You Can't Hurry Love

by Lee Kilraine

  Yeah, it kind of was. And maybe, just maybe, he was afraid to get involved with any woman after his last experience. Maybe he was afraid to cross the line and take advantage of Jo. Just because she’d agreed to help him didn’t mean she wanted more from him. Sure after the first few kisses he’d entertained the idea of them as friends with benefits—but he’d squelched it almost as soon as it had entered his head. Now it was different. This felt like a whole lot more.

  He didn’t know what exactly that was in the car tonight, but he absolutely knew it wasn’t fun, casual sex between friends. Not for him it wasn’t.

  “Here’s a thought . . . maybe this time don’t cross-examine every action or motive. Just relax and let the universe unfold the way it should.”

  “Because the last time I tried that, the universe pulled the rug out from under me and laughed.”

  “Ah.”

  “I’m out.” Paxton stood and tossed his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin on the edge of the flagstone patio. “Next time I need advice, I’ll talk with another brother. One of my favorite brothers. Which tonight isn’t you.”

  Kaz laughed and relaxed further into his Adirondack chair. “You may want to revisit that too, grasshopper, because I think you’re wrong about what happened the last time. And relationships are like dominos: If you don’t figure out what made the first one fall, they all will.”

  “Fuck you, Master Po.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Georgie, is there a quick way to remove my hair dye?” Jo stood behind the display case in the bakery the next morning, enjoying a cup of coffee in the quiet moments following the breakfast rush.

  Pausing from where she stood looking over her notebook of recipes, Georgie glanced over her shoulder at Jo’s hair. “I thought you liked it?”

  “I love it, but I promised Paxton I’d attend a tailgate weekend with him. It’s a chance for him to network with other lawyers from his firm and the bar association.”

  “So?’

  “So mermaid hair doesn’t blend in with a crowd of stuffy lawyers very easily.”

  “Did Paxton ask you to blend in?” Georgie’s eyes narrowed.

  “He’s trying to score face-time points with influential people. My conservative teacher persona is the whole reason he asked me to help him in the first place.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” Georgie smacked her hands on her hips. “Did he ask you to change your hair back?”

  “Not outright, no.” Jo pulled at her bottom lip as she remembered their conversation in the parking lot last night. “But he kept glancing at it.”

  Shaking her head, Georgie said, “I think this is a mistake, but eight to twelve washes. Or we could try to strip the color.”

  “Oh, awesome. You’ve stripped color this bold before?”

  “Not with success, but I’m game to give it a go.” Georgie chewed her lip and eyed Jo’s aqua and purple hair critically. Was that doubt slipping on her face?

  “You know, on second thought, I’m just going to wash my hair. A lot.”

  “Fine. Call me if you change your mind.” She shook her head slowly. “I still think this is dumb. Maybe Paxton needs to take the stick out of his ass and appreciate you for the woman you are.”

  Jolene sighed, thinking it would help if she knew who that woman was herself. Sadly, she was just figuring her out. “It’s only temporary.”

  “The hair? Or you and Paxton?” She wiped down the perfectly clean counter before raising her gaze to Jo’s again. “Look, Jo, I like Paxton. I like him a lot, but I love you. So I don’t care how smart he is or how sexy he is—if he’s shortchanging you, I’m against it.”

  “Um . . . you do remember that Paxton and I only have a fake relationship for six months, right? He was totally clear about that.”

  Georgie rolled her eyes and snorted. “I guess that was fake sex and fake orgasms, then?”

  “I’m saying just because I might want something more, don’t make him the bad guy here.”

  “Why can’t you go after what you want too? Paxton sure the hell is.”

  “The timing is bad.”

  “For whom? Blimey, Jo, when exactly is the right time?” Georgie wasn’t screaming, but she wasn’t using her inside voice either. “Life keeps moving. There will always be something. First it was Darlene’s wild behavior, then your parents’ nerves, then your reputation as a teacher and your mother’s Alzheimer’s, now Paxton’s needs. Jo, I swear to God, you’re going to get to the end of your life and never have done anything for you!”

