“God, Paige, he kissed me,” Grace said, dropping the cutter in the pie and turning to her. “And it wasn’t just a simple little peck on the lips. It was a full body attack. He pushed me back against the counter, picked me up, and sat me down on top of it. His hands were everywhere, and so were mine. It was so much more than I’d ever imagined. It was…it was everything. Up until the part where he told me it shouldn’t have happened. That it had been a mistake.”
“He said what?” Paige asked as the softness on her face disappeared. Her eyebrows came together in an angry line and her lips bunched up. “If that man were standing in front of me right now I’d slap him in the face.”
“Right, you’d hit Jax,” Grace said skeptically.
“Fine, I wouldn’t. But I would throw a drink in his face and I’d blame it on my pregnancy hormones.”
“Now I’d pay to see that.”
“Well, you just wait. Jaxson Anderson will have a cold drink in his face very soon.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Grace said, returning to her pie slicing. She started dishing it out, placing the plates on the counter. “Promise me you won’t tell Brendan,” Grace said. “All I need is for him to find out and give Jax a lecture or something.”
“I don’t tell Brendan everything,” Paige said, feigning offense.
“Really. Tell me something you’ve never told him.”
Paige’s mouth bunched to the side and her brow furrowed. “I’ve got nothing,” she said, shaking her head.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I’m sure there’s something; I just can’t think of it. I’m going to blame it on pregnancy brain. But, don’t worry. I won’t say anything to Brendan, even though I think Jax needs a good smack upside the head. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man more clueless in my life. I’m glad your brother isn’t.”
“Oh, Brendan has had his fair share of clueless moments. He just didn’t have any when it came to wanting you,” Grace said as she handed Paige two plates of pie.
“Yeah, I was the clueless one for a while. I snapped out of it though. Maybe there’s still hope for Jax.”
“I seriously hope so,” Grace said. But she seriously doubted it.
Chapter Four
The Power of Jack Daniel’s
Grace pulled into the parking lot of Adams and Family Funeral Home just before five o’clock that evening. Café Lula did the catering for the funeral home, and Aberdeen Butelle’s wake was that night. Grace had made three batches of cookies while Lula Mae put together a platter of sandwiches, and a cheese and fruit tray.
Grace got out of her car and walked around to the passenger side to grab the trays from the front seat. As she opened the door her brother’s big black pickup truck pulled into the spot next to hers.
“Hey,” he said, hopping down from his truck and slamming the door behind him. He was in his customary King’s Auto navy blue short-sleeved button-up shirt, which hung loose over his navy blue pants. His baseball cap was firmly in place on his head, and his sunglasses were perched on his nose.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I’m doing some work on Paige’s Jeep and I had to order a part. So I’m driving her while it’s in the shop. You need help?”
“Absolutely,” Grace said, pulling out the tray and balancing it on the roof. She pushed the passenger seat back and leaned in to the backseat to grab the other trays. She handed them to Brendan before she straightened.
Brendan grabbed them. He opened his mouth to say something else and hesitated for just a second too long.
“What?” Grace asked.
“What happened with you and Jax this morning?”
Grace closed her eyes and let out a long breath before she opened them again. “How did you find out?”
“Delta Forns came in this afternoon to get her oil changed.”
Oh, great, this was only going to get worse. Delta Forns was Denise Morrison’s nosey old neighbor. She was also a bitter old shrew. When Brendan and Paige had started seeing each other, Delta had given Bethelda Grimshaw plenty of commentary for her blog.
“How did she find out?” Grace asked as her stomach dropped down somewhere to the region of her knees.
Brendan frowned. “There was a blog post today.”
“Oh, God,” Grace said miserably. It really couldn’t get any worse. “What did it say?”
“I don’t know exactly as I didn’t read it. But apparently Jax was walking around for a good part of the morning with flour handprints on his ass.”
She was wrong, so totally wrong. It could get a whole lot worse. Grace’s stomach fell the remaining distance to her feet. She felt sick.
