“I have to go gather some clothes and bathroom stuff for Tango that he needs. Any chance I can convince you to watch Tyler for a couple of hours this afternoon so I can get this stuff to him?”
“Of course,” I tell her. “You know, I haven’t exactly quit my job at the restaurant. I’ll have to tell them I’m still sick, even though I’m lying, which I hate doing.”
“I’ll call for you and tell them you’re so sick you can’t even pick up the phone.” I just stare at her. We used to be so alike but now I can’t even understand how her mind works. “Oh, by the way, Jags is staying here tonight too. I meant to tell you. I guess the motel he was staying in had a dead body in it so he’s crashing here.” She jitters her eyebrows and gives me a cunning grin.
This is so frustrating. “Cali, why are you doing this to me? You can’t force two people together. And when did you take up matchmaking? It’s not becoming of you.”
“Okay, in all seriousness, I’m not trying to match the two of you up. I mean, I don’t think it would be the worst thing in the world if you two got together, but it’s just the way things are falling into place right now. Tango wants Jags staying at the house while he’s not there, and I couldn’t exactly fight Tango in the situation he’s in. On top of that, I think we both know you shouldn’t be staying at your house by yourself, so what other choice is there? You want to go rent a hotel room somewhere? Go for it. I don’t recommend it since the only one in the area is the Sawdust Motor Inn, and it has bodies in the guest rooms, but I will let you make your decision so I’m not forcing you into anything. See? That’s how much I love you.”
It’s more like the universe is forcing this to happen. “He sent a dick pic!” I shout over to her as she starts rummaging through Tango’s drawers.
“Actually, he sent it to me,” she argues. Changing the subject, she continues, “Also, you should call your dad to have him get you a job at the firm. We can work together again. It’ll be like old times when we were lifeguarding at the Hilton that summer.”
I remember that summer well. Cali kept sneaking off with hot guys, and I spent the summer covered in 100 SPF sunscreen, trying to avoid sunburns on every inch of my fair skin.
“Yay,” I sing sarcastically. I love running back to Daddy. Nothing makes me happier. This just keeps getting worse and worse. As soon as he finds out what’s going on, he’ll tell me to move home. That’s not happening. I’m definitely better off staying at Tango and Cali’s sex nest.
The sun is going down, marking a near end to this long, miserable day. Cali got back a few minutes ago, just as I figured she’d be a while, trying to stay with Tango as long as possible—not that I blame her. I don’t think she’s spent a night away from him in years. For someone who’s so independent and strong, she seems to need Tango like he’s her oxygen or something. Weirdly enough, I’m not sure I know the feeling or can really understand it. I loved Landon, but I never had an ache in my chest when he left for a night, or butterflies in my stomach like I hear people talking about. It was an easy relationship, I guess. Easy to fake on his part.
“Auntie Sasha, are you staying for dinner?” Tyler comes skipping into the kitchen.
“Of course, silly. I just made dinner.” I lift Tyler up and place her down on the counter next to me.
“What are you cooking?” she asks, leaning close and placing her face over the steaming pot.
“I’m making you special macaroni and cheese,” I say, giving her a little squeeze.
“You’re going to be a good mommy someday,” Tyler tells me.
The thought makes my chest ache. This was part of the reason I stuck things out with Landon for so long. Being twenty-seven now, I can almost hear my biological clock ticking. I know women have babies late into their forties, but I had this all planned out since I was ten. Married by twenty-five, a baby by thirty, and of course the whole living happily ever after bit. If I had broken up with Landon, I knew I would have to start all over, and I’d end up even further away from my life goals. So I stuck it out, and now I realize I wasted more time by doing that.
“Maybe someday,” I tell Tyler. Though, it’s feeling like a never right now.
“Uncle Jags could have a baby with you,” she says, grinning a Cali-like grin.
“Tyler!” I scold.
“What?” she giggles. “He looks at you with hearts in his eyes.” The thought of a person actually having literal hearts in their eyes makes me laugh. Life through a five-year-old’s eyes. If only we could all think that way.
