I turn my attention back to him for a moment to ask what all of this means. He stands by the sliding glass door, hand poised on the handle.
“Elle, you’re worth every penny,” he adds, before he slides out of my house and back into the oblivion.
If I couldn’t still taste him on my lips or feel his hands on my skin, I’d think he was a figment of my imagination.
“Mommy,” Kennedy cries out again, but I find myself staring off into the darkened sky wondering what to do now.
Damn that Jackson and his amazing kisses.
Chapter Six – Jackson
I didn’t sleep worth shit last night. After having my first taste of Elle, I had to physically force myself to pull away from her. Or else I was going to drag her to the first solid surface I could find and ravage every inch of her body. She was as sweet as I had imagined and I want more.
I watch as my parents pull their car in front of the house, parking on the street as I had requested. Elle and I haven’t had any more run-ins regarding the driveway,but I’m sure it’s coming. Truthfully we should just go in together and have it widened to accommodate both vehicles, but that would require having to have a civilized conversation.
Today my parents are coming by for our monthly cookout. My brother and I swap turns every two weeks and this week it’s mine. But I love to cook and grill, so I’m always glad when it’s my turn.
Unfortunately, I know that my mom will be peppering me for details about Elle. Ever since she saw her and the kids leave my yard a few weeks ago, she’s been asking about my new neighbor.
Grabbing the steaks, I go ahead and walk out to my deck knowing my parents will make themselves comfortable in the house. Outside, the laughter of my neighbors catch my attention and I watch as Noah pushes Kennedy on her swing, the girl laughing wildly as she pumps her legs to go higher.
Noah must sense me because he turns around and waves frantically before helping Kennedy come to a stop. They rush toward me and though I want to hate that they’re here in my yard and as much as I know Elle will be unhappy about it, I secretly welcome their intrusion. Their tiny faces light up as I wave them over and they eagerly bounce on their toes as they watch me open the top of the grill.
Kennedy tries to get a closer look, one of her brown curls almost falling over the grill slats as she pushes a chair and climbs on top.
“Hey guys, this has fire, and fire hurts so let’s stay back, okay?”
“Okay, Mister Jackson,” they say in unison. Noah helps Kennedy move the chair back some and then they both look at me in fascination.
I can sense her approach before I hear her. As I place the first steak on the grill, it’s not the sizzle of the meat that I hear, it’s her soft laugh as Kennedy calls out to her.
“Mommy, we’re watching Mister Jackson make meat.”
“Well, that must be very interesting. I have the lemonade you both asked for. Why don’t you have a seat on your bottoms so you can drink it?”
“Okay, Mommy,” they both reply as they scurry down to the steps and have a seat, Elle handing them each a closed cup with a straw.
I place the rest of the steaks on the grill as she walks over to me and I secretly wonder how awkward our conversation is going to go. It’s easier when the kids can act as a distraction.
“Hey, sorry if they’re bothering you,” she starts as she steps up next to me at the grill.
I close the lid and toss the tongs on the plate resting on the attached stand and turn toward her. My eyes skim over her, feasting on every delectable ounce of exposed skin. The skin I want to taste inch by inch. Finally, I make it to her face, quickly bypassing her shorts and T-shirt, and notice the small smirk of her mouth. Clearly she noticed my perusal and I’m not even ashamed.
“They’re fine. I don’t mind them watching.”
“Do you cook a lot?” she asks as the sliding glass doors open and my dad steps out with two beers in hand.
He hands me a bottle as I say, “I do. I enjoy cooking actually. This is my dad, Stan. Dad, this is my neighbor Elle and her two kids Noah and Kennedy.”
The munchkins wave from their perch on the steps before taking another sip of their drinks.
Elle holds her hand out to my dad and he accepts it warmly.
“Nice to meet you, Elle. Are you staying for dinner?”
“Um. . .” she hums as I add, “I’m not sure that I have enough steaks, Dad.”
