“After what we did on the plane, you know damn well a few kisses do not equal graphic.”
The only time they spent outside the bedroom was to shower and eat. Otherwise, Jax devoted himself to teaching Skye the joys of intercontinental sex. In return, she showed him the difference between taking his pleasure from a woman and sharing his body, completely and without reservation.
Jax figured he had received the better end of the deal—by far.
“Trouble is, you don’t know how to stop with a few kisses.” Skye kept his wandering hand from reaching her butt. “We need to go before your parents send out a search party.”
Knowing she was right, Jax reluctantly dropped his arms.
“Later?”
Skye smiled, a promise in her dark eyes.
Jax fastened his seatbelt, his senses heightened by the anticipation of home. They passed under the sign declaring the entrance to the ranch. Painted in a bold red—his mother’s choice—the family name was bracketed on each side by their brand, a simple cross with a wavy line above and below.
Jax felt a surge of pride. The symbol represented four generations and though he chose a different path, the tradition would continue through his brothers, and hopefully, their children and their children’s children.
The sound of her phone buzzing brought his attention back to Skye. Sending him an anxious look, she checked the text.
Jax understood she was eager to hear news about her audition. However, she wasn’t obsessed. She hadn’t let what she couldn’t control stop her from enjoying their trip. She was fully engaged, mind and body. He couldn’t have asked for a better companion or lover.
The past six years shaped who they were, molded them into strong, independent individuals. If Jax could change what happened, take away the misunderstandings, the pain, he wanted to believe they would have weathered the inevitable growing pains as their fledgling love grew, matured, deepened.
Unfortunately, he would never know.
Jax understood the temptation to mess with the past. He’d lost count of the times he tossed and turned, unable to sleep as he mentally maneuvered the members of Razor’s Edge like chess pieces, hoping for a win. The variables were too numerous to ever find his way to victory.
If Skye had defied her father. If Morgan had shared his secrets. If Kane’s demons hadn’t weakened his already tenuous grasp on sobriety. Then what? The story of Razor’s Edge might have ended in a different way, but would those differences be better, or, God forbid, worse?
After years of lamenting the past, Jax would always have his regrets, but the burning guilt was gone. He couldn’t change what happened. More important, if given the chance, he wouldn’t.
One well-intentioned fix and Jax’s life might have gone in a different direction. Glancing at Skye, his stomach clenched at the idea. They were together now, and he was grateful for their second chance.
To forget the past would be foolish, but he was through dwelling on his mistakes. Right here, right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Noticing the worry in Skye’s dark eyes, Jax rubbed her arm.
“Any news?”
“Not about the audition.” Skye put away her phone. “Text number forty-nine from my sister.”
“Since we left Los Angeles?”
“I thought when my father remarried, Gabi would benefit from a true mother figure.” Rubbing her eyes, Skye let out a frustrated sigh. “Joanie might have been a good influence—Lord knows she tried. Unfortunately, my sister saw her as competition for our father’s affections.”
Jax was happy when he heard the news about Todd Monroe and his new bride—happy for Skye. Her father had someone to take care of him, to fuss and fret. She would always care but was no longer the keeper of poor Daddy’s fragile psyche.
Too bad the new wife meant a move from Oregon to Seattle. The buffer of several hundred miles would have been nice. From what Jax could tell, Gabi had stepped into the burdensome role vacated by their father.
At least Skye wasn’t blind to her sister’s faults.
“She’s spoiled. Your words, not mine,” Jax rushed to remind Skye before the spark of annoyance in her eyes could turn into anger.
The stiffness left Skye’s shoulders.
“The new baby caused quite a stir. Evan is a doll, all smiles, and sunshine.” Skye’s face glowed with love for her brother. “The unexpected addition to the family didn’t sit well with Gabi.”
“She’s a b—”
Jax stopped short of calling the teenager a bitch, appropriate as the word may be. Skye chose a milder, yet equally telling description.
