by Nicole James
He chuckled, plopping down in a chair. “What else is new?”
“Cut the bullshit, and tell me what you want.”
“Came to see if you’ve come to your senses yet.”
Jameson turned back to the window and downed what was left of his drink. His senses? If he had any sense, he’d go after her, because one thing he knew for sure, no matter what happened between them, he couldn’t return to the closed-off man he was before.
“Is it pride or fear that’s stopping you?”
Jameson looked out the window. Both, he thought silently. And that was the rub of it. He wasn’t a man to let anything keep him from what he wanted. He never let anything stand in his way. Now, for the first time in his life, he found it was himself that was standing in his own way. And why? Over silly bullshit.
Screw that. He looked over his shoulder at Max. “I’ve got an idea.”
“This should be good,” he answered sarcastically.
Jameson gave him an I hate you look. “If you want to see me make a fool of myself, come with me to the meeting tomorrow night.”
Max grinned, reading his brother like a book. “You couldn’t keep me away.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ava sat at her place on the dais with the other council members. Her eyes ran over the agenda. It all seemed so insignificant. Everything that had once held importance in her life paled now that she knew Jameson would no longer be a part of it. She frowned. How had that happened so quickly? How had he gone from being the bane of her existence to being the meaning of her existence in just six short weeks? The worst part was in knowing she’d no longer even have the chance of catching a glimpse of him around town.
She wondered if his brothers would all go to L.A. with him. She supposed it would be an opportunity for all of them, especially Rory with his music. Hell, L.A. with its music scene, he’d probably never want to come back. What if that were the case with Jameson? Perhaps he’d love the West Coast, too. Maybe they’d close up their shop on Main Street and open up permanently in California.
The gavel pounded down, opening this month’s session and drawing her attention from her dismal thoughts. She reached for her coffee, taking a sip. She hadn’t been sleeping well and felt a deep depression settling over her. With the Gala over, she had little else to focus her attention on. Perhaps it was time for a change for her as well, but what? Pick up her business and move to another city? Start a new business, a new charity, a new hobby? Somehow now none of it seemed interesting or appealing, and she doubted it would fix her broken heart.
The meeting droned on, item by item, until finally they were drawing to the end of the agenda, the time when they would consider any new business the citizenry wanted to bring forward. She heard the doors in the back open, and she looked up. Jameson and his brothers strolled in.
Yes, they wanted their parking spots, of course. And she’d done her part. She’d spoken with all the members before the meeting, and told them how helpful he’d been with the charity. They’d readily agreed, like they probably would have months ago if she hadn’t made such a fuss and turned their vote against him.
Now he stood there, waiting for his final part in their deal. When the session concluded, and they opened the floor up for new business, Jameson approached the podium. “I’d like a moment of the council’s time.”
The presiding councilman leaned toward his microphone. “State your name, please.”
With his eyes on Ava, he answered the man. “Jameson O’Rourke of Brothers Ink.”
“State your business, Mr. O’Rourke.”
“I’d like to propose the designation of the three parking spots in front of Brothers Ink be reserved for motorcycle parking. I believe the council will see that by doing so, we’ll be able to keep one bike from taking up a standard size parking spot, and this way we’ll be able to put three bikes in the same allotted space. Therefore freeing up more spots to cars and, in the long run, being a more efficient use of parking space.”
“Motion to designate the three spaces in front of Brothers Ink on Main Street to motorcycle parking only.”
“I second the motion,” a member at the end said.
“All in favor say, aye.”
“Aye,” resounded throughout the dais.
“All opposed say, nay.”
There was silence.
“The aye’s have it. The motion is carried.” The gavel slammed down.
“One more thing,” Jameson spoke into the microphone.
“Yes, sir?”
“This is for councilwoman Hightower.”
Ava was sure her face looked stricken as Jameson called all of her colleague’s attention to her. She leaned toward her microphone. “Yes, Mr. O’Rourke?”
“I didn’t know you. I judged you without knowing you. I based it all on you turning down those parking spots. I was wrong… about everything. But through it all, you stuck it out. You showed me that backbone, that spirit, that determination that has seen you through some hard times in your life, Ava. And I know your greatest fear in this life is failing. But you haven’t failed, Ava. Not once. Not at anything you’ve ever done, despite what you think.
“But you’ve been wrong about a few things, sweetheart. I know you hate hearing that, but I’m going to point them out to you. You were wrong about me taking that job in L.A. You were wrong about what you think I find important. Hell, I’d wager to guess you were even wrong about me and Courtney Kemp.”
A murmur went up in the room.
“Mr. O’Rourke, this is highly unusual,” the presiding councilman said.
“Let him finish, please. I’d like to hear what he has to say,” Ava said into her microphone.
“But most importantly, you were wrong about how I feel about you and what you mean to me. I’m in love with you, Ava. And I’m sticking around. So don’t think you’ll be able to get rid of me so easily, sweetheart.”
He approached the dais. He stood before her, his hands in his pockets. “I’m standing here, babe, and I’m not going anywhere. And in case you missed that last part. I’ll say it again. I’m in love with you. So, you got some smartass comment to say to that?
