Unrefined (Monroe Series Book 3)

by Nicole Dykes

  He wasn’t kidding when he said they start from the ground up. He walks over to examine the bare metal. It isn’t even painted. “Not bad, no major dents.”

  He looks over to me, “What do you think?”

  That it’s a rusted piece of metal. “It’s nice.”

  He actually grins at that, which is nice. He has a beautiful smile, but really doesn’t show it that often. Jackson gives definition to the ‘strong and silent type’.

  The salvage yard man rolls his eyes at my response however and Jackson makes his way back over to where I am, standing close to me he leans over and says quietly near my ear, “It’s just the base, they will probably all look close to the same. We just need to make sure the body is straight, no serious rust issues, huge dents, and that the price is right.”

  I nod, “Okay.”

  He stands up a little straighter, “Alright, I’ll be in touch soon. Thank you for your time.”

  He shakes the man’s hand, and is met with a grunt that Jackson seems to understand and then we are back in his truck.

  I fasten my seatbelt and we are back on the road and back into uncomfortable silence.

  I look to my left, subtly taking in the details of Jackson’s face. He is fascinating to me. He has the face of a pretty boy model, clean cut and fresh and then as you move down his sharp jaw line to his neck that is practically covered in beautiful art.

  He must feel my eyes on him because he quickly glances over at me, “You alright?”

  I quickly look forward, eyes straight ahead, how many times has this man caught me looking at him and we’ve only know each other for less than a week. I’m so awkward, “Yes, I’m just confused.”

  “About?”

  “Well you own a classic car restoration shop, but you drive a brand new pickup truck.”

  He laughs at this, “My ’69 GTO and my ’67 Chevelle are both safe and sound in my garage. I don’t take them out in the winter, the ice salt from the streets rusts the hell out of cars.”

  I think back to our conversation about cars in the coffee house, he told me that fast cars give freedom to the trapped and I stupidly say, “Wow, two cars. You must have a lot to escape from Jackson.” He looks slightly rattled by that and I mentally slap myself, why on earth would I ask that? “I’m so sorry, Jackson, that was wildly inappropriate.”

  He shakes his head at me, like I’m a freak of nature, I get that look from him a lot, “What’s inappropriate about it? And for the record, yeah, we all need an escape sometimes Charlotte.”

  I ponder that, how many times have I stayed up at night, dreaming of an escape from what my life has become? Not a permanent escape, but just something to make me feel like I’m still alive.

  My whole life is planned down to every detail. I pick out my outfit for the next day, the night before I go to sleep. I never go out without make-up, style my hair perfectly, everything about the way I look is well thought out. And none of that is because of my marriage, it’s been that way my entire life and just carried over. I was easily trained to be ready for any potential photo op at any time when Nicholas’s career skyrocketed and he was elected Senator.

  We have a maid and a cook, so I don’t get to do any daily chores, but I do spend a lot of time volunteering and raising money for charity. That part is something that I enjoy thoroughly, but there isn’t much I do just for me.

  Maybe this gift from Nicholas is the best thing he could have given me, a brief escape from reality.

  We drive into Wamego. It’s a small town that doesn’t seem to consist of very much. Our first stop is at someone’s home.

  Jackson hops out of the truck and I follow him again I stay close to him, feeling out of place.

  This experience is different from the last place. Jackson opens the screen door to the tiny little house and knocks on the main door.

  Shortly after that a man, that seems closer to our age, also covered in tattoos and have piercings in his ears and nose answers the door, “Well holy shit, Jax, I thought you would never get here, I’ve got shit to do too you know. Long time man.”

  Jackson laughs. Jax must be a nickname. “Hey man, sorry, got a late start.”

  The man looks behind Jackson to where I’m standing, “Well damn, Jax, she’s a hell of an upgrade from the last chick I saw you with.”

  Jackson scratches his shaking head, “This is a client of mine, Mrs. Warner.”