“Gabi can be a brat. I’m to blame.”
“Bullshit.” Jax knew the destructive quality of misplaced guilt. “You wanted her teenage years to be fun and carefree—the opposite of yours. Instead of gratitude, she adopted an air of entitlement. Not your fault.”
“The money I gave her was so she could take in a movie with her friends, or just hang out.” Skye dropped her head to his arm. “After school jobs suck.”
Jobs also build character. Rather than rub salt in her wound, Jax kept the thought to himself.
“What did Gabi say in her texts?”
“The usual. Where are you? You promised I could borrow your car. Where are the keys? By the way, I never let her drive my car. The girl is a disaster behind the wheel. Why the DMV issued her a license, I’ll never know.”
Jax experienced a sensation of déjà vu. Logically, he understood the situation was different. Unlike her father, Gabi couldn’t use the threat of banishment from the family to keep Skye in line. Still, little sister wasn’t above emotional manipulation, a trick she had learned at the knee of a master.
As Jax worried, he reminded himself Skye was older, smarter, and hopefully, unwilling to let Gabi’s whims dictate her life.
“Your sister is seventeen, Skye. Young, I know, but hardly a baby.”
“And my father’s responsibility,” she acknowledged.
“Exactly.” Jax nodded with relief then sighed when the phone buzzed again. “What now?”
She read the text aloud.
“You left the country!!? Why didn’t you invite me!!!!!? I would kill to visit Australia.”
“No exclamation points after Australia?”
“Wait.” Skye rolled her eyes when seconds later, the next text arrived.
“Australia!!!!!!!? You are soooo selfish!!!!!!! I hate you!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“A poop emoji?” Jax rubbed Skye’s back in sympathy.
“A flaming poop emoji.” Her grip tightened on the phone as she held down the power button. “Much as I love Gabi… The hell with her. I am officially off the grid.”
“You said hell,” Jax teased.
“My sister tends to bring out my potty mouth.”
Jax snorted. He loved that Skye considered the mild curse word potty mouth material. Just one of her many endearing qualities.
“What about Wyatt Landis?”
Though he cheered her choice to turn off her phone, he didn’t want her to regret a hasty, half-thought-out decision.
Skye relaxed, her arms going around his waist.
“Hope you don’t mind. I gave him your number as a backup, just in case mine was out of commission.”
“Why would I mind?”
Looking anywhere but at Jax, Skye fiddled with a button on his shirt. She seemed uneasy, why, he couldn’t imagine.
“Wyatt knows I’m with you,” she rushed to explain. “I told him because of the phone thing.”
Skye was worried he would care that she told a friend about their trip? Damn, she was cute.
“Tell the world.” Jax kissed her, lingering long enough to enjoy her sweet taste. “With you in my arms, nothing else matters.”
“For now, I prefer we keep the news between us and a few trusted friends.”
“I assume when you told Gabi about Australia, you didn’t mention me?�
��
Skye scoffed at the thought.
“Gabi doesn’t know the meaning of discretion. Besides,” she added. “I told my stepmother in case of an emergency. She must have shared the information.”
“And little sister threw a hissy fit.”
“Hissy is a bit strong.” Skye cleared her throat. “Okay. You nailed her reaction.”
The car pulled to a stop in front of a large, three-story white house with cheery yellow trim. The style was eclectic, a good match for the owners. No one would ever label the Cross clan as conventional.
Unbuckling her seatbelt. Skye peered out the tinted window.
“You have a welcoming committee.”
“I’m an old hat,” Jax informed her with a smile. “You’re the big draw.”
“What?” A bit pale, Skye gulped. “All those people gathered on the lawn are here to meet me?”
Someone who didn’t grow up in a large, loving, unwieldy, supportive, wide-ranging family couldn’t understand the interest a new face generated in all those nosy aunts, uncles, and cousins. Add the fact that Jax never brought women home, no one would dare miss the chance to get a look at Skye.
