by Amy Andrews
And she deserved it. Because she only had herself to blame.
She’d left him. Twice. Without a word the first time. Refusing to let him know where she was or open his letters or write to him in return. And the second time running roughshod all over his feelings by excluding him from a huge decision in her life—their lives—and then refusing to try and find a compromise with him.
She’d accused him of wanting everything. But she hadn’t been any better. She’d wanted everything too.
Everything in her favour.
Her job and Jarrod.
Because she was greedy and self-centred and a complete idiot. Desperately trying to hold onto both, stupidly thinking they were both of equal importance.
And now here she was, watching the anguish in Jarrod’s eyes over and over again as he’d yelled at the press with that look that told her he’d cut out his own heart to protect his brother from them.
That was what was important. What a person did for a living could never match what a person was.
And the irony was, she wasn’t even happy. Sure, she loved her job, but it hadn’t filled that hole that she’d thought it would, and it meant nothing without Jarrod in her life to share it with. It might only have been two weeks but she’d never felt so unhappy in her life.
This job was supposed to be the cherry on top of her pie. Instead it felt like a bloody noose around her neck, cutting off all her air. Keeping her from what she really wanted.
Who she really wanted.
He’d told her a career couldn’t bring her personal fulfilment and he’d been right.
The urge to curl in a ball on her couch and cry all night rode her hard. But that’s what seventeen-year-old Selena had done. She’d cried it out. Waited it out. Waited for the temptation to write him, or pick up the phone and hear his voice, to pass.
But she wasn’t seventeen any longer and she’d always gone after what she wanted. Why should she stop now just because it was finally Jarrod?
She’d been a coward with him twice now. Time for some courage.
Selena sniffed back the threatening tears as she reached for her phone with shaking hands. She scrolled through her recent-calls folder and tapped on the number she was after. It picked up on the second ring.
“Phil? It’s Selena.”
“Great job tonight, babe.” Straight into it as usual. “That shine to your eyes after the kid’s funeral? Brilliant move. Great television.”
Selena wasn’t going to waste time telling Phil her emotion hadn’t been manufactured. Phil had been in the industry for forty years and was cynical right down to his bootstraps.
“I can’t do it anymore, Phil.” Selena felt surprisingly calm, considering.
“Oh … do what?”
He sounded distracted and Selena knew he was probably scrolling through the wires or monitoring a dozen different online news channels all at once. Phil hadn’t been out to lunch with the rest of the male population when multi-tasking skills were being handed out.
“The job. I resign.”
“What?” Ah … now he was listening. “What do mean? You’re quitting? I thought you wanted this bad?”
Selena shook her head, the irony of what she was about to say not lost on her. “I don’t want it bad enough.”
There was a pause on the line. “Bullshit.”
“I’ll give you whatever time you need to find a replacement.”
“Nope. I don’t accept, Selena. I don’t know what the fuck has happened between the show wrapping and now, but I don’t accept. Ratings have been phenomenal. Not to mention the fact that I went out on a limb for you. Have you been drinking? Put the bottle down. Go to bed. Get your shit together. Ring me in the morning.”
The phone hung up in her ear and Selena stared blankly at it for a few seconds. That went well. Not.
But it didn’t matter. For the first time in two weeks a weight lifted from her chest and Selena actually felt like maybe everything was going to be alright.
She glanced at her watch—almost eleven.
No time like the present to get her shit together.
Chapter Eleven
‡
Two hours later Selena pulled up outside the Weston house in Jumbuck Springs and cut the engine. The crashing of her heartbeat practically filled the inside of her car as the silence of a country town at one in the morning pressed in around her.
She glanced at her grandmother’s house; the lights were out as she knew they would be. If Jarrod rejected her—and she couldn’t blame him if he did—she’d be spending the night with Grandy.
Selena dialled his number. No point knocking at this hour. She didn’t want to wake the entire household, especially Connie. The phone picked up on the third ring and Selena’s heart just about beat right out of her chest.
“Whereabouts?” the low gruff notes demanded in her ear.
Selena frowned, temporarily thrown off. What?
“Am I supposed to guess where the goddamn fire is or are you going to tell me?”
Of course. He was probably on call. “It’s me, Jarrod. Selena …”
“Selena?” She could practically hear the frown in his voice. “What time is it?”
“Just after one.”
“Is everything okay?”
Selena shook her head. “No.” Everything was not okay. But hopefully that was about to change.