“Oh, your brother messaged me and he won’t be able to make it. He got called in last minute. Some drug case going on across town. Why don’t you join us, Elle? It would be silly to let this food go to waste.”
I watch in fascination as Elle rocks back and forth on her feet, just slight movements. Not enough to call attention, but if you’re paying her any mind you can notice it along with the slight blush of her cheeks.
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” she whispers as she bites the corner of her bottom lip.
If my dad weren’t here with us right now that move alone would have me dragging her inside, caveman style.
“You’re not an imposition, Elle.” My voice is deep, gravely, my desire for Elle laced in every syllable.
Elle stares at me for a beat, gauging my words and their truth, then takes a peek at her kids before nodding and accepting the invitation.
“Please don’t go through any trouble. The kids and I aren’t picky eaters, we can share whatever you have.”
“There will be plenty. Don’t you worry,” my dad assures us as he pats her shoulder gently, already falling under her spell.
Welcome to the club.
“Oh!” she shouts, startling us as I begin to open the grill to flip the steaks. The top clangs loudly as I quickly close it.
“Sorry,” she winces. “I can bring dessert. It’s not much, but I promise that it’s delicious.”
“Elle, you don’t have to-”
“Please, I want to. I’ll be right back.”
I watch her scurry across the yard again, the shorts wrapped around her bottom tugging with every step and I have to work at hiding my erection behind my pants. Noticing Noah and Kennedy sitting on the steps, my dad begins chatting with them and they beam as he asks them about their playset and the newest kids television show.
I don’t even know how he knows this crap.
“Why don’t you guys go inside with my dad and help set the table?”
“Go inside?” one of them asks while the other asks, “Is Bailey inside?”
“No, Bailey is with my brother. She is his dog.” Their smiles turn into frowns when I mention that Bailey isn’t with me, but I quickly perk them up at the mention of my mom. “But my mom is inside and she gives really good hugs. And I hear she has superpowers and can tell you if you’re a princess or a superhero.”
Kennedy’s big blue widen as she gasps, “Can she tell if I am a superhero princess?”
“You betcha.”
“Wow.”
As I finally flip the steaks, my dad opens the sliding glass doors ushering the kids inside where my mom greets them warmly, and with hugs, which are definitely her specialty.
“You’re good with them,” my dad says, his opposing body leaning against the doorframe.
“They’re easy and they’re good kids.”
“How often are you around them?”
“Um. . . twice?”
My dad cocks one of his eyebrows in a silent response and I shrug my shoulders.
“I like her too,” he continues, and I nod because I know what he’s implying. They’ve been pestering about grandkids for years and here lies a perfectly set up family dropped into my lap.
But I’m not ready for that. A family isn’t something I’ve ever had on my horizon. An equal balance of work and play is what I’m cut out for.
Except as my dad steps inside the house, just as Elle steps out of hers with a container in her hands, I can’t help but wonder if my plans have some wiggle room.
“Hey,” she announces as she steps back onto the dec
k, her smile instantly illuminating the area in her light. “I brought a pineapple upside-down cake.”
“Sounds delicious,” I respond, peering into my kitchen through the glass and am relieved to find no one in my line of sight. Without hesitation, I reach out and wrap an arm around Elle’s small frame, yanking her against me. She moves willingly as if she is anticipating the move.
I seal our lips together, a hungry kiss of eagerness and longing, of want and desire. Her tongue peeks out tentatively tasting my lips, and I accept her intrusion, matching it with my own inquisition. My grip tightens on her waist and at that moment I wish that we were anywhere else but outside. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with Elle, believe me, I do, but I just want – her. I crave her taste, her touch. It’s addictive.
She pulls back an inch and gazes up at me with innocence in her eyes, a guileless expression.
“I wasn’t positive if last night was a dream or not,” she whispers, and I have to smile because it felt like a dream for me too. “Or if we were going to talk about it.”
“Oh, it definitely wasn’t a dream. And I hope there will be little talking next time.”