  Oh God, that hurt. Physically hurt, because it was true. And it scared her and made her want to cry, so instead she struck out at her best friend.

  “I don’t see you taking any risks and going after your dreams either, Miss Georgeanne Savage. You’ve been ignoring your feelings for Gage for years—years—because you’re worried about your brother getting angry. And what about owning your own business? Huh? Ringing any bells? You’re talented enough. People flock in here for your scones and cupcakes. But you’re still just a hired baker at—”

  “I bought the bakery from Aunt Marie nine months ago.”

  “What?” That stopped Jo in her tracks, a rush of emotion warming her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? And why isn’t anyone talking about it?”

  Georgie sat on the stool, all the fight gone out of her. “I was afraid to tell anyone in case I failed, but also because if people knew, they’d have treated the bakery like just another one of Georgie’s pie-in-the-sky dreams. There goes Georgeanne again, flitting on to the next thing. What number job is this, Georgie? Five? I figured no one would take me seriously—not until I proved I was serious.”

  Jo walked over and hugged her friend tight. “You did it. You took a big risk and succeeded. I . . . I’m happy for you. And so damn proud.” Pulling away suddenly as a thought hit her: “Oh my God, can you afford to be paying me?”

  “Damn straight.” Georgie’s smile practically took up half her face. “I started turning a profit four months ago. The ball’s in your court, bitch.”

  “You did not just bitch me.”

  “I did.”

  Over the years, their friendship had been through it all—breakups with boyfriends, rumors, disappointments, but also fun and silly times too. But when someone got in bitch mode—it meant things were serious.

  “Hold that thought,” Jo said when the bell jangled over the front door with the arrival of a customer. Maggie Pope and the same guy Jo had seen her with the night of the dog rescue walked in and up to the glass case.

  Jo had taught school long enough and dealt with enough kinds of kids to know a punk when she saw one. This kid was a punk. It wasn’t the grungy jeans or the black heavy metal tank top, or even his gory and slightly gruesome tattoos that screamed punk. It was his cocky attitude. The way he moved up behind Maggie, wrapping his arms around her and grabbing her breasts while Jo and Georgie stood right in front of them behind the counter.

  Oh boy, did she ever want to pull Maggie to the side and tell her about what she deserved and how she shouldn’t settle for less. Or pull the cocky punk aside and give him a lesson on respecting women. But the tattoo on his upper arm that read, oh good lord, something horribly rude about his mother, told Jo she’d be wasting her breath.

  She moved closer, adding new peanut butter cookies to the case, hoping Maggie would glance up. The two were seemingly in their own little world, giggling as they decided between the iced brownies and the chocolate chip cookies. Just when they seemed to make a decision, the dude flipped Maggie around in his arms and performed a throat exam with his tongue.

  Eww. When Maggie pushed his shoulders in an attempt to end the embrace, the guy just backed her up against the glass case and kept going.

  Jo heard Georgie move from behind her, only Jo was faster. She picked up the Styrofoam cup of water from the counter and dumped it over the jerk’s head. That got him to stop.

  “What the fuck was that?” Punk kid
was pissed.

  “That was a warning. That isn’t how you treat women,” Jo said, narrowing her eyes at him before turning to Maggie.

  She stood with the back of her hand to her lips, her worried eyes glued to the jerk’s face. Her worried, bloodshot eyes. Oh boy.

  “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but don’t you fuck with me, lady.”

  “How about me?” Paxton’s menacing growl startled everyone. He grabbed the kid by the ear and twisted. “How about I fuck with you?”

  “I didn’t mean it!” The punk threw up his hands by his head in surrender.

  Paxton ignored the kid and looked at Jo and Georgie, giving them a nod. “Ladies. Maggie, nice to see you.”

  Maggie’s eyes had gone big and she whispered, “Hello, Paxton.”

  “Excuse me while I step outside and have a word with the gentleman.” Letting the kid’s ear go, Paxton waved his arm toward the door. The kid jerked like he was going to run for it, but Paxton’s voice halted him. “Let’s play a game. Two truths and a lie: I was a NCAA track star in college, my brother’s a cop, and I’m a lawyer. Go ahead and make your guess, but trust me, you don’t want to run.”