She smiled down at him, her eyes welling with tears and shook her head.
“Then get your ass down here, woman.”
She got up, ran around the bench, and flung herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. He lifted her off her feet as the entire chamber broke out in cheers and applause.
Jameson scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the room like Zack Mayo carried Paula out of the paper bag factory in An Officer and a Gentleman.
In the back of the room, she saw Max, Liam, and Rory all standing and cheering, their ear-piercing whistles echoing loudly.
Jameson carried her down the hall and onto the elevator. When the doors slid shut, he set her down, holding her close.
“You sure about this?” she asked, staring up at him with a big grin.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”
She lifted her chin. “I can be kind of a pain in the ass, I’ve been told.”
He grinned. “I’m learning to live with it.”
“Oh, are you?” Her brows rose.
“I’ve been told I’m a stubborn jerk,” he admitted.
The corner of her mouth pulled up. “I’m learning to live with it.”
“Good answer.”
“We gonna make a go of this, Jameson?” she asked, all teasing aside.
He stared down at her with that confidence and determination she’d grown to love and found she couldn’t live without, and he answered her. “You and I, what we feel? It’s fundamental. It’s like hunger, like breathing. I need you. And you need me, too. Fuck, yeah, we’re gonna make a go of it, Ava, and it’s gonna last a lifetime.”
And that was all the assurance she’d ever need.
Epilogue
Ava—
I tilted my head back into the pillow, glancing above the bed at
the frame on the wall, mounted dead center above the headboard. Jameson, who lay naked on top of me, nuzzled my neck, his mouth pressing kisses along my skin.
“I can’t believe you framed that,” I said.
He lifted his head and followed my gaze. Then a big grin broke out across his face. “Hey, that’s to remind you what a hot commodity I am. I did go for ten grand, remember?”
I stared up at the Gala flyer that had carried his name and photo, proclaiming him the headlining bachelor. “How could I ever forget?”
He chuckled, and I felt the rumble of his laughter through his chest. “Babe, if it wasn’t for that flyer, would we be here right now?”
I glanced around the room—his bedroom at the farm… correction, our bedroom. He’d moved me in not long after the city council meeting that was still the talk of the town six months later.
“That framed flyer is staying right where it is,” he decreed, then continued kissing his way down my neck and across my chest. “To remind me every day what a lucky man I am.” His mouth trailed lower across my belly—a belly that even now was growing with my little baby bump. “You hear that, little one? Daddy’s a very lucky man.”
I threaded my fingers through his hair. I was happy he thought so, but I knew the truth. I was the lucky one, and I didn’t need anything to remind me of that fact.
Jameson picked that moment to blow a raspberry on my belly. Then he looked up at me grinning.
I giggled. Yep, I was one lucky woman.
THE END
Preview of MAXWELL
Brothers Ink
Maxwell was bent over the arm of a client, twisting and leaning to get to a difficult area of shoulder when the bell over the front door tinkled, drawing his eyes up for one brief glance. He saw the back of someone in a hooded rain jacket as they turned to close the door. The sound of the pouring rain traveled through the shop, along with a cool mist that blew in.
His eyes flicked to the clock; it was lunchtime, and they’d called their order in to Thai Garden two blocks away. He hoped this was the delivery boy with their food.
His eyes again flicked to the entrance, and then did a double take as the hood of the raincoat was pushed back.
Holy hotness.
She was a petite Asian beauty with long silky hair and big dark eyes. Not too much eye makeup, just thick dark lashes and a bit of liner. Her skin was flawless. She stepped toward the far wall, her eyes up on the framed art, and her body came into view from around the reception counter. The rain slicker hung open in front revealing a slender, boyish frame. Low slung jeans hugged her hips and exposed a teasing inch of skin between them and her tight top. Nice rack.
Clicking off his machine, his eyes returned to the client in his chair. “Give me just a minute, Ryan.”
“Sure, no problem. I could use a few minutes break, anyway.”
Max smiled at the man and got up to greet their new customer. He moved to the lobby and around the front of the reception counter, leaning an elbow on it. His eyes swept over the young woman, again falling to that gap between her jeans and top. Her belly was flat and toned, and her skin looked like silk. He hoped she wanted some ink; he’d love to work on her.
His gaze followed hers as she leaned closer, examining the art and photographs of tattoos the shop had done, her eyes moving all over the colors on the wall.
“See anything you like?” he asked. When she didn’t respond, he spoke a little louder. “Miss, anything I can help you with?”
Then his eyes dropped to the bag that hung by her side and at the same time the aroma of the best Thai food in town found him. It was their lunch order. His eyes moved back up to her face. She wasn’t the skinny Asian kid who usually delivered their food. Kiet was his name; they knew him well, as they ordered so often. But in all that time, this girl had never delivered their food.
“How much do we owe you?” he asked. She still didn’t answer, so he stepped closer to her and repeated it a little louder. “Miss, how much for the food?”
Just then she turned and took a step, bumping right into his muscled chest. Her eyes got big as she stared up at him, taking a step back, obviously startled by his presence so close to her. He reached out a hand to steady her, but she flinched back as if she were afraid of him. He was a big man with muscled arms covered in tribal ink, and he knew that could be intimidating, especially to a petite girl like her.