“Next time?” she questions with that same innocent expression, and I have to hold back my laugh.
“Oh, there will definitely be a next time. And with a lot fewer clothes.” She swallows hard, the movement of her throat significant. And as if my mom has a sixth sense, she steps out onto the deck and saves me from the retreat Elle is contemplating. It’s written all over her face.
“Hi, honey. Are the steaks almost ready?”
“Yes, Mom. And this is Elle. Why don’t you show her inside?”
“Oh, I’d love to. You can call me Naomi. Your two kids are the sweetest things ever,” my mom claims as they step inside leaving me to my thoughts.
Yes, there will definitely be fewer clothes next time.
Noah and Kennedy kept us occupied during dinner, each of them taking turns telling us a story about slaying a dragon and a princess falling in love with a beast. I missed the details, but my parents and Elle were riveted. My attention was solely on Elle, her eyes lighting up every time one of the kids got excited about something in the story. It was fascinating.
Now she, my mom, and Kennedy are serving the pieces of cake on plates I never knew I had.
“This is a new recipe, so tell me what you think,” Elle says as she places the cake in front of me before taking her own seat. “The kids love it, but they may be a bit biased.”
I take a bite along with my mom and dad and we all seem to groan in unison. The cake appears to be laced with the flavor of pineapple and brown sugar with hints of cinnamon catching on my taste buds.
“This is incredible.” My parents praise Elle as they take another bite, but I can sense Elle’s attention remains on me waiting for my response to her concoction.
“What do you think?” she whispers, and I can hear the fear of rejection in her voice.
Turning toward her I pin her with my gaze making sure she hears every word. “Elle, this is amazing. You have a gift.”
“Thank you. I may not be a great cook, but I’m a decent baker. That’s my business. I do online and local orders. A few of the restaurants in town carry my items.”
Her smile widens as she notices my surprise. I had no idea she ran a baking business out of her home. First, it’s ingenious. Second, it makes perfect sense.
“Wow,” I reply as I take another hearty bite of the cake, savoring its flavor.
“Tell us more about your business,” my mother says, and Elle dives into how she wants to expand and sell her recipes to bakeries and place the items in her name. She has a few contracts she has bid on for some well-known restaurants. I listen intently as she explains that during her divorce the judge questioned how she could make a living doing online baking orders but when he saw her receipts, and she named off restaurants that she currently supplies desserts to, the judge seemed appeased. Which means Elle knows what she is doing.
Taking a final bite of my cake, a bit disheartened that I’ve finished the dessert, I suggest, “If you ever need help with the business side, I’d be happy to help.”
“Really?” she asks, shocked at my offer. “I actually do have a few questions about contracts and invoicing if you have a chance to talk about it sometime.”
“Sure. You know where to find me,” I imply, and she blushes at my hidden meaning. I also catch the knowing grins on my parents’ faces. In their heads they’ve probably both married us off and added a few more kids to Elle’s brood.
“Well, kids, we’re going to head out. Elle, thank you for joining us tonight. It has been a pleasure to get to know you and your adorable children,” my mother says as she hugs Elle, Noah, and Kennedy. The kids’ tiny arms wrap around my mom’s waist as if they’ve known her for years. Elle does the same.
As my mom reaches me, she grips my shoulders tight as she pulls me close. “Don’t screw this up, Jackson. I like her.”
“Mom,” I groan, but she simply kisses my cheek and tells me that she loves me.
“Love you too.”
I stand at the front door watching my parents get into their car and pull out, then I turn to Elle who is busying herself trying to clean up the mess from dinner.
“I’ll do that. You don’t need to clean.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. You cooked.”
“Elle,” I command, and she drops the sponge back into the sink filled with soapy water. “Thank you for dessert. It was delicious,” I confess as I move through the house stepping closer to her. She leans against the kitchen counter waiting for me to approach but her eyes are wild, flicking back and forth between me and her kids. I can see the fear there. The fear of what her kids will perceive. They’ve only been away from their father for a month.
