by Cindi Madsen
After giving Black Widow a quick chin scratch, I pulled the chilled bottle of wine out of the fridge and grabbed the neon-colored plastic cups from the cupboard in my pristine kitchen. And by mine, obviously I meant for the very temporary here and now. More and more I was thinking of this place as mine, and I needed to stop. It would be hard enough to say good-bye as it was. I needed to focus on the fact that selling it meant I’d done my job well.
I hope the house doesn’t end up going to some pretentious couple like a few of the ones on House Hunters, where the husband’s a freelance hamster trainer and the wife sells dreams and rainbows and they somehow make 1.3 million.
While they were usually that same type who talked about paint color as if it were a make-or-break issue, it also bothered me to think of them painting over what I’d done. Of them changing anything Jackson and I had poured so much hard work into.
Don’t think about that. Think about how this kitchen is the kind of kitchen that sells the house.
Since we didn’t have many cleared surfaces in the other rooms, I opted to pour the cups in the kitchen, and balancing the drinks, I carefully walked across the fancy new hardwood living room floor. It was mostly finished but needed swept and cleared of debris, which was the only reason I was leaving the heels on. Stepping on a nail would really put a damper on the plans I had for tonight.
The creaky spot in the hallway announced my arrival, and Jackson looked up. My guy, on my couch, while my cats slept in the next room.
I was really starting to have a my problem.
Then I noticed the book in his hands.
“Oh, jeez, don’t look at that.” I should’ve known better than to leave the scrapbooks out, but I’d been making my way through them, one book at a time. I set down the glasses and reached for it, but Jackson held it away.
“This is you?” He lifted the book closer to his face.
“Some of them are me, yes.”
He took a swig from his cup, keeping the scrapbook out of my reach the entire time. Then he flipped the page, and his expression morphed into the glee-filled one he wore when he thought he was about to secure the victory in one of our arguments. “You were a cheerleader?”
“Only for a couple of months, and I was pressured into it.” I swiped the book from him. “It was when I was in Alabama, and not only was I…well, kind of desperate for a friend, I was desperate for an excuse to not have to go home until the last possible minute. The very first girl I met was a cheerleader, and hey, when in Pom Pom Land…”
Jackson placed his arm behind me on the back of the couch, watching and waiting, like he knew I wasn’t quite done traveling in that time period yet.
“I told my mom it wasn’t a big deal, and she had no desire to go to a high school game. Plus, I think the asshole was already pulling the strings and keeping her as isolated as possible.” I didn’t want to go down that path, so I focused on the other part. “Dixie and Rhett drove two-and-a-half hours to see me cheer at my first game. Evidently Dixie snapped this picture for posterity, and I’m not sure whether I should thank or strangle her for that.”
The rift had just formed between her and Mom, but she told me it didn’t have to affect our relationship.
For a little while, it didn’t.
In fact, it was nice seeing Rhett here and there, too. But then they moved, and I was grown anyway, so it wasn’t like I needed extra parental figures around. Which was good because Mom was the only one left, and she was far from parental.
“Well, I plan on thanking her,” Jackson said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “And if it’ll turn you on, babe, I’ll dress up in my football uniform and you can do a cheer for me.”
I shot him a look. While I could totally get down with Jackson in a football uniform, I sure as hell wasn’t going to don my cheerleading outfit again.
“I’m a little surprised you never learned that a linebacker plays defense, but I’m happy to tutor you and give you a thorough demonstration of how to tackle your opponent to the ground and hold them there.”
“I cheered for basketball, and I didn’t bother to learn much about that, either. I just recited cheers.”
Jackson circled my thigh with his hand. “While bouncing around in a tiny skirt?”
“The tiniest. As I’m sure you noticed.”
He grinned. Then his gaze dropped back to the photo. He flipped the page, and my stomach bottomed out. In the picture, Tyler had his arm around me, and I was laughing. I’d sent the picture to Dixie, because at the time, I thought he’d be a permanent part of my life, the way I thought she’d be a more permanent part as well.
I was so stupid back then, thinking I needed a guy to complete me. I pried the picture out of the book, which wasn’t easy with the crazy fastener things Dixie had used.
“Whoa,” Jackson said. “What are you doing?”
“Getting rid of a picture of some asshole I once dated.”
“Isn’t Dixie going to be mad?”
“I don’t care. I don’t want exes-hall-of-shame scrapbooks like my mom has.”
“I didn’t know you even dated enough to call guys exes.”
I wasn’t sure he meant it as a dig, but it pricked my defenses like one. “I don’t. It’s a mistake I won’t make again.”
I crumpled Tyler’s picture into a ball and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. He didn’t deserve to have so much emphasis in my life or the way I lived it. He was just a blip on the radar. It was more that for the first time in my life, I’d thought someone actually wanted me around. It felt so nice to be wanted, and add in the sense of security I experienced over not only finding someone who understood me, but also that I’d be staying put for four whole years, and it was the perfect catalyst to make me fall in love hard and fast. I wrapped my entire life up in him.
When he walked away, the crash…it was brutal.
