Undeniable (A Country Roads Novel)

by Richard, Shannon

  * * *

  Jax’s whole body relaxed when he saw Grace push through the door from the kitchen. The moment she saw him her blue eyes lit up and her cupid’s bow mouth split into a giant grin. She’d always looked at him that way. Like he was her favorite person in the whole world. God knew she was his.

  “Heya, Deputy. Let me guess,” she said as she put the tray down on the counter, “you came here for coffee?”

  No. He’d come here to see her. He always came here to see her. But coffee was a legitimate enough excuse, especially since he hadn’t gotten that much sleep and was at the beginning of another twelve-hour shift.

  “Please,” he said, drumming his long, freckled fingers on the counter.

  “Did you eat breakfast?” she asked as she pulled a to-go cup off the stack and started pumping coffee into it.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Hmm.” She looked over her shoulder at him and pursed her lips. “You know that isn’t going to fly for a second. I got just the thing to go with this.” She put the steaming cup and a lid down on the counter. “Go fix your coffee while I bag up your breakfast.”

  Grace turned around and pushed through the door to the kitchen as Jax grabbed his cup and went over to the end of the counter where the sugar and milk was.

  Since Jax was four years old, the King women had been feeding him. Between them and Shep’s mom, theirs were the only home-cooked meals he’d gotten after his grandmother died. If it hadn’t been for them, he would’ve gone to bed with an empty stomach more nights than most.

  Patricia Anderson wasn’t much of a Susie Homemaker. Between her long hours working at the Piggly Wiggly, and drinking herself into a stupor and getting high when Haldon was on parole, she sometimes forgot to stock the freezer with corndogs and mini pizzas for her son.

  “Here you go.”

  Jax turned to find Grace by his side. She hadn’t gotten the height gene like Brendan. She was about five-feet-four and came in just under Jax’s chin. Her petite stature and soft heart-shaped face inspired an overwhelming urge in him to protect her. She’d always inspired that feeling in him, ever since her mother brought her home from the hospital all those years ago.

  “They’re Bananas Foster muffins and they’re fresh out of the oven,” she said, holding out a bag.

  “Thanks, Princess,” he said, grabbing the bag and letting his fingers brush the back of her hand.

  God, he loved the way her skin felt against his.

  “Anytime, Jax.” She smiled widely at him. A second later she stepped into him and grabbed his forearms for balance as she stretched up on her toes and kissed his jaw.

  It was something Grace had done a thousand and one times before. She had no concept of personal boundaries with him, and she was wide open with her affection. And just like always, when her lips brushed his skin he had the overwhelming desire to turn into her. To feel her lips against his. To grab her and hold her against him while he explored her mouth with his.

  But instead of following that impulse, he let her pull back from him.

  “Eat those while they’re hot,” she said, pointing to the bag.

  “I will,” he promised.

  “Do you need something for lunch? I can get you a sandwich.”

  “I’m good,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Really?” she asked putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes at him.

  He couldn’t help but grin at her attempt to intimidate him.

  There was no doubt about the fact that Grace King was tough. She’d had to grow a thick skin over the years. Even though Jax, along with Brendan and Shep, had done everything in their power to try to protect her, they couldn’t be there to shield her from everything. So Grace had done everything to even up the score with whoever tried to put her down. She wasn’t a shy little thing by any means, and she’d tell anybody what was up without a moment’s hesitation.

  “I’ll stop somewhere and get something,” he said.

  “Or I can give you something now,” she said, exasperated. “I’m getting you a sandwich.” She said turning on her heal and walking back into the kitchen.

  “Grace, you don’t have to do this,” Jax said, following her.

  “I know,” she said, looking over her shoulder as she opened the refrigerator. “But I’m going to anyway.”

  Jax watched as Grace filled a bag with two sandwiches, a bag of chips, a cup of fruit salad, and his favorite, a butterscotch cookie.

  “This should last you till dinner.”

  Jax didn’t say anything as he pulled his wallet out to pay for everything.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Grace said, shaking her head. “You are not paying.”

  Before Jax could respond the side door in the kitchen opened and Lula Mae walked in.

  To the casual observer, Grace and Brendan’s grandmother wouldn’t strike a person as someone to be feared. She had a kind face and bright blue eyes that, when paired with her ample stature and friendly disposition, inspired a feeling of warmth and openness. But Lula Mae was fiercely loyal, and those blue eyes could go as cold as ice when someone hurt anyone she loved. Lula Mae had declared Jax as one of hers over twenty-five years ago, and she’d marched down to his parents’ house more than once to give them a piece of her mind.

  Jax had spent more nights sleeping at the Kings’ house than he could count. It was one of the few places he’d actually felt safe growing up. And even now whenever he saw her or her husband, Oliver, he had that overwhelming feeling of being protected.

  “Jaxson Lance Anderson,” Lula Mae said, walking up to him, “what in the world is your wallet doing out? Your money is no good here.”

  “That’s what I just told him.”

  Jax turned back to Grace, who was wearing a self-satisfied smile.