“Selena,” he growled, all low and sleepy. It curled Selena’s toes. “What do you want?”
“I’m outside.”
“What?”
“I’m in my car, outside your house.”
“You … are?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t say anything for a beat or two. “Why?”
“Can I come in and talk to you?”
His groan slid right into her ear canal. “Don’t do this to me, damn it.”
He sounded annoyed but there was a thick edge of temptation to his words that plucked at muscles sitting deep and low in her belly. “Please, Jarrod.”
“If this is some kind of fucked-up booty call …”
“It’s not.” She gripped the phone harder as those muscles gave a sinful lurch at the suggestion. “I really do just want to talk.”
“Fine,” he huffed and hung up.
Selena climbed out of her car, walked up the path and the stairs to the front door, her legs like jelly. The door clicked quietly open to reveal Jarrod in boxers, pulling a shirt over his head. He looked all rumpled and weary and her heart flopped in her chest.
“Hi,” she whispered, smiling up at him, her gaze eating him up, her heart filling with love and joy and relief just to see him again.
Damn, she’d missed him.
He didn’t smile or acknowledge her greeting, just opened the door for her to come in. “Back veranda,” he murmured all low and husky near her ear.
She followed him through the darkened house, treading quietly in his wake, stepping out onto the creaky boards of the veranda, the cicadas providing the backing track. He headed in the direction of the squatter chairs, turning to face her when he drew level.
“Okay, you’re here now,” he said and it sounded so damn weary. “What do you want?”
Selena took a step towards him and he held up a hand to ward her off, his green eyes glittering hard as emeralds. “Don’t. Please. For the love of God just stay where you are.”
She blinked and rocked back on her feet. “Okay.” She hadn’t been expecting an open-arm welcome, but his vehemence cut to the quick.
He sighed as he absently rubbed his jaw, his gaze softening. “If you get within arm’s reach, Selena, I’m going to grab you, strip off all your clothes and fuck you against the balustrade and ask questions later and that’s just too screwed up to even contemplate.”
The delicious scrape of his whiskers and the raw note of lust in his voice oozed over her as his booty call crack replayed in her head. “I wouldn’t say no,” she murmured, trying to break the tension.
In fa
ct she suddenly felt very hot in her jeans and T.
“For fuck’s sake, Selena. I don’t want to want you like this,” he hissed, shoving his hand through his hair before dropping it to his side to clench and unclench it as if he was fighting the urge to drag her into his arms.
“Jarrod …” She lifted her foot to go to him again then put it back down again.
“It’s fine.” He waved a hand at her dismissively. But he seemed about as fine as she was and she was almost crawling the nearby wall with the need to touch him.
“It’s no secret we’re hot for each other,” he said. “That doesn’t mean we have to act on it. Just … what do you want?”
Selena had rehearsed what to say to Jarrod over and over during the car ride but her brain was stuck back at Jarrod doing her against the balustrade. It was difficult to get her thoughts on track after that, but she took a slow, steady breath and forced herself to concentrate.
“I quit my job tonight.”
“What?” The alarm on his face would have been comical had the situation not been so fraught. “What the hell for?”
She shrugged. “For you.”
He shook his head as he took a step back, recoiling from the information. “Oh no. I never asked you to quit your job for me, Selena.”
“I know.” This time she did take a step forward.
“Then why?” he demanded. “I thought it was what you wanted?”
“So did I. But it turns out … I didn’t want it bad enough after all.”
“Oh really?” He shoved his hands on his hips.
“Oh I love it, don’t get me wrong. It’s exhilarating and challenging and interesting. I like the people I work with. I think I’m good at what I do. But …”
She took another step forward and was relieved when he held his ground.
“I saw you on the funeral footage tonight, you defending Marcus, looking all big and fierce and beautiful … so good and strong and sincere … so you. And I’d never felt emptier. I mean, this is what I wanted, right? What I’ve been working towards for so many years, but I realised it meant nothing without you. That you were here and hurting and I was there and couldn’t put my arms around you, and I didn’t want to be there. I thought this job would make me happy but … I’m not. Because only you make me happy the way I need.”
Selena moved forward another pace and she was now, indeed, close enough to be hauled into his arms and stripped naked. But he didn’t make any such move. In fact he crossed his arms, his frame erect, his gaze about as distant as the mountains behind them.
“And what exactly are you going to do with your life now, Selena?”
“I don’t know. But I want it to be with you.”