Rather than frighten her all the way back to America, he decided not to burden her with the particulars of the situation. She’d find out soon enough on her own.
By nature, a curious person, Skye almost smiled as her complexion returned to its natural rosy glow.
“Everyone looks friendly.”
Jax opened the door and was greeted by a flurry of hello, how ya’ doing, and looking good. Grinning, he waved then turned back to the car, reaching for Skye’s hand. When she hesitated, he offered a piece of advice.
“Think of my family as a cold mountain lake. Better to jump right off the dock than ease your way in from the shore.”
“Why in the world would I jump into a cold mountain lake?”
Looking into her eyes, Jax realized Skye wasn’t afraid. On the contrary, her case of nerves was replaced by a teasing glint in her eyes. The stinker waited, curious what entertaining thing he would say next to lure her from the Range Rover.
Skye wanted to play? No problem.
Slamming the door in her surprised face, he jogged around the back. Ignoring his confused family, he slid into the car via the other passenger door.
“What are you doing?”
Certain of his role in her impromptu production, he took her hand.
“Easing your fears, of course.”
“Oh.” Skye’s lips twitched. “You realize everyone will think you’re crazy—thanks to my bad influence.
“No,” Jax reasoned. “They’ll understand.”
“Why?”
“They’re family.”
“You’re the expert,” Skye said with a delighted chuckle.
If only they had more time, Jax lamented, he would show her what the sound of her laughter did to his libido.
“Glad you agree. Now, pay attention.” Jax’s expression grew serious. “Let me add another element to the previous scenario. Freezing cold lake on one side—”
“Suddenly the lake is freezing cold?” she demanded. “Did the season change while you ran around the car?”
“Give me a break.”
“Hey, I’m an actress, remember. I need a precise visual to assist my motivation.”
“I’ll give you motivation,” Jax warned. Skye simply batted her eyes and waited. “Okay. A cold lake on one side. On the other, a pack of ravenous, snarling wolves ready to eat you alive.”
“Let me guess. You represent the wolves?” Skye didn’t seem particularly concerned.
“I do.” He scooted closer, his lips curling into his version of a feral snarl.
“Fine. I pick you.”
Jax froze as the light in Skye’s dark gaze turned warm and welcoming.
“We aren’t talking about water and wolves any longer, are we?”
“No.” She brushed her lips against his. “We aren’t.”
Jax took Skye in his arms. He forgot where they were, his family, the world.
“Skye, I—”
A loud rap on the window broke the mood.
“Son? You and your friend plan to join the party sometime today?” Jax’s father asked in a casual, conversational tone. “Or, should we send everyone home? You pick. Your mother and I are fine either way.”
“My dad is a pip.” Jax laughed. Still holding Skye’s hand, he reached for the door. “Later, when we’re alone, remind me where we left off.”
The twinkle back in her eyes, Skye nodded.
“Be my pleasure.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
♫~♫~♫
SKYE SURVIVED THE party. No, Jax corrected himself, by the end, she was everyone’s best friend, collecting phone numbers and family recipes. Before they left, his uncles patted him on the back, commending his choice of women. His aunts voiced their approval, then cautioned him not to screw up.
“Pretty sure the family prefers Skye to me.”
Using a large blue bandana to wipe the sweat from his brow, Cyrus Cross chuckled.
“Can you blame them? Skye’s a damn sight prettier, not to mention smart as a whip. You, son, are out of your league—and damn lucky she doesn’t seem to mind.”
Not the least bit insulted by his father’s accurate assessment, Jax continued shoveling sheep dung into the bed of a well-used Ford pickup truck. He wanted his parents to like Skye, hoped she would like them. When the three bonded almost on sight, he was over the moon.
Watching his father, a man who worked from sun up to sun down, good weather or bad, because he loved his wife, his children, and the land, Jax’s good fortune wasn’t lost on him. Proud beyond words of his family and his childhood home, the contrast between his upbringing and Skye’s struck him anew, reminding him how seldom he expressed his gratitude.
