You Can't Hurry Love

by Lee Kilraine

  She gave a gentle snort.

  “You don’t care for the man; that much is obvious.” He didn’t need her to, as long as they didn’t get into it like yesterday again. “I’ll grant you the thing with the dog is hard to defend, but we don’t know the full story.”

  She stabbed her fork into a piece of waffle. “That is such a . . . a . . . lawyerly thing to say.”

  Paxton blew out a breath. What did she expect from him? Not only was the man his boss but he had the power to help make things happen for Paxton’s career. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve put you in an awkward position.”

  “It’s not your fault.” She reached out her hand, touching his forearm. “I owed you.”

  “How about a deal?” Picking up her hand from his forearm, he brought it up to his mouth, placing a kiss on her knuckles. “Once tonight’s gala is over, I’ll try to minimize your interaction with Pope the rest of our six months.”

  Jo shook her head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “No. I’ll pull it together and behave. I agreed to help and I will. I’ll simply make sure to avoid some topics with him.”

  Even better because she’d have to put up with Pope for the wine weekend in September. “What exactly were you and Pope discussing at the tailgate?”

  “Discussing?” She rolled her eyes. “Pope wasn’t discussing. He was trying to get his way. Even though it goes against my experienced opinion and breaks the rules every other family has to follow.”

  “Can you fault him for wanting what’s best for his daughter?”

  “There’s the issue. Is he really deciding what’s best for Maggie, or is this about what he wants for her? They aren’t always the same thing, you know.”

  “Agreed. But it’s safe to say, after seeing Maggie the other day, she’s not in a good place.”

  “Clearly. But what if Maggie’s rebelling against her father’s dictatorial parenting style?”

  “Then they’ll work it out.” Paxton shrugged and cleared their plates to the sink. “Teenagers probably have been rebelling against their parents since the Stone Age.”

  “It’s not teenage rebellion when you want to play piano but your father is setting you up for law school.” Her eyes had gone dark like a fast-rolling storm and she quickly moved to the sink, banging the plates and silverware around under the water.

  “Again, Pope is hardly the first parent to want his child to follow in his footsteps. I’m not saying he’s right, but hopefully, he and Maggie will work it out.” Her body had gone stiff, vibrating with agitation. There was something more here. “Why do you care so much, Jo?”

  She flipped around to him, her stormy eyes glimmering on the edge of tears. “Because she’s me! I had parents who pressured me to do what they wanted—and I did.

  “It leaves an empty space in your soul that never fills back up. It leaves you feeling like you’re wandering around a desert—looking for something to give you the same high, the same satisfaction, the same pleasure—but there’s nothing. Nothing can replace something you were born to do. Nothing.”

  Well, shit. He didn’t know enough about Jo to know exactly what she was talking about. The only thing he knew she’d quit was dance, but she’d said herself she’d made that decision. But the pain in her face was raw and tender. He didn’t know what to say.

  “I watch Maggie rebel and part of me is rooting her on. Because she’s brave enough to fight for what she wants when I wasn’t.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She lifted her pointed chin a notch. “To fight for who she is.”

  “Okay. I hear what you’re saying. There’s only one thing . . . what if you’re wrong, Jo? What if she isn’t like you? What if she’s like Darlene?”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  What if she’s like Darlene? Jo couldn’t get Paxton’s last words out of her head all morning. What if she was wrong about Maggie? Would she do anything different? No matter how many ways she turned it around, right now her answer was no. Because she had hope for the girl and wanted to be there to offer her help and trust if she ever reached out for it.

  And that made her think of her parents. Was that what they’d done for Darlene? Was that why no matter how many chances they gave her, they always gave her one more? Why her bedroom sat waiting for her should she ever need it and come home?

  It made sad, tragic sense now, and helped ease the hurt she’d been feeling ever since her dad’s comment.

  A glance at her phone told her she had enough time to swing by her parents’ house before her hair appointment at Tangled. Paxton might have made luna-moth hair sound all kinds of gorgeous, but she was going back to her natural blond for his gala.

