Now he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Uh, Paige, I can tell you right now why you didn’t get that job. Mrs. Landingham didn’t want you around Mr. Landingham.”
“What?” she said, sitting up in her seat again. “What did she think I was going to do, steal her husband? I don’t make plays on married men. Or men in their forties for that matter.”
“Did you wear something like what you’re wearing now to the interview?” he asked, looking at her and taking another eyeful of those long legs.
“I wore a black blazer with this. It’s just so hot outside that I took it off.”
“Maybe you should try wearing pants next time, and flats,” he said before he took a sip of water.
“What’s wrong with this dress?” she asked, looking down at herself. “It isn’t that short.”
“Sweetheart, with those legs, anything looks short.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart. And it isn’t my fault I’m tall.”
“No, it isn’t, but people think the way they think.”
“So southern hospitality only goes so far when people think you’re a whore.”
“Hey, I didn’t say that. I was just saying that your legs are long without those shoes that you’re currently wearing. With them, you’re pretty damn intimidating.”
“Let’s stop talking about my legs.”
“Fine.” He shrugged, looking back to the road. “But it is a rather visually stimulating conversation.”
“Oh no. You are not allowed to flirt with me.”
“Why not?”
“You were mean to me. I do not flirt with mean men.”
“I can be nice,” he said, turning to her and giving her a big smile.
“Stop it,” she said, raising her eyebrows above her glasses in warning. “I mean it.”
“So what about some of the other interviews? Who were they with?”
“Lindy’s Frame Shop, that art gallery over on the beach—”
“Avenue Ocean?”
“Yeah, that one. And I also went to Picture Perfect. They all said I wasn’t a good fit for one reason or another,” she said dejected.
“Look, I’m really not one to get involved in town gossip. I’ve been on the receiving end my fair share of times and it isn’t fun. But this is a small town, and everybody knows one another’s business. Since you’re new, you have no idea. Cynthia Bowers at Picture Perfect would’ve never hired you. Her husband has monogamy issues. The owner of Avenue Ocean, Mindy Trist, doesn’t like anyone that’s competition.”
“Competition?”
Mindy Trist was a man-eater. Brendan knew this to be a fact because Mindy had been trying to get into his bed for years. He wasn’t even remotely interested.
“You’re prettier than she is.”
Understatement of the year.
Paige was suddenly silent on her side of the truck.
“And as for Hurst and Marlene Lindy,” Brendan continued, “they, uh, tend to be a little more conservative.”
“Look,” she said, snapping out of her silence.
Brendan couldn’t help himself, her sudden burst of vehemence made him look at her again. If he kept this up he was going to drive into a ditch.
“I know I might appear to be some free-spirited hippie, but I’m really not. I’m moderate when it comes to politics,” she said, holding up one finger. “I eat meat like it’s nobody’s business.” Two fingers. “And I’ve never done drugs in my life.” Three fingers.
“You don’t have to convince me,” he said, shaking his head. “So I’m sensing a pattern here with all of these jobs. Are you a photographer?”
“Yes, but I do graphic design and I paint.”
“So a woman of many talents.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, shaking her head.
“Oh, I’m sure you have a lot of talent. It’s probably proportional to the length of your legs.”
“What did I tell you about flirting?” she asked seriously, but betrayed herself when the corner of her mouth quirked up.
“Look, Paige, don’t let it get to you. Not everyone is all bad.”
“So I’ve just been fortunate enough to meet everyone who’s mean.”
“You’ve met me.”
“Yeah, well, the jury’s still out on you.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to prove myself.”
“I guess so,” she said, leaning back in her seat. Her arms now rested in her lap, her shield coming down a little.
“I have a question,” Brendan said, slowing down at another stop sign. “If you eat meat, why do you have such a problem with hunting?”
“It just seems a little barbaric. Hiding out in the woods to shoot Bambi and then mounting his head on a wall.”
“Let me give you two scenarios.”
“Okay.”
“In scenario one, we have Bessie the cow. Bessie was born in a stall, taken away from her mother shortly after birth where she was moved to a pasture for a couple of years, all the while being injected with hormones and then shoved into a semi truck where she was shipped off to be slaughtered. And I don’t think that you even want me to get started on that process.
“In scenario two, we have Bambi. Bambi was born in the wilderness and wasn’t taken away from his mother. He then found a mate, had babies, and one day was killed. He never saw it coming. Not only is Bambi’s meat hormone free, but he also lived a happy life in the wild, with no fences.
“Now you tell me, which scenario sounds better: Being raised to be slaughtered, or living free where you might or might not be killed.”
She was silent for a few moments before she sighed.
“Fine, you win. The second sounds better.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Brendan said as he pulled into the parking lot of King’s Auto. “How are you getting home?” he asked as he put the truck into park.
“I called my dad after I called you. He’s here actually,” she said, pointing to a black Chevy Impala.
They both got out of the truck and headed toward the auto shop. Brendan held the door open for Paige, shoving his sunglasses into his shirt pocket. His grandfather and a man who Brendan recognized as Paige’s father stood up from their chairs as Brendan and Paige walked in.
