“Jackson Ramsey!” The bulky man was a former classmate of Jackson’s, who’d gone by the nickname Rocky back in the day.
“Rocky, good to see you,” he said guardedly.
“Don’t go by Rocky anymore, man—it’s just Stuart now. But then you’d know that if you came home more often.” Stuart’s dark eyes gleamed. “But I suppose you’re too busy having a ton of kinky sex over in Cali.”
Jackson set his jaw and refused to take the bait. “Nah, I’m busy saving the world.”
“Yeah, I heard you were some kind of SEAL,” Stuart retorted, sounding unimpressed. “Bet that really gets the chickies goin’. Prolly makes it easier to get ’em to agree to all that bondage shit you’re into.”
“Stuart,” Shane said with a note of warning.
“What? I’m just messin’ around. He knows that, right, Jackson?”
He grunted in response, his hands tingling with the urge to clock the son of a bitch.
Fortunately, Rocky AKA Stuart didn’t stick around. The beefy man stumbled away when somebody called his name, much to Jackson’s relief.
When Crissy returned with their drinks a moment later, Jackson immediately reached for his beer and chugged half of it straight away.
“Shit, I’m sorry about that.”
Shane’s gruff words surprised the heck out of him. “No biggie,” Jackson mumbled.
“Maybe we should just go,” Tiffany said timidly, running one finger along the rim of her glass. “Everyone keeps staring at us.”
Mia, who hadn’t said a thing during the last five minutes, suddenly snorted. “And why do you think that is, Tiff?”
The blonde shifted on the hard wooden bench, ill at ease. “I don’t like being the center of attention, is all.”
Jackson felt Mia’s body stiffen with disbelief. He quickly rested his hand on her thigh and gave it a reassuring stroke.
Unfortunately, his attempt at calming her down didn’t work.
“And you think Jackson likes it?” Mia shot back. “Do you realize how humiliating this is for him? Everywhere he goes people look at him like he’s either a sexual deviant or a rapist—you think that’s fun for him?”
“Mia,” he said quietly.
“No,” she burst out. “I can’t stand the way they’re just sitting here, acting like all this shit isn’t their fault.” She glared at the other couple. “Well, guess what, dum-dums, it’s directly your fault.”
Shane and Tiffany recoiled.
“Mia,” Jackson started again.
Her hands trembled as she wrapped them around her beer bottle. “Don’t worry, I’m done,” she muttered.
“Listen, I get what you’re saying,” Tiffany told Mia in a wobbly voice. “I messed up, okay? I shouldn’t have lied eight years ago, and Shane shouldn’t have done what he did. But we’ve moved past it. We—”
“Okay, I’m not done,” Mia interrupted in another explosion of incredulity. “You’ve moved past it? Well, gee, how wonderful for you, Tiffany. You accused your boyfriend of rape, a lie that led to him getting beaten senseless by his own brother, but life goes on, huh? You just married the other brother and now you’re living happily ever after. Doesn’t matter that Jackson is treated like a pariah by everyone in town, or that he and your husband haven’t spoken in years—as long as you’ve moved past it…well, congratu-fucking-lations, Tiffany.”
Deafening silence crashed over them. Jackson noticed in dismay that half the bar patrons were looking their way, and even though the jukebox belted out an up-tempo Garth Brooks song, a flurry of whispers could be heard over the music.
“I want to go home now.”
Tiffany’s meek voice brought a sigh to Jackson’s lips.
His brother, whose expression had remained shuttered throughout Mia’s entire tirade, wasted no time ushering out his shaken wife from the booth.
Mia gave Jackson’s leg a little push. “I want to leave too,” she said tersely. “I can’t spend another second with these people.”
He’d never felt so helpless in his life as he followed Mia out of the bar. Her body radiated anger, and he didn’t know whether to be touched or upset. He shared in her frustration—he’d always resented the fact that Tiff and his brother had come out of that awful situation unscathed while he’d been hung out to dry. But he’d held his tongue for his parents’ sake, to spare them from another potentially violent altercation between the two sons they desperately loved.
