Maybe This Time

by Jennifer Snow

  That explained the fresh scent of musky body wash lingering on the air around him and the still damp hair styled in a spiky mess. It looked like someone had run their hands through it…She caught herself staring again and looked away.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  “Sit for a sec,” Becky insisted.

  Jackson sighed but slid into the booth, raising a finger to the other men at the pool tables to indicate he’d just be a second.

  “You, too,” Becky told Abigail.

  “You’re bossy.”

  “Something we finally agree on,” Jackson said.

  “Fine. Move in.” Abigail tried to shove her into the booth, but Becky shook her head and held firm.

  “My stomach’s too big. Go sit over there.”

  Next to Jackson. Great-looking, great-smelling Jackson. Great.

  He looked about as thrilled as she felt, but he moved in and she sat as close to the edge as possible. “You’ve got three minutes before I have to go steal some money from those guys,” he told Becky.

  “Well, Abby was talking about moving into a new place, and I know you’ve almost finished that three-bedroom bungalow you were working on.”

  He was shaking his head. “I wasn’t planning to sell that one right away. I was maybe going to turn it into a rental…” He reached for her Bloody Mary and took a sip.

  His lips were wrapped around the straw where Abigail’s had been a moment before. She wondered how he’d feel if he knew that. Her eyes dropped to said lips, and she slid out of the booth quickly, before she could start to fantasize about what they might taste like. “No worries. Thanks anyway,” she said without looking at him. “Are you ready to go now, or are you going to stay?” she asked Becky, desperate to escape the close proximity to the man. She must be feeling the lonely nights a lot worse than she thought to be experiencing this kind of attraction to a man she’d barely been cordial with before. Either that, or he’d gotten a whole hell of a lot hotter in the last ten years.

  Becky waved a hand at her and continued to talk to her brother. “Maybe Abby might want to rent it for a while.” She turned to her. “I mean, it will get you out of your parents’ place, and you can take your time finding a permanent home for you and Dani.”

  Abigail shifted from one foot to the other, trying to think of an excuse. With the development of this unexplainable attraction, the last thing she wanted was more ties to Jackson. Having to spend time with him because of the school and hockey were bad enough. Him as her landlord, even temporarily, didn’t excite her. In fact, the idea kind of terrified her. Unfortunately, she had been going on and on all evening about how she was dying to get a place in town soon, and how her well-meaning parents were driving her crazy.

  She’d been looking through the available places to rent in the paper every morning and there were few houses, mostly basement suites and several apartment buildings. Nothing appealed to her. She may not be able to give Dani a home in a $2 million house, but she wanted something nice and comfortable. A place they could stay in for a while. She was hoping to find a house with an eventual buy option she could consider once the settlement was finalized. She hated to admit it, but Jackson’s new investment might be just the thing she was looking for. Besides, it wasn’t as though she’d be living with him. And how often did one see a landlord anyway? She sighed. “When were you hoping to rent it?” she asked him.

  Surprise flashed across his face, and she knew how he felt.

  “Well…” He released a breath. “Maybe by the end of the month.”

  For someone with a property he needed a tenant for, he certainly didn’t seem eager to discuss it. “If you don’t already have someone interested in renting it…”

  “It’s yours if you want it,” he said suddenly, and his gaze locked with hers, the expression intense and unreadable.

  Was she missing something? Her mouth went dry as she nodded. “Great. Thanks.”

  “Hey, Jackson, are you playing or not?” Darryl called from where he stood across the bar, holding a pool cue, the balls already scattered across the table.

  Jackson broke the connection with her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming. Excuse me,” he said, and she moved aside to let him pass.

  “Hey, can we play, too?” Becky said.

  So much for her friend being tired. “If you want to stay, maybe Jackson could drive you home later.” She checked her watch—10:35. Pathetic. “I really should go.” Yeah, ’cause the laundry won’t fold itself, she thought, suddenly not as eager to leave.

  “Or you could stay and play pool,” Jackson said, a hint of a smile playing on those oh-so-dangerous lips.

  An odd feeling, one she refused to define, washed over her. Or she could stay and play pool.

  * * *

  There was nothing sexier about a woman than knowing exactly how she would look the next morning waking up in his arms. With no makeup and wavy unruly hair falling across her shoulder as she lined up to take her shot, Abigail looked so much like the young girl he used to know he had to remind himself that time had passed and a lot of life had happened since then.

  “Ready to hand over all that cash?” she asked, peering up at him from her perch over the pool cue.

  He was ready to hand just about anything over to her. Always had been. He leaned against the ledge next to the wall and tossed his cue between his hands, hoping he was giving off an air of nonchalance, despite the fact that inside he was a mess. And it had nothing to do with potentially losing the two hundred dollars in cash they were playing for. “You’ll never make this shot,” he said, reaching for his beer and taking a swig as she pulled back and hit the white ball.

  No one moved as it spiraled toward the eight ball and hit it, sending both balls in the direction of the right corner pocket.

  “Don’t scratch, don’t scratch,” she was saying as she watched, biting her lip nervously.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes from her pretty lips long enough to see what happened, but her face lighting up in a beautiful smile a second later told him he’d just lost the game.

