No, she’d apparently hidden her phone number too well for that, because someone hadn’t called. He had sent a very complimentary note about her pie through Kaci though. “I studied.” The level one certification test wasn’t for another three weeks, but after squeaking by in thermo with a grade barely high enough for tuition reimbursement, she was enrolled in two classes at Jim-Bob for the semester starting next week.
“You are so lame,” Jules said.
Anna couldn’t argue with that. She nodded at the garbage can. “What’s going on?”
“This a crime? Because I was even thinking of asking for that label maker back.” Jules flung two more magazines into the trash. Her monitor was dark. Half her drawers were open. Her wedding picture lay facedown on her desk.
Not good. “It’s yours if you want it. You guys have a nice weekend?”
Two binders hit the floor. “Brad took a package.”
“Took a—oh. I didn’t know he wanted out.” The Air Force had been offering voluntary separation packages in overstaffed career fields to cut long-term costs. Neil had mentioned it once or twice, but he’d never sounded interested in taking the offer.
Jules slumped over and buried her head between her knees. “He doesn’t want his parents to lose both their sons to the war.”
Anna gulped back the instinctive sympathetic noises. It would’ve only pissed Jules off. She gestured toward the mess instead. “Does this mean—”
“It means I’m getting my shit organized to be the primary breadwinner until he figures out what the hell he’s going to do with himself.”
Anna swallowed. Then swallowed again.
It meant Jules and Brad wouldn’t move unless one of them took a job somewhere else. It meant certifications and working toward her degree wouldn’t move Anna up the RMC chain. She blew out a slow breath. “Doesn’t the base offer some career counseling?”
There was that duh look again. “Please. Like Brad needs counseling.”
Considering he’d given up his career a couple of weeks after his brother’s death, it couldn’t hurt. “You don’t have to need it for it to be helpful.”
“Whatever.” Jules dumped a stack of magazines into the trash. “If you’re going to stand there, do something useful and take this to the Dumpster.”
Anna took the can, more as an excuse to get away than because she enjoyed being garbage girl. She paused on her way out of the cube. “Jules? It’ll be okay.”
“Take it back to your own office. This is a sunshine-free zone on Mondays. I’m fine, okay?”
Every day with Jules was a sunshine-free zone. “Sure.”
With any luck, biofuels would take off in the civilian sector, and there would be plenty of work for both of them. In the meantime, Anna still had a lot of studying to do. RMC might not do as much for her resume as she’d begun to expect, but she’d make the most of the opportunities while she was here.
ANNA’S LAST CLASS of the week let out three minutes before nine the next Thursday. She stumbled out of the classroom into the darkened hallway behind her classmates. The rough gray carpet muted their footsteps, and the few talking did so in soft tones that were sucked right into the walls. Her head swam with equations and theories that made no sense.
Her bed was a thirty-minute drive away.
Might as well have been an eternity.
She slogged out the door. Her skin went clammy in the cooler but still humid air. Nights like this, packing it up and moving in with her parents sounded nice. But then she’d have to move the stack of self-help books her dad kept mailing from his bookshop.
Or maybe she’d donate them to Kaci and the ex-wives club.
She powered her phone back on while she walked to her car. Maybe Beth would still be up to keep her company on the ride home.
Her phone beeped with two text message notifications. She checked the first one.
You in class?
She squinted at the number. Not local. Not from back home. She checked the second. It was from the same number.
I dropped by that Bean place over by Jim-Bob, and they gave me some fancy cold girly drink with my coffee. Said my favorite Yankee liked it. Yours if you want it. Stop on by.
A smile tugged at Anna’s lips. He’d found her number. And she really was his favorite Yankee. That made her heart tingle.
She rubbed her eyes. A caffeine boost would get her home. Stopping was the smart thing to do.
Maybe not the smart thing for the rat-a-tat-ing in her chest, but definitely the smart thing for operating a vehicle.
