Worth the Risk (St. James Book 3)

by Jamie Beck

  Luc’s eyes alighted and he stood. “Dere!”

  Jackson yanked him back down into a crouching position and then the pair waddled closer to where the little frog sat. “Do you want to spring for it, or should I?”

  Luc’s little blond brows knit together in tight concentration while he decided. “You go.”

  “Okay. Watch closely so next time you can try.” Jackson slowly held out his hands, preparing to pounce. He edged nearer, hoping he’d be close enough to have a shot at reaching the damn thing. Just as he sprang forth, Luc called out, “Catch it, Jackson!”

  Naturally, the commotion caused the frog to jump out of harm’s way, and Jackson ended up knee-deep in mud and reeds. He’d have been miserable about the icy water if he hadn’t heard bubbling laughter from the edge of the lake.

  “Are you laughing at me?” Jackson asked before standing.

  “You’re funny.” Luc giggled again and then noticed the unattended Oreo package.

  “Don’t you do it!” Jackson stood, water now dripping from his arms. He decided a surprise attack was his best bet to stop Luc from making off with those cookies, so he splashed a bit of water onshore. “If I catch you, I’m going to tickle you.”

  Luc yelped and then turned and ran toward the path, laughing that terrified yet playful laughter unique to small children.

  Jackson snatched the Oreo package and then chased after Luc, pretending to growl. “I’m gonna get you.”

  Another squeal ripped through the air before Luc disappeared down the path. Jackson let him have the lead until they got to the yard, then he dropped the cookies, caught Luc, and turned him upside down by the ankles.

  “I’ve got you now.” He shook him a little to make the kid giggle. Ten seconds later, he righted Luc and set him down, careful to make sure he wasn’t too dizzy. He grabbed the cookies and looked at Luc.

  “Okay. Come with me so I can change into dry clothes, then we’ll make dinner.” Jackson reached out his hand.

  Nothing could’ve prepared him for the swell of pride warming his heart as Luc took hold of him. Everything else faded away and Luc’s pudgy soft hand, so miniscule compared with his own callous palm, became Jackson’s sole focus.

  Then a ripple of sorrow disrupted his satisfaction.

  No one had placed any faith in Jackson for quite some time. He’d been too busy disengaging from everything and everyone real to notice, until Luc reminded him of how good it felt to be counted on. To make someone feel safe.

  Maybe Hank had been right. All this time Jackson had believed he hadn’t hurt anyone with his withdrawal, with his barely repressed anguish. He’d considered himself to be the only person who could be trusted or counted on for anything, when, in fact, perhaps he’d become the opposite of dependable.

  Luc reached for the stairwell railing, his stumpy legs straining to climb the steps. After Jackson changed into old sweatpants and a long-sleeve pullover, he decided to carry Luc and the Oreos back to the main house. “So, what do you want for dinner, buddy?”

  “Hanga-buggers.” Luc raised a hand over his head as if making a toast.

  Jackson chuckled and hoped he’d find ground beef in the Bouchard refrigerator. And then, for the first time in a while, he remembered why he was babysitting Luc, and wondered how Gabby was holding up. Even if Jon only suffered moderate stroke effects, she’d lost her sole support system for a while, and their little business would be in trouble, too.

  Although Gabby had warned him she didn’t want to rely on him, Jackson would have to convince her she had nothing to lose by accepting his help until he returned to his life in Connecticut next month.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gabby’s brain—jammed full of medical jargon, endless questions, and a heaping dose of anxiety—had hit a wall. The last thing she needed on her list of worries was wondering why her house looked so dark when she pulled into the driveway.

  Jackson’s Jeep sat parked by the garage. She’d checked in with him a couple of hours ago and he hadn’t raised any concerns or complaints. Still, the eerie stillness raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

  Of course, it was after ten. Maybe he’d fallen asleep in front of the TV—not that she saw it flickering through the living room window.

