by Lisa Carter
He grinned. “Always do.”
“Fine.” She sniffed. “Be sure to invite the rest of your tribe.”
He rested his shoulder against the porch column. Just ’cause he could—and was rewarded when she scowled at him. Anything was better than her studied indifference of the last month. “You mean my crew?”
“Whatever, Pruitt.” She held out her hand to his son. “We only stopped by because Brody wanted to say hello. I told your mom I’d watch him until her hair appointment was finished.”
“I look forward to tonight then, Darce.”
“That would make one of us, Jax.”
But he could tell by the twitching of her lips she didn’t mean it. Darcy, more than anyone else on the planet, was always up for stargazing in the tree house.
And as she walked away with his son, he decided he’d make sure everyone in his family had something else to do tonight.
Leaving him and their toddler-sized chaperone alone in the tree house, to enjoy the meteors with Darcy.
His heart skipped a beat.
* * *
Jax kept a tight grip on his son as Brody hurtled past the lower platform to the top of the tree house.
“Dawcy! Dawcy?”
“Not so loud, Brody,” he hissed, as the boy stomped up the stairs. “Grandma and Grandpa are sleeping. Miss Agnes and Reverend Harold, too.” Not to mention the entire population of seaside Kiptohanock.
Darcy leaned over the railing and waved. “Hey, Brody, honey. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Was she as glad to see Jax as he was to see her?
Brody, as usual, went for her knees. Bracing for impact, she leaned to hug his son. “I see you dressed for the occasion.”
She gently tickled Brody’s pajama-clad belly. “I love those gummy bear jammies. Yum. Yum.” She grinned at him. “You are such a yummy, gummy jelly bear.”
Clasping hands, they did a funny dance, their arms linked.
A dance known only to them. A dance they’d obviously done before. Every time Jax saw Darcy with his son, his heart swelled. And he got crazy ideas about how she’d look carrying his child in her belly one day.
He sucked in a breath. Where had that—?
What was happening here? What was going on with him? Whatever it was, Jax couldn’t let it happen.
He glanced around the tree house. This had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have invited himself over. He should’ve never brought Darcy into their lives. He shouldn’t have returned to Kiptohanock. What have I done? His heart beat at a furious clip.
Jax would’ve turned and marched down the stairs—if he could have peeled his son off Darcy. No chance of that. Chest aching, he tried breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He’d look a right fool if he hyperventilated and keeled over in front of her. He clutched the railing.
Why was he always such an idiot when it came to Darcy? He wasn’t about to admit to anything other than an intense attraction. He shut his eyes and tried counting to ten. But these feelings—whatever they were—were going to be the death of him.
She was going to be the death of him. Somehow, somewhere inside, he’d always known that. Since the long-ago day his mother had sent him to invite Darcy over for freezer pops.
Jax was going to die. He realized it now. A painful, slow, agonizing death, if he didn’t get out of here right this—
“Did you climb the steps too fast, Jax?”
His eyes opened.
“Used not to bother you.” She smirked. “You must be getting old.”
Jax was old. An old, washed-up man who loved— No. Absolutely not.
He reached for his son, but instead, her fingers interlocked with his. Something zinged from her fingertips, up his arm and into his chest. A jolt of electricity. He broke out into a sweat.
This must be what it felt like to go into cardiac arrest. He needed to calm down and catch his breath. Breathe in the breath of God... Breathe out the breath of life. He could still make it to the truck if he—
She tugged him toward one of the red lawn chairs she kept stashed there. “I brought treats for while we wait.”
He fell into a chair. She was a treat in her hip-hugging, cuffed jeans. He sighed. I’m not making it out of here alive, am I, God?
Easing into the adjacent chair, she smiled at him. Not feeling constrained, Brody plopped himself into her lap. And she proceeded to hand-feed his Cubby Bear of a boy cheese puffs.
“Don’t tell Grandma Gail,” she whispered. “But I figure it’s a special occasion, and a little junk food never hurt anyone, right?”
“Right,” Jax whispered back in a hoarse, conspiratorial voice.
A tendril of strawberry blonde hair fell over Darcy’s face as she bent over his son.
Jax curled his twitching fingers around the underside of the armrests for safekeeping.
This was why he hadn’t had the courage to come to the tree house the day he reported for Basic. Because if he had... If he had...
He wrenched his gaze from the delicate curve of her cheek to the circle of night sky in the tree canopy overhead. A luminous streak of neon green flashed through the black velvet of the night.
“Look, Brody.” She pointed.
Brody’s eyes grew round as sand dollars. Jax, however, couldn’t take his eyes off the woman holding his son. As the heavens rained glory, somehow it felt to Jax as if it was for their wonderment alone.
On this night. In this tree house. With Darcy Parks, tomboy next door. His sister’s BFF. The sword-clashing PK extraordinaire, who’d managed to bring his hurting son out of his shell and bridge the gap to his father.
A woman who made Jax forget who he was, what he’d been and what he’d done. Making him long for a thousand nights like this. Yearning to be the man Darcy deserved. Failing and yet...
He turned toward the shooting stars burning through the darkness overhead. A comfortable silence fell as they waited through a lull for another celestial light show.
