by J. D. Mason
* * *
She left practice long before he did. Farrah finished dinner, showered, and settled in for the night in front of the television that was watching her way more than she was watching it. A light filtering out into the yard from Jackson’s kitchen caught her attention. She wanted to jump up, slip into some jeans, and go see him, but quickly dismissed that silly idea. From her living room, she could see straight into his kitchen, and without thinking, she got up and walked over to the window.
Jackson stood at the refrigerator with nothing but a towel draped around his waist, low on his hips. She bit down on her bottom lip. Those broad shoulders and that wide chest of his tapered down nicely to six-pack abs and a beautiful behind that he kept hidden underneath baggy sweats or jeans. With everything going on in her life, she had to be crazy to be standing here like this, admiring that boy’s half-naked body. Sex or anything remotely related to it should’ve been the last thing on her mind, and it was—mostly.
Farrah forced herself from the window and crawled back into bed. The issue wasn’t sex with Jackson, or anybody, for that matter. He was just gorgeous and she admired that about him, but even more than that, she admired his kindness and his patience. Unexpectedly, sadness washed over her. When she was younger, Farrah had put too much value on all the wrong things. She’d left behind her family and friends, thinking that Blink, Texas, was too damn small for her, and that what she really wanted couldn’t be found here.
Farrah had wanted to live a life larger than herself or anything that Blink had to offer. And she’d thought she’d found that life with Mateo, capitalizing on the fact that she was pretty and young.
He’d told her, “When I first laid eyes on you, belleza, I knew that I had to have you.”
Mateo had never said that he knew that he’d loved her at first sight or that he knew he could love her. Farrah was another trinket in his collection of trinkets. She had always been property to him, and when she was younger, she was too stupid to see that that’s all she was to him and that’s all she’d ever be.
Never in a million years would she have ever thought that that big-headed, big-grin boy would become her hero. That’s exactly what he was, though. But Farrah had to be careful not to make a fool of herself over him. That didn’t mean that she couldn’t have her fantasies, though.
She slipped her hand between her skin and her panties, closed her eyes, and smiled.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It wasn’t quite noon yet when Jackson knocked on her door. Farrah answered wearing a pretty yellow sundress. He’d all but forgotten what she’d looked like with a head full of hair. She seemed to prefer it short, and admittedly, so did he.
“Have you eaten?”
That beautiful heart-shaped mouth of hers spread into a smile and his heart jumped into his throat. “I was about to.”
“Why don’t you let me to take you to lunch?”
Was it his imagination, or was she really contemplating turning him down?
“Sure. Let me get my purse.”
* * *
All this talking about her leaving was still not settling well with Jackson. He understood her reasons, but running wasn’t the answer, especially when he didn’t want her to go. Jackson had been working hard to do all of the so-called right things. He’d given her space. He’d given her time and been patient while she sorted things out on her own. But it had been two months since he’d first found her in that old house, and Farrah was moving fast to get the hell out of here. If he was going to make a stand, then he was going to have to step up his game in a big way and start closing this gap between them a little more.
He took her to Cecilia’s BBQ Ribs & Chinese Food restaurant for nothing other than sheer reaction.
“Really?” Farrah said as he pulled up in front of the place and parked. “Are you serious?”
“Dead.” He opened the door to get out. “The food’s great, though.”
Farrah played it safe with chicken fried rice and an iced tea. Jackson went all out with a half slab of ribs, shrimp fried rice, greens, and cornbread. He licked his lips when the server set his food down in front of him. Farrah turned up her nose.
“You’re really going to eat all of that?”
“Every bite. Want a rib?”
She laughed. “I think I’m good.”
Maybe a meal like this wasn’t the best way to impress a lady, but hell. Jackson was starving.
* * *
“Coach!” Jackson recognized the man coming over to the table immediately, and then looked at Farrah to see if she recognized him too.
Jackson stood up and both men shook hands.
“You takin’ us all the way again this year?”
“Aw, you know. I’ma do the best I can. But it’s really up to them, though.”
“I heard you might be leaving us for a coaching job in Austin.”
Of course he’d heard that. This was Blink. Everybody knew everything about everybody.
“I don’t know. Right now it’s just talk.”
This dude turned his attention to Farrah. “You don’t remember me. Do you?”
Farrah looked at him, then back at Jackson who was doing his damnedest not to burst out laughing, and then back at the man next to him.
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“C’mon, Farrah. I ain’t changed that much.”
After a few moments, the light finally came on for Farrah. “Brian?”
Her ex-boyfriend from high school. Farrah reluctantly stood up and offered a slight hug, while she peered over Brian’s shoulder at Jackson, standing there grinning from ear to ear.
“I heard you was back. Looking good too,” Brian said, pulling back and eyeing her up and down like she was one of those ribs Jackson had on his plate.
“Thank you. You look … good too.”
He laughed. “I’ve put on a few,” he said, patting his belly. “But thank you. Thank you. How long you here for?”