  When she entered the kitchen, which was illuminated only by the light above the stove, she saw her first hint of how Jackson’s evening had gone. Despite him being a neatnik, he’d left a half-eaten carton of Oreos on the table. A frying pan lay soaking in the sink, but crumbs and ketchup globs surrounded Luc’s booster seat.

  As she wandered into the shadowy bowels of the house, she managed to sidestep the discarded laundry basket and toys scattered across the living room floor. Quietly, she made her way upstairs.

  The hall bathroom’s light remained aglow. Inside, bath paints and toothpaste decorated the sink bowl.

  She crept toward Luc’s room, still dimly lit by his nightlight, and pushed the door open. Jackson’s body swallowed Luc’s toddler bed, where the two of them were fast asleep. Several Curious George books lay sprawled on the bed and floor. Luc had his stuffed lovie tucked under one arm and his head peacefully nestled against Jackson’s chest.

  Lucky Luc. Unlike her, he’d found someone to make him feel secure.

  She crossed to the edge of the bed and studied their sleeping faces, swallowing the lump in her throat. Luc looked happy, if such a thing was possible in one’s sleep. He’d probably quickly forgotten about the drama and savored every minute of his time with a young, playful man.

  Once again she was reminded that, despite her efforts to be the world’s best mom, she and her dad really weren’t enough for Luc. That, fervent wishes to the contrary, a man would complete her family. And even though Luc would survive not having a loving father, looking at her son peacefully snuggled up to Jackson made her heart ache anew. After the evening she’d had, that was all it took to wring her dry.

  Selfishly, she took advantage of the opportunity to study Jackson’s beautiful features at rest. He looked deliciously cuddly . . . and completely uncomfortable. If he slept in his current position, he’d end up with a crook in his neck. She adjusted the blanket around Luc and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Jackson must’ve sensed her presence, because he woke with a slight start, looking confused.

  She pressed her finger to her lips to remind him to be quiet. He glanced down and, as if having just remembered where he was, grinned.

  Jackson twisted to slide his body free, while Luc slumbered on in that near-dead stage of sleep adults can only envy. Gabby backed away quietly and then made her way downstairs. She heard Jackson’s footsteps following, but didn’t slow down until she reached the kitchen.

  “Thank you so much for watching Luc.” She dared a glance at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice how seeing Luc curled up with him had affected her. “You were right; it would’ve been a nightmare to have taken him with me.”

  “Glad to help. We had a good time.” A warm glow shone through his eyes.

  Gabby cocked an eyebrow. “Judging by the trail of stuff around the house, I guess he kept you busy.”

  “Very.” Jackson grinned and crossed his arms. “Once he stopped crying, he pretty much wanted to show me every single thing in the yard and in the house.”

  “So he wasn’t defiant or troublesome?” She did, after all, know her willful little boy.

  “Not once I laid down the law.” Jackson donned that unintentionally smug look of a sitter who had no idea what day-to-day parenting entailed. She wouldn’t rob him of his win, although she’d bet the house that Luc would wear him down if given enough time.

  “I’m happy it went well. I owe you, for everything.”

  “What’d the doctors say?” Jackson yawned, stretching his arms above his head. He looked rumpled and sleepy and totally sexy in the faint lighting, which flustered her. The spark of desire made her feel guilty, too, considering what was happening with her father.

  “He had a stroke, but it isn’t as bad a
s it could’ve been, thanks, in large part, to you. The fact he got medical attention right away made a difference.” Suddenly the long hours and anxiety caught up to her. She crossed to the sink to clean the pot, hoping the task would keep her knees from buckling. “He’s able to talk okay, but still has some left-side weakness. He’ll be in the hospital for a couple of days to complete a whole bunch of neuro and cardio tests. Once he’s released he’ll need occupational therapy for a while.”

  She set the clean pan in the drying rack. Gazing out the window, her worries poured out. “I don’t know how we’ll afford all the medical co-pays, not to mention how I’ll manage our two businesses and Luc until my dad can drive again.”