  I wonder why he worded it like that, the emphasis on client and missus. He looks me up and down, slowly, “Damn, you poor bastard.”

  Jackson grips the man’s shoulder, “Not now. Show us the car.”

  The man is laughing now and put’s his hands up in surrender, “No problem, Jax.” He then turns to me, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tommy.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tommy, I’m Charlotte.”

  He laughs, shaking his head again and then closes the door behind him and leads us to the small garage next to his house, opening the door and revealing another hunk of metal.

  Jackson examines the “car” and then turns to me, “What do you think about this one?”

  “It looks the same.”

  Jackson and Tommy share a look, not of disgust, but maybe slight annoyance. Jackson shakes his head, but is kind, “Well, it actually is in a little better condition, no rust and fewer dents, but yeah they are close.”

  I nod my head, “Alright.”

  He and Tommy shake hands and Jackson tells him we have one more stop, but that this one looks good before we drive across town to look at our last “shell” as he calls it.

  The last place is another salvage yard, ran by a man very similar to the first, but this time I can tell the difference. This body has rusted through holes in several parts and quite a few dings.

  Jackson thanks the man and we hop back in his truck, “Alright, so I think for the price and condition, the second one is our best bet.”

  I nod in agreement, “I trust you.”

  I see a slow grin form on his handsome face as we drive back to Tommy’s house. Did I just say that?

  I am a graceful woman by nature, but when I’m around Jackson Garrett all of my grooming goes straight out the window and I turn into a bumbling fool.

  I wonder if he has that effect on all women.

  Chapter 7

  Jax

  We finally get back to my townhome from our day trip around 7:00.

  I pull into my driveway and turn to Charlotte, part of me not ready to let her leave.

  It’s been an interesting day for sure being in such close contact with her, alone for the first time.

  We now have a body ready to be picked up and shipped to the office this week courtesy of an old friend, Tommy, who I met when I first moved to Kansas.

  He’s a little rough around the edges, but a good guy and he definitely treated me right on the price. Of course I was a little close to clocking him when he wouldn’t keep his eyes off of Charlotte and kept insinuating that there was something between her and I.

  Luckily, I’m pretty sure Charlotte is naïve enough not to have a clue to his obvious behavior.

  “Okay, Charlotte, it should only take a few days for the body to get to my shop and then after that I’ll have you come in to look at color samples and a few other things. It’s a slow process, but it’s important to take our time for the best result.”

  She nods her head, “Thank you for today Jackson, I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.”

  “Please stop apologizing, it’s not your job to know everything about this shit and if you ever want or need information, or hell anything at all, let me know.”

  “Sorry.” She looks flustered, “I mean…”

  I can’t help, but to laugh. She’s pretty fucking cute when she’s flustered. “It’s fine.”

  She opens her door to climb out and I turn the truck off, walking over to join her on the other side. She holds out her hand, “Thank you again.”

  My eyebrows crinkle, always so prim and proper. I
shake her small hand, “You are welcome, see ya later this week.”

  She makes her way to her BMW and drives off quickly.

  This really isn’t good. I’m already not a fan of her leaving.

  Two days later and I’m at the Monroe dinner table for the usual weekly ‘family dinner’. Of course I’m over at their house more than once a week. Hell, I think I’m here more than at my own.

  Now I’m sitting between Alex and Brooke. Brooke happily discusses baby names with Gabby, who is very excited because they recently found out that Brooke is having a little girl. Dylan of course is freaking the fuck out and hiding that fact from Brooke.

  Having a little girl is a nightmare for a guy like Dylan. I mean Brooke’s her mother, she’s going to be beautiful and there are going to be plenty of guys chasing that girl.

  Not to mention he’s a man’s man, so he’s not sure he will know how to parent a girl. Of course when he confided this in me I reminded him he’s been a father figure to Gabby for over three years and has done an excellent job. No shit, I’ve actually seen him playing with Barbies for this girl. He will be fine.

