Sweetest Mistake

by Candis Terry

  First, he’d put Abby in an awkward position by being there with Fi. Now he’d put Fi in an awkward position by being with Abby.

  Geez, he needed a drink.

  A strong hand clamped over his shoulder, stopping him from a trip to the liquor cabinet.

  “Too late to run now.”

  Jackson met Reno’s smiling eyes. “Wasn’t going to run. Just could use a hit from Mom’s secret cupboard.”

  “How’s this?” Reno handed him a freshly opened bottle of Shiner Bock.

  “Perfect.” He took a drink, and the cold liquid put out the fire in his chest.

  “Congratulations on finally making your move.” Reno lifted his bottle in a toast.

  “Had to. She was going to kick me to the curb permanently if I didn’t.”

  “Smart girl. Same thing happened with me and Charli.”

  His big brother glanced across the room to his bride-to-be, and his entire expression changed from happy to out-of-his-mind-ecstatic.

  “Which is why I pulled my head out and chased her all the way to Oregon. At least you were smarter than me and saved yourself the gasoline.” Reno returned his gaze back to Jackson. “So why the sudden case of the jitters?”

  “She’s over there talking to my ex-wife.”

  “Is that your problem or Fiona’s?”

  “I’m not sure. I never wanted to hurt Fi. You know that. She’s an amazing woman. She just wasn’t the right woman for me any more than I was the right man for her.” He took another pull of beer. “Doesn’t make it any less awkward, though. For me or her.”

  “So why don’t you stop freaking out and have a talk with her? She’s the mother of your little girl. You can’t avoid her forever because you feel uncomfortable.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then talk to her.” Reno glanced over to where their mother stood next to her “friend” Martin Lane chatting and doing the high-school-girl hair-flip thing. “Before Mom makes her big announcement.”

  “What announcement?” He took a closer look at his mother. If he thought he could read her mind from across the room, he’d be wrong.

  “Aw, come on,” Reno said. “You don’t want me to spoil the surprise, do you?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  Reno chuckled. “Go talk to Fiona, Jack. Ease your mind. Then get back to the task of being happy.”

  As his brother went to sweep his woman up in an embrace, Jackson looked at the two stunning women and one adorable little girl chatting amiably near the big picture window. While one part of him was happy they all got along, the other part of him knew that his day of reckoning had come. He walked toward their circle, and they opened it up to let him in.

  He gave Izzy a kiss on the forehead, squeezed Abby’s hand, and turned to his ex-wife just as his mother said, “Can I please have all y’all’s attention?”

  Chapter 15

  “I can’t believe my Mom’s getting married.”

  Abby sat across the seat in Jackson’s truck with both the kitten and puppy in her lap as they headed toward his apartment.

  “She’s happy.”

  “She barely knows the guy,” he said. “Look at us. We’ve known each other for a couple of decades, and we’re taking it slow.”

  “Slow?” Abby laughed. “Is that what you call it?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She did know. Jana had only been seeing Martin for a few months. So the announcement today was a bit of a surprise. Well, at least to some of them. Or maybe it had just been that she and Jackson had been too wrapped up in their own business to recognize that something big was going on. She knew none of the Wilder boys were necessarily thinking about their mother’s getting married as much as they were thinking that their mother was going to marry a man who wasn’t their father.

  All the boys had idolized Joe Wilder—with good reason. He’d been a handsome, bigger-than-life solid-gold nugget of a man who was neither too strong to cry or too weak to hold up their end of the world with one hand. He’d had a soft side for his family and a fierce side whenever anyone tried to mess with what belonged to him. He’d had a laugh that came from the heart and a smile that could warm the coldest day. And all his sons had been born from that same amazing mold.

  Poor Martin Lane.

  He was probably a fine man in his own right. But in Joe Wilder’s son’s minds, he could never hold a candle to their dad.

  “At least they’re planning a long engagement. You want your mom to be happy, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” He looked at her with that perpetual look of concern pulling at the outer corners of his eyes. “What kind of question is that?”

  “I just meant that a guy who’s guarded his heart for so long might not be in the best position to judge.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry.” She reached across the cab of the truck and caressed his arm. “I promise to take the sting out of that owie remark as soon as I get you naked.”

  A grin shot to his face. “Now you’re talkin’ my kind of language.”

  He parked the truck near the barn and helped her bring the big wire crate up the stairs to his apartment. She set Liberty and Miss Kitty inside, where they both immediately took a little drink of water, then settled in together on the fluffy blanket and instantly fell asleep.

  While Jackson cruised through the rooms, flipping on lights, adjusting this and that, Abby stood with her arms folded, watching her furry little friends find comfort in one another and feeling a little out of place in his domain. Finally, he came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

  “Do you think they’ll ever find out they’re not supposed to be together?” she asked him as she settled back against his broad chest.

  “Who says they’re not?” The resonance of his deep voice rumbled across her back.

  “Nature.”

  He kissed her neck and the curve of her shoulder. “When it’s meant to be, there’s nothing that will stop it. Not even when stubborn heads try to prevail.”