“What happened with him?” Brendan asked.
“Nothing important,” she said, turning again to the backseat and grabbing the last tray. She shut the door before she grabbed the other tray from the roof of her car and made her way up to the porch.
“If you don’t tell me I’ll just ask him,” Brendan said, coming up next to her.
“Like he’ll tell you anything.” Grace scoffed. Jax was the most tight-lipped man she’d ever met. Well, except when he was kissing. When he was kissing his lips were wide open and wonderful. Oh, God, just so wonderful.
Grace slid the tray back on her arm so she could open the front door. They walked in and Tara looked up at them and smiled, giving them a friendly wave as she continued to talk to someone on the phone.
“No, I understand Mr. Molten, we just don’t do that,” she said, turning back to her computer.
Grace made her way into the kitchen, Brendan hot on her heels.
“If you think this conversation is over, you’re sorely mistaken,” he said, putting the trays down on the table as she did the same thing.
“You know, you’re the pushiest person I’ve ever met.” She took the tray of cheese and fruit to the refrigerator.
“I think you two tie for that.”
Grace spun around as she shut the refrigerator door, the cool air blowing around her in a gust, to find Paige standing in the kitchen doorway. Her arms were folded on top of her belly and she was looking straight at Grace.
“No, I’m not,” Grace said, her voice going up an octave.
“If I remember correctly you did a couple of things to push Paige and me together,” Brendan said as he leaned back against the wall. He pulled his sunglasses off and hooked one of the stems in the front of his shirt.
“I was just trying to help out.”
“Mmm hmm,” Paige hummed, raising her eyebrows.
“Well, that’s what your caring, loving brother is trying to do. Tell me what happened, Grace,” Brendan said seriously.
“Jax came over to the café this morning to talk and we might’ve kissed.”
“Might’ve?” Brendan asked.
“We kissed. And then he said it was a mistake.”
“He said what?”
“I know, unbelievable, isn’t it?” Paige said, shaking her head. “You should go set him straight.”
“Oh, by the time I’m done with Jax, he’s going to be a little bent up,” he said, making his way to the door.
“Stop it, Brendan,” Grace said, stepping in front of him and pushing his shoulders back.
Grace was much smaller than her brother. Brendan wasn’t a full foot taller than her like Jax was, but he made up for those inches Jax had on him with about thirty extra pounds of muscle.
“All I’m going to do is tell him to stop wearing his ass as a hat.”
“Actually you’re not, because this doesn’t concern you.”
“Everything about you concerns me, Grace,” he said as his eyebrows bunched together. He looked at her with so much concern it made her heart squeeze painfully.
“Not this,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t need you to get involved with this.”
“Grace—”
“No,” she said, cutting him off firmly. “It’s done. Over. We’re not talking about it anymore.”
“Sweetie,” Paige said, shaking her head, “you know that isn’t true. Everyone knows about this because of Bethelda.”
“No, they just think they know about it. I’m sure Jax has kept quiet. So as far as you two are concerned,” Grace said, looking between her brother and Paige, “you know nothing. Got it?”
“Grace—”
“Got it, Brendan? Nothing.”
“He’s an idiot,” Brendan said, grabbing Grace and pulling her into his arms. Grace pressed her face into her brother’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “The word mistake should never be said in reference to anything that involves you,” he said softly. “Do you understand that?”
Grace closed her eyes and nodded. She didn’t want to say anything for fear of losing the last bit of composure she had. Brendan’s arms loosened from around her and he looked down at her as he took a step back. He held on to her arms and studied her face for a second before he nodded. It was a small gesture, but just enough for Grace to know that he was going to do what she asked.