Eh. Her heart could use the exercise.
She cranked the engine and buckled up. Five minutes later, she walked into Jimmy Beans. Jackson was stretched out at the far table, staring at his iPhone. Before the bells on the door finished tinkling, he’d tucked the phone into the pocket of his jeans and stood.
Jeans.
He’d dressed up.
“Hey, there, Anna Grace. You look right pretty tonight.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“For a Yankee who got into it with a possum,” he amended with an ornery grin.
She dropped her purse under the table and collapsed into the chair. “What do I owe you for the drink?”
“One of them pretty smiles sure would be nice.”
“I’m not sure one drink will be enough for that.”
He stretched back out. “Rough day?”
She took a sip and closed her eyes. Chai latte. He was good. Or, more likely, Kaci was easy. “Yum.”
She opened her eyes and found him watching her with too much interest for tonight. “I’d say I’m glad the weekend’s almost here, but I have to study. Study study study. I hate studying. I already did this once. I’m tired of doing it again. I just want to be done. Finally.” She thunked her head on the table. “I used to like school.”
“You work full-time the first time?”
She rolled her forehead. “Nuh-uh.” It took some effort, but she forced herself upright and took another sip. “Thank you.”
His leg bumped hers under the table and stayed there. “My pleasure.”
Anna rubbed at an uneven line in the tabletop. She slid her leg closer to his, solidifying the connection. Her body wanted to flirt, but her mouth had other ideas. “You know the worst part of all this? By the time I finally finish my bachelor’s, I’ll need a master’s to even apply to take the professional engineer exam. It’ll take me years.”
“You still like what you’re studying?”
She blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He slid a china plate stacked with three chocolate chip cookies back and forth with slow fingers. “People change.”
“Living that, thanks. Not because I wanted to.” The middle cookie should’ve been on the bottom. It was biggest. She fisted her hands to keep from fixing it.
Or stealing a cookie.
His leg slid against hers. A pang of longing squeezed her thighs. She’d taken the physical contact for granted when she was married. What was she supposed to do now?
“I had a family thing of sorts,” he said.
She squinted at him.
“The day you fixed my kitchen.” A flattering red crept up his ears. “Supposed to head over Friday night, but a cookout sounded fun.”
“Your momma let you get away with being late?”
The blush in his ears faded in direct proportion to the grin dimpling his cheeks. “She was right proud I tricked a Yankee into doing what she usually does for me.”
“Uh-huh.” Anna decided she’d leave an extra dollar and snatched a cookie off his plate. “So how many master’s degrees do you have?”
Jackson’s grin dropped off again, and his ears switched course until they glowed an unnatural pink. He stacked the last two cookies, leaving the top one slightly off-center. He eyed her, but she didn’t so much as twitch at the disorder.
Not that she didn’t want to.
“Three,” he finally said. “According to Uncle Sam, anyway. I only
count one.”
It took a minute to process that, until she remembered Neil had mentioned some of the Air Force continuing professional development programs counted as master’s degrees when they were done in residence.
If that was the case, Jackson outranked Neil.
She wanted to laugh. How was that for a rebound?
Jackson stacked the two cookies evenly. “Been thinking about that night you didn’t share any good fishing stories.”
“I’m boring.”
“I hear tell you’re pretty good with firecrackers.”
She looked up from watching his long fingers on the cookies. “You’ve been talking about me?”
“Mostly listening.” His dimples seemed extra-dimply tonight.
Anna’s face was hotter than Jim-Bob’s parking lot, but she found a cheeky grin of her own. “So you got the briefing about getting on my bad side?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Yet he’d still asked her to coffee.
Better and better.
But just to make sure— “Do you want to get married?”
His eyes went wide and a strangled gasp escaped his lips. “No, ma’am.”
Kaci must’ve been right about his momma raising him right, because even though Anna heard about a hundred expletives hanging in the air between them, they hadn’t come from his mouth.