  “Like us?”

  He turned her in his arms, caressed the side of her face with his long fingers, and gently pushed her hair back. And then he smiled. “Exactly like us.”

  With that smile and in that moment, Abby knew she’d never been happier in her life. She didn’t know exactly what the future held, but as long as she was sharing it with the man she loved, all was right with the world.

  “You ready for bed?” he asked.

  “It’s two in the afternoon.”

  “You promised to kiss my owie.”

  She grinned up at him.

  “On second thought . . .” He pulled her closer. Nuzzled her neck. “I think I might have two owies. Maybe even three.”

  “Then we’d best get busy.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” He swept her up into his arms, and they did exactly that.

  The next morning, while Jackson was in the shower, Abby got up and put on a pot of coffee. She fed her fur babies, then took Liberty outside to go potty. When all was well, she let them out of their crate to play. She made Jackson a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes. And when he walked into the kitchen wearing his blue SAFD pants and shirt and looking mouthwateringly gorgeous, she could picture every day starting just like this.

  What she hadn’t imagined was staying awake half the night waiting for him to have the nightmare again. Waiting for him to wake up trembling, bathed in sweat, and panic clouding his eyes. She’d waited—ready to give comfort. To console. To protect. But after they’d made love, he’d fallen fast asleep and stayed quietly asleep all night.

  Other than the near anniversary of Jared’s death, she wondered what set off these nightmares? Obviously, they didn’t interfere with his doing his job, so maybe that was the million-dollar question. She wanted to find a way to let him know he could talk about it with her at any time. For now she realized she needed to know a lot more about PTSD than just what she heard on the news.

  “Morning.” He
leaned in and kissed her, bringing with him that fresh, clean, manly, shower scent and a hint of lemony aftershave. “Your cat is biting the ear off your dog. I don’t think she realizes that tiny little pup will probably end up being a shepherd or Rottweiler.”

  She chuckled. “By then, I’m sure they’ll both have matured and realize the other one is friend not food.”

  “You made breakfast.” His enthusiastic grin sent her heart spinning.

  “I thought it might be a good way for you to start the day in case you have a lot of damsels who need rescuing during your shift.”

  “The only damsel I’m going to be worrying about is the one who’s going to work with my playboy brother all day.” He grabbed a folder stuffed with papers off the breakfast bar and tossed it on the table next to his plate.

  “No need to worry.” She set a steaming cup of coffee next to his plate. “The playboy brother isn’t the damsel’s type.”

  “Thank God. Because that boy already sees more action than any sniper rifle I ever used.”

  Apparently, he didn’t know his brother as well as he thought he did. “You were a sniper?” she asked, pulling up a chair next to his.

  “Yeah.” He looked up, eyes dark. “Not going to start my day talking about it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Nope. Bad timing.

  “Actually. I’m more interested in how your breakfast tastes.”

  “Perfect.” He stuffed a forkful in his mouth, chewed, and smiled. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  She lifted her coffee mug. “Got what I need right here.”

  “I hope you’re not going to start that protein-drink stuff again.”

  “Well, thanks to Bud’s Diner and Sweet Pickens BBQ, I have put on a few pounds.”

  “And they look amazing on you.” He cupped the back of her head and drew her in for a kiss.

  She sighed. Old habits were hard to break. And going from a man who judged her beyond the norm to a man who loved her the way she was, sometimes gave a jolt to the heart. She didn’t want to keep looking back over her shoulder, waiting for the criticism, but sometimes, she just did. So she changed the subject. “What time does your shift end?”

  “Day after tomorrow at 0800. Unless we’re out on a call. Then it could be anybody’s guess.”

  There was a whole lot about his life she needed to learn. “Does that happen a lot?”

  He sipped his coffee and shrugged. “It’s unpredictable. Most days we respond to more medical-related calls than actual fires. When it comes to fires—depending on the blaze—we can be on-site for anywhere from two to ten hours or more.”

  “I had no idea a fire could take that long to extinguish.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, Hollywood has definitely fooled everyone into thinking it’s something it’s not. Mostly the long hours and weird shifts make it hard for a guy to be a good husband and a good dad. You miss all kinds of important events. It’s not like working in an office, where you can just take a long lunch break and run to your kid’s soccer game.”

  “Are you trying to scare me?” She braced her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her palm. “Because it’s not working.”

  He leaned in and gave her a kiss. “Just trying to be realistic. Divorce rates are about as high for a firefighter as they are for the military. It’s not an easy life. And . . .” He lifted the folder and let it drop back down to the table. “For me, it’s about to get harder.”

  “Are those your study materials?”

  He nodded, finished off his breakfast, and wiped his mouth. Then he pulled her out of her chair and onto his lap. “And I’d much prefer studying you.”

  “How about we make a deal,” she said, pressing a finger to his lips to keep him from kissing her when she really wanted him to kiss her. “How about I help you study.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’d be great.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Like old times. And I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Then maybe you could help me figure out how to get the Sweet Reprieve Animal Rescue started.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know much about creating a nonprofit.”