* * *
Jax was starving. His stomach had been rumbling for most of the day. Apparently the two protein bars and cup of coffee he bought at the Gas-N-Go that morning weren’t enough to hold him over. Nor was the wilted and slightly soggy tuna salad sandwich he’d eaten for lunch. His stomach had been pretty annoyed with what he’d tried to give it, having had the best food could provide the day before. But he wasn’t going to be having any food from Café Lula or any King women for a little while. And with that thought his stomach started to roar, both in hunger and anger.
Jax was a moron all right, and for so many reasons. But that wasn’t going to get fixed anytime soon, so he decided to deal with the problem at hand, or at stomach. The prospect of going back to his house with its pathetic food supplies was not a happy one, so instead he pulled into the Floppy Flounder parking lot. The smell of fried fish and hush puppies hit his nose as he opened the door to the truck. Jax made his way up the cracked and creaking floorboards and pushed the bright blue front door open. The delicious fried food smells got stronger and the roaring in Jax’s stomach cranked up a notch. He walked to the bar in the back and slid onto one of the stools.
“Deputy Anderson.” Stacey Frampton smiled, coming up to him on the other side of the bar.
“Hey, Stacey,” Jax said, giving her a polite nod.
“What can I get you?” she asked, and pulled out a pad of paper from the front of her apron.
“Fried grouper with fries, hush puppies, and double the coleslaw. To go please.”
“Coming right up,” she said, writing it all down before she slipped out of the bar and walked to the kitchen.
Jax sat there for a couple of minutes, staring at the TV above the bar but not really watching.
“Why, if it isn’t the big, bad deputy.”
Jax turned to the side to see a man with shaggy, beach-blond hair slide onto the barstool next to him.
Fantastic. Chad Sharp was a royal asshole. The guy had dated Grace for about a second when they were in high school, but as far as Jax knew it hadn’t gone further than a couple of dates. Jax had never liked anyone that Grace dated, and Chad had been at the top of that list.
Last year, Chad had done his best to mess with Brendan and Paige’s relationship. Brendan had even gotten into a fight with Chad, one that landed them in jail, along with Shep and two of Chad’s friends, Hoyt Reynolds and Judson Coker. Somehow they’d all gotten out with little more than a warning.
Jax had no doubts that this little visit was going to be the icing on top of his shitastic day.
“What do you want, Chad?” Jax asked, looking away.
“Just a little chat.”
“I really have no desire to talk to you.”
“Well, apparently you do have a desire for something. I hear you scored with Grace.”
“What are you talking about?” Jax asked, unable to stop himself from looking back at Chad.
“Everyone knows,” he said, raising his eyebrows and smirking. “What was my favorite line from Bethelda’s article?” he said, putting his finger to the corner of his mouth like he was pondering. “Oh, yeah, it was that Grace tried to get your attention ‘with her hooker shoes and her negligible breasts on display.’ I’m going to have to tell you, man, I’ve seen what Grace has to offer up close and personal, and it isn’t that impressive.”
“Chad, I don’t care what your opinion is. Never have. Never will. So how about you just go away,” Jax said calmly. But really it was taking everything in him not to sock the guy in the face.
Chad had talked about Grace, and that was a surefire way to set Jax off. But Jax knew how Chad worked, and Jax wasn’t going to fall for it. Not today at least.
“Here you go, Jax,” Stacey said as she put a plastic bag on the counter.
“Keep the change,” he said, handing her some cash before he slid off the stool and got the hell out of the restaurant and away from Chad.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Jax pulled up in front of the tiny two-bedroom/one-bath house he’d been renting for the past two years. The house was a good reflection of him because it was also pretty pathetic.
There were no curtains on any of the windows, just yellowing cracked blinds that were probably older than he was. The carpet was a matted dingy brown but at least it didn’t clash with the white walls. The kitchen housed a set of six mismatched plates and bowls, a set of silverware that was missing half its counterparts, one pot that cooked up a decent batch of spaghetti, and a frying pan that worked just fine for scrambling eggs. He had a pretty nice coffeepot that he rarely used because he’d rather just go to the café, a stove that had all four burners working, and a nearly empty refrigerator with an automatic ice dispenser.