  She’d messed up, letting herself get baited by Maggie’s father at the tailgate. There was no way she wanted to mess this one up too. Even if she had to bite her tongue around Pope all night, Jo was determined to be the perfect complement to an up-and-coming young attorney.

  Jo’s parents were sitting on the front porch when she pulled up, sipping on sweet tea before the afternoon heat chased them back inside.

  “Were your ears burning, Jolene?” Her father was grinning with his normal good mood.

  “Uh-oh. You were talking about me?” She took the two steps up on the porch and relaxed down onto one of the white rocking chairs her father had built years ago.

  “Everyone is talking about you. What’s this about you and one of the Cates boys?” Her mama looked excited, and Jo was struck by the pang of regret that in a few months she’d have to break the news that she and Paxton had decided to call it quits. “I bet that’s why Cecelia called the other day.”

  Her father sat forward, pouring out a glass of tea for Jo and passed it over to her. “You won’t know until you call her back, Junie.”

  “I know, I know. I was just waiting until I was having a good day.” She caught Jo’s gaze and laughed. “Cece and I used to joke about one of my girls marrying one of her boys. We never actually thought it would happen.”

  Jo about choked on the sip of tea. “Whoa, Mama. We’re just dating. No one’s talking marriage.”

  Except even just the idea of having something real, something permanent with Paxton sounded like the ultimate bucket list item.

  Glancing at her dad, she found him watching her mother with the tenderest expression on his face. Their love had always been like a campfire: blazing between the two of them and strong enough to emit warmth to all those around. Paxton’s parents had the same thing. Sitting next to them, it struck her hard—like being run over by a truck—that she wanted that too. She wanted someone to look at her and love her like that.

  Maybe putting something permanent with Paxton on her bucket list wasn’t so crazy. Something like forever.

  “What’s up with your hair, bean?”

  Jo touched her hand to her head, grabbing her ponytail and running her hand down until she reached the end. “I was trying something different.”

  “Well, you found it. That’s different. It reminds me of that time you and Darlene tie-dyed your hair.”

  “We did? I don’t even remember that. I guess I followed along with anything Darlene came up with when we were little.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that.” Her mother looked right at her, her vision and mind clear, but she was seeing the past. “When you two were really little, you were the imp and instigator-in-chief, Jo. Darlene was the one who followed your silly high-wire antics. She was always the serious one. Somber, even.”

  Her father looked pretty serious himself, sitting back and remembering also. “That’s where your nickname came from, Jo. You were a ball of energy and couldn’t sit still. You were our crazy bean.”

  “Sometime in the fourth grade, Darlene got into trouble and just never stopped. She liked the reaction she got. And the attention. And the older she got, the worse trouble she got in.”

  And everything changed. They went from a happy family to one with daily turmoil courtesy of her sister. Jo remembered all the yelling
and crying and stress so thick it was hard to breathe at home. Jo had changed too, trying to offset some of the negativity however she could.

  “Sometimes I wish the silly little girl would come back, but I think I drove her away.” Her mother blinked and ran a frail hand down her face before turning to Jo’s dad. “Joe, have you seen the little girl?”

  Jo watched the twinkle fade from her father’s eyes. Each good day, with stretches of lucidity, was a precious gift and none of them would wish them away for anything. But sometimes, when the fog of dementia crept back in, it was ever more painful.

  “Jo? The silly girl she wants back . . .” Her father held tight to her mama’s hand and he looked across at Jo with sad, somber eyes. “I think she’s talking about you, bean. Not your sister.”

  And the thought of that was too overwhelming even to think about, so she tucked it away to pull out later to examine.

  “I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for my hair appointment.”

  “I don’t know, the green hair is growing on me, bean.”

  * * *

  Jo had to steel herself before entering the hair salon, knowing Thelma, her hairdresser since high school, was sure to give her a minilecture, along with the hurt look of someone stepping out on her. Of course everyone in the place had to stop what they were doing to examine her green hair before they helped her fix it.