  “Your granddaughter just gave me over thirty dollars’ worth of food,” he said, indicating the stuffed bag on the counter before he turned back to Lula Mae.

  “I don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “Now give me some sugar before you go and keep the people of Mirabelle safe.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jax said, leaning down and giving Lula Mae a peck on the check.

  “And next time I see that wallet of yours make an appearance in this establishment, you are going to get a smack upside that handsome head of yours. You understand me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jax repeated.

  “Good boy.” She nodded, patting his cheek.

  “Thanks again,” he said, reaching for the bag of food and his coffee. “I’ll see you two later.”

  “Bye, sugar,” Lula Mae said as she rounded the counter.

  “See you later,” Grace said, giving him another of her face-splitting grins.

  Jax headed for the door, unable to stop his own smile from spreading across his face.

  * * *

  Grace stared at Jax’s retreating form as he walked out of the kitchen, and she appreciated every inch of it. He had a lean muscular body. His shoulders filled out the top of his forest green deputy’s shirt, and his strong back tapered down to his waist. His shirt was tucked into his green pants that hung low from his narrow hips and covered his long, toned legs.

  And oh, dear God, did Jaxson Anderson have a nice ass.

  Though her appreciation of said ass had only been going on for about ten years, the appreciation of Jaxson Anderson had been discovered a long time ago. He was the boy who saved her from bullies on the playground. The boy who gave her his ice cream cone when hers fell in the dirt. The boy who picked her up off the ground when she Rollerbladed into a tree. The boy who let her cry on his shoulder after her mom died.

  Yes, Brendan and Shep had done all those things as well, but Jax was different. Jax was hers. She’d decided that eighteen years ago. She’d just been waiting for him to figure it out.

  But the man was ridiculously slow on the uptake.

  Grace had been in love with him since she was six years old. She loved his freckles and his reddish bro
wn hair. His hair that was always long enough to where someone could run their fingers through it and rumple it just a little. Not that she’d ever rumpled Jax’s hair, but a girl always had her fantasies, and getting Jax all tousled was most definitely one of Grace’s.

  Jax was always so in control and self-contained, and so damn serious. More often than not, that boy had a frown on his face, which was probably why every time Grace saw his dimpled smile it made her go all warm and giddy.

  God she loved his smile. She just wanted to kiss it, to run her lips down from his mouth to his smooth, triangular jaw.

  Grace sighed wistfully as the door shut behind him and turned to her grandmother.

  “You get your young man all fed and caffeinated?” Lula Mae asked as she pulled containers out of the refrigerator.

  “I don’t know about ‘my young man,’ but I did get Jax something to soak up that coffee he came in for.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Lula Mae said, looking at Grace and shaking her head pityingly, “that boy did not come in here for coffee.”

  “Hmmm, well he sure didn’t ask for anything else,” Grace said as she walked over to the stove and started plating the rest of her muffins.

  “Just give it time.”

  “Time?” Grace spun around to look at her grandmother. “How much time does the man need? He’s had years.”

  “Yes, well, he’ll figure things out. Sooner than later I think.”

  “I don’t think so. To him, I’m just Brendan’s little sister.”

  “There’s no just about it,” Lula Mae said, grabbing one last container before she closed the fridge and walked back to the counter where she’d piled everything else. “He doesn’t have brotherly feelings for you, Gracie. I’ve never seen anyone fluster that boy the way you do.”

  “Oh, come on, Jaxson Anderson doesn’t get flustered,” Grace said, shaking her head.

  “If you think that, then he isn’t the only one who’s blind.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You see, Gracie, you’ve never had the chance to observe him when you aren’t around.”

  “And?” she prompted, gesturing with her hand for her grandmother to carry on.

  “He changes when you’re around. Smiles more.”

  “Really? Because he still frowns a whole lot around me.”

  “Well, that’s usually when some other boy is trying to get your attention, and he’s jealous.”

  “Jealous.” Grace scoffed. “Jax doesn’t get jealous.”

  “Oh, yes, he does. Grace, you need to open your eyes; that boy has been fighting his feelings for you for years.”

  And with that, Lula Mae went about fixing her menu for the day, leaving Grace even more frustrated than she had been the minute before.

  * * *

  “Holy hell, that girl can bake.”

  Jax bit into his second muffin and chewed slowly. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been until he’d taken that first bite, and then he’d promptly inhaled the first muffin. This one he intended to savor. He let the warm richness of the bread rest on his tongue for a moment before he swallowed and took a swig of his steaming coffee.

  It was amazing how much better he felt with food in his stomach, or maybe he just felt better because he’d seen Grace. He always felt better when he saw Grace. She made everything so much brighter, so much more. Like swallowing a warm liquid that settled in his stomach before it shot out to this fingers and toes and made him feel like he could take on anything.

  The power of caffeine had nothing on Grace King.

  She was loud and vibrant, and it was almost impossible to escape her enthusiasm. She’d always had the ability to draw whoever was around into her atmosphere and keep them there. She’d drawn Jax in when she was a baby, and he’d been hooked ever since.