“Oh, I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, Jackson’s fixing up that old house you used to live in. You should talk to him about lettin’ you have it when he’s finished with it.”
Farrah glanced at Brian. “Yeah. Yeah.”
Brian locked onto those beautiful eyes of hers.
“You married?” Brian asked suspiciously. “Got kids?”
“No. You?” she responded quickly.
Brian looked hopeful. “Not anymore. I mean, I’m not married anymore. Got three kids, though.”
Farrah just nodded.
“Maybe we can get together sometime,” he offered. “Talk about the good old days.”
“That sounds nice, Brian.”
Brian tapped Jackson on the arm. “Give her my number.”
The dude walked away unable to take his eyes off of her and nearly bumped into the wall.
“Told you,” Jackson said as soon as they sat down again. “Almost all that brother’s teeth are missing.”
Farrah frowned. “I used to love kissing him.”
“Which ought to really make you kind of sick to your stomach, because I don’t think he was brushing them.”
Farrah burst out laughing. “Oh, goodness. I think I lost my appetite.”
* * *
A few minutes later, Farrah brought up the comment Brian had made about the job in Austin.
“So, is it another coaching job?” she asked.
“A huge coaching job,” he admitted. “University of Texas. It’s an assistant position, but it could possibly lead to a head coaching gig.”
“But you have to apply for it?”
He nodded introspectively. “You have to submit a package—bio, coaching background, playing background if you played, I think even a head shot.”
“Are you going to do it?”
He shrugged. “I-I don’t know.”
Jackson hadn’t been giving it a whole bunch of thought or time or attention. He had been focusing all his time on this summer camp that he was running and trying to put
together a team for the upcoming season.
“You should. I don’t know a lot about football, but it sounds like a great opportunity.”
“It is. It’s a huge opportunity.”
Farrah’s expression changed. “But?”
Jackson wasn’t insecure about too much in his life. But when it came to something like that, he couldn’t help feeling like he’d lost a little faith in himself.
“C’mon, Jackson. What is it?”
“A job like this is big-time again, Farrah. I mean, what I do here is easy. These kids grow up around here. They’re like me, like I was when I was their age. So, I get them. I know what they’re thinking and I can relate.”
“So? What makes kids at that university any different from these?”
“It’s not them. It’s me. I got to college and started really feeling myself and by the time I got to the NFL, I was well on my way to running off the rails.”
“That was a long time ago, though.”
“Yeah, but these people are going to look at that. They know me. They know what my record is as a player and as a coach, and I guarantee you that my player record is going to jump up and bite me in the ass.” He shook his head, disappointed. “I had the opportunity of a lifetime in the palm of my hands, and I blew it.”
“You’re the not the first one or the only one,” she argued.
“No, but there were other guys in my position who didn’t blow it. They manned up. They did what they had to do. They walked away with reputations that they could be proud of. Some of them will even get into the Hall of Fame someday.”
Jackson had tried not to dwell on his past, but being faced with a position like this, he couldn’t avoid it. He wanted that job the way he wanted … her. Right now, though, he was batting a thousand.
“Anyway. I’m no good at paperwork and putting packages together. I wouldn’t even know where to start with putting something together like that, so…”
“I could help,” she offered quickly.
“No, Farrah. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Please. After everything you’ve done for me. I’d be happy to help,” she said, reaching across the table and taking hold of his hand.
Shit. Why’d she have to touch him?
Farrah seemed to recognize what she’d done too, and pulled her hand back over to her side of the table. “Look. If what I hear about you is true, then you deserve a job like this. At least try, Jackson. What could it hurt? If they say no, then they say no. You still have a job here.”
Okay, so she had a point.
“I need to do this for you,” she said. “It’ll make me feel better, like I’m paying you back for all the things you’ve done for me.”
“You never have to pay me back.”
“I want to.”
* * *
On the way back to the house, they stopped at the store to pick up high-quality computer paper and fancy binders and clips. Jackson handed over his laptop and printer, and carried them back to the carriage house to Farrah. She was more excited than he was about this project.
“Set it down on the table,” she told him.
“You sure about this?” he asked again.
“Positive. It’ll give me something to do when I’m home.”
He could think of other things to occupy her time when she was home, but decided now might not be a good time to bring those things up.
Jackson started to leave. Farrah followed him to the door.
“You got any good pictures of yourself?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
Farrah studied him for a moment. “You need a nice shirt. A nice button-down with a nice tie. You got a camera?”
“On my phone.”
“That might work.”
He started to leave, but … Jackson turned to her, put his hand under her chin, raised her lips to his.
“Jackson,” she murmured, frowning in protest.
He turned her head slightly and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Farrah.”
CHAPTER NINE
Jackson had been arrested for two DUIs, and suspended three times for the use of illegal and performance-enhancing drugs during his three-year career. He’d been drafted in the first round to the 49ers in San Francisco, had rushed for just under two thousand yards in his first two years, and less than eight hundred in his last year, before being released. He was twenty-six years old when they let him go.