Ugh, the tears I’d cried over him. Tears he so didn’t deserve, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve that piece of my heart that he took with him. Looking back, I realized I’d clung on that much tighter because Dixie and Rhett had just moved away, and instead of feeling like my life had finally started for real, the way I’d expected it to magically do, I felt more alone than ever.
That last glimmer of hope about love and relationships snuffed out after that. I accepted the fact that people always leave. Always.
Jackson was studying me way too closely, like he could see another piece of the puzzle falling into place. Over this past month I’d spilled tidbits of information, starting with little, seemingly insignificant things, and then bigger things, like when I’d said too much about some of Mom’s exes. Probably enough that he could almost see what it’d look like if he fit them all together. Now he wanted to repair the remaining gaps and holes.
“I’m not a puzzle,” I said, fighting…not quite full-blown panic, but a hint of worry and another foreign emotion that left me anxious and drifting closer to the edge. I’m not broken.
“I know.” He curled his hand around the side of my neck and brought out the teasing smile. “You’re a sexy woman who wants to do a personal cheer routine for me.”
My anxiety eased off, and I gladly took the bait he’d laid out. “How can you be so very wrong so much of the time?”
He dragged his hand down, his knuckles brushing over one of my breasts and sending a corresponding shock of need through me. “You sound pretty sure of yourself for a woman who not only lost a sex-off, but propositioned me on our very first date.”
I made an offended noise as my mouth dropped open, but it came out a little too breathy to be convincing. He ran his fingers back up, retracing their original path and leaving me dizzy with desire. Then he curled his hand around my neck again and guided my lips to his, erasing the last of the bad memories and tension with his tongue and the hand drifting higher and higher on my thigh.
He pulled back and rested his forehead on mine, our shallow breaths mixing in the air between us. “Still wai
ting for that cheer.”
“Okay, fine.” I shifted, crawling onto his lap and straddling him. I brushed my lips across his and rolled my hips. “Give me an O.”
He gripped the sides of my waist, holding me tight to him as he arched against me, his arousal pressing right where I needed it. I shuddered against him, wrapping my arms around his neck to anchor me. He kissed me, stroking my tongue with his as he reached back and unzipped my dress. One strap slipped off my shoulder, and he yanked it down and dragged his thumb over the lace cup of my bra. I moaned and rocked against him again, needing more of that intoxicating friction.
He groaned, making it that much more satisfying.
Despite my internal grumbling about getting all dressed up tonight, I was glad for my skirt. Even with it, it felt like there was too much fabric in the way.
As if he could sense where my thoughts were headed, Jackson laid me back on the couch and tugged the rest of my dress down, down, until it fell to a puddle of fabric on the floor. He slipped his fingers into my panties and then I was lost in a sea of euphoria.
He increased the pressure as he captured his lips with mine, and I blame the drought the past few days for how quickly I tumbled over the edge.
I was still boneless and panting when Jackson pulled me into his arms. “Upstairs,” he said, and I simply nodded and hooked my ankles behind his waist. I still had my heels on, and Jackson definitely had way too many clothes on.
Once we reached my bedroom—there I went calling things mine again—he laid me down on the bed. He dragged himself down my body, kissing and teasing while I went to work removing his clothes.
As he moved over me, I wasn’t sure why, but everything felt different. I didn’t know if it was the date or the connecting, but in the middle of the endorphin rush, he paused and cupped my cheek, giving me a look that was equal parts tenderness and possessiveness. In that moment, he branded my very soul, and I waited for the fear to come, but the only thing I experienced was the need for more.
More of him, more of this, more of everything.
And without having to say a word, he seemed to understand and gave me all of it and more.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jackson scooted away from me, moving like he meant to get out of bed. I caught his arm and tugged him back down to the mattress, hooking my leg over his to ensure he didn’t escape. “You don’t have to rush off quite yet.”
The noisy bedsprings squeaked as he rolled to face me. His mussed hair, lazy smile, and exposed—well, most everything—sent intoxicating surges of happiness through me. He traced a finger over my sensitized, kiss-swollen lips. “I don’t want to break any of your rules or make you break out in hives.”
“I can handle a little bit of cuddling,” I said, even though the annoying voice in my head chimed in, reminding me that I’d already broken several of my rules with him, and I should stop myself before I got too carried away and things spun out of control.
“Good to know.” He hauled me against him and squeezed me tight. Then, with that mischievous gleam in his eye that warned me he was up to no good, he rubbed his nose against mine and squeezed even tighter, my breath shooting out somewhere over his shoulder.
I wiggled against him. “I said a little bit!”
He chuckled and pressed his lips to my neck, and then I couldn’t help melting into his embrace. I snuggled up to him, my head on his shoulder. He skimmed his fingers up and down my back, and while cuddling hadn’t ever been my thing, he was just so comfortable and he smelled so good, and I fit so nicely against his side.
The idea was to get him out of my system with this have-fun-while-it-lasts arrangement, but I didn’t feel even close to having him out of my system. If anything, I only craved more.
In the name of self-preservation, it was time to remind myself that this wasn’t destined to be anything more than temporary. Head over heartache was the name of the game, even if my body protested the very idea of saying or doing anything that’d make him leave my side ever again.