  All three females watched them step outside in front of the bakery. The kid was dumb enough to open his mouth first. Paxton gave him about five seconds. And then he shut him down, probably lawyering the heck out of him, because the kid went pale and shut his mouth.

  Georgie took a sugar cookie from the case, wrapped a napkin around it, and handed it to Maggie. “Here you go, sweetie. Might as well enjoy it while we wait.”

  “Thanks. Hey, Ms. Joyner.” Her eyes darted to Jo and quickly away before looking at her again. “Cool hair.”

  “Thank you.” Jo avoided looking at Georgie, who’d managed a snort that totally translated into I told you so. “How’s your summer going, Maggie? Did you sign up for the young pianists’ class at the university you were so excited about?”

  The girl shrugged, her gaze scooting out to the front, then back to Jo. “Nah. My dad and I talked it over and we found a college prep class instead. I think I’m done with music.”

  “Well, that’s a shame because you have an amazing talent, but if you don’t love it, you shouldn’t do it.” The pain and longing in her eyes said she loved it. Oh how Jo knew exactly what it felt like to give up something you needed more than air for someone else. Over a decade had passed and some days it still hurt like a tooth in need of a root canal.

  Paxton reentered the bakery, alone. “Maggie, your boyfriend had to leave.”

  “Oh.” She glanced around, looking lost. “He drove me here.”

  “I’ll give you a ride home. You can catch me up on what your sister’s up to.” He smiled at her. “I just need a word with Ms. Joyner first.”

  Maggie nodded and wandered over near the door.

  “You never ran track a day in your life,” Georgie said, her gaze raking him over.

  “True.” Paxton shrugged. “Which is why I needed to stop him from running. I never would have caught him.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Jo whispered.

  He winked at her. “Anytime.”

  Georgie stood next to Jo, her eyes not nearly as gracious as hers. Jo nudged her in the ribs. “Can we have a second, G?”

  “I guess.” She moved away to scrub cookie trays in the sink but continued to keep her angry eye on Paxton. Jo knew she was still pissed about the idea of Paxton asking her to change her hair. Which, she’d stressed, he hadn’t. But sometimes Georgie was like a mama bear.

  Paxton leaned forward over the counter. “Why is Georgie looking at me as if I sneezed on her goodies in the display case?”

  Glancing over her shoulder at Georgie, who still had her death stare aimed at Paxton, Jo said, “Just ignore her. She doesn’t eat enough fiber.”

  “I heard that.”

  Paxton pulled his wary gaze from Georgie and focused on Jo. “I’ve got a fund-raising meeting tonight for one of the committees I’m on, so I wanted to touch base. Are we still on for this weekend?”

  “Absolutely.” She watched his gaze rise up to her hair before quickly whipping back to her eyes. “I mean, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

  “No. I’ll be by for you at ten in the morning.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll be ready.”

  They stood staring at each other and the seconds dragged out.

  From the back corner, Georgie called, “Good heavens, just kiss him already, Jo, so he can leave.”

  Smiling, Paxton said, “You heard her.”

  She sure had. Leaning forward, she gave him a featherlight kiss on his lips, only Paxton leaned into it, deepening it, drawing it out.

  “Jesus, I almost think I liked it better when y’all were enemies.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  As both a high school and college cheerleader, Jo had been to plenty of tailgate parties. Because of that, this should have been a perfect first event to attend with Paxton as his girlfriend. But there were at least three reasons why instead of feeling fine, it felt like she had a mess of angry butterflies bumping around in her stomach.

  Number one: Mr. Pope. She knew he’d be present, but she hadn’t seen him since she’d shoved the puppy into his arms as his eyes turned dark and storm cloudy.

  Number two: Her hair. The lovely aqua and purple jewel tones of her mermaid hair hadn’t wanted to let go. They hung on like a four-year-old to a piece of candy. By the time she’d washed her hair for the ninth time last night, it had been too late to call Georgie.