A sea breeze ruffled the leaves on the branches around them.
“I can give you my shirt if you’re cold, Darce.”
She laughed, low in her throat. “I’ve got your son to keep me warm, Jax.”
He glanced over, to find Brody’s arms entwined around her shoulders. His head was tucked into the sweet curve of her neck, his eyes closed shut. His gentle breaths rose and fell.
The ache in Jax’s gut intensified.
“I could watch Brody sleep all night.” A strand of hair fell over her eyes.
And Jax could no more fight the what-ifs, the what-should’ve-beens, the what-could-bes than he could stop himself from taking his next breath.
Coming out of the chair, he crouched beside Darcy. Her eyes widened. And giving in to an urge he’d felt surely since the dawn of time, he touched a tendril of her hair.
Wrapped his finger in its silken softness. Held it to his lips, inhaling the tantalizing scent of citrus. Coconut and papaya. Darcy...
“Jax?”
“This,” he whispered. “This is why I didn’t come that morning. Heading off to war, this is what I wanted most to do and yet I couldn’t tell you, Darcy...” He heaved a breath.
Darcy lifted her hand, hesitated, then placed it against his cheek. He leaned closer. Her eyes became luminous.
At last. Finally. He—
Sitting up suddenly in Darcy’s lap, Brody broke them apart. “Me sweepy, Daddy. Go home.” He rubbed his eyes with his fists.
Darcy sagged in the chair. Jax slumped. Her eyes filled—with relief or regret?
He stood, not sure he could trust his legs, and took hold of his son. “We’re having a sleepover at Grandma’s tonight, remember, Brode?”
Cradling his son against his chest, he turned at the top of the steps. “We’re not done here, Darcy.”
&n
bsp; “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.”
She crossed her arms.
“You and I have unfinished business.”
“Do we?” She lifted her chin. “Before I leave, you mean?”
Yes, they did. Neither one of them could go on this way. He knew he surely couldn’t.
“I’ll see you here in the morning, Darce.”
She scowled at him. “What makes you think I’ll be here, Jaxon Pruitt?”
“Because I know you, Darcy Parks, and that’s where you are every morning.” He looked at her. “And this time, this is a promise I aim to keep.”
Chapter Fourteen
Early the next morning, Darcy sat alone once more in the top of the tree house, her upturned face soaking in the dappled sunshine. Talking to God.
It had been painful staying away from Jax over the last month. Going out of her way to avoid him. Seeing the conflict, hurt and confusion in his eyes.
Her stomach went topsy-turvy, remembering Jax with Brody during last night’s meteor shower. Was there anything sweeter than a strong man holding a child in his arms?
She was jarred from her musing—okay, her mooning—by a heavy tread on the steps. He’d kept his word.
He was here. Was he finally starting to feel for her what she felt for him? Getting out of her chair, Darcy felt delicious anticipation curl in her belly.
“Long time no see, soldier.”
He stopped on the landing. “Permission to come aboard?”
She smirked. “At your peril, Jax.”
After a lonely July, their banter felt good. Comforting. Like slipping into a pair of well-worn and well-loved jeans.
Feet planted at hip’s width, he smiled at her in that half-lidded, ridiculously stomach-quivering way of his. She took a step back, hand to her throat.
His smile slipped, but his dark eyes smoldered. “I’ve been thinking about where we went wrong.”
She bit her lip. “There’s never been a ‘we,’ Jax.”
“Maybe that was our mistake. Maybe we should’ve just gotten it out of our system.” His gaze reduced her to a quivery mass of emotional gelatin.
She tried to get a grip on her nerves. “Last time you said that to me, you asked me to punch you.”
He took a step toward her. And she took another step back, feeling the need to insert a breath of distance between them. Tree bark scraped against her shirt.
“This time I had something different in mind.” He moved closer. “Perhaps back then we should’ve just locked lips and moved on.” His face, his mouth, were tantalizingly near.
Maybe she hadn’t heard him right. “A kiss?” She was having a hard time breathing. “You want to kiss me?”
“Why not? Otherwise, we’ll always wonder.”
Her heart hammered. She fought the tidal pull of his gaze. “How about let’s just chalk it up to misplaced pheromones?” Better to play off his flippant words.
“Chemistry. Electricity. Whatever you want to call it, it is something, Darce. Always has been. This thing between us.”
“While some women might be bowled over by the sheer humility of your offer, thanks but no thanks.” She pushed at his chest. “I’ve survived this long without Jaxon Pruitt. I think I’m good for another few decades.” This wasn’t how she’d envisioned this morning unfolding.
He braced his hand on the tree trunk beside her head. “Here’s the thing, though. Not sure I want to go the next few decades without knowing. I’ve spent way too long thinking, wondering...”
She blinked. Jax had thought about her? Wondered about her and him... Could it be true? Did he feel the same way for her that she felt about him?
Why was she fighting him? When all her life, she’d wanted him to kiss her. She was leaving in a few weeks. And she’d missed spending time with him. Why not? Why not just this once?
His brow constricted, he searched her face.