I come to stand up against her, my hands on either side of her on the counter, boxing her in. Her breath quickens, coming in heavy pants as she rests her hands on my chest, neither pushing me away or pulling me in.
“Jackson, I’m not sure-”
“Why don’t you and the kids head back home?”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “That’s a good idea. They need a bath.”
Stroking my hand through her hair, letting the silk strands fall between each finger, I ask, “I’ll see you later?”
“Sure.”
In a daze she gathers up Noah and Kennedy and steps across the yard back to their home. I watch as they travel inside, and just as I think she’s shut the door, Elle peeks the upper part of her body back outside and waves. Even from this distance, I can see the smile on her face.
Yeah, I should think about making room for a family.
*
It’s dark in my room, the only light filtering in through my window being that from the full moon outside. I have the window open, the night air cool and crisp, but not cold enough to cause a chill. It’s perfect sleeping weather.
But I can’t sleep, it’s another night with insomnia. Another night with Elle on my mind. I could see it in her today too, she hasn’t been sleeping. She tried to mask it, but the bags were evident beneath her eyes.
Gazing out my window that faces the yard, I’m hoping that she’s at least getting a little shut-eye tonight. Maybe my help alleviated some of her stress. Kissing her was a small price for what she needed, but I would offer millions for more of her kisses. They are that potent. That drug-inducing.
I can see the clock against the wall and notice that it is just past midnight. I have to open the gym tomorrow for my yoga class, so I groan as I toss the sheets from my bed and head into the kitchen. A glass of milk is something my mom always gave me growing up when I couldn’t sleep, and I’m hoping that it works the same tonight.
I pour a large glass and take a sip, letting the cool soothing drink trickle down my throat. Out the sliding glass doors, I watch as an owl perches on top of a fence post and hoots into the air, his body shadowed by the moonlight. As if he is beckoning me, I s
tep through the doors after opening them and move onto the deck.
It’s like a different world outside, everything is a different shade of blue in the light cast by the moon. It’s almost seductive in the way it masks you in its shadows.
For some unexplained reason, I peer over at Elle’s house. I wonder if she is awake. If she can’t sleep like me. If she is thinking about our kiss from earlier. If she imagines me kissing her again. Or is she still crying, fretting over that ridiculous hospital bill.
I hate seeing women cry, it breaks something inside me. My mom always said I was an empathetic child; if she cried I would cry. It seems to have carried itself over to adulthood. Maybe that’s why I’m a great personal trainer. I can empathize with my member’s struggles, understand their pain and journey.
I’m not sure what calls to me, but before I know it I’ve set my empty glass of milk aside and wandered over to Elle’s house. I’m not quite sure which window is hers, but I assume the layout is the same as mine. I notice a large picture window facing the backyard and the curtains are swept aside, one of the windows is open letting in the breeze.
If I didn’t know that this is a safe neighborhood I would scold her for leaving herself vulnerable like this. Hell, I’ll probably still scold her.
She looks beautiful in the light, her room colored in grays and whites. Her body faces away from me and it’s covered in a pale sheet. I’m staring at her through the window like a Peeping Tom, but I can’t help myself.
“How long are you going to stare?” she asks as she turns over with a smile on her face.
If I were a lesser man I would be shrieking into the night but this girl. . . she knows I am being pulled toward her and I end up laughing.
“Figured you’d make me climb through a window like a high schooler,” I say as I pull myself through the window landing with a soft thud on the rug covering her hardwood floors, thankful there was no screen to remove.
I inspect her room a little further and she watches in amusement. Her exterior wall is covered in white painted brick and the headboard of her bed rests against it. She has hung a few pictures, but other than that and a dresser across the way, her room is decorated minimally. I assume it’s because she spent her effort decorating her kids’ rooms. But truthfully this room is a reflection of her. Simple, clean, a hidden beauty.
Stolen Nights (The Stolen Series Book 1) Page 8
