by Tia Louise
I can’t resist teasing him. “Not interested in sitting in with these guys?”
He laughs. “I don’t mind beach music. The Dead, Marley.”
“It’s the lack of soul you can’t get onboard with?”
That gets me a bigger laugh. “There’s some blue-eyed soul happening.” Pointing to the fellow on bass, he nods. “He’s hitting some interesting licks.”
“Okay.” I nod, hoping he’s aware I’m totally out of my league talking reggae music versus traditional New Orleans blues.
“All this place needed was some good food. I figured I’d give it to them.”
“I’m a believer. You’re a master.”
“Except for the brie.”
“Somebody will love that brie shit. Just not me.”
“Just not you,” he says it at the same time, and we both laugh.
For a minute, we listen to the band putting their spin on “Santeria” by Sublime. A few couples are out on the floor doing a two-step. I think about living in this town, being able to hop down to the beach, surf, love on Ember whenever I get a chance. The simple life of Oceanside always appealed to me. It was my father who demanded I be “better,” whatever the fuck that means. I already had what made me happy, what made me complete.
“It’s not a bad place to live.” I don’t state the obvious—I’m here and my presence is solely dependent on what happens with Ember. I can’t imagine living here without her.
“Not much different from what I’m used to,” he says, polishing off his drink. “Pristine, idyllic beaches meet meddling gossipers and busybodies.”
That makes me laugh. “You sound like a local.”
Tabby is over at the other end of the bar with Thelma and Donna White. They’re chatting, but Ember’s friend is facing me. She’s frozen me out since I got here, but two nights ago at the poboy shop I managed to get her to let her guard down and listen to me. It’s how I got Ember’s phone number. It’s what gave me hope. When our eyes meet, she walks down to where I’m standing.
“How’s it going?” she says. “Made any progress?”
My eyes go to the empty bottle in my hand, and my mind goes to my girl leaving here with Bucky Pepper of all people. “She’s really defensive.”
“You really hurt her.”
Frustration tightens my throat. “I was really hurt—”
“So you say,” Tabby cuts me off, green eyes flashing. “I’m not sure what’s true, but I’m willing to take a chance if it’ll help her. You’d better not make me regret it.”
“If things go the way I imagine, there will be no regrets. Ever.” I mean the words with all the determination tightening in my chest.
“Then what are you still doing here?” She gives me a look. “You saw her walk out with Bucky Pepper, right?”
Sighing, I place both forearms on the bar. “I can’t keep forcing her. I have to give her space to come to me.”
“Ember is only with him to fulfill an obligation.” A quiet voice comes from behind Tabby, and I look up to see Thelma has joined us. “She promised his mother. Ember’s one of the nicest people in town.”
I hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Jackson, Jack—”
“I know who you are, Jack Lockwood. André’s told me all about you.” She does a little laugh and rests her face against her husband’s chest. His strong arm goes around her shoulders.
“Did I see Ember leave with Bucky?” Donna appears beside Tabby, asking as if she’s trying not to let me overhear.
“She said she was tired,” Tabby says, equally low.
Donna’s mousey brown eyes widen. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
I don’t like the implication of her words. “What does that mean?”
She seems to grow even smaller, looking down at her feet. “I don’t like to spread gossip.”
“What does that mean?” The knot in my throat has moved to my chest.
Tabby makes a face. “Cheryl Ann said Bucky… Well, she said he grabbed her inappropriately, but I’m not sure how much of that you can trust.”
She continues talking, but my vision has tunneled. I’m waving at the bartender trying to get his attention.
“My question is why would she go out with him in the first place?” Tabby continues.
Donna’s voice is still soft, but her words slice through me like a knife. “They say women never lie about things like that. I believe Cheryl Ann.”
“Sorry, man, I hate to leave you like this.” I shove a twenty in André’s hand. “Use that to pay for my beer and call a Lyft home.”
He’s instantly on alert. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“It better not have.” I’m moving fast for the door with murder on my mind.