Better and better had just become nearly perfect. She took a nonchalant sip of her chai, then gave him a sassy smile. “Me neither.”
He tugged on his collar. “You’re a right funny girl, Anna Grace.”
She methodically split her cookie into bite-size pieces. “Had to check. I didn’t enjoy getting divorced the first time, and I don’t plan to put myself in a position to go through anything like it again.” And that was as serious as she wanted to get with him. “But I think you’re cute.”
He rewarded her with one of those grins that made her very happy to be a single woman. “So you’re telling me my timing’s getting better.”
“It’s not getting worse. And I’ve obviously been a good influence, because you’re grammar’s getting better too.”
The slide of his leg against hers told her he took that as encouragement.
She didn’t mind a bit.
Fifteen minutes later, he walked her out to her car. “You okay to drive home?” he asked.
She nodded. “Much better now. Thanks.”
“Call any night you need a pick-me-up, you hear?” He brushed a kiss to her temple.
She tilted her head back to look up at him. She couldn’t resist it. Might as well indulge. Just because she wouldn’t get married again didn’t mean she had to stay celibate. Besides, he had an expiration date called orders. That would be easy enough to walk away from. “Can I call for anything else?”
“Anytime, Anna Grace. Anytime.” He twirled her hair around his fingers, then dropped it and stepped back. “Drive safe.”
“You too.” He turned away, but she impulsively reached for his hand. “Jackson. Thank you. Again. This helped a lot.”
“Yeah?” He stepped back into her personal space. “Don’t suppose you’re grateful enough to tell me about your biscuits.”
She licked her lips. She wasn’t thinking about biscuits at all. But if she did this, there was no turning back. He was friends with Kaci. She’d see him again. A lot.
Excitement tingled her girly bits.
She grabbed his face and went up on her tiptoes, then pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands settled on her waist. After a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back.
Lordy, did he ever kiss her back.
The hint of strawberries was nothing compared with the rich flavors of coffee and caramel on his lips. He slanted his mouth over hers, his breath tickling her cheek. She slid her arms up and around his neck, pushing up higher on her toes.
Neil hadn’t been this tall.
He’d always stayed in decent shape, but she didn’t recall his being as solid as Jackson was.
Or as thorough.
Did a guy get this good at kissing through practice? Was it her fault Neil had been a bad kisser, because they hadn’t practiced enough?
Or was Neil simply inadequate?
Jackson broke the kiss, but he kept his hands anchored around her waist. He tilted his forehead against hers. “That’s some awful loud thinking, Anna Grace.”
She froze. “I-I’m sorry. I—it’s—crap.” Kissing wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.
“That bad, was it?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “No! It was very nice.”
“Nice?”
The way he said it didn’t sound nice. “Better than nice.” It was enough to make her tingle in places she’d forgotten another human being could excite, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. Not by a long shot. “It was a lot better than nice. It was… nicer.”
His body shuddered against hers. She popped one eye open and found him shaking with silent laughter. “Highest praise I’ve had all day.”
She tried to untangle herself, but something about the cool evening made her want to huddle close for warmth, though she doubted he would appreciate it now. “I’m not very good at this,” she said.
“You’re good at something or we wouldn’t still be here.” He hooked a hand around her neck and kissed her forehead again. “Next time, Anna Grace, I’ll make sure you’re not thinking about anything else.”
She suppressed a shiver at the promise lurking deep in his voice. If he could deliver—well, did that count as being cured of her divorce? The physical parts, anyway?
For now, she’d take heart that he was willing to try. She licked her lips. “You’re on.”
He released her. A wave of cool air wrapped her body. “I’ll be seeing you, Anna Grace.”
The look in his eyes guaranteed that was a promise.
