But his thorn was waiting for him.
Emory sipped her drink and tried not to look like she was waiting for someone, when she totally was.
She had been waiting for about four months now.
Ever since her baby was two weeks old, and things had gotten serious. She should be at home being a mother. Or barring that, getting some much-needed rest while the babysitter watched Jackson. Normal, happy things. Instead she was here again, still waiting.
Tonight, she could barely stand it all. The dim light, the cigarette smoke. The drunk men who thought a woman sitting alone was begging for company. It was exhausting, working and taking care of her baby all day, and then spending a few hours every evening waiting for him to come through the door.
But what else was she supposed to do? She only knew his name and that he was a soldier. And that she’d thought about him every day since the one night they’d spent together, even before it became imperative that she find him.
Emory swirled her straw, wishing there was whiskey mixed in her drink tonight. A buzz would be welcome. She probably seemed like an alcoholic to everyone else anyway, when in reality she never touched a drop. She’d never drive with alcohol in her system. Or breastfeed that way, either.
She rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the exhaustion headache ballooning there. How much longer could she do this? Wait for him? How long before she had to come up with another plan? She couldn’t afford the babysitting fees much longer. Her sporadic work-from-home income wouldn’t be enough to cover them once her savings were gone, which would be soon. And going back to her nursing job was out of the question. She couldn’t leave her son with a babysitter in the daytime.
She could have a babysitter in the evenings and at night, because Jackson was calm while he was sleeping. No freak-outs, no mysterious powers. As long as she made it home before he woke for his first feeding, everything was fine.
But the rest of the time, everything was so not fine.
Tonight, giving up seemed like an option. Taking her son and running, going somewhere new. She’d already given up her job at the hospital, and any hope of ever going back to it. The only thing keeping them here now was her house, and her need to find Ajax. But this problem would follow them, and she couldn’t give her son any semblance of normalcy on the run. Jackson was getting worse. She needed answers, and the father of her child was the only one who could give them.
She had to find him.
It made her sick to her stomach, thinking of what Jackson would have to face if she couldn’t find Ajax. Who might want him if she couldn’t keep him a secret? Who might show up at her door and try to take him from her? That was what kept her coming here night after night.
“Getcha’ another refill, Sweety?”
Emory looked up at Christie, her waitress, and shook her head with an attempt at a smile. “No, I think I’m going to leave in a little bit.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah, I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
“Okay, doll,” Christie said, but she didn’t walk away. Quietly she asked, “Who are you waiting for?”
Emory held on to her smile though it felt like plastic on her face.
She’d got to know many of the waitresses and bartenders the last few months. They never gave her grief and were always good for some light conversation. They never questioned her virgin drinks or her lonely table in the corner. They never questioned her, even when she asked not-so-subtle questions about the rough-looking soldiers that sometimes came here. Until now.
And what could she say, really?
I’m waiting on the father of my child.
True, but terribly lame.
I’m waiting on a one-night stand that never should have happened.
Also true, but not something that she would change now even if she could.
I’m waiting for a man who may be more extraordinary than even I thought he was.
She’d thought he was extraordinary enough to sleep with after one date. That was saying a lot. She’d never done anything like that before, or since. But there had just been something about Ajax that made her behave out of character. Something that had tempted her beyond her ability to resist.
Something unusual.
But Emory couldn’t say any of that.
She opened her mouth, still not sure how she was going to respond, when the door opened.
When she glanced over, all the air left the room in a rush.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe.
Face grim, jaw clenched, eyes cast down, Ajax strode into the bar behind another man.
But when his teal eyes flashed over and met hers, he stopped and tensed, his body rigid.
If not for a brief memory of a mysterious glow in Ajax’s eyes, Emory wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t have been looking and waiting for Ajax these past few months when she should have been at home with her child instead. She had brushed it off at the time, told herself she was imagining things, but she’d seen that glow again since that night with Ajax. In her son’s eyes.
And she was looking at it again.
“Him,” she whispered, eyes following Ajax as he changed direction and strode toward her, his gaze brightening as his lips tilted up in a warm, sexy smile.
“I’m waiting for him.”
* * * * *
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Acknowledgements
Special thanks to, in no particular order:
My other aunt, Judy, whose filing cabinets full of romance novels fed the addiction that started young.
Jamie F. Thanks for the encouraging words that made me finally sit down and write the romance novel that had been stewing in my head for years.
My critique partner and friend CY, for convincing me to write the book of my heart, and for all the immeasurable support since then.
My other writing partner TC and friend, for her continued support and advice.
My mentor Elle Rush, for being awesome and helpful in more ways than I can list here. I couldn’t have published without your gentle critique and encouragement.
My sister RB, for being there for me through every stage of this book, and for loving the final result. I knew if you liked it, I would have a chance!
My beta readers Leigh, Jinx, and Sandra, for helping me make this a much better book.
Lastly, the many Divas that helped and encouraged me from the beginning, in big ways and in small. Zoe for saying I had a good voice, Mel for saying she could see my writing improving, and several others whose timely comments or compliments kept me going.
About The Author
Jayelle Morgan has enjoyed reading romances since the very first box of classics her aunt sent her. After a few fits and starts as a non-fiction freelancer, she finally started writing them. She fuels her creativity with three writer staples: coffee, chocolate, and daydreams.
Though she'll always be a Texan at heart, she now lives in frigid Michigan with her husband and two children. If she's not working on her latest romance, you'll find her reading one, binge watching Netflix ,or enjoying the great outdoors… if it's warm enough.
Visit her on Facebook or at JayelleMorgan.com!
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