Fourteen
Ember
Our drive back to my place is mostly silent. Bucky has the radio on a country music station, and I look out the window doing my very best not to let my mind replay the feeling of Jackson’s strong arms around me, his scent…
As we’re entering Oceanside Village, my phone buzzes in my purse. It’s a text, and I freeze. Jackson has my number now. I saved him to my contacts. Clenching my hands together, I look out the window, not wanting to be rude, even if this is just a courtesy date.
Bucky parks the truck in front of my building, and before I can say anything, he’s out and jogging around to help me. We walk the few steps up to the front door, and I stop and face him.
“Thanks so much, Bucky. I really appreciated dinner.” I smile and hold out my hand.
“Don’t say thank you.” He bypasses it, circling around and getting between the door and me. “It was like I always dreamed it would be.”
“You… dreamed it?” I do a little frowny-smile trying not to think too much about Bucky dreaming about dating me.
“It’s awful early, don’t you think?” His leery smile turns tentative. “I sure would love to have a slice of your amazing cake.”
Another tiny alarm bell goes off in the back of my mind. “You know what?” I walk toward the truck hoping he’ll follow me away from my door. “I don’t really keep cakes for walk-in business yet. Everything I make is for hire.”
Instead of following me, he peers through the glass. “Well, what are those little things? Right there on the counter?”
“What?” Breathing through my mouth, I go to where he’s standing and look into the shop. “Oh, sweet baby Jane…” I left half of the Yellow Monster Number Four cakes under the glass in plain sight. “I’m sorry, Bucky, we can’t eat those.”
He smiles, and I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, but it creeps me out. “I bet we can have just one… we can share it! And a little coffee, too. It’ll be nice.”
My nose wrinkles. “Ahh… Tell you what. I’ll pack one up for you, and you can take it back to your place and have it with a cup of coffee before bed.”
His smile morphs into a crooked frown. “I guess. If that’s the best I can do.”
With a deep sigh, I turn the lock and lead us inside, headed straight to the case. I hear the door shut behind me, and the lock clicks. It stops me before I even uncover the dish.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Bucky’s voice has changed. I spin around, and my eyes go huge when I see the glint of lust in his. “You know, we never got to finish our dance. That damned Jackson Cane cut in on me.”
Backing up, my legs hit the counter and I stop, holding out my hand. “Bucky… I’m too tired for dancing.”
“We don’t have to do anything fancy. We can just sway like before. I liked having you in my arms.”
“No. I’m sorry. It’s too… I don’t want to lead you on.”
“You’ve just never thought of me that way, Ember Rose.” He reaches out to catch my hand. I try to pull it back, but his grip is a vise.
“Bucky,” my voice is firm. “What are you doing?”
“I want to help you Emberly.”
“Help me how?”
“My mamma said you’re lik
e caged heat. She said you’re smoldering fire burning under ice.”
A knot is in my throat. “That’s a really inappropriate thing for your mother to tell you about me!”
“Oh, she didn’t tell me. I heard her telling one of her friends on the phone.”
“Of all the—” I can’t decide if I’m furious or embarrassed. Or both. Betty Pepper! What kind of stories is that dirty old lady spreading around town about me? “That’s really inappropriate for her to say to anybody!”
“Your aura is calling to me.” Bucky’s voice is low, possibly what he considers seductive, and he steps forward, still gripping my wrist. “Don’t fight it, Emberly Rose. It’s what your body needs…”
“Gross!” My hand is behind me now, feeling around on the counter for anything I can use as a weapon, my spoonula, my cake pan, my knife…
“Mamma said you haven’t been with a man in a long time. Let me help you with that. Use me, sweet Emberly…”
Swallowing the bile in my throat, I push hard against his stomach. He doesn’t budge. Instead he starts leaning forward, eyes closed, lips extended in a pucker.
I dodge his kiss and grunt as I try to push him to the side. “No, thank you!”