  “You’re telling me you let Georgie do this?” Thelma crossed her arms over her chest and let her face do her talking for her. Dismay, distaste, irritation, and insult all rolled through like floats in a parade.

  “It looked really pretty until I washed it a dozen times,” Jo assured everyone as they walked around her, getting a 360-degree look.

  “Mmhmm.” Thelma shook her head and rushed her over to the shampoo station, leaning her back until her neck rested uncomfortably on the dip of the ceramic sink. “Georgie makes a mean muffin, but she’s hell on hair. Next time you want a change, Jo, you come see me first.”

  “I will.”

  Thelma wet down Jo’s hair and applied a liberal coating of My Bad! color remover. “This is going to smell god-awful, like something went and died, but it has to stay on exactly seventeen minutes.”

  It was possibly the hardest seventeen minutes of Jo’s life because Thelma wasn’t exaggerating about the odor one bit. But she made it. Barely. Next, Thelma shampooed and rinsed her hair for a good ten minutes before moving on to the next step.

  “You’ve got such a natural light blond, I don’t even know why you’d mess with it, Jolene.” She found the tone that matched her natural color and applied that liberally. “All right, princess. Sit over there with a magazine for twenty minutes while I fit in my next cut. You’re looking good.”

  One glance in the mirror made her doubtful, but with her hair sticking up in clips every which way, who would look good? Her eyes fell on a reflection behind her and she had her answer. Chloe. Chloe looked great rocking the same look as Jo.

  “Hey, Jolene.” Chloe had looked up from her magazine and patted the chair seat next to her. “Sit next to me and we can catch up.”

  Sure this was awkward, but Jo had always liked Chloe. They didn’t know each other very well. They’d hung out in separate circles in high school, but she’d never heard a bad thing about her. “Your father mentioned you were coming home to Climax. Welcome back.”

  “Thank you. I’ve got to say, after living in D.C. for years now, I’m experiencing a bit of culture shock.” She smiled brightly. “But in a good way.”

  “Well, good. I bet Maggie is excited to have you close again.”

  Chloe’s smile slid away and her brow wrinkled. “That’s one of the reasons I decided to come back. I’m not sure what’s going on with her. She told me she had you for English class. If you have time in the next couple days, I’d appreciate getting your insight.”

  “I can do that.” Although probably not without stirring the pot and messing with Paxton’s plans, darn it. But Maggie’s welfare came first. Jo grabbed out paper and a pen, then scribbled down her phone number. “Here you go. Call me anytime.”

  “I will. Hey, on a brighter note, I hear we’ll be seeing each other at the bar association gala tonight.”

  “Yes. It should be fun.” Did that mean Chloe had already heard Jo and Paxton were a couple? It’s Climax; of course she’d heard. Heck, they’d probably stopped her at the city limits to give her the low-down and all the dirty details about it.

  “Fair warning: The speeches can be boring. But at least you’ll be with Paxton. He manages to keep things interesting, so I won’t feel sorry for you.”

  She’d never dated someone’s ex before. Not going to lie; it was awkward. Fake dating someone’s ex felt even worse. And wanting that fake relationship with someone’s ex to become something real . . . surely, if the hollow feeling in her chest was a sign, that was skating in tragic irony territory.

  “But feel sorry for me: I’ll be sitting at the partners’ table with my father. My idea of fun isn’t sitting around talking business.”

  “Chloe, hon! Time to rinse.”

  “Gotta go. Please, I’m begging you and Paxton to come rescue me tonight!” She laughed and moved off.

  See? The woman had always been nice. And pretty. Dark brunette hair worn short, which highlighted her deep brown eyes. And smart. Also apparently successful if she’d been a lawyer in D.C. Basically, Paxton’s ex was the total package. Jo tried hard as all get-out not to feel intimidated, but it was tough to imagine why any man would break up with Chloe.