  “Yay!” she said, turning to high-five his sister, whose belly had been her excuse for not pulling her weight as Abby’s partner.

  Setting the pool cue aside, he reached into his pocket for the cash. “Here you are,” he said, handing it to her. “Good game.”

  She shook her head, refusing the money. “Keep it. Consider it part of my damage deposit on the house.”

  What about a deposit for the damage she’d done to his heart over the years?

  He nodded, tucking the money into his back jeans pocket. “So, did you want to swing by and see the place?”

  She frowned. “Now?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” There were a million reasons why not—the main one being that seeing her in a house he’d actually bought for himself might create even more unhealthy, irrational fantasies he’d never be able to escape. Like cooking breakfast together after a night of mind-blowing sex…or mind-blowing sex in the kitchen while breakfast burned on the stove…

  Damn. Just the thought made his jeans fit a little tighter in the front.

  He thought about retracting the offer, but Becky was climbing down from the stool with a yawn. “Sounds like a great idea. We can all go in your truck and you can drop me off on the way.” She linked her arm through his and rested her head against his shoulder.

  He laughed. “Do you want to argue with her?” he asked Abby.

  She shook her head. “’Cause that ever works,” she said, grabbing her jean jacket and sliding into it.

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of his latest project. The bungalow had cost him next to nothing, as the previous owners had been looking for a quick sale. The place was an older home but structurally sound, therefore he’d put less than $20,000 into it so far, and mostly it was upgrades and cosmetic work. It was the first one he’d purchased that had all of the features he’d wanted in a home of his own—all one level, th
ree bedrooms, three bathrooms, a large backyard—and it backed onto the lake, which was perfect for ice fishing and pond hockey in winter and taking his small boat out in the summer.

  Now, Abby would be living there. For a few months at least.

  “Wow, it’s bigger than I thought,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “You’re sure you’re only asking five hundred a month for it?”

  He nodded. “Let’s go in.” Unlocking the front door a moment later, he held open the screen door and stood back to let her enter first. “Be careful not to trip over the laminate flooring there in the hallway. I should have it finished early next week,” he said, closing the door behind them.

  Pulling off her boots, she flicked on the light and headed into the living room. “Wow. This place is beautiful.”

  He smiled as he followed her. He’d had an eye on this place for a while, knowing the moment it went up for sale, he would buy it without hesitation.

  “I love the old wood-burning fireplace.”

  So did he. “It works. I had a new ventilation system put in, and the chimney’s been inspected, so it’s safe to use.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her as she made her way toward the kitchen. “All new appliances, and the countertop should be here next week as well. It’s a dark marble to match the backsplash tiles.”

  She shook her head. “You did all the remodeling yourself?”

  “Most of it. Frank Hillier did the electrical work.”

  She smiled. “Probably for the best. Remember that time you tried to wire a new stereo system into your dad’s car while they were away on vacation?”

  He laughed. Oh, he remembered. He was just surprised she did. “Yeah, who knew the wires for the brake lights looked so much like the ones for the stereo?”

  “Your dad was so mad…” She paused, her smile fading slightly. “I was sorry to hear of his passing.”

  “Thanks.” Jackson cleared his throat. “So, down the hall are the three bedrooms. They’re all still furnished, except for the master suite.” He’d sold those items as he’d planned to buy new bedroom furniture for himself once the place was ready to move into. The stuff he had currently in his apartment was the same stuff he’d moved in with almost eight years before. He was getting a little old for his Wonder Woman pole lamp and Doctor Who police box DVD holder.

  “That’s fine. I brought some things from L.A.”

  He stood in the doorframe as she scanned the closet space. “Great walk-in…” He heard her say as she went into the closet that connected the bedroom to the en suite bathroom. Then, “Oh my God, that Jacuzzi tub!”

  He grinned. The new four-person jetted tub was his favorite new addition to the house as well.

  “I know where I’ll be spending my evenings.”

  His smile faded as an image of Abby submerged in a tub full of bubbles, her long legs draped over one side, the ends of her hair wet, hanging below her shoulders onto her chest made his pulse race and all the blood in his body rush to his crotch. She still had the ability to induce a hard-on with just his imagination. He forced himself to think of anything else as she reappeared.

  “I love it. I’m definitely interested in renting it. In fact, once the di…” She paused. “I might eventually be interested in buying it.”

  Wonderful. He was potentially losing his dream home to the woman of his dreams. If she wanted the house, there would be no way he could say no. Besides, living in it without her, knowing she had been sleeping in the master suite, bathing in that tub, drinking her coffee out on the deck overlooking the lake, would be torture.

  He could strangle his sister for this. He’d never be able to think of the house the same way again. And more disturbingly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  The feelings he’d had for her years ago paled in comparison to the new ones strangling his common sense. Before, he’d been a teenager, fueled by hormones. He’d wanted to touch her, kiss her, hold her hand, wrap his arms around her. Now, it was a deep longing from the depths of his chest making him want to do all that but also so much more.