“You’re so beautiful, Ember.” His clammy hands are on the backs of my thighs now, moving up and over my ass. “Let me eat your tuna. I’ll eat it so good, you’ll beg me for more. I’ll make you so wet—”
“Get off me!” I throw all my weight at him and scream, punching my fists against him until he grabs them both in one hand.
I scream louder, trying to jerk my hands away. Just then a banging noise starts on the door. Bucky jumps and looks over his shoulder. His grip loosens, and I jerk my hands, slipping out of his grasp and away from him.
“Get your fucking hands off her now!” Jackson’s voice is loud and raging, and Bucky makes an audible gasp. “Ember, unlock this door!”
I try to run to him, but Bucky catches me around the waist. “You get away from there, Jack Lockwood!” he shouts back. “You leave us alone. Emberly wants to be with me!”
“I do not!” I shout, furious about this whole idiotic turn of events. “Jackson! Help!”
I watch him look around the door, hesitating only a moment before disappearing. Where’s he going?
Bucky’s face is in my hair, and my eyes fly around my workstation. “That’s right. Get rid of that Jack Lockwood. He hurt you. I would never hurt you, Emberly.” He runs his tongue up the side of my neck, and I flinch, seeing what I need. “I’ll keep you coming. You’ll come so hard, you’ll be screaming my name—”
My fist closes over my heavy rolling pin, and I’m about to whack Bucky into next month when his voice turns into a gagging noise and his grip on me goes slack. Spinning around, I see Jackson has him by the throat and is dragging him to the door. My rolling pin hits the table with a clatter as Bucky’s boots kick against the floor, making loud, scuffling sounds. Catching my breath, I take a few steps in their direction, not sure what’s about to happen.
“Let me go!” Bucky’s cry is garbled from Jackson’s fist around his neck.
Jackson pauses to unlock the door then continues dragging him outside. I creep forward a few more steps just in time to see Jackson throw Bucky off the porch onto the dusty street. Bucky lands flat on his back with a loud Oof! But Jackson isn’t done. He hops off the porch right onto Bucky’s chest and starts punching.
“No means no, asshole!” Jackson’s fists fly, but I can’t see Bucky on the ground from where I stand.
I hear grunts mixed with spitting mixed with wet coughing and shrieks. “Stop! Jack, stop!” Bucky cries.
I rush out the door, into the dim night where Jackson is beating the shit out of him.
“Jackson! Wait!” Reaching forward, my hands spin in the air as I try to catch his flying fists.
He pauses and looks up at me, blue eyes throwing fire and jaw clenched. “Don’t kill him. Then you’ll be in trouble!”
He’s breathing hard, but he stops beating Bucky. Pushing off the ground, he steps back, shoulders hunched. His shoulders rise and fall quickly, and his hands are clenched into fists. His expression is so wild, I’m afraid he’s going to start kicking. I’ve never seen murder in someone’s eyes until this moment.
Bucky is whining from the ground. “Oooo… I think you broke my face.”
“Don’t you ever touch my girl again.” Jackson’s voice is hoarse.
My insides flash at his words, and I carefully reach for him again. “Jackson? Come inside. I’ll call Chad. The deputy sheriff.”
He blinks those blue eyes up at me, and they change from fury to concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod, reaching for him. “He didn’t hurt me. Come inside. Chad’ll take him to jail.”
He stands for a moment longer, looking down at the moaning heap of potential date-rapist garbage on the ground. His leg twitches, and I know he wants to kick him.
“Come on now,” I say gently.
The muscle in his jaw moves, and he hesitates a beat longer before stepping back and moving in my direction. I already have my phone out, and I’m dialing Chad’s cell number.
“Ember? You okay?” Chad sounds worried. He gave me his number once he found out I lived alone above the store—even though I told him I don’t have any money in the register and nobody comes into town anyway.