  Gabby looks at me from across the table, “I think we should name her Emma.”

  Fuck me. I’m pretty sure all of the color just drained from my face and I can’t seem to slow my heart rate, “Where did you get that name?”

  Gabby points excitedly to my left arm, currently covered by the long sleeve shirt I have on, “I saw it on your arm silly. I like it, it’s pretty.”

  I swallow hard, forgetting about my tattoo. I feel Alex’s hand on my arm, “Jax, are you okay?”

  I nod slowly and take a sip of water trying to get myself under control. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Shake it off. I look at Gabby and manage a smile, “It is pretty, but there are a lot of other pretty names out there.”

  She bobs her head happily, “That’s true, too many to pick from.”

  Glad she dropped it, you never know what that kid is going to say, but I can still feel all the adult eyes on me, including Luke and Hannah’s who actually managed to climb out of bed long enough to eat dinner with the family tonight. Hannah has to go back to Manhattan next week.

  Thankfully, it’s my buddy Dylan to the rescue, “Alright, time for dessert. Jax, you wanna help me clear the table?”

  I jump up from my seat and quickly clear the table, carrying plates to the kitchen and place them in the sink. I turn the water on and splash water on my face and then feel Dylan’s firm grip on my shoulder, “You okay man?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  Dylan has a tattoo on his neck with the name Rose on it, I’ve never asked him about it and he’s never asked me about Emma. Again, it’s just how we are. If we need to talk about something, we do, if we don’t, we don’t. Usually it’s the latter.

  He nods and places more dishes into the sink, “Okay.”

  He doesn’t have to say that if I need to talk, he’s there, because I know it. And vice versa. It works for us.

  He exits the kitchen with a homemade cake in his hand and I compose myself before rejoining the family at the table.

  When I get back to my empty townhome after dinner, I immediately go into the kitchen and open the refrigerator door, zoning in on a six-pack.

  I don’t think that’s going to cut it tonight...

  I close the fridge and open up the freezer door, pulling out a bottle of chilled vodka, twisting off the lid and taking a small drink.

  Yeah, that’s more like it.

  I close the door and pour a glass of the smooth liquid before placing the bottle back in the freezer and going into my living room.

  Sitting down on the couch, my mind is a fucking wreck.

  I quietly sip the vodka in the glass, not allowing the thoughts to invade, even when I get a decent buzz, it doesn’t help quite like I had hoped so I pull out my cell phone and scan the numbers.

  Alex, probably not. Bridgette, that’s when I’m really fucking desperate. Brooke, never. Charlotte, in my wildest fantasies.

  I stare at Charlotte’s name for far too long, wondering what she’s doing right at this moment. It’s possible she’s in bed with her husband at this very moment, you dumbass.

  Move on.

  I get down fairly far on my list when I see the perfect name, Staci. Yeah that’ll do.

  I send her a text asking if she wants to come over, she answers almost immediately that she will be over in a little while.

  Easy.

  A half an hour later and I’m on my second glass of vodka when I buzz in Staci and unlock my front door. She knows the drill.

  I sit back down on the couch, finally starting to feel numb.

  Staci walks in, she’s a fairly pretty chick, with dirty blonde hair, that I met almost a year ago. She’s fairly tall, stacked, and of course has tattoos and piercings in a couple of places.

  “Wow Jax, it was damn good to hear from you. It’s been way too long, baby.”

  I stay seated and make some sort of grunt, she doesn’t mind. She walks over to me and casually straddling me on the couch, and whispers, “You look good.”

  “No talking.”

  Again, my snapping doesn’t bother her. Her lips make their way down my jawline to my neck before lifting my shirt up and off of my head in quick motion. She works fast and tonight that’s exactly what I want.

  Her hands roam over my chest, “Damn Jax, I have certainly missed your body.”

  She’s still fucking talking. I don’t say anything, I just lean back and she makes her way to my pants, unbuttoning them and pulling out my almost totally hardened cock.