He smiled, hoping to put her at ease and put his hands up. “Sorry. I’m Max. You’re not the usual kid that delivers our food. I think his name is Kiet. Do you know him?”
She stared at him, but didn’t answer, and Max wondered if she didn’t speak English. She held out the food to him and pointed to the receipt stapled to the bag. He reached out and took it, smiling, hoping to reassure her. His eyes moved over her face. Her beauty took his breath. How was a girl this beautiful reduced to running food deliveries?
He twisted to set the bag on the counter, checking the receipt for the amount, and then he dug his wallet out. As he thumbed through for the money, he twisted, calling over his shoulder, “Liam, you got a ten? I’m short.”
When he turned back, he noticed the girl’s attention had returned to the art on the walls.
“Do you like our art?” he asked.
Liam walked over, handing him a ten, and they both studied the woman as she stared at the wall.
“Maybe she doesn’t speak English,” Liam murmured.
“Damn, right about now, I wish I spoke Thai,” Max whispered back, and Liam grinned at him. Max reached to grab the bag and hand it to Liam to take to the break room, and his elbow knocked a glass candy bowl to the floor. It shattered with a loud crash.
“Shit,” Max jumped back. As he looked down at the broken glass, he felt an elbow in his ribs and glanced up to find Liam nodding toward the girl. Max’s eyes swung to her and noticed she hadn’t even turned at the loud noise.
“I think she can’t hear, Bro,” Liam whispered.
Max took the ten from Liam, added it to his own, and tapped the girl on the shoulder.
She whirled, startled.
He held the bills out to her, nodding toward them.
Just then, Liam made some gestures with his hands. Max frowned, watching him. “When the hell did you learn sign language?”
The girl looked relieved and gestured back, a big smile breaking across her face, as she was able to communicate. They continued signing back and forth.
“What is she saying?” Max asked.
“Says her name is Malee. Kiet is her brother. He’s sick and couldn’t make the delivery, so her father sent her.”
Liam signed some more, gesturing to the wall. She signed back, a shy smile on her face. “She likes the colors.”
He signed some more. She signed back.
“She likes to draw. The art fascinates her.”
Max watched her closely.
“Can you read lips?” Liam asked her, and she waggled her hand, and then gestured. “Says she tries, but she still has trouble with it.”
Max gestured up to the art on the wall and spoke clearly to her so she could read his lips. “You want a tattoo?”
Her eyes got big, and she pointed to herself.
He nodded.
She shook her head.
Max ignored the broken glass, too consumed with speaking to this beautiful girl. “Ask her if I make her nervous?”
Liam signed to her, laughing and making symbols that had Max thinking his brother was calling him a big gorilla. The girl giggled and blushed, and then she shrugged and held up two fingers about an inch apart.
He smiled, understanding that sign and asked, “Why?”
She made a motion with her hands, like she was trying to wrap them around a large bowl, and then pointed to his bicep. “Big,” she tried to say the word that seemed foreign to her mouth.
He took her hand gently in his and brought it to his muscle revealed by his short-sleeved shirt. He smiled as her eyes got huge as she touched his skin,
almost as if she’d never touched a man before, and suddenly she pulled back, embarrassed, and he was left wondering if she really hadn’t ever touched a man.
Then suddenly, she backed up a step. She dipped her head down, her eyes looking up from under her brow. Then she turned and dashed out of the shop.
Max followed to the window, watching her hurry down the street. “She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”
Rory walked up taking in the glass on the floor and Max staring out the window, and then turned to Liam. “What’s he looking at?”
Liam grinned huge. “Big brother is in love.”
“Say what?”
“I just saw it happen, right before my eyes. He fell hard.”
Max swiveled his head back. “She’s pretty is all I said. Don’t make a thing out of it.”
“Yeah, right. Why do I suddenly feel like there’s a lot of Thai food in our future?”
Max shoved his shoulder as he walked past him toward the back. “Speaking of, clean up the glass and maybe I’ll let you have some of it.”
“Me? I didn’t break the damn bowl, you did!”
Max laughed and kept walking.
***
Malee turned and glanced back at the tattoo shop, studying the name. Brothers Ink. She’d never been there before. She’d lied to the man when she’d said her brother was sick and her father had sent her. Her father rarely let her out of the restaurant, preferring to keep her back in the kitchen, like her deafness somehow made her flawed and should to be hidden away. Her mother said he was just being protective of her, but sometimes she wondered if he wasn’t ashamed of her disability. She wasn’t perfect like her brother, who could do no wrong in their father’s eyes.
She glanced back at the shop. She wasn’t supposed to make that lunch delivery. She’d grabbed it and run out the door while her brother was busy, glad to escape the confines of the restaurant, even if it was only for a few minutes. Her father may beat her for her disobedience when she returned, but it had been worth it. She’d never seen art like that before. All the colors and designs had taken her breath away. She’d been fascinated. Tonight, in her room, she’d pull out her hidden sketchpad and colored pencils and try to duplicate the beautiful designs.