Fuck. Bringing Mia and Tiff along tonight had been a bad idea. He should’ve spoken to Shane alone.
He hadn’t expected Mia to jump to his defense, but he couldn’t fault her for it. He’d been too agitated to regain control of the situation.
But he would find a way to get his brother alone. He had to, for everyone’s sake. His and Mia’s flight didn’t leave until noon tomorrow, so he was confident he’d be able to speak to Shane before they left.
Not tonight, though. Tonight he needed to get Mia home, pronto. She was too volatile at the moment.
Far more volatile than he’d thought, in fact—because the second they stepped outside, they encountered a sobbing Tiffany in Shane’s arms. And the second Mia overheard Tiffany’s muffled words, she exploded like a cannon again.
“It’s not like what they’re saying isn’t true,” Jackson’s ex had mumbled. “He is a deviant! I know that now—I was young and stupid back then and I didn’t realize how wrong what we were doin’ was—”
“You’re a goddamn liar,” Mia spat out, advancing on Tiffany like a lioness protecting her cub.
The couple broke apart, but while Shane’s expression flickered with wariness, Tiffany’s blue eyes took on an incensed glint.
“You don’t even know me!” she snapped. “Who the heck are you to come here and call me a liar? You know nothin’ about me or Shane or even Jackson, for that matter! You’re a nosy city girl who thinks she’s better than a country hick like me, is that it? Well, you’re not better! You’re just a judgmental bitch who—”
Before Jackson could blink, Mia punched his ex-girlfriend right in the face.
* * *
Mia had never hit another living soul in her entire life. She didn’t use violence to solve problems—she wasn’t that kind of girl. Or at least she hadn’t thought she was.
But clearly she was the person who slugged someone for calling her a bitch.
Sheer mortification flooded her body when she saw Tiffany’s head snap back from the force of the blow. Mia’s breaths were shallow pants, and the guilt that streaked through her veins caused her hands to shake ferociously.
“Oh my God,” she burst out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“I can’t believe you did that,” the blonde whimpered, pressing her palm to her red cheek.
Mia was relieved to see she hadn’t drawn blood, but she knew Tiffany would have a hell of a bruise on her cheekbone tomorrow morning. Which only set off another rush of shame that almost knocked her off her feet. Jackson immediately came up beside her and she sagged against his solid frame, still stunned by what she’d done.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
Tiffany didn’t answer. She just gazed imploringly at Shane. “Can we please go?”
Without another word, husband and wife stalked off toward the red pickup parked several yards away.
As an engine roared to life, Mia peered up at Jackson in pure misery. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I hit her.”
“She provoked you,” he said gruffly.
“That’s no excuse.” An anguished moan slid out. “Oh fuck, I’m a terrible person. I hit her, Jackson.”
Tears filled her eyes, then spilled over and streamed down her cheeks in hot, salty rivulets. She felt so ashamed she couldn’t even breathe.
And she was scared. Honest-to-God scared.
Because deep down, Mia knew the provocation that led to her punching Tiffany wasn’t the woman’s use of the B-word—it was Tiffany’s character-bashing
of Jackson.
She’d called him a deviant! And then she’d lied through her teeth by saying she believed their past relationship had been wrong.
The woman’s nerve had made Mia see red. Acting like there was something wrong with Jackson? Un-fucking-acceptable. In that moment, her sole goal had been to silence that sniveling liar, to punish her for having the nerve to imply that Jackson was something other than the amazing and honorable man he truly was.
And in that moment, Mia had realized just how much she cared about Jackson. So deeply that she’d assaulted someone for him.
Somehow, over these last three months, she’d fallen for the man without even realizing it.
That was the most terrifying thing of all.
“C’mon, let’s go home.” Jackson’s warm hands cupped her chin, his thumbs sweeping away the tears staining her face.