THERE WAS NOTHING like a nice hot morning squirrel hunting with a ragamuffin crew tagging along to make a man wish it was deer season. The three pans of biscuits Mamie and Miss Ophelia had set in the front seat of Jackson’s truck should’ve been his first clue, but while Miss Ophelia rattled on about Miss Flo’s having three single granddaughters now, such a shame, tsk tsk, Jackson’s mind had been circling back to peach pie.
But not the kind that came in a pie plate.
Even Mamie’s description of the girl who’d baked his third pan of biscuits—a nice Baptist girl who did things her parents called scandalous—hadn’t been enough to distract him.
He had a feeling Mamie knew it.
But then Louisa had driven up in that car that made him think of donuts, and that’d distracted everybody.
“You told ’em we were hunting, right?” Craig said. They were unloading the shotguns from the back of Jackson’s truck.
Jackson took his time looking over one of Daddy’s old shotguns that he was holding on to for Louisa. Beat looking at the womenfolk who were yapping loud enough to scare a bear. “Yep.”
“Good thing squirrel sees about the same as you do.”
Jackson gave the women another once-over. Louisa was wearing camouflage, though it was tight enough that she would’ve looked more appropriate in the kind of place she better never set foot in. Miss Ophelia had on a dress that even he could tell was brighter than the sunshine. Only Mamie was in sensible pants and boots, but she was talking into her phone, using some app that acted like an old-fashioned Dictaphone. Radish sat adoringly at her feet.
Or maybe snoringly. Getting hard to tell with the old girl.
“You young fellers need any help?” Miss O’s boyfriend, Cletus, sauntered over to the back of the truck with the bowlegged stride of a man whose center of gravity had finally shifted below his better assets. He gave Craig a nudge. “Or care to make an old man look useful in front of his girl?”
Craig handed the old guy a shotgun.
“Loaded?” Cletus asked.
“Not yet.”
Cletus went back to the women. To show ’em how to hold a gun, he said o
n a wink.
Louisa started to reply to that, the slant to her eyes saying more than the words she had yet to launch. Jackson shot her a look, and thank the blessed stars, she shut her trap.
Beside him, Craig chuckled. “How far is it to your place from here?”
“About an hour.”
“We could give ’em a head start.”
Decent idea. But far as he knew, not one of them knew first aid. Mamie’d written a couple of doctors and nurses in her books, but Jackson didn’t reckon her research had given her hands-on experience. He eyed the truck bed. “Huh,” he said pointedly. “Looks like I forgot the shells.” Brought his dog too. Wouldn’t have done that if he thought he had any real chance of bagging squirrel today.
Craig clapped him on the shoulder. “Next time, man.”
Coming home had been good for something, at least. He’d forgotten how much fun he and Craig used to have.
They both looked at the women and Cletus again. “Your mamie’s gonna be disappointed,” Craig said.
“She’ll be happy with getting a feel for the lay of the land. Next time I’m in town, I’ll take her out to the range so she can see how shooting feels.”
“Can’t decide if you’re brave or nuts.”
Jackson thought of a certain pair of doe eyes and showed a rueful smile. “Little bit of both.”
They broke the unfortunate news to the ladies and Cletus that they wouldn’t be taking home any squirrels unless they happened to get close enough to club ’em on the head with the butt of a shotgun. No one seemed to mind, so they went ahead and traipsed into the woods for Mamie’s research.
If Jackson didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Louisa looked relieved. But she shook her dark curls down her back and marched up alongside him. “Awful careless of you,” she said with a sidelong glance. “Guess you’ve been distracted.”
Yeah, he’d had pie on his mind lately, but admitting that to Louisa would be akin to inviting his family over to sift through his underwear drawer. “Distracted by what?”
“That piss-poor lineup Alabama’s calling a football team this year.”
“Louisa Margaret, I know your momma didn’t raise you to talk like that,” Mamie said. “Lord-a-mercy, what your father’d say if he heard you now. Got half a mind to take you over my own knee.”
Southern Fried Blues (The Officers' Ex-Wives Club) Page 12