Trevor Morrison was a tall man, maybe six foot four or six foot five. He had light reddish-brown wispy hair on his head and large glasses perched on his nose. And like his daughter, his face and arms were covered in freckles.
“Hi, Daddy,” Paige said, pushing her glasses up her nose and into her hair.
Brendan immediately noticed the change in her voice. Her cautious demeanor vanished and her shoulders relaxed. He’d caught a glimpse of this in the truck, but not to this extent.
“Mr. Morrison,” Brendan said, taking a step forward and sticking his hand out.
Trevor grabbed Brendan’s hand firmly. “Brendan,” he said, giving him a warm smile and nodding his head. Trevor let go of Brendan’s hand and turned to his daughter. “Paige, this is Oliver King,” he said, gesturing to Brendan’s grandfather, who was standing behind his desk. “Oliver, this is my daughter, Paige.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Oliver said, moving out from behind his desk and sticking out his hand.
Paige moved forward past Brendan, her arm brushing his as she passed.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” she said, grabbing Oliver’s hand.
Oliver nodded as he let go of Paige’s hand and looked up at Brendan. “So what happened?”
Paige turned to look at Brendan too. It was the first time he’d gotten a full look at her face without her sunglasses on. She had long dark eyelashes that framed her large gray irises. It took him a second to remember how to speak. He cleared his throat and looked past her to the other two men.
“It’s the radiator. I’m going to have to order a new one, so it’s going to take a few days.”
“That’s fine,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not l
ike I have anywhere to go.”
Trevor’s face fell. “The interview didn’t go well?”
“Nope,” Paige said, shaking her head. The tension in her shoulders came back but she tried to mask it by pasting a smile on her face. He desperately wanted to see a genuine, full-on smile from her.
“Things haven’t exactly gone Paige’s way since she moved here,” Trevor said.
“Oh, I think my bad luck started long before I moved here,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. Every time she did that, it pushed her breasts up and it took everything in Brendan not to stare.
“I don’t think it was Paige’s fault,” Brendan said and everyone turned to look at him. “It was with Bethelda Grimshaw,” he said to Oliver.
“Oh,” Oliver said, shaking his head ruefully. “Don’t let anything she says get to you. She’s a horrible hag.”
Paige laughed and the sound of it did funny things to Brendan’s stomach.
“Told you,” Brendan said, looking at her. Paige turned to him, a small smile lingering on her lips and in her eyes.
God, she was beautiful.
“Things will turn around,” Oliver said. “We’ll call you with an estimate before we do anything to your car.”
They said their good-byes and as Paige walked out with her father she gave Brendan one last look, her lips quirking up slightly before she shook her head and walked out the door.
“I don’t believe any of that nonsense people are saying about her,” Oliver said as they both watched Paige and her dad walk out. “She’s lovely.”
Lovely? Yeah, that wasn’t exactly the word Brendan would have used to describe her.
Hot? Yes. Fiery? Absolutely.
“Yeah, she’s something alright.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you aren’t a fan of hers. Son, you barely took your eyes off her.”
“I’m not denying she’s beautiful.” How could he? “I bet she’s a handful though and she’s got a temper on her, along with a smart mouth.” But he sure did like that smart mouth.
“That’s a bit of the pot calling the kettle black,” Oliver said, raising one bushy eyebrow. “If all of her experiences in this town have been similar to what Bethelda dishes out, I’m not surprised she’s turned on the defense. You know what it’s like to be the center of less than unsavory gossip in this town. To have a lot of the people turn their backs on you and turn you into a pariah,” Oliver said, giving Brendan a knowing look.
“I know,” Brendan conceded. “She deserves a break.”
“You should help her find a job.”
“With who?”
“You’ll think of something,” Oliver said, patting Brendan on the shoulder before going back to his desk. “You always do.”
See the next page for an excerpt from the second book in Shannon’s sexy contemporary Country Roads series, Undeniable
Prologue
The Princess
At six years old there were certain things Grace King didn’t understand. She didn’t understand where babies came from, how birds flew way up high in the sky, or where her father was. Grace had never met her dad; she didn’t know what he looked like, she didn’t even know his name, and for some reason this fact fascinated many people in Mirabelle.
“What’s a girl bastard?”
Grace looked up from the picture she was coloring to see Hoyt Reynolds and Judson Coker looming over the other side of the picnic table where she was sitting.
Every day after the bell rang, Grace would wait outside on the playground for her brother Brendan to come and get her, and they’d walk home together. Today, Brendan was running a little late.
“I don’t know.” Judson smirked. “I think bastard works for boys and girls.”
“Yeah.” Hoyt shrugged. “Trash is trash.”
Brendan was always telling Grace to ignore bullies, advice he had a problem following himself. Half the time she didn’t even know what they were saying. Today was no different. She had no idea what a bastard was, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t anything nice.