  “Me either,” she said. “But it might be fun sitting down together and studying.”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you’re naked.”

  He smiled. “Are you really going to throw that at me, then expect me to go to work like this?”

  By this she knew he meant the erection heating up inside those sexy fireman pants.

  She couldn’t stop a flirtatious grin from bursting across her face or her hands to start wandering down the front of his shirt. “How long do you have before you have to leave?”

  One dark brow lifted. “You ever do it on a kitchen table before?”

  “No. But hopefully I’m about to.”

  “Oh. You are.” His big warm hands slid beneath the fabric of the old university sweatshirt she’d borrowed, and he cupped her breast. “And this time you can put out the fire.”

  Several days later, Abby had fixed Jackson another breakfast—her house this time—and once more sent him off to rescue the good folks of San Antonio. On his days off, while she worked at the pet clinic, he’d completed painting the rooms on the first floor of her parents’ house. It looked much better now that she’d gone through everything and moved it out to the storage container. She figured she could have the house completed and the FOR SALE sign up by the following week.

  Then what?

  She could live there until the house sold, but after that, she’d need a place to live. At least until they figured out exactly where their relationship was headed. Since they’d started hitting the books and gathering info on nonprofits together, she knew their beyond-the-sheets partnership worked well.

  Their between-the-sheets communication was rock solid. And frequent.

  Amazingly frequent.

  Just a few months ago, she’d never have thought it possible to feel like a horny teenager again. But one look at Jackson naked, half-naked, or even fully clothed, and she was ready to pounce. The night she’d talked him into putting on his extra set of turnouts and red-hot suspenders—sans shirt—had been an exercise in record-breaking, simultaneous, multiple orgasms.

  But that wasn’t all there was to the man.

  His soft side had always been what had captured her heart. Sure, maybe he wasn’t the kind of guy to show up at her door with flowers all the time. It didn’t matter. She’d had a husband who’d had a florist on speed dial. He used flowers to coerce, to cajole, to control.

  They’d never been given from the heart.

  Unlike one springtime when she and Jackson had been about fourteen years old and out riding the ranch on their favorite horses. He’d stopped in a field of bluebonnets and picked her a bunch. The gesture had been so sweet coming from a boy at an age where most thought they had to be cool or tough. Those flowers were still pressed between the pages of her memory book.

  And then there were the times when Jackson had visitations with Izzy. Abby’s own father had always been a good-time Charlie, yet he’d never found it within himself to let loose and play or be silly with his two little girls. Jackson had no problem in that department. Though she hadn’t had the privilege of seeing Izzy’s amazing drag-queen makeup job again, there were other ways that Jackson shifted his alpha DNA to please his little girl. To see him down on the floor playing dolls with her positively made Abby’s heart go wild in her chest with love.

  She wanted babies.

  Lots of babies.

  For her own children, she wanted a man who wouldn’t hesitate to go above and beyond to be a good father.

  Jackson was an amazing daddy.

  While the man himself remained thirty miles away, taking care of business in San Antonio on this gorgeous Saturday afternoon, she threw on a pair of jeans and headed toward his mother’s place. The invite from Jana had been to come for lunch with a warning that there would most
likely be a nauseating amount of wedding talk.

  Abby arrived with a homemade pasta salad. The minute she’d gotten out of her SUV, she’d had to hold the bowl high. It seemed as though aside from being overly affectionate, Miss Giddy—in a spanking-new pink satin bow—liked people food.

  “Welcome, sugarplum.” Jana met her on the veranda with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Just push that old goat aside. You won’t hurt her feelings.”

  Miss Giddy gave a powerful bleat that dismissed the remark.

  “Heard you got yourself a kitten and a pup.”

  “I did. And they are so adorable. Miss Kitty loves to sleep on top of Jackson’s head.” She stopped in her tracks. “Not that we’re sleeping together or anything.”

  Jana laughed. “If you weren’t, I’d figure there was something wrong with you both.” She held the door open. “Come on in. The girls are in the kitchen making some roast chicken sandwiches for us and a peanut butter and banana sandwich for Izzy.”

  When they walked through the entry and hall, Abby again noticed all the fresh personality Jana had recently put into the place. Which raised the question, “After you and Martin are married, where will you live?”

  Jana stopped in front of a large family photo taken with the boys in their Marine dress blues and their parents beaming proudly.

  “I imagine we’ll live at Martin’s. He bought the old Pritchard place. It’s a bit smaller than this house, so it will fit the two of us better.”

  “But you’ve lived here for so long. And you’ve fixed it up so nice.”

  “And there are ghosts that live in these walls,” Jana said.

  “Ghosts?”

  “Oh. I don’t mean the woo-woo kind. I mean the memories. Everywhere I go, I see Joe or Jared. I thought if I painted the walls. Changed the curtains. Moved things around a bit, it would make it better.”

  “It didn’t?”

  Jana shook her head. “I’ll be married for the first time in over thirty-five years to someone who isn’t my Joe. Martin and I make a great pair, and we’ll be good to each other. But not in this house.”