Jax parked his truck in the lot and walked up to the front of the building. On either side of the front door were two large pained windows that gave a clear view into the crowded bar. The sign above the door creaked in the cool April breeze that blew in off the Gulf. The sign read THE SLEEPY SHEEP in big green letters. Two sheep slept in the corner, Z’s trailing above their heads. Jax pushed open the door to the comforting sounds and smells of one of his favorite places.
While they were growing up, Jax, Brendan, and Shep weren’t allowed in the bar when alcohol was being served. But in those few hours before it opened, Shep’s parents gave them root beer in chilled mugs and let them play pool and darts to their hearts’ content.
The walls, floors, and ceilings of the inside of the bar had been built with the same dark wood as the outside. Over the years the walls had been covered with signed dollar bills and framed cartoon pictures of drunken sheep. The bar was located at the back of the room, running along the wall. Booths lined the walls to the left, and tables surrounded by chairs were scattered across the floor. The right side of the room housed two pool tables and a dartboard. There was a stage in the far corner where a live band sometimes played. The rest of the time music would blare from the jukebox. Tonight there was the added noise from the TVs hanging from the walls.
Jax made his way to the back of the bar and slid into an empty stool next to Bennett Hart. Bennett had been a year younger in high school and he played third baseman Jax’s junior and senior year. Bennett had joined the air force right out of high school. He still sported his short hair that eight years in the service had ingrained in him. During his last tour, he was on a mission when the helicopter he was in was shot down. Only one other man had survived.
Bennett had been back for almost two years now. He was doing better than he had been, but Jax recognized the signs of a man trying to battle his demons. Now, Bennett did construction work to make a living, not to mention a few side jobs restoring antique furniture and building some of his own creations. He’d also come out for the county league last year and now played for the Stingrays, along with Jax, Brendan, and Shep.
“Really?” Jax said, looking over at Bennett and shaking his head at Bennett’s bright red Boston Red Sox shirt.
“What?” Bennett took a sip of his beer as he turned his head to the side to look at Jax.
“You a Red Sox fan now?”
“Nah.” Bennett grinned. “But I’m not a Yankee, either. I’m Braves through and through. I figured I’d root for the Sox tonight so Grace wasn’t all alone.”
When Grace was six years old she decided she was going to be a Red Sox fan just to spite Jax, Brendan, and Shep. The only person that it continued to bother was Jax.
“Grace is here?” Jax asked, looking around.
“Not yet, Romeo.”
Jax turned back to the bar to see Shep grinning at him. At least Shep hadn’t fallen back on his loyalties. He was wearing a navy blue Yankee T-shirt.
“When are you going to get over yourself and just ask her out already?” Shep asked.
Jax frowned. He’d been dealing with these comments from Shep for the past couple of years. Brendan tended to join in, too, but he wasn’t nearly as bad as Shep.
“Mind your own damn business,” Jax said, drumming his fingers on the bar.
“Which means,” Bennett said, rubbing the condensation from his own mug, “shut up and get him a beer.”
“You’re hopeless,” Shep said, shaking his head at Jax before he turned. He grabbed a frosted mug and went to the tap, filling the mug with a rich amber liquid. “You know,” Shep said as he set the mug down in front of Jax, “if you don’t do something, and soon, you’re going to miss your opportunity.”
“Are you speaking as a wise bartender who knows all?” Jax asked, not hiding his sarcasm.
“No,” Shep said, shaking his head seriously. “I’m speaking as a man. I’m not blind to Grace. And neither are most of the men in this town, or this bar for that matter.” He indicated a spot behind him with his chin.
Jax turned, and as always, the instant his eyes landed on Grace, he felt the intensity of it everywhere, and did he mean everywhere. She was wearing a white T-shirt with a big red “B” on the front, skintight jeans, and red high-heeled shoes that made her at least four inches taller. She was pretty much completely covered, but every single article of clothing hugged her small curves in amazing ways. And her face and hair completed the entire picture. Her eyes were smoky; the black and gray stuff she’d used around her bright blue eyes made them look impossibly brighter. Grace’s hair fell just past her shoulder blades, but tonight she’d curled it. Thick, soft strands swirled around her face and the top of her shoulders.
He wanted to plunge his fingers through it.
Instead he tried not to swallow his tongue.
* * *
Grace walked into the Sleepy Sheep, and as always, her eyes zeroed in on the one man she always wanted to see. She’d known he was here. She’d seen his red truck in the parking lot. But something had to be said for the fact that she’d known exactly where he was when she’d walked into the bar. He turned around and his eyes met hers for a moment before they traveled the length of her body. She felt that slow, lingering gaze everywhere.
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath as his eyes settled on hers again, and the frown on his face deepened.
Interesting.
Grace had decided she was through playing fair. She had long ago figured out how to play to her strengths, so tonight she’d pulled out all of the big guns. She had a small chest, something she hadn’t inherited from her mother or her grandmother. But an ingenious push-up bra gave her A-cup breasts a little boost. Grace had a tiny waist, but below that, her hips flared out into a rather round butt that didn’t look half bad in a good pair of jeans. She was short; something she knew could only be fixed with heels. And the power of red high heels was not to be trifled with.