Five years ago, he’d taken the head coaching job at the local junior college and in that time, his team had gone on to win their division four of those last five years. Dozens of his players had gone on to win both academic and football scholarships to some of the most prestigious universities in the country. Two of them had won the Heisman Trophy.
If nothing else, his story inspired Farrah. To see a man turn his life around like that was nothing short of miraculous and gave her hope that it’s not over until you take that last breath. He looked at his life as if he’d somehow failed, but all she could see was how far he’d come and how much he’d succeeded despite his best efforts to destroy himself. He was amazing.
“Why couldn’t you have been just a little older,” she muttered, disappointed. “Or me, just a little younger,” Farrah said, shaking her head.
That goofy kid who used to hover around her like a bee had been filled with so much potential and passion, but she’d been too busy looking cute and plotting a way to get out of this place to notice. She felt like a pervert right now for even thinking that somehow, back then, that little boy could’ve been the man for her. Farrah shuddered in disgust. Had he really intended to kiss her—on the lips?
Farrah squirmed, trying to push away her thoughts. Kissing Jackson. Feeling Jackson against her. What was she doing? What was she even thinking?
“Man!” she said in frustration. “Stop it.”
But what would it hurt? If he wanted her and she wanted him? Why not? They were grown. Jackson wasn’t twelve anymore and she wasn’t his babysitter. She went back and forth with this same argument all the time, and inevitably reached the same conclusion. She didn’t want to ruin what she had with him. And Farrah had no business twisting him up in her world when she still hadn’t untangled it. Despite what she wanted to believe, she wasn’t over Mateo or her life with him. Yes, the bruises were gone, but the pain was still there. He had not only beaten her down physically, but mentally and spiritually and emotionally. It had happened so gradually, so casually that Farrah hadn’t even realized what was happening to her. She didn’t see it as a problem for so long that by the time she did, she was embarrassed by everything that he’d done to her, and had even blamed herself for allowing it to happen.
One day she realized that there was nothing normal about her life or about her relationship with a man who didn’t respect her. One day. How does that happen? How does a woman close her eyes to abuse for so long that she can ignore it for so many years? How does she accept that she’s the problem and not him? And how does she excuse him for the things he’s done to her, time and time again, and forgive him over and over and over?
That familiar sense of vulnerability started to set in again along with self-loathing and self-pity. Farrah had done well this last month at keeping those things at bay, but now they were all coming back and hitting her like rocks. She didn’t want to spend the night alone with those feelings. And the next thing she knew, Farrah was standing in Jackson’s living room as he was coming downstairs wearing just his jeans.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
Farrah had no idea why she’d come here. She just knew that she didn’t want to be alone right now.
Jackson stopped a foot away from her. “You want to watch a movie?”
She nodded. “I’d love to watch a movie.” With you.
He took hold of her hand and led her back into the kitchen. “I’ll get the popcorn,” he said. “You get the root beer and ice.”
“You got me watching these movies on purpose?” Farr
ah said, leaning up against him on the sofa.
He grinned.
Jackson had the entire Nightmare on Elm Street collection and insisted on a movie marathon.
“You scared?” he asked, stuffing a fistful of popcorn in his mouth.
“Of course not,” she lied.
“Me neither.”
All of a sudden, Farrah was reminded of that goofy little boy, and that’s exactly what she needed to see to ground her again. Jackson had a way of slipping in and out of manhood that threatened her sanity. One minute he was this big, beautiful, sexy, and sensual being that made her thoughts reel in ways that made her uncomfortable. Farrah had come here tonight expecting … expecting to get out of her own head, and to follow the lead of her body. He was so fine. And he’d been so amazing toward her. Earlier he’d even wanted to kiss her, but she’d stopped him. Farrah hated that she did.
“Here comes my favorite part,” he said, staring wide-eyed at the screen.
Farrah glanced at the television for a second, before squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face against his muscled shoulder. Like some high school girl, she’d expected him to put his arm around her, squeeze her close, and whisper that everything was all right and that he’d never let anything happen to her.
Jackson just laughed. “Damn! Aw damn! Did you see that?”
She sighed. “Yeah. Crazy.”
* * *
Trying to read Farrah was like trying to read Shakespeare in Japanese. She’d sent him a strong warning not to kiss her earlier, and then she shows up at his door, looking good enough to eat. Basically, she was putting the forbidden fruit on the table in front of him and daring him not to take a bite, so Jackson did the next best thing. If he wanted to get his mind off sex, then Freddy Krueger was the solution.
Farrah pressed her warm, soft body up against him. She touched him, but then didn’t want him to touch her back. What was a brotha supposed to do with that? He was in the friend zone. She’d pretty much made that clear. He didn’t like being in the friend zone, but until Jackson figured out a way to get into a different kind of zone with this woman, he had to bide his time.