  Now, he wanted to know what it would be like to wake up next to her, to be there for her during this tough time, and to make love to her until she wondered why she’d wasted any of her emotions on anyone else. These new feelings made him wonder if maybe his loyalty to Dean had a time limit. They weren’t as close as they’d once been, and he was starting to question if he knew his friend as well as he’d thought. Maybe it was just hockey they had in common…that and falling for the same woman.

  “You okay?” Abby asked, stepping closer and studying him.

  He blinked and shook his thoughts away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  “I just said ‘thank you,’ but you seemed to have zoned out for a second. Where did you go?”

  She didn’t want to know. “Nowhere…You’re welcome.” He headed back down the hall and she followed.

  Unfortunately, he turned the hall light off a second too soon.

  “Ow, shit, ow!”

  He flicked the light back on and turned to see her hopping around on one foot, holding the other in her hand. “You okay?” He frowned as he moved toward her.

  “My toe. I hit it on that stack of laminate flooring you warned me about. Ow!” She continued to hop, blinking back tears.

  “Let me look at it.”

  “No. You’ll hurt me.” She moved out of reach as he went to grab her arm.

  “I’d never hurt you,” he said hoarsely, with more emotion than he’d intended.

  She heard it too as she stopped hopping and set her foot back down. “Uh, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s fine,” she said, but she was wincing with every step toward the door.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, noticing her sock turning red at her toe. Damn. He should have told her to leave her boots on.

  She went pale as she glanced down. “I need to sit,” she said quietly.

  He led her into the kitchen and pulled out a counter stool. “Sit here.”

  She did and he bent to remove the sock, relieved to see just a small gash on the top of her big toe. Her beautiful, manicured, soft toe. The temptation to bring the small, delicate foot to his lips and kiss away the pain made him slightly tipsy.

  “Is it horrible?” she asked, covering her eyes.

  “No, it’s perfect,” he mumbled.

  “Huh?” She looked.

  “I mean, it’s fine. Just a small cut. Give me a second.”

  A minute later, he was back with antiseptic, a face cloth, and a Band-Aid. Minor injuries were almost guaranteed when he was renovating, so he’d learned to keep a small first aid kit nearby.

  “Here, let me,” she said, reaching for it.

  “No, because you won’t apply the antiseptic.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “No, you won’t.” He wiped the blood away from the cut gently, then opened the bottle. “I remember the summer we were jumping over logs in the forest and you slipped.” He poured the alcohol-based liquid onto the edge of the cloth. “A sharp twig sticking out of one of the logs pierced your skin. It took three of us, Asher and Ben and me, to hold you down while Mom cleaned the wound.”

  She scoffed. “I was twelve. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  No shit. Every part of him had certainly noticed. “Take a breath,” he said.

  She did as she closed her eyes.

  He applied the antiseptic quickly and blew on the cut softly to try to ease the sting, then he quickly applied the bandage. “There. Better,” he said as he stood.

  “Thank you,” she said, accepting her bloodied sock from him awkwardly. “You know, you’re kinda nice when you’re nice.”

  “I’m always nice,” he murmured, aware of just how close they were. One tiny step and a whole shitload of courage and she could be in his arms. He waited. Neither happened.

  “Not to me,” she whispered.

  Damn it. His own legs refused to move, so he reached out and, grabbing her waist, pulled her off of the stool
and into him. “Maybe it’s time for that to change.”

  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away from him, as his hands left her hips to cup her face. “Jackson…”

  “You really think I’m an asshole, huh?” he whispered, searching her eyes.

  “Yeah, I really do.”

  “Well, kissing you probably won’t change your perception,” he said, swallowing hard.

  “Probably not,” she said, her eyes wide. She looked as though she wanted to run away, but her feet were frozen to the floor.

  He stared at her mouth. Damn, a kiss from those beautiful pink lips would be worth a slap in the face. One taste of her would be worth unravelling any progress they’d made in becoming friendly. Who the hell wanted friendly? Not him. He wanted wild passion in the Jacuzzi tub and his and hers towels hanging in the master en suite that she’d admired moments before. But her bewildered, hesitant expression told him to proceed with caution.

  Reluctantly, he moved away, letting his hands fall away from her. “So, the place. You’re happy with it?”

  A look of disappointment competed with a look of relief on her face as she nodded. “Yes. The place is perfect. It was exactly what I was hoping to find to start over,” she said softly.

  He nodded. “Great.” He wondered what else she might need to start over, and whether someday he might make that list.

  Chapter 8

  Wait! Stop. I need to get a snack for this,” Becky said, starting to push herself up from the couch.

  Jackson stopped pacing and shot her a look. “This isn’t a movie. This is my life, which I have totally complicated in less than two weeks,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair. He’d yet to sleep, driving around town into all hours of the night after dropping Abby back at her SUV. Driving always helped him think, but last night, he’d had to fight the urge to drive back in the direction of her parents’ place and throw rocks at her bedroom window.

  What exactly he’d wanted to say to her, he had no idea. Temptation mixed with an intense agonizing guilt over wanting to kiss his best friend’s wife. Soon to be ex-wife, a voice in his mind reminded him. He silenced the hopeful annoyance because it didn’t matter. Abigail was off-limits. The night before he’d let things get a little carried away. Thank God, things hadn’t gone any further than they had.