  Jo’s last stop before heading home to get ready for the evening was Aunt Marie’s Bakery. Georgie was lending her a dress, but she’d had to work all day, so Jo said she’d swing by to grab it. She rushed into the bakery a bit later than she’d planned, but she’d let Thelma style her hair, so she only had to throw on the dress and a bit of makeup to be ready.

  Georgie stood behind the counter while her crush, Gage Tierney, perused the glass case. He was in his police uniform and darn cute. Gage was also one of the co-owners of the 24/7 gym, so the man was ripped. Jo could see why Georgie would be smitten.

  “Hey, you aren’t supposed to change back into a pumpkin until after the ball.” Georgie frowned at Jo’s hair. “I guess old Jolene is attending the gala?”

  “I knew you were going to say something,” Jo said, carefully patting her blond hair.

  “That’s George for you—always has an opinion.” Gage didn’t even look up, just kept right on examining the cookie selection.

  Georgie’s chin notched up. “Yeah? I’ve got one for you right now, Gage—”

  “Hey, I’m running late, G.” Jo wasn’t that late, but she was almost sure Georgie would regret it later if she flipped him the bird just now. “Can I get the dress, please?”

  “Let me go grab it. Don’t let Gage sneak any cookies.” She disappeared into the kitchen, where the office sat in the far back corner.

  Jo turned to Gage, who was still scoping out the display case. “You do know her name is Georgie, right?”

  He glanced over at Jo. “Sure, but I’ve always called her George. Ever since she started following me and Hawk around like a pesky little sister.”

  Little sister? “Uh-huh. Well, your pesky little sister sure has turned into a very attractive woman.” She waited a second before adding, “It’s funny how many single men in town seem to be eating more baked goods lately. They’re some of the bakery’s best customers.”

  He froze, his eyes narrowed on Jo’s. His gaze raked over the case of sweets before shifting to the kitchen door, where Georgie had disappeared. When his face darkened into a frown, Jo felt her job was complete.

  “Here it is!” Georgie swept back up front, holding the garment bag over one arm. “You know what would have gone perfect with this dress?”

  “I know, I know. Mermaid hair. Jo rolled her eyes and took the dress from her. “Thank you. Gotta run.”

  “Send pictures!”

  Chapter Twent
y-two

  Jo turned, examining her reflection from different angles. The borrowed dress was perfect. Her gaze traveled down the full-length sea-foam-blue gown to where it fell soft and straight to her three-inch silver sandals. Spaghetti straps held up a modest bodice. It was elegant and simple.

  Perfect, until she walked and realized there was a side slit that went clear up to her left hip, revealing a lot of bare leg. She practiced walking with a smaller stride, which, thankfully, seemed to keep the peep show to a minimum.

  She’d let Thelma style her hair into a simple bun coiled low, sitting just above her neck. Subtle makeup highlighted her eyes and a simple pair of small pearl earrings for jewelry completed her look.

  Jo greeted Paxton at the door and one look at him sent her stomach fluttering. She had to stifle the sigh that wanted to escape with her first glimpse of him. There was just something about a man in a tux. Sleek and powerful. So sexy. His white dress shirt accentuated his golden tan and his eyes were a bright green like new grass. Tonight, the cowlick gave his hair the perfect GQ look. She had to fight an urge to run her fingers through the thick strands.

  “Oh lord, Jo, let’s not go.” He took his time dragging his gaze down and back up, all the way to her hair. He stepped up close until the silk of her dress brushed against his pants. “Seriously, let’s stay right here and set the sheets on fire.”

  “Can’t. We’re going so all the partners can tell you how great you are.” Jo owed Paxton, and as much as she’d love to head straight to bed with him, he was bound to regret the missed opportunity before the sun came up tomorrow. “I’m sorry, but the gala is a big deal for you.”

  He pulled back, his gaze hot on her lips. “What if I told you that standing here with you in my arms, I think I found something that’s a bigger deal?”

  Oh boy. She stood in his heat, his green eyes burning her up, his words melting her down, and she was so, so tempted. Pulling in a big breath, she leaned up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Hold that thought because we’re going.”