It wasn’t home. Jax had never really known what a real home was. Well, that wasn’t exactly true; the King’s house had been a home to him. But the tiny house he currently resided in was just a place to lie low every night before he started the next day. But hopefully all of that would be changing very soon.
A house just west of Mirabelle had gone into foreclosure, and Jax bought it the year before. The people who’d lived there for years hadn’t taken care of it, and it showed. The roof had massive leaks, the walls and carpet had acted as filters for the constant stream of cigarette smoke, and the yard was overrun with weeds and overgrown trees. He’d gotten it for a steal.
The house was over two thousand square feet and it sat on two acres of land. It was surrounded by massive oak trees, which gave the whole property the kind of privacy that fences could never achieve. The view from the back of the house was of Whiskey River. Like many houses on the water in Mirabelle, it was built on ten-foot pylons. Before Jax had signed the paperwork, Bennett had gone over to check it out, reporting back that the foundation and overall structure of the house were solid and the plumbing in top condition. When you added in free labor, it just couldn’t be beat.
Jax, along with Brendan, Shep, and Bennett, had been working on rebuilding the house for the last five months. Even Oliver and Shep’s dad, Nathanial Senior, had come down a couple of times to help wherever they could. The inside of the house had been gutted, the roof and deck had been rebuilt, and the outside had been refurbished but not repainted yet. It was really coming along. All of Jax’s free time was spent there, and when it was finished, the plan was he’d continue to want to spend time there.
Jax grabbed his dinner before he got out of his truck and made his way into the lonely, little house. He flipped the hall light on and locked the door behind him before he went into the kitchen, dropped his dinner on the counter, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He twisted the cap off and threw it in the trash can as he walked to the back of the house. He turned the light on in the spare bedroom, which consisted of a desk for his computer and a weight-lifting bench.
Talk about pitiful offerings.
Jax sat down and hit the mouse a coupl
e of times until the screen came to life. He pulled up the Internet and typed in the address for Bethelda’s blog. He knew that he shouldn’t bother with it. Knew that what he read was only going to piss him off more. But for some reason he just needed to know what Bethelda had said about him and Grace. It didn’t take long for him to get the urge to throw the computer across the room.
THE GRIM TRUTH
NO ONE’S GOING TO BUY THE COW…
Little CoQuette has been a topic of conversation for years around Mirabelle. The mystery of who exactly her father is has been discussed in a wide variety of circles, but that secret has yet to be revealed. Her mother, Jeze Belle, took that to her grave. Probably for the best, if as it’s suspected, said father is a married man that the late home wrecker had set her sights on. But with two children from different daddies, what else could be expected?
If CoQuette learned one thing from her mother, it was how to entice men. Just last night she made an attempt to get in good with the law, or the law’s pants. CoQuette showed up at our local watering hole, the Den of Iniquity, with her hooker shoes and her negligible breasts on display. Apparently, Deputy Ginger took notice though, because the two were seen out on the dance floor right before CoQuette stormed off in a fit of passion. Lovers’ quarrel? Maybe.
Deputy Ginger has never been one to stand out in a crowd. Growing up in a family of meager means and affections he’s been more of a standing in the shadows kind of guy. Probably, because if you can’t be found then your drunken father can’t beat you. But those shadows haven’t hid him from the likes of Little CoQuette. Oh no, she’s noticed him just fine. And thanks to her, so have a number of our other towns people.
Deputy Ginger was seen running around downtown this morning with handprints on his derrière. And what might you ask were those handprints made by? Well, according to our more than delighted eyewitnesses, because let’s face it Deputy Ginger has a mighty fine caboose, those handprints were slapped on with flour. And where else could those flour handprints have originated but the Illegitimate Buns where CoQuette whips up her sinful concoctions. I just wonder if Deputy Ginger got a free glass of milk with his slice of cherry pie this morning.
Undeniable (A Country Roads Novel) Page 6