She nodded weakly, allowing him to take her hand and lead her to his father’s truck.
The drive back to the Double R was a quiet one. Mia battled tears the whole time, unable to get a grip on her emotions.
She’d punched another person.
She loved Jackson.
The two thoughts tangled together and ravaged her tired brain, but she refused to give them the attention they demanded. She didn’t want to think about how guilty she felt about the former, or how confused and scared the latter made her.
When Jackson finally pulled into the ranch driveway, relief crashed into her and had her diving out of the pickup. All she wanted to do right now was lock herself in Jackson’s bedroom and bury her head under the covers. She didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to feel. She would simply sleep, and then tomorrow she’d be back in San Diego, where she’d sift through her thoughts and emotions, and hopefully be able to make sense of them.
“Mia, wait.”
His gruff voice stopped her when she was halfway to the porch.
“Do you mind being alone for a little while?” he asked, his worried eyes probing her face. “I’m gonna drive out to Shane and Tiff’s place.”
She blinked in surprise. “What for?”
“I think it’s time my brother and I had that talk we’ve been trying to avoid.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” She bit her lip. “Can you…will you apologize to Tiffany again? I feel so awful about what happened. I really do, Jackson.”
“I know you do, sugar.”
His long strides ate up the distance between them, and then he was kissing her, his lips warm and reassuring.
“Go upstairs and get ready for bed, darlin’. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
With a sweet smile, he left her on the porch and headed back to the truck. Mia watched until his taillights disappeared in the darkness, then took a breath and walked into the house.
She knew Evie had gone out after dinner with some friends, but Jackson’s parents had come straight home. As Mia entered the front hall, she prayed that Kurt and Arlene had already retired for the night. She didn’t have the energy or the brain capacity to maintain a pleasant conversation, and she suspected that if either of Jackson’s parents saw her face, they’d immediately know that something terrible had happened tonight.
She quietly slipped out of her sneakers and took a hesitant step toward the hallway. Luckily, the kitchen was dark, which told her Arlene wasn’t doing any late-night baking or anything, but up ahead, light spilled out from the living-room doorway.
She tiptoed toward it and hoped that if Jackson’s parents were inside, they wouldn’t spot her. When she neared the doorway, however, she realized there’d been no reason to worry. Kurt and Arlene were in the living room, but they were sound asleep on the couch.
Her heart jumped to her throat as she stared at the sleeping couple. Kurt was on his back with one arm propped behind his head, the other wrapped tightly around Arlene, who was nestled at his side. The older couple looked so peaceful lying there that Mia almost started crying again.
Something happened to her as she stood there staring.
She suddenly wanted…
She wanted forever, damn it.
But forever didn’t exist.
Yes, it does. You’re looking at it right now.
But maybe this was a fluke. Maybe Kurt and Arlene’s long-lasting relationship was a gift for them, and them alone.
You can have it too. With Jackson.
But…could she? Her own mother had tried to find true love ten times—and she’d gotten ten divorces out of it.
Fear and turmoil clogged her throat. She’d avoided serious relationships her entire life. Shied away from forming any attachments in order to avoid getting her heart broken. But was she right to be scared? Or were her fears simply a knee-jerk reaction to watching her mother’s life shatter every other year?
God, she couldn’t think about any of this right now.
Her gaze darted back to Jackson’s parents, and a rush of panic swarmed her belly. She had to leave. Had to go home. Now.
The anxiety attack came so fast and so unexpectedly that Mia couldn’t think straight. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay in this house. She couldn’t face Jackson’s family after what she’d done to Tiffany. She couldn’t face Jackson. Not tonight. Not when her heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest and her lungs refused to accept the oxygen she was gulping in. Not when her mind was a jumbled mess and her emotions were so out of control she feared she might actually pass out.
Everything after that initial siege of panic was a blur.
Somehow she ended up upstairs.
Somehow she wound up on the porch with her carry-on hastily packed.
Somehow she was sliding into the backseat of an Uber she didn’t remember ordering.