“Jags and I are two very different people, sweetie,” I say, trying to close the inappropriate conversation with a child.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Mommy always says I’m wise beyond all of my years, so you should listen to me.” And that’s Tango talking through that little mouth.
The timer on the microwave goes off, and I grab the oven mitts to pull the garlic bread out of the oven. “Holy crap, it smells good in here,” Cali says, walking in with a towel around her head. She smelled like ammonia when she got home from the hospital, and that smell makes both her and I sick to our stomachs.
“You should watch your mouth,” I tell her.
“I’m so smart, Auntie, I know what words are bad, and I just don’t say them,” Tyler says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh yeah?” I reply, raising a brow at Cali.
Cali’s smile oozes cockiness. “I’m winning this whole parenting game.”
“Clearly.”
Just as I shut the oven off, a crash against the front door makes the oven mitt fly from my hand. “Oh my gosh, what in the world is that?”
Cali jogs over to the door, and I poke my head around the corner, waiting to see what’s going on. The door flies open before she can reach it.
Jags stands in the doorway with two duffel bags and a smile that makes my stomach clench. “Honeys, I’m home,” he bellows.
“You sound like that dude from Sister Wives,” Cali tells him.
“Hey, whatever works for you,” he jokes.
I tried to forget that Jags was moving in too. I tried to forget that I’m pretty much being forced to stay here because I need a babysitter. “Holy heavens, what is that amazing smell?” Jags asks, dropping his bags in the entryway.
“Mac and Cheese with garlic bread. Hope you’re hungry,” I tell him, hearing a scowl in my voice. I didn’t know I was capable of scowling with only my voice, but I now know it’s completely possible. I also know I’m just pretending to be annoyed with his presence. I think I’m mostly annoyed that I’m not annoyed by him at all.
Jags walks in and past me into the kitchen where he whips the cover off the pot. “Oh wow, that is beautiful.” Clearly, he already knows his way around the kitchen as he yanks open one of the drawers and retrieves a fork. Without a second thought on being completely rude, he plunges the fork into the pot, digs around for a minute and pulls out a browned piece from the bottom. “My favorite part.” He doesn’t even blow on the steaming food before he closes his mouth around the fork, an action I’m pretty sure he’s now regretting, by the look on his face.
“It’s like you’re a four-year-old who needs to be told to blow on your steaming hot food before shoving it all in your mouth,” I tell him.
His jaw drops and steam pours out from between his lips. “Hot!” he kind of says.
“It’s on the stove, and you took a piece from the bottom,” I remind him.
“Ahh, soo goooood though,” he says with his mouth still hanging open.
Cali hands Jags a glass filled with amber liquid. “A Jack for Jags?”
“Boy, you know the way to my heart,” he tells her. “You’re one of my favorite Sister Wives. Tango has trained you well.”
Cali punches Jags in the shoulder and pulls the towel turban away from her hair. “I’m starving. Can I dish it out?” she asks me.
“Sure,” I say, moving over to the fridge where I pull out the salad I made
a couple of hours ago. “How’s Tango feeling now?”
She didn’t say much to me when she came back. She just hopped into the shower after complaining about the hospital smell. “I don’t know,” she says.
“Are they giving him good pain meds?” Jags asks.
“Too good. He was pretty much in a drugged fog the whole time I was there. It sucks to see him that way.”
Jags places his arm around Cali’s shoulders. “He’s going to be okay. Look what he’s made it through, huh?”
“I know,” she says, shrugging herself out of his grip. Cali takes Tyler down from the counter and drops her into one of the chairs at the table then sits down beside her, which is a little out of character. She might have one of the dirtiest mouths in the world, but she doesn’t usually sit down until everyone has food in front of them. I know she’s hurting. Jags notices the same. Not that he’s known her very long, but Cali is a very particularly behaved woman. She can be pegged as a type A within a few minutes of having an initial conversation—everything needs to be a certain way or else.
Jags places his hand on her shoulder for a brief moment, then joins me in the main part of the kitchen. “I feel bad for her,” he says to me under his breath.