  She licks her lips, “Damn Jax, I’ve definitely missed him.”

  Please God, shut the hell up.

  My prayers are answered when she swallows my cock, that’s why I keep her around. Nothing about me is small or even average so that is no easy feat. She bobs her head slowly and I try to let my body relax.

  Looking down at the sight before me, all I can see is her long blonde hair reminding me slightly of Charlotte’s except for hers looks softer and it’s a lighter color.

  Fuck. Am I really thinking about Charlotte, my married client, while some other chick goes down on me? Classy, Jax.

  She slowly removes her mouth from my dick and pulls out a condom, slipping it on like a seasoned pro.

  It doesn’t take her long before she is riding me to both of our climaxes.

  After that she leaves, just like that. Didn’t even bother to ask if I wanted her to stay, I never do with her.

  I should be feeling really damn good right now, but I still feel nothing but numb.

  Chapter 8

  Charlotte

  “Charlotte, you just absolutely must try the cheesecake, it’s to die for.”

  I put on my best polite smile for Gloria. “Oh, no thank you. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  When she called me this morning to invite me to lunch with Karen and herself, Nicholas was standing next to me and it was impossible to come up with an excuse why I couldn’t go. At his persistence I agreed to meet them downtown at The Plaza this afternoon.

  I’m still regretting that decision as I sit here listening to how they need to get motivated to get to the gym more, but their charity and child obligations come first.

  They both have nanny’s and even people to write their checks out to charities. Not that I’m any better than either of them, but at least I don’t pretend to have too much going on.

  Karen starts droning on about how gifted her five-year-old daughter is until all of our attention focuses on my purse when my phone rings. I dig through it, apologizing, “I’m so sorry. I thought I turned it off.”

  Karen just waves me off, “It’s alright, Charlotte, you should never turn your phone off. Nicholas may need you.”

  I finally find my phone in the abyss that is my oversized handbag and see Jackson’s name on my caller ID. Suddenly my hands are sweaty as I’m overcome with nerves. I motion to the two other women
at my table, “I’m so sorry, I should take this.”

  Gloria nods, “Of course, sweetie. Don’t let us stop you. Take your call.”

  I hit the answer button and put the phone up to my ear, “Hello, this is Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte, this is Jackson Garrett. I just wanted to call and let you know that the Mustang is here at my shop and I wanted to set up a time for you to come to my office and discuss some things.”

  My mouth is actually dry, “That was fast.”

  “Yeah, that was the easy part. So are you free today?”

  I want to say yes, but I look at the busy bodies at the table, hanging on my every word. I am supposed to go shopping with them after lunch and then meet our husbands for dinner after that. “Um today…I’m sorry, I’m actually really busy today.”

  “Don’t apologize, I’m on your schedule remember. Whatever works for you, works for me.”

  “I’m free tomorrow.”

  Nice Charlotte, that didn’t sound desperate at all. “Alright, how about you stop by the shop sometime tomorrow. I should be in most of the day.”

  “Okay, I will see you tomorrow then.”

  “See ya then, Charlotte.”

  I hang up the phone and have two sets of prying eyes on me and Gloria is the first one to ask, “Well, well, Charlotte, who was that?”

  She’s just dying for juicy gossip, “Jackson Garrett, he’s building a classic car for me.”

  Her brow crinkles, “Why?”

  “Nicholas hired him for my seventh wedding anniversary present.”

  They both practically cackle at that, like it is the most bizarre thing that they have ever heard. Karen grasps my hand that is lying on the table, “Oh dear, don’t worry you will get him trained someday. For some reason, it takes some husbands longer to learn than others that jewelry is the best anniversary present money can buy.”

  Gloria is wiping at her mascara, “Oh a car, what on earth are you going to do with another car?”

  I’m offended on the inside for my husband, but on the outside I’m good and polite. “Well, I think it is very nice of him, it’s different.” The gift is definitely starting to grow on me.