  The panic she’d been repressing since first seeing her dad on Jackson’s arm mushroomed, the rush of adrenaline making her body tremble. Tears pricked her eyes and, despite her embarrassment about crying in front of Jackson, a tight, exhausted sob erupted from her throat.

  She felt Jackson approach her from behind, but he didn’t touch her. She whirled to face him, tears now streaming down her face. “I’m scared. I’m so scared about how I’ll keep everything going. And what if it had been worse, or the worst? I’ve got no one but my dad. No one.”

  Jackson encircled her with his arms, placing one of his steady, large hands on her back while the other stroked her hair. “Shhh, shhh. Everything will be all right. I promise, you’re going to be fine.”

  Burrowing against his chest, she could almost believe him. His body and husky voice offered much-needed comfort and a certain security. She relished every second of the embrace—the brush of his silky cotton shirt against her cheek, the stroke of his hand across her head, the soft hum of his voice, his clean, masculine scent.

  As she stood there, suspended in the unguarded moment with him, her recent years of living without any man’s touch, affection, desire compressed into one simple, urgent need.

  Without further thought, she slid her hands up his chest and hooked them over his shoulders while tipping her head until her lips reached his neck.

  His body stiffened, although he didn’t release her—at least, not immediately.

  “Gabby.”

  A whisper, a prayer, a pleading refusal?

  She couldn’t tell, but she didn’t want to give him the chance to clarify, either. She parted her lips and kissed his jaw.

  He sucked in a breath before lowering his head. His hands tightened around her briefly as their lips brushed together, but then he touched his forehead to hers. “Stop.”

  Her body, so hot and needy of comfort, refused to listen. She raked her fingers through the hair at his neckline. “Jackson.”

  Their gazes locked, breaths mingling, hearts pulsing. When his amber eyes blazed with longing, she smiled.

  Then he cursed under his breath and stepped back. His gaze held hers, searching and conflicted. She heard his uneven breathing and saw evidence of his arousal thanks to his thin sweatpants.

  Still, he insisted, “No.”

  Embarrassed heat rose to her cheeks and new tears—humiliated ones—spilled over. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” He reached out and wiped her cheek. “It’s been an upsetting day, but we both know this isn’t the answer.”

  “I just, I . . .” She hesitated, looking away. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not a guy who takes advantage of an emotionally overwrought woman, for starters.” He slung his hands on his hips.

  “It’s not taking advantage if I’m the one asking.” Feeling strangely emboldened and determined, she added, “And, as you know, I’m no virgin.”

  His lips quirked into a quick smile, but then fell flat again. “Nothing good can come of this. I’ll be returning to my real life in a few weeks.”

  As if she needed a reminder of that sad fact.

  His real life. The one with his real friends and family. The murky yet potent attachment between them was purely temporary on his end. She did know that, but right now she didn’t care.

  “I don’t expect anything. Only one night to be held. To escape. To feel again. To be a woman instead of someone’s mom or a frightened daughter.”

  “You deserve a helluva lot more than being my one-night stand, Gabby.”

  “But I’d settle for that tonight.” Honestly, she could barely believe the words bursting from her lips on a whisper. Something about the calamity of the day must’ve unhinged her. Made her believe that the most she stood to lose was pride. Given what she stood to gain, she willingly let her ego take the hit. “One kiss?”

  He shook his head. “It wouldn’t stop there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because apparently stopping at one of anything isn’t my strong suit. That’s what landed me here in the first place.”

  She frowned, feeling exactly how Luc must feel when denied a hot-from-the-oven batch of cookies.

  “Let me be a good guy, okay?” Jackson folded his arms across his chest. “Earlier tonight it struck me how long it’d been since I’d been completely unselfish. Earning Luc’s trust made me feel something that I needed. If I take you to bed right now—which would be my pleasure, believe me—we’d both regret it tomorrow. I like and admire you enough not to want to be remembered as a mistake you made in a moment of weakness.”