Which just made it all the more important.
I ran my hand down his chest and rested it on his taut abdomen. “Earlier tonight we were talking about careers and goals, and it made me wonder…” I swallowed and forced the question past lips that didn’t seem to want to cooperate. “Do you want that whole picket-fence-and-kids stuff?”
Jackson went perfectly still, his fingertips freezing halfway down my back. He narrowed his eyes at me like he suspected it was a trick question. It probably was. Red alarms flashed through my head, and I held my breath, wanting to take it back but not allowing myself to. After all, I already knew the answer, I was almost sure. But I wanted to hear it from his lips instead of taking his very biased family’s word for it.
His inhale and exhale made his chest expand and dip. “Someday, I suppose.”
I nodded, a dull ache forming in the center of my chest. While going down this path would tear me up inside, I needed to hear it, and so did he. I propped myself up on his torso so I could look him in the eye. “You could have it with her.”
“Her?” Jackson lowered his eyebrows. “Who’s her?”
“The girl you were with at Savannah and Linc’s engagement party and the other night at dinner. The friend-of-your-family girl.” I couldn’t say her name. Just saying that much opened a raw wound somewhere deep in my heart. Maybe he only saw friendship now, but if he let himself, he could fall for her and have that idyllic life. That’d never be me.
I’m the girl you shouldn’t want, the one you have one last fling with before you settle down. And I’m…fine with that.
He sighed.
I braced for impact.
“That would certainly make my mom and my aunt Velma happy,” he said. “But I’m just crazy enough to believe that if it’s right, the thought of settling down with someone should make me so excited I can hardly wait to get started. And when I think of a future with her, that’s not how I feel.”
I reached up and fiddled with my earring—funny enough, it was Savannah’s and my sign that we needed help. The other person would swoop in and run interference. Obviously, she wasn’t here right now—and it’d be hella awkward if she was—and I supposed I was the one already running interference in this situation. I could really use some help spitting out the rest, though. “But maybe you’d feel different if I was out of the way. Not that I’m in the way. I get that this is just temporary. I’m just saying…” My fingers went to my earring again. “Well, I guess I’m stating the obvious.”
“That if I stopped sleeping with you I’d suddenly fall madly in love with Caroline?”
I flinched, the reaction too fast to realize I needed to cover it. I did my best to lift my chin and put conviction into my voice. “Yes.”
“Damn it, Ivy…” He raked a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. He studied me for a moment, and then he placed his hand on the side of my neck, his thumb dragging across my jaw and sending my pulse zipping into motion. “Why don’t you let me decide who I want to be with? In case it’s not obvious already.”
“But I’m not an option. We tried it already, and—”
“No. We slept together a few times during one of the roughest weeks of your life. We didn’t try a relationship.”
Shit. This was supposed to be cuddling so he didn’t feel like I kicked him out the instant sex ended. This was what I got for even indulging in that much.
Time to bring out the big guns. I’d been hoping to avoid resorting to such extreme measures, but it was for Jackson’s good.
Way #10: Display baggage.
Don’t hold back. Open up the countless suitcases of issues you’ve got packed away and watch them run in fear.
My heart pounded faster as I got ready to start flipping open suitcases. I’d seen grown men flee when my mom did it—which was why she’d learned to hide hers better and also why she’d stopped introducing her suitors to me near the beginning. In my case—or out of it, as it were—it’d led to the brea
kup of the dude I had the awkward prom date with and was one of the main things that drove away Tyler. He told me I had too many issues, enough that he’d rather break up than stay together “just for the great sex.”
“I don’t do relationships,” I said, trying to quell the vulnerable, exposed sensation that make my skin feel too tight. “I get bored quickly, and I smother easily. I like going out and hooking up with guys, no strings attached. I’m all about getting in, getting off, and then getting on with my life. Is that what you want? To be one of my booty call options?”
The muscles along Jackson’s jaw tightened. “You really want me to be cool with you sleeping with other guys?”
I lowered my gaze a few inches, staring at the base of his throat, because the look on his face was too much. It’s for his own good…
“I’m saying that’s how I live my life. That’s who I am. I don’t believe in love, and I’m sure as hell not the girl you take home to your parents. I’m not the girl you take home at all. I’m having fun fooling around while we’re doing the remodel, and I won’t sleep with other guys until we’ve finished it up, because that’s what we agreed to. But fun and temporary is all this can be, and if you don’t understand that, we’ve got to end it now.”
The urge to cry overwhelmed me, and I slid off him, lying flat on my back and pinching the bridge of my nose, attempting to redirect the pain and stop the tears from breaking free. “We probably never should’ve crossed the line again. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Jackson rolled over me, his hands braced on either side. “You were thinking that you and I have this thing between us that won’t go away. I tried to ignore it. Tried to snuff it out, and I even tried to hate you for the way you abruptly ended things after our amazing week together all those months ago. I’m not asking you for forever. I’m just saying give us a chance.”
A lump formed in my throat. Why did he have to push? Why couldn’t he flee, like any sane guy would? “But I don’t believe we have one, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. It’ll just lead to both of us getting hurt at the end.”