“Oh right,” he snorted. “You think this is going to work between us if there’s always this thing where you gave up your career ambitions for me? How many years do you think it’ll take before that clanger finds its way into an argument between us? How long before we’re at each other’s throats like Grandy tells me your parents were?”
Tears threatened as Selena shook her head. “No. I’m not my mother, Jarrod. I guess I’m like her in a lot of ways, but there’s one major difference. I’m thirty-two. I’ve had a great job and I’ve travelled extensively. I’ve lived. I’m not a teenage mother frustrated and depressed by unfulfilled goals or trapped in an isolated environment by an emotionally selfish man.”
Selena slid her hand onto Jarrod’s forearm. The warm muscle tensed beneath her palm and she mentally prepared herself for his rejection again. It didn’t come, but he didn’t soften towards her either.
“I know I don’t deserve another chance, Jarrod. I’ve been blind and selfish. I’ve yanked your heart around on a chain and put you thorough ten kinds of hell trying to outrun a ghost I actually outran years ago, and I’m never going to forgive myself for that. For being so blinkered and …”
Her voice cracked. Jarrod looked so impenetrable, and she feared she’d really blown it. “Stupid. I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you and if I have to I will get down on my knees right now and beg you to take me back.”
“Oh God, Selena,” he groaned, his voice thick as he slid a hand onto her cheek. “Don’t cry.”
She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For everything.”
“Fifteen years ago when you left I wanted to come after you and people told me I shouldn’t. Your grandmother. My mother. They asked me to let you live your life and I respected that. But I shouldn’t have.” He paused, the husky drag of his breath doing funny things to her pulse. “I should have gone after you back then.”
Selena’s pulse skipped. Isn’t that what she’d hoped for all those years ago? Secretly. Deep down? That he’d come for her. Even though it had been all kinds of fucked up to feel that way. Even though she’d left him.
“Don’t,” she whispered, slipping her hand over top of his. “You did the right thing.”
“Yeah. But if I had, would you have come home with me?”
Selena nodded without hesitation. She’d always been one unguarded moment away from getting on a bus and going back to Jumbuck Springs. “In a heartbeat.”
He searched her face and Selena held her breath, her heart slowing right down. When he slid his hand to her nape and pulled her into his arms she melted against him, her pulse tapping a mad dance in her chest. The soft fabric of his shirt smelled like him and she sucked in a big deep breath.
“Marcus told me after the funeral today I should be happy. Actually he said, be fucking happy. Because he could see that I wasn’t.”
Selena tipped her head back, her chin resting on a firm pec. “I always liked Marcus.”
He smiled down at her. “But I don’t want it like this. Can you get your job back or did you burn that bridge bad?”
Selena pulled out of his arms. “No.” She shook her head, moving to the nearby railing, clutching it as she looked out over the night sky and the silent bush. “Your job, your family are all here.”
“Yes,” he insisted, coming up behind her and sliding his hands around her waist. “Listen to me. You have this job, your dream job, for four months. We can figure it out. I can see if there are any secondments to fire command in Brisbane. Jumbuck Springs and our families will only be two hours away.”
His body pressed against hers and her resolve started to fray as his heat and scent wound around her. “I’m more interested in our family,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to her ear. “You and me.” He dropped a kiss on her temple. “Wherever you are is exactly where I want to be. The rest will fall into place.”
He turned her in his arms and Selena went willingly, her breasts swelling at the delicious friction of his hard chest.
“You make me happy.” He kissed an eyelid. “You make me whole.” He kissed the other eyelid. “You make me complete.” He kissed her nose. “And I never,” he murmured, his lips bussing hers, “want to be without you again. Never. Ever. Ever.”
He stopped toying with her mouth then and kissed it properly. Selena opened to him without a second’s hesitation, conscious of the railing behind her as she went up on tippy toes, pressing her body into his, sliding her hands around his neck, kissing him back with everything she had, everything she was.
She was done denying herself the man that she loved. Done thinking she could fill her life with things that ultimately didn’t matter. She never, ever, ever wanted to be without him either and her heart filled up and flowed over with the knowledge. After fifteen years of denial it was their time to be happy. The rest, as Jarrod said, would fall into place.
They would work it out.
He broke the kiss and she moaned in protest, not ready to give up the delicious, heart-pounding taste of him.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He smiled down at her. “I love you too. But I think we need to move this inside now.”
She shook her head. “No. I want to be out here under ou