“I need to thank you, Dad.”
“For making you get up at the crack of dawn to shovel shit?” Cyrus sniffed the air. He was used to the smell but wasn’t immune. “Don’t go near Skye until you shower. Eau de sheep is a little ripe compared to your usual fancy French cologne.”
“I don’t wear cologne,” Jax grumbled. A weekly manicure, yes. The occasional facial, sure. But he drew the line at bottled scent.
Hearing the argument in his head, Jax laughed. Damned if he hadn’t become a bit of a dandy. But not so much he didn’t enjoy the strain and sweat of good old-fashioned manual labor—especially shoulder to shoulder with his old man.
After all his travels, the myriad of people he’d met from everyday fans to heads of state, Cyrus Cross was still the best man Jax had ever known. If God forbid, anything happened to prevent him from speaking his piece, he didn’t want to leave unspoken the love and admiration he felt for his father.
Jax learned his lesson the hard way. Regrets could eat at a man’s soul.
“When I told you, all those years ago, the future I saw for myself wasn’t here on the ranch, you didn’t argue. When I said my dreams didn’t consist of raising sheep, but writing songs and singing them on a stage, you didn’t laugh.”
“Not like I was surprised.” Cyrus, the blue of his eyes a slightly faded version of his son’s, stared into the distance, his mouth ticked upward at the corner. “Never went anywhere without a guitar. Strumming the damned thing, serenading the sheep. You and Kane.”
Jax smiled; the first time in years the thought of his old friend brought anything but a curse to his lips.
“Didn’t have to let me go. Lord knows you needed the extra hands.” Skye’s father came to mind, so desperate for control, he squeezed and squeezed until the best part of her love was gone, leaving nothing but a sad brand of obligation. “Could have guilted me into staying.”
“Your brothers and I manage.” Cyrus scratched his stubble-covered chin. “Del and Jeff are like me. Wouldn’t know what to do with themselves without a sheep to shear.”
Jax
was his father’s son—from his long, sturdy body, to the way he held his broad shoulders. Even the stubborn—some claimed mulelike—set of his chin mirrored his father.
“We could be twins.”
Cyrus chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, proof he was a man who enjoyed a good laugh—even at his own expense.
“No doubt you’re mine—give or take thirty years.” His gaze shifted from the horizon to Jax. “Son, you were born for something different. Whatever I said or did wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“I know,” Jax nodded. As usual, his father was right.
“You needed to understand my blessing didn’t come with strings. Whether you soared to the stars or fell flat on your face, your family, the ranch, would always be a place to call home. Always welcomed, always loved.”
Boisterous, bigger than life, Cyrus didn’t know how to hide his feelings. Never, from the moment Jax took his first breath, did he doubt his place in his father’s heart. Not every son could say the same.
Jax hugged Cyrus close, grateful he was one of the lucky ones.
“I love you, Dad.”
“Now, don’t you start blubbering.” Cyrus coughed. Trying—failing—to clear the emotion from his throat, he tugged on Jax’s hair, his voice heavy with mock gruffness. “Look like a damn mountain man.”
Lips twitching, Jax stowed his shovel in the back of the truck.
“Long hair saves money.”
“Since when can’t my big shot rock star son afford a trip to the barber? Doubt a few bucks will break your bank.”
Jax hid his laugh with a cough. In his world, barbers were as common as the twelve-dollar haircuts of his youth. In other words, non-existent.
Hoping to spare Cyrus a shock, he didn’t mention the word stylist—or the fortune they charged their over-privileged clients—Jax included.
The sun was several hours higher in the sky than when they started their labors. Jax couldn’t say he missed rising at dawn, or the daily grind that came with life on a working ranch. However, the discipline learned from an early age had served him well in his chosen profession, a world many believed was nothing but glamour and glitz.
Jax’s family kept him grounded, and he was eternally grateful.
ALMOST PARADISE Page 18
