt? Or desire?”

  “I’m sure. I feel like an asshole for making you worry and think the worst. I always want you, Reese. Every damn second of every damn day, I think about feeling your bare skin against mine. About seeing you smile up at me and wrap your legs around me as ecstasy pours through your body. That’s a constant feeling, just like the love I have for you. Here.”

  “Jackson.” His words were sweet and kind, exactly the kind of words a girl like me longed to hear all her life. “Don’t say it if you’re not sure.”

  He growled and braced his forearms on the kitchen table. “I’m sure as shit, Reese. I love you. Want me to take out an ad in the Gazette? Better yet, I’ll tell the whole world.” He pulled out his phone and I watched in morbid fascination as his thumbs flew over the on screen keyboard. “There you go.”