And somehow she found herself at the airport, buying a ticket for the next available flight to San Diego.
It was only when she entered the gate that Mia became aware of what she was doing, and once she did, a flashflood of guilt whipped through her.
She fumbled for her phone, horrified that she’d left the ranch without saying goodbye to Jackson. Without thanking his family for their hospitality. Without apologizing to Tiffany again.
But despite the deep remorse seizing her insides, she couldn’t bring herself to go back. She wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed, to take advantage of Danny’s absence and really think about what all this meant.
What loving Jackson meant.
Fighting back tears, she sent Jackson a brief text letting him know she was at the airport and flying home early. Then she shut off her phone and sat in the gate until it was time to board. Luck had been on her side—the flight was scheduled to leave in twenty-five minutes, and somehow she’d managed to check-in before the kiosk closed and zip through security without a hitch. It had all gone so smoothly she felt like one of those unrealistically fortunate characters in a movie.
Like The Runaway Bride.
Or maybe The Worst Girlfriend on the Fucking Planet.
She took a breath, trying not to let the guilt consume her, but it was impossible. For the next two hours, guilt seemed to be the only emotion she was capable of registering. It plagued her during the two-and-a-half-hour flight, constricted her heart when she arrived in San Diego, and followed her all the way home.
Exhaustion crushed down on her chest as she climbed up to the third floor of her building. It was nearly two in the morning, and she was desperate to slide under the covers and pretend tonight had never happened. She hadn’t even turned her phone back on, for fear that Jackson would call and she might be tempted to answer.
She couldn’t hear his husky voice right now. She’d be liable to burst into tears if that happened.
The apartment was engulfed in shadows when she walked inside. She welcomed the dark, the silence, the familiar sturdy hardwood beneath her feet.
But the overpowering relief she experienced from being home was suddenly replaced by a burst of sheer terror as a blurry figure l
urched into her line of sight.
The indistinct monster wielded an aluminum baseball bat that gleamed in the darkness, swinging it around in a menacing whirl that promptly took ten years off Mia’s life.
“Don’t move!”
The command sent her pulse careening—until she blinked, recognition dawning in her eyes.
“Danny?” she screeched.
“Mia?” he exclaimed at the same time.
Her heart rate steadied, but the alarm rushing through her only increased, drawing an incredulous question from her mouth.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
20
“I figured you’d show up.” Shane was standing on the porch of his small, A-frame cabin when Jackson’s boots connected with the dirt.
He slammed the door of his dad’s pickup and strode toward the cabin, no hesitation, nothing but steely determination on his face.
“I figure you’d be expecting me,” he replied with a shrug.
When he reached the porch, he noticed the two unopened beer bottles on the ledge.
Shane followed his gaze and smiled wryly. “I thought we’d need the liquid courage.”
Jackson had to chuckle. “Probably a good idea.” His eyes strayed toward the door. “Is Tiff all right?”
“She’s fine. Just suffering from a case of embarrassment and some bruised pride.” Remorse flickered in Shane’s brown eyes. “She doesn’t blame Mia for what happened back there. Tiff knows she provoked it, and she feels crappy about it. She’s already planning on drivin’ up to the big house tomorrow to apologize to your girl.”
“Mia feels bad too,” he said roughly. “You don’t know her well, but trust me when I tell you that she’s not the kind of woman who goes around assaulting folks.”
Shane let out a low laugh. “A wee lil’ thing like her? I doubt she’s ever thrown a punch in her life. C’mon, why don’t we go round back?”
Beers in hand, they rounded the side of the cabin and settled in a pair of Adirondack chairs on the patio. Jackson noticed that Shane and Tiff had made a lot of changes to the sprawling land behind the cabin—a large wooden gazebo stood on what had once been an empty stretch of grass, and natural flagstone paths now wound through newly planted flowerbeds and stone planters overflowing with greenery.
Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 4-6 plus 2 Bonus Novellas Page 81