“Me too,” I agree.
Jags reaches into the cabinet above my head and takes down four serving bowls, four plates, and four glasses. Gently taking the wooden spoon from my hand, he starts scooping the food onto the plates. Landon usually cooked the food but would then sit down and wait for me to serve it to him. I was to be his housewife. That’s what he said he wanted. Although he wouldn’t let me cook because he was a chef, I didn’t particularly like that part since I love to cook too. Things were his way or no way. It’s funny how when I was in the relationship I didn’t notice these things that ticked me off, but now that the relationship is over, it’s all clear as day. As a matter of fact, I’m realizing everything he did, down to the way he breathed through his nose and not his mouth bothered me.
Between Jags and I, we have dinner on the table in less than a couple of minutes and Cali’s pouring Jack into a glass for herself while gazing through the bottle.
“You’re going to be okay, kid,” Jags tells her. “We’re all here, and I’m going to help you out as much as I can.”
The way Jags is talking to Cali is endearing. It makes me see a side of him that I think he’s been diligently trying to hide, and I’m just not sure why he’d want to hide his sweet side.
Cali picks at her dinner while Jags pretty much swallows the plate in its entirety, all while making moaning sounds with each bite. I didn’t know my cooking was that good.
Since I’m sitting next to Jags, I can almost feel each one of his moans growling through my core. Before I know it, my mind has slipped off into another place—a place it should not be. Again.
“This is the best meal I’ve had in over a year, maybe more,” Jags says. “Girl, you are a damn good cook.”
I love cooking for people who appreciate food. It makes me feel useful. “It’s just macaroni and cheese, but thank you,” I say, feeling a blush creep through my cheeks.
He’s up and in the kitchen before I’ve even taken my fifth bite, serving himself a heaping plate of seconds. “I’m going to be eating out of this thing at midnight like a bear with a pot of honey.” You’d think he’s starving.
“Well, I think we all know the way to Jags’s heart,” Cali says, staring at me pointedly with a slight sneer.
As Jags scrapes up his latest serving, his free hand sweeps against my knee under the table, and I don’t know if it was intentional or not. The table is small, but he’s managed to keep the space between us since we started eating. I’ll chalk it up to an accident.
Though, if it were an accident, he wouldn’t be looking at me out of the corner of his eye with the hint of a smirk playing across his lips. Maybe he’s waiting to see if I react. I don’t. It was a mistake. He didn’t mean to touch my knee.
Cali’s droning on about every little detail of Tango’s surgery. My stomach can’t handle many more specifications on how a plate was adhered to his bone from the outside of his leg. I am not one for wounds or blood.
Jags is listening to her, seemingly fascinated, but at the same time, he also seems fixated with a reaction I’m not giving him.
And then there’s Tyler, who looks like she’s about to drop her little sleepy head into her plate. “I think Tyler has the right idea,” Cali pauses the conversation, noticing Tyler’s exhaustion. “I’m going to get her to bed, and then I think I might do the same. Do either of you need anything?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “I’ll get everything cleaned up. We’re good.” We? When did Jags and I become a “we” and why am I speaking for him? “I mean, I’m good.” I feel the need to correct myself, even though I’m likely the only one who picked up on the weirdness of my statement.
“We are good,” Jags follows. Okay, so he noticed. Must take foot out of mouth now.
Cali stands and lifts Tyler up, twisting her around so she’s on her back and hanging from her neck like a monkey. “Let’s go, kiddo. You have school tomorrow,” she says to her.
Okay, so now Jags and I are alone at a kitchen table with one small light hanging over our heads. Totally not awkward. At all. So awkward. “Did you see the storm coming in?” he asks. His question seems hesitant as if he were suddenly nervous to talk to me now that everyone else is gone. That’s not the Jags I’ve come to know.
“No, I had no idea. I hadn’t turned on the Weather Channel today,” I tell him.
“Yeah, we’re gonna get lots of rain and high winds, I guess.” We’re talking about the weather. Isn’t this the epitome of all uncomfortable conversations between men and women?