  The good news was the hair dye had faded some with each shampoo. The bad news was somewhere around the sixth or seventh shampoo, it had stagnated at the color of green pea soup. That had been regurgitated. By a wild buffalo. Twice. Luckily, the tailgate was outside, where the baseball hat she wore to cover the disaster totally fit in.

  Number three: Paxton. She was finding it a tad disconcerting to act totally normal around someone she’d played sex Twister with in the backseat of her best friend’s Ford Explorer. She’d get past it. Eventually. But until then, it was nerds-at-a-dance awkward.

  Paxton had picked her up at ten a.m. on the dot, looking all kinds of hot in a pair of jeans that hugged his butt and a red short-sleeved polo shirt with one of the local college emblems over his left pectoral muscle. Not that she was looking at his left pectoral muscle, or his right one. Not his butt either, although that was easier to avoid because he was sitting on it.

  No, she was definitely not ogling Paxton.

  “What?” he said, reaching out to turn down the George Strait song playing on the radio. “You keep staring at me. Is my hair sticking up?”

  So she was ogling him a little. She reached out for the coffee in the cup holder and took a sip, giving herself time to come up with a perfectly fine reason for her to be looking at him. “I . . . I just forgot you had that . . . uh . . . cowlick.” Oh, smooth, Jojo.

  “Yup. Still there.” His dimple peeked out as he flicked a knowing gaze her way.

  “Why don’t we try a few more of the couples’ questions?” Jo whipped out her phone, not even giving him a chance to respond. Anything had to be better than her wandering eyes and babbling mouth. “First question: If you had a superpower what would it be?”

  “The power to know when someone is lying. Can you imagine how easy my job would be?” Paxton grinned. “That might come in handy as a teacher too.”

  “Believe it or not, it’s usually pretty easy to tell when a teenager is lying. It isn’t even the actual lie that gives them away but the fleeting look of guilt just after.”

  “Very observant. Not everyone catches that,” he said. “How about your superpower?”

  She knew exactly what superpower she would want because she’d thought about this for years. “Time travel. I’d like a do over with my sister. And then, when I fixed that, I’d go back and talk with some of my favorite authors. Have tea with Jane Austen, fish with Mark Twain, and maybe sit by Walden Pond with Thoreau.”<
br />
  “No whale watching with Herman Melville?” Paxton reached over the center console and took her hand. “Hey, I don’t think anything you did—or your parents, for that matter—made your sister act the way she did.”

  “My common sense tells me you’re right, but I still sometimes wonder if I did something early on—something I wasn’t aware of—that I could undo.” Because sometimes it was easier to think there had been some one specific thing, some moment, some perfectly good reason why her sister had hated them. She had happy memories of the two of them as giggling and silly toddlers, but the older they grew, the more her sister had pulled away. “Okay, that was way too serious.”

  “Concur. Switch to one of those girlie Cosmo tests as a palate cleanser to lighten the mood.”

  Jo searched and brought up a Cosmo quiz. “Pick a number from one to fifteen.”

  “Four.”

  “Question number four: what is your . . . oh, you know, maybe pick another nu—”

  “Let’s have it.”

  She studiously avoided his gaze and read, “What’s your favorite position for sex?”

  “Is ‘every’ an acceptable answer? No? Okay, you go first while I think about it.”

  This was definitely one of those moments Jo wished she was more modern woman and less prim and proper schoolmarm. She really wasn’t, which explained the surge of heat over her face. Just say it and move on, Jo. “On the bottom.”

  “You don’t say? How fortuitous. I happen to like being on top.”

  He grinned his sexy lopsided smile, causing her to blush even deeper. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the overheated, prickly feeling extended down her neck and into her chest, so yes, she’d gone from a blushing rose to an overripe tomato.

  “That’s enough of that quiz.” She hid her face in her phone, counting herself lucky he hadn’t said tied in a knot in the backseat of an SUV. “We’re moving on to the Good Housekeeping quiz.”

  “Why don’t you give me the quick rundown of your ex? I feel like that’s something I should know as your boyfriend.”