  Though how he was hooked had changed in recent years. It hadn’t been a slow gradual change, either. It had been about as subtle as Grace. Jax remembered the day vividly. She’d been eighteen years old; he’d been twenty-three.

  He’d stopped by the Kings’ house for dinner one night and Grace was out in the yard, washing her vintage yellow Bug. She had the radio blasting music so she hadn’t heard him pull up on the street. She was wearing short cutoff blue jeans and a bright blue bikini top, the strings tied around the middle of her back and around her neck. Her light blond hair had been up in a ponytail, but a few strands had escaped and were sticking to the side of her neck. It was then, as Jax studied the slope of her neck, that he felt it. He’d wanted to come up behind her and put his mouth to that neck, taste her warm skin against his tongue.

  He remembered stopping so suddenly at the thought that he’d almost tripped and landed on his face.

  Grace was Brendan’s little sister. Jax had watched her grow up, been there when they’d brought her home from the hospital, heard her first laugh as a baby, watched as she’d taken her first steps, sang happy birthday to her as she blew out candles on every single birthday. This was Grace, the girl he’d always thought of as his little sister. But damn if every single one of those brotherly feelings was gone.

  Every. Last. One. Of. Them.

  And then he’d watched, paralyzed from the revelation, as she turned to dunk the sponge in her hand in a bucket of soapy water, and he got a glimpse of her side.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Somehow he’d found his tongue and his voice had carried over the beat of the music.

  Grace looked up and turned to him, her usual grin spreading across her face. But he’d only had a moment to register her smile because his eyes darted back down to her side where a blue swallow about the size of his hand was tattooed on her upper ribs. It was diving down; one of its wings spanned her side, the other wrapped around to cup under her right breast.

  Jax had never thought much of Grace’s breasts. They were small, not even a handful. But now? Now he wanted to know what those felt like, too. His fingers were itching to untie those straps.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  “Why, Jaxson Anderson,” Grace drawled, “are you staring at my chest?”

  Jax looked up, and he could feel the flush coming to his cheeks. But he was determined to play this off, because he would go to the grave before he admitted to wanting one of his best friends’ baby sister.

  “No, I’m looking at that tattoo on your side,” he said, letting his anger boil over into his voice. “What the hell did you do? Does Brendan know about this?” he almost screamed at her.

  Why the hell was he so pissed off?

  Because that tattoo was sexy as hell and he didn’t want anyone looking at it. Or God, touching it. Touching her.

  Her smile disappeared in an instant and her blue eyes turned icy. “He was there when I got it a month ago,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “He let you?” Jax asked, incredulous.

  “Brendan doesn’t let me do anything,” Grace said, crossing her arms under her chest. It made her small breasts more prominent.

  How had he not noticed how amazing they were before that moment?

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a child anymore, Jax.”

  And that had been precisely the problem, because he had finally noticed. And it had tortured him every single day for the last six years.

  Jax sighed before he took another bite of his muffin, because boy did Grace ever like to torture him.

  Grace’s friendliness tended to come off as flirting, and nothing got under Jax’s skin more than when he saw Grace flirting with some little schmuck. He’d had to watch as guy after guy paraded through her life. Okay, so there hadn’t been that many guys who’d gotten past the flirting stage. But none of them had been good enough for her, not a single one.

  Jax wasn’t good enough, either, so he’d resigned himself to doing what he was good enough for, watching out for her. And man was watching hard.

  Chapter Two

  Mr. Monosyllabic vs. the Red High Heels

&n
bsp; Jax, Brendan, and Shep had all met on their first day of preschool almost twenty-five years ago. They’d been best friends ever since. Brendan was a mechanic and helped his grandfather run King’s Auto. Shep’s family owned a bar called the Sleepy Sheep out on the beach.

  The Sleepy Sheep had been a landmark in Mirabelle for the last sixty-five years. The bar had a Scottish pub feel to it, and the locals and tourists loved it. Shep’s grandparents moved to the area after his grandfather had gotten out of the air force following WWII. Owen Shepherd bought the land and built the bar with his own two hands. It had survived a number of hurricanes and more bar fights than anyone could count. Not that it was a rowdy place or anything. As it went with most establishments that served alcohol, some people just couldn’t handle their liquor, and Jax had been called down a number of times to deal with the drunks.

  But tonight Jax wasn’t on duty. Tonight he was going to drink a beer and watch the Yankees demolish the Red Sox. When he was in the second grade, he’d had to do a report on a famous person. He’d stumbled across a biography on Mickey Mantle and he’d been a Yankee ever since. This had also inspired Jax to start playing the game.

  Baseball was good for Jax. He’d channeled his anger into his pitching and when that wasn’t enough, he used it for batting practice. Jax, Brendan, and Shep had all joined the county baseball league as children. Jax was always a pitcher, Brendan a catcher, and Shep played shortstop. The Kings and Shepherds had split all of the fees so Jax could play, and they drove him to all of the practices and games.

  In high school, the three boys had been pretty unstoppable. All of them had made varsity their sophomore year. They’d gone to the playoffs all three years, and had even won state their senior year. They all continued to play on the adult league for the county, but that wouldn’t start up until July.