“We’ve had a bit of excitement…” I glance up at Jackson, and he’s watching me with so much intensity, it makes my stomach flutter. “I was with Bucky Pepper, and well… he sort of got a little handsy.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No—I’m okay. Jackson was here, and he kind of, ahh, he kind of beat him up a little bit.” Gross exaggeration.
“I’m sure he did. I’m surprised he didn’t kill him.”
“Anyway, Bucky’s outside—” The noise of squealing tires echoes through my door.
Jackson spins around and jogs to where we left my attacker. “He drove away.”
“Strike that,” I say to Chad. “He must not’ve been hurt that bad. He was able to climb into his truck and drive away.”
“I’ll go by his mamma’s house and pick him up. You come down to the station tomorrow and press charges. We’ll take care of this.”
“Thank you, Chad.”
I end the call, and it seems so quiet in my shop. Jackson stands by the door looking back at me. One small lamp is on inside, and everything is cast in a yellowish glow.
“I guess you want me to go.” He hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay.” I nod. He turns and opens the door, and I quickly speak. “Wait…”
My insides are all mixed up. I don’t want him to go, not at all, no matter what my survival instincts have been screaming at me since the first day he appeared in town.
“I could make some coffee if you want,” I continue. Looking around, I see the dish of cupcakes still waiting. “I have these. They’re lemon curd with a pinch of cayenne pepper.”
His brow relaxes with a smile, and he pushes the door shut. “That sounds really good.”
The idea of feeding him cake gives me an unexpected rush. “I read about how in Mexico they sprinkle red pepper on fruit or have it with chocolate. I was just experimenting.”
He walks slowly closer to where I’m standing, and my heart beats faster with every step. “You’re a baker now,” he says with a smile.
“I try,” I say with a little shrug.
“Looks like more than a trial.” He looks around the store, and my eyes move from his square jaw, over his full lips, down his neck.
Finally, his blue eyes return to mine, and I lose my breath. “Thank you,” I manage to say.
“For what?” He takes another step closer, and I can smell that amazing leather and cedar and Jackson scent.
“For saving me.”
“Oh.” He nods, looking down at his hands. I do the same, and I see one of his fists is cut open and bleeding slightly.<
br />
“Jackson! You’re hurt.” I start to go to the sink, but he stops me.
“Hang on.” His voice is firm but gentle, and his touch on my arm becomes the focus of my attention. I love his warm, strong grip on me. “I really do want to talk to you. We could do it here or we could go to the cottage if that’s more comfortable?”
“We can talk here.” Looking around, I realize I don’t have anywhere to sit in the store besides the stools around the worktable. “I have a couch and chairs upstairs.”
The faintest hint of a smile ghosts across his lips, and I turn, leading him to the door at the back of the room—the same one he must’ve come through when he saved me from Bucky. The fire in his eyes, his determination to protect me, all of it is branded in my memory.
We walk slowly up the staircase to my apartment. I rush quickly and turn on a few lamps so we have light, although it’s still pretty glowy and atmospheric. When I turn around, he’s looking at the pictures of Coco and me at the beach.
My chest clenches as I remember my mother’s words. Most men are put off by other men’s children.
“She looks like you as a little girl.” My defenses melt when he smiles at me, warmth in his eyes. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’s feisty,” I say, and he exhales a laugh.
“I guess she acts like you, too.” He walks around to look at more pictures and finishes softly. “Watch out, little boys.”
I’m completely disarmed, and I don’t know what to do. Jackson is standing here filling my vast, empty apartment with his presence, the dream I gave up so long ago.
“She’s been the best thing in my life for four years.”
He nods, looking down. “Is she Mason’s?”
“Mason?” I’m confused.
He looks up to me. “Mason Green? Isn’t that who…” His words trail off, and his expression is like finding the last piece to a challenging puzzle.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask.
He comes to where I’m standing, and I see the thoughts moving behind his eyes. He pauses. It seems like he might touch me, but he hesitates. I want him to touch me. My skin aches for his touch.