Unable to bear the exquisite tension between them any longer, she stretched on her tiptoes toward him. Grasped hold of his broad shoulders, lest like last time, somehow this moment moved beyond her reach.
His fingers found their way into the long strands of her hair. “Darcy...” His hands cupped the crown of her head.
Closing his eyes, he touched his lips to her mouth. Incredible sweetness. An incredible rightness.
Better than Mondays. Better than lime-green freezer pops. Better than anything she ever dared dream. Though her dreams had always been full of him. Jax holding her in his strong arms. Jax kissing her.
If she died right now here at the tree house—their tree house—she’d never want anything more. He crushed her against his chest. Then suddenly he yanked his mouth from hers.
Leaving her struggling to make sense of it all.
He pressed his forehead against hers. “Now we know.” His thumb traced the line of her cheek.
“Now we know.”
She felt like singing. She felt like dancing. She felt like she’d plunged out of an airplane without a parachute. Not a bad analogy when it came to life with Jax.
“Good thing we checked.” She laughed “Electricity for real. Chemistry for sure.” So worth the wait.
He didn’t laugh. The teasing light in his eyes had gone. He took a step backward and let go of her.
She frowned, sensing more than a physical withdrawal.
He combed his fingers across his head. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. Not with how things are with me. Not with you leaving soon.”
What was wrong? Didn’t he see how wonderful they were together? Couldn’t he see the beautiful future she glimpsed when they were in each other’s arms?
“I don’t have to go, Jax. I—”
“So I guess that’s that.” He dropped his eyes to the platform. “I appreciate everything you’ve done this summer for me and Brody. Your patience in teaching me the business. Your friendship.”
She flinched.
Was that what this was? An experiment? Like he said, something to get out of their systems? And now that he’d kissed her, was he done with her?
Because one kiss didn’t get him out of Darcy’s system. One kiss only made her long for more. For forever.
Surely Jax couldn’t have kissed her like that unless he loved her, too. Could he? Apparently, he could. He was Jaxon Pruitt, after all.
How for one stolen moment could she have forgotten? He was a man with far more experience than she. The kind of man who’d had his pick of women. Who’d married a gorgeous woman like Adrienne Maserelli.
Worse yet, how could Darcy have forgotten who she was? The gauche PK. A hateful blush crept from beneath the neckline of her shirt.
“You’re leaving in a few weeks. Brody and I are setting down roots here. You’ll meet some Floridian guy...”
“I don’t want some Floridian guy, Jax.”
He took a giant step backward, and pressed against the railing. “Don’t say that, Darcy.”
Why did something hold Jax back from pursuing a relationship with her? Or maybe she was deluding herself. Again.
Maybe everything between them was merely a product of her pathetic imagination.
“It’s best not to risk our friendship, Darce.”
She gave a hoarse laugh. “Somehow, Jaxon, I thought we were beyond that.”
“I’m not what you need, Darcy.”
“What about what I want? What do you want, Jax?”
She was losing him. All they’d shared. All they were to each other. Before they ever had a chance to become more.
“You make me want things I can never have, but wanting isn’t enough, Darcy. Eventually, you’d hate me. And hurting you isn’t something I can bear.”
Was it guilt that truly held Jax in an unyielding stranglehold? Or a love for his dead wife so abiding
he’d made a grave of his heart?
“After Adrienne...” He scoured his neck with his hand. “I can’t go there with you, Darcy. I just can’t.”
Darcy’s cheeks burned. She must’ve been crazy to think she could follow a woman like that in Jax’s life.
She was so stupid. Stupid to think that she could ever be more than a runner-up for someone like Jax. Stupid to hope. Stupid to dream he’d ever love her.
Darcy closed her eyes. Brody needed a mother even if Jax didn’t think he needed a wife. Brody was his Achilles’ heel. She fought the urge to convince Jax to let her love them. To make life better for them both.
The insidious fear of how easily she could persuade Jax shook Darcy. And at how little she was willing to settle for if it meant keeping them in her life.
She knew if she didn’t get away from him right this minute, she’d humiliate herself by begging him for a place in his life at any cost. Even if it meant being yet again second best. Satisfied for any crumbs of affection he deigned to toss her way.
Kind of what she’d done all summer? Her entire life? She was such an idiot. Such a history-repeats-itself little idiot.
Someday he’d get over Adrienne. Or maybe he wouldn’t. But she couldn’t stick around to find out. Because if he did manage to put the past behind him, he’d still never choose her.
Rigid with strain, Darcy pulled herself together. “Guess you found a way to say goodbye, after all.”
“Trust me, this is for the best.”
“Trust you?” She must’ve been certifiable to ever trust him again. To ever let him back into her life.
He flushed. “I realize it’s hard to understand, but Darce—”
“Don’t call me that,” she growled. “You don’t get to kiss me, reject me and then still call me that.”
“I never meant to hurt—”
“You never mean to do anything, do you?” She shoved his chest with the palm of her hand. “You need to leave, Jaxon.”
He staggered. “I’m sorry, Darcy. So, so sorry.”
The last tether on her self-control, her pride, snapped. Like a hot air balloon rising toward the sky.
“Just go,” she yelled. “I don’t ever want to see you again, Jaxon. Not ever.”