I stand up, seeing he’s done eating, but before I have a chance to grab my plate from the table, his hand wraps around my wrist. “Hey,” he says, his voice hoarse and husky. Reacting to his touch and this one simple word, my heart pounds tersely a few times, warning me it’s reacting once again to this man who I don’t want to be attracted to. Since I’m standing and he’s sitting, I look down at him, waiting for him to continue his drawn-out silent thought. “Thank you for making me dinner. I’ve been eating diner food for more than a year now. I had forgotten what real food tastes like, and I don’t really remember the last home-cooked meal I’ve had.” This kind of breaks my heart.
“You don’t know how to cook?” I ask.
“I can fix missing limbs but not a steak,” he says through a shameful chuckle. “I’m sort of inept in the kitchen.”
“Well,” I say, exhaling through my shaky breaths. “I’m happy to cook a meal for you whenever you’d like. I love to cook.”
His hand is still around my wrist, and he squeezes a little tighter. All the while, I’m still looking at him, and he’s still looking at me with this endearing look in his eyes like he wants to thank me again or something. Maybe just the something. “Also,” he says, releasing his grip. “I’m sorry about that picture earlier. I was just trying to tease you but…that backfired.”
I nod my head, feeling very uncomfortable talking about this again. “Don’t mention it.” I really mean that as I walk into the kitchen with a handful of plates. Who sincerely apologizes for sending a woman a…dick picture, or whatever it’s called?
Jags silently follows me into the kitchen with another handful of plates and grabs a dish rag to dry the dishes I’m now cleaning.
Thirty minutes of scrubbing and drying goes by without a word shared between the two of us, and it might be the most comfortable I’ve felt with him since the first time we met. Now that all of the dishes are clean, though, something has to be said. “I’ll take the couch tonight. You can have the bed,” I tell him.
“Nah, I’d rather have the couch, but thank you,” he says.
I wipe my hands off on the dish towel and place it down on the counter. “Well, okay, I’m going to go wash up unless you
need the bathroom first.”
Why is my heart beating so fast right now? Why does my stomach hurt? What is happening? I want to push away the feelings running through me. Jags’s hand sweeps across my lower back, and I just don’t know what’s going on right now. I’m having a hard time looking up at him, but curiosity forces my gaze up to his face.
There is no expression on his face, however. No tell-all sign of what’s going on in his head. With the silence acting as a building pressure between the two of us, a loud blast of thunder rumbles through the house, and the lights follow with a flicker.
Another flicker.
And another flicker.
Then darkness.
The entire house has gone pitch black, and Jags’s hand tightens around me. “Are you scared of the dark?” he whispers into my ear.
“I haven’t been before this moment,” I respond.
CHAPTER NINE
JAGS
WHAT I WANT to do in this obviously perfect situation can’t happen. Sasha can only handle me in small doses, and I don’t know how many sweet glances I need to give her before it will cover up the grime coming out of my mouth every other minute of the day. She’s shaking beneath my grip, and I don’t know if it’s because I scare her or if she’s scared of feeling something she doesn’t want to feel for me. Usually, the women I have in a dark room are half in the bag or so drugged, they think I look like some hot celebrity. It happened more in Boston than anywhere else I’ve ever been, but regardless, Sasha is neither here nor there in that department, which means I’m probably just scaring her.
“Do you know where any of their flashlights are?” I ask her.
Sasha reaches around me, forcing her body up against mine, forcing a part of my body to poke out against hers. Oops. I feel her body stiffen, probably with shock. I can’t control this thing, sorry. She’s probably sorry right now too. I hear the drawer behind me slide open and maybe I could be a gentleman and move out of the way to let her grab the flashlight she’s looking for, but I don’t move because I’m curious to see what she’s going to do. I can assume she’s pretty aware that my dick is pressed against her stomach, but strangely she hasn’t moved away from it. I hear her wrestling around with the junk in the drawer followed by a click of a button and a light shining into my face. “Do you have a license to carry that thing?” she asks.
Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone Page 10