  It took a second or two for the sublime compliment to register. That, coupled with her knowing the demons he fought, made his plea irrefutable. She wouldn’t jeopardize any step of his recovery. And although his remark helped soften the blow, she now wanted to be alone as soon as possible.

  “Then I guess that’s that.” She pressed her palm to her forehead. “I’m worn out, so I should get some rest. Thank you, again, for helping my dad, and handling Luc.”

  “Like I said, it was my pleasure. And other than an eight o’clock appointment in the morning, I can watch him tomorrow, too.”

  “Thanks, but now that my dad’s out of immediate danger, I think seeing Luc might lift his spirits. It might be good for Luc, too.”

  “Okay. Just remember, as long as I’m here, you’re not alone. I can help, but I won’t intrude unless you ask.”

  She smiled then, even though she didn’t feel particularly happy about the way the night was ending. “I see how it is. You want to make me beg.”

  Jackson barked a quick laugh, easing the tension. “Good night, Gabby.”

  He crossed toward the kitchen door. As he passed her, he brushed the back of his hand along her arm. One tender caress and then he was gone, her heart trailing behind him like a duckling.

  Not that he knew it.

  Jackson’s knee bounced while he toyed with the magnetized sculpture balls on the end table in Doc’s office. He could feel the weight of Doc’s patient gaze resting on his shoulders, but took his time looking up. “It’s been several weeks since the intervention and I haven’t had a drop to drink, so no, I don’t think I’ve got a serious problem.”

  “Then why did it get so out of control?” Doc leaned back, crossing one foot over his other knee.

  “Who says it did?”

  “You.”

  “I never said that!” Jackson leaned forward, defiance seizing every fiber of his body.

  “Not in so many words.” Doc’s matter-of-fact delivery and passive expression only irritated Jackson, who sat on the razor’s edge of exhaustion thanks to a restless night fantasizing about Gabby’s plump lips, loopy curls of hair, and tight little body. About the way she looked at him like he was some kind of savior—unlike anyone else in his life did these days.

  “How ’bout you say whatever it is you want to say,” Jackson huffed.

  “You don’t strike me as a guy who’s easily led, so I’m thinking you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of arranging this sojourn, or these sessions, if you didn’t think you needed help.”

  Jackson balled his fists twice before pushing his body deep into the sofa cushions and sighing. “I admit I could use a little help getting past some things that have been weigh
ing me down. But taking time to think about what’s next isn’t an admission of being a drunk.”

  “Huh. Tell me then, what is next for you?”

  “I don’t know, because nothing’s really changed. When I go home, I’ll take back the reins of my business and then I don’t know.”

  “Nothing’s changed? If I recall,” Doc began, glancing over his notes, “your sister’s getting serious with your friend, and your brother’s wife is pregnant. Those are two important changes in your family. Most people would be excited for them, yet when you mention them, I hear latent animosity.”

  “I’m not jealous, if that’s what you think.” He wasn’t, not really. He was truly happy for them all.

  “I didn’t say you were. But it’s interesting that you used that word.”

  Jackson threw his arms up. “You know I don’t like this indirect way you talk to me. If you’ve got an opinion, just out with it.”

  Doc chuckled. “My opinions aren’t the point in here, though. It’s your opinions, your thoughts, your feelings that matter.”

  “Fine. Fine, then. Yes, it’s a little ironic that my brother and sister are both in healthy relationships when, for most of our lives, I was the one who related best to others. I was the fun one who always went the extra mile for a friend. I was the one who wanted love and a family.”

  “So why don’t you have them?” Doc shifted his notepad from his thighs to the table on his left.

  “Because I can’t fucking trust anyone!” Jackson blinked, stunned by the words that had exploded from him before he’d taken their measure.

  Doc’s brows rose in a knowing manner. “Finally.”

  Jackson tipped his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Finally we’re getting to the root of it.”

  “Like hell we are, Doc.” If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn the room shrunk in half. A quiet rage braced against the pressure squeezing in on him. “I didn’t drink because I’m lonely,” he spat with disgust.