As she made her way toward the bar, she was aware of a surprising number of eyes that were on her. But she could care less about any of them except for one deep green pair, the same green pair that appeared to get more agitated the closer she got.
“You okay?” she asked, stopping in front of Jax. “You look tense.”
“And that’s different how?”
Grace looked behind the bar to find Nathanial Shepherd grinning at her. But no one called him Nathanial. Well, besides his mother, grandmother, and Lula Mae. Everyone called him Shep. Jax and Shep were on opposite sides of the spectrum in many ways; Brendan fell somewhere in the middle.
Out of the three of them, Shep was most definitely the bad boy of the group. Tattoos were scattered across both of his arms and forearms. He had perpetual scruff on his wide, chiseled jaw and above his lips, which were usually quirked up in a smile. He had the darkest blue eyes that Grace had ever seen on a man and thick wavy black hair that was always shaggy and rumpled.
There was no doubt about it, Shep was hot. But Grace had never had any romantic feelings for him. No, those were reserved for the scowling redhead in front of her.
Grace tilted her head to the side and studied Jax’s scowl, which reached all the way up to the corners of his eyes and wrinkled his forehead.
“More tense than usual,” Grace amended.
“Something that could be so easily remedied,” Shep said.
“Shep’s remedies for life,” someone said, sliding an arm around Grace, “most likely include sex.”
Grace looked up into the smiling face of Brendan. Claire King had passed on her light blue eyes to both of her children, but Brendan had inherited Claire’s wide smile. Whenever Grace saw it, she was intensely grateful she could still see small pieces of her mother were still alive.
“Hey, Gracie,” he said, kissing her temple.
“You would know all about my remedies for life.” Shep smirked. “Speaking of which, I wasn’t expecting you tonight. Where is your very pregnant wife?”
“Paige is s
pending some quality time with her mother.”
“How’s Denise doing?” Bennett asked.
“It’s still hard for her without Trevor. But working part-time at the health clinic is keeping her a little busy. I think the baby will be good for her. When Paige is done with her maternity leave, Denise is going to watch him a couple of days a week,” Brendan said, letting go of Grace and sliding onto the stool on the other side of Bennett.
Last September, Paige’s father had lost his battle with pancreatic cancer. Grace could relate to Paige’s loss; she knew what it was like to have a parent die. But she couldn’t relate to what Denise was going through. She couldn’t imagine losing the love of her life. And with that thought, Grace’s gaze flickered back to Jax, who was still frowning at her.
“Seriously, what’s up with you?” Grace whispered to Jax as she sat down on the stool next to him.
“Nothing,” he said, taking a drink of his beer.
“Long day?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Busy?”
“Yup.” He nodded.
“You working tomorrow?”
“Uh-huh.”
So he was in monosyllabic form tonight. Not that Jaxson Anderson could ever be considered talkative. But still, he really was the most frustrating human being. Ever.
“I need a tall drink, or a tall man.”
Grace turned to find Harper Laurence sliding onto the seat next to her.
Grace had been friends with Harper for twelve years. The Laurences had moved down to Mirabelle when Harper’s dad had inherited his uncle’s veterinary practice. Harper had been one of those girls who had taken a little time to grow into her body. She’d been slightly overweight when she’d started the sixth grade. Grace had known exactly what it was like to be bullied, and she, along with Melanie O’Bryan, had brought Harper into their circle.
Harper had grown into her body in high school. Her curves had come into full bloom, and those same guys who had bullied her started drooling over her. Along with those curves, she had thick black hair that flowed down to the middle of her back, and violet eyes. Add to that the fact that she was a massage therapist with magic hands, and any man was a goner.
“Oh, jeez, not another one.”
Grace turned back to Jax who was shaking his head at Harper’s bright red Boston Red Sox T-shirt.
“The numbers are even now. Three to three. Drink your beer and shut up,” Grace said before she turned back to Harper. “What’s wrong?”
“Guess who came in today,” Harper said, raising one of her perfectly plucked black eyebrows.
“Who?”
“Bethelda Grimshaw.”
“We’re going to need something stronger than a beer down here,” Grace called down to Shep, who was filling a mug up for Brendan. “Harper had to deal with the dragon today.”
Bethelda Grimshaw was Mirabelle’s resident bitch. She’d worked for the town newspaper fifteen years ago. Back then she had a tendency to report on things that were less than savory, her stories focusing on the people of Mirabelle. When her articles turned downright nasty people demanded that Bethelda be fired; Oliver King, Brendan and Grace’s grandfather, had been the loudest. Grace and Brendan’s parentage had been the subject of many articles.
Now Bethelda used her online blog to spread her trash. Her blog was one of those things that no one in Mirabelle would admit to reading, yet everyone knew what she wrote about.
Brendan leaned back in his chair to look at Harper. Grace recognized the look on his face. It was the one that meant he was barely holding in his anger. Brendan had a bit of a temper, and a surefire way to light it up was to mention Bethelda Grimshaw. Brendan and Paige had been the focus of quite a few of Bethelda’s articles over the last year and a half.
“She write an article about you?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time, but no, not today. She’s one of my new clients, though. Do you think ‘horrible hag’ is contagious?” she asked, looking at Grace a bit pathetically. “I don’t want to grow scales on my hands.”
“I know just the cure for that,” Shep said, putting down two glasses filled with ice. “Tequila,” he said, pouring a generous amount of the golden liquid into a metal container that he pulled out from under the bar. He added many other brightly colored liquids from bottles behind the counter before he put a metal top on the container and shook it. He poured his concoction into the glasses; it was an orangish red that reminded Grace of a sunset. “Drink up,” he said, putting a straw in each glass and pushing them across the bar to Harper and Grace.
Grace grabbed her drink and took a long sip. It tasted like citrus, strawberries, something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and a healthy dose of tequila.
“Mmm, what is this called?” Harper asked, sounding like she was in heaven.
“The Dragon Killer.”
“This is amazing,” Grace said, closing her eyes and taking a long pull.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw Jax staring at her out of the corner of her eye.
“What?” she asked, turning to him.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and turning his focus to the TV that was mounted on the wall behind the bar.
“He seems moodier than usual,” Grace whispered out of the side of her mouth at Harper.
“That’s probably because of what you’re wearing, darling. He can actually see the outline of your boobs and he doesn’t know what to do with himself,” Harper whispered around the straw that was still in her mouth.
“I have a few ideas,” Grace whispered back.
“Oh, I’m sure you do.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Shep asked, moving in front of them again.
“How the Red Sox are going to kick your beloved Yankees in the ass,” Grace said, pasting on her customary smart-ass grin.
“You want to bet, Princess?” Jax asked.
Grace looked at Jax over her shoulder and batted her eyes at him. “Absolutely, big boy. How much?”
“We get to make the terms,” Harper burst out before Jax could say anything.
“What?” Grace asked, turning to look at her.
“We get to make the terms, me, Shep, Brendan, and Bennett. And you two don’t get to see what the wager is until the game is done.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jax said.
Grace turned to look at him and grinned wickedly. “Scared?” she taunted.
“Not on your life. Fine, you guys make the terms,” he said, leaning back and taking another sip of his beer.
“Give me a napkin,” Harper said as she dug a pen out of her purse.
She scribbled something down, her hand covering what she wrote from everyone’s view. She folded the napkin in half and passed it to Shep. Shep unfolded the napkin, and his mouth split into a grin before he passed it to Bennett, who laughed before he handed it to Brendan.
“Boy am I ever so glad I came out tonight,” Brendan said, passing the napkin back to Shep, who shoved it in his back pocket.
“Shake on it,” Harper demanded.
“Prepare to be walloped,” Grace said as she stuck out her hand.
“Princess, you’re the one who’s in for a world of pain,” he said as his long, strong fingers wrapped around the back of her hand. Their hands pumped once, before they let go.
Jax’s words affected Grace because she knew that far beyond this bet he had the power to hurt her more than anyone else.
* * *
It was the bottom of the ninth, and the score was 7–5, the Yankees leading. The Yankees had been pitching a fairly good game, but with only one out and a Red Sox player on both first and second, it wasn’t over.
Jax was on edge, but it had less to do with the game and more to do with the woman next to him.
What the hell was wrong with him?
From the moment she’d walked into the bar he’d been a freaking mess. It was taking everything in him to focus on the
game, and not the constant feel of her leg brushing up against his, or the ever-present smell of her soft perfume. He just wanted to push his nose into the hollow of her throat and inhale.
And what the hell were the terms of the bet? What the hell had he agreed to? He’d lost his damn mind.
It was all Grace’s fault. Her too tight T-shirt was distracting him. But it wasn’t like she could take it off or anything.
And then he had an image of her taking off her too tight T-shirt.
“Shit,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his palms. But that image wasn’t going anywhere.
Grace turned to look at him, her knee brushing his thigh for the hundredth time that night.
“What?” he asked, looking at her.
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head, looking more than slightly amused. “You just keep mumbling to yourself over there. It must be a fascinating conversation.”
“Grace, pay attention,” Harper said, leaning over the bar to get a better view of the TV.
Jax turned just as the batter for the Red Sox took a swing and the ball sailed past the outfield and into the stands.
“Shit,” Jax repeated, but Grace’s and Harper’s loud cheers drowned it out.
“Okay, what do I win?” Grace asked, sticking her hand out toward Shep.
The grin that spread across Shep’s face made Jax more than a little nervous. Shep pulled the napkin out of his pocket and placed it in Grace’s hand. She opened the napkin, her eyes gleaming.
“Perfect,” she said, slapping the napkin down in front of Jax so he could read it.
The loser has to ask the winner to dance to a song of the winner’s choosing.
“I don’t dance,” Jax said, looking up at all the eyes now focused on him.
“You shook on it,” Bennett said. “That’s a verbal contract. As a man of the law you can’t back out.”
God, how the hell was he going to last three minutes with Grace pushed up against him?
“Don’t worry, Jax,” Grace whispered in his ear, “it’ll be painless.”
Undeniable (A Country Roads Novel) Page 3