Grace looked back down to her picture and started coloring the crown of the princess. She grabbed her pink crayon from the pile she’d dumped out on the table, and just before she started coloring the dress the picture disappeared out from under her hands.
“Hey,” she protested, looking back up at the boys, “give that back.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” Judson said before he slowly started to rip the picture.
“Stop it,” Grace said, swinging her legs over the bench and getting quickly to her feet. She ran to the other side of the table and stood in front of Judson. “Give it back to me.”
“Make me,” he said, holding the picture up high over her head as he ripped it cleanly in half.
Grace took a step forward and stomped down hard on his foot.
“You little bitch!” Judson screamed, hopping up and down on his uninjured foot.
Grace had one second of satisfaction before she found herself sprawled out on her back, the wind knocked out of her.
“Don’t ever touch her again!”
Grace looked up just in time to see a tall, freckled, red-haired boy punch Hoyt in the face. It was Jax, one of Brendan’s best friends, who had come to her rescue. And boy did Jax know what he was doing, because Hoyt fell back onto his butt hard.
“And if you ever call her that word again, you’ll get a lot more than a punch in the face, you stupid little scum bag,” Jax said as he put himself in between Grace and Judson. “Now get out of here.”
“I’m going to tell my father about this,” Hoyt said. This was a legitimate threat as Hoyt’s father was the principal.
“You do that.” Jax shrugged.
Apparently the two eight-year-olds didn’t have anything else to say and they didn’t want to take their chances against a big bad eleven-year-old, because they scrambled away and ran around the side of the building and out of sight.
“You okay?” Jax asked, turning around to Grace.
It was then that Grace realized the back of her dress was covered in mud and her palms were scraped and bleeding.
“No,” she sniffed before she started to bawl.
“Oh, Grace,” Jax said, grabbing her under her arms and pulling her to her feet. “Come here.” He pulled her into his chest and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, Gracie.”
She looked up at him and bit her trembling lip. “They called me names.” She hiccupped.
“They weren’t true,” he said, looking down at her.
“What’s a bastard, Jax?”
Jax’s hand stilled and his nose flared. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said. “Grace, sometimes dads aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
She nodded once before she buried her head back in his chest. By the time she’d cried herself out, Jax’s shirt was covered in her tears. She took a step back from him and wiped her fingers underneath her eyes. Jax reached down and grabbed the two halves of her picture from the ground.
“We can tape this back together,” he said, looking down at the paper. He studied it for a second before he looked back to her. “This is what you are, Grace. A princess. Don’t let anyone tell you different. You understand?” he asked, lightly tugging on her blond ponytail.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“All right,” he said, handing the papers back to her. “Get your stuff together and we’ll go wait for Brendan.”
“Where is he?” Grace asked as she gathered her crayons and put them back into the box.
“He got into trouble with Principal Reynolds again.”
Grace looked up at Jax and frowned. She really didn’t like the Reynolds family. Principal Reynolds wasn’t any better than his son.
“No frowning, Princess. Let’s go,” Jax said, holding out his hand for her.
Grace shoved her crayons and drawing into her bag. She grabbed Jax’s outstretched hand and let him lead her away.
Chapter One
T
he Protector
The nightmares felt so real. They always started off the exact same way as the accident had, but then they morphed into something so much worse, something that haunted Jax even when he was awake.
As a deputy sheriff for Atticus County, Jaxson Anderson was no stranger to being the first person to arrive at the scene of an accident. What he wasn’t used to was being the first to an accident that involved two people he cared about. That day it had been Grace and Paige King. Grace was the little sister of Brendan King, one of Jax’s best friends. Paige was Brendan’s wife.
It had happened over six months ago. Violent storms had raged across Mirabelle for days, and the rains had flooded the river that ran through the town, making the current swift and deadly. By some miracle Jax and been driving right behind Paige and Grace. Jax and his friend Bennett Hart had watched as the SUV the girls were in swerved off the road, crashed through a barrier, and disappeared down to Whiskey River. The only thing that had stopped the car from being swept under the water was a tree growing out of the bank. The tree was barely strong enough to hold the car back.
That day Jax had experienced a panic like no other. He’d gone into the river desperate to pull them out. And that was when the second miracle of the day happened. Brendan, along with Nathanial Shepherd and Baxter McCoy had shown up. It took the efforts of all five men to pull the girls out of the car before it was swept under the water. It had been just a matter of seconds of getting them out before the tree gave way.
Jax went over those moments, over and over again, replaying everything from what he’d said to what he’d done. The one thing he was absolutely sure about was that getting those girls out of that river alive was miracle number three.
But Jax’s nightmares didn’t play out like the miracle. No, in his nightmares he watched as Grace died.
When the accident happened, they had to pull Grace out from the car before Paige. In the nightmare, it was Grace who was pulled out second. Paige was safe in Brendan’s arms, and Jax would go to get Grace, but the tree would snap right before his hands touched hers. Jax would scream her name as the river dragged her away and she disappeared under the surface of the water.
Unstoppable (A Country Roads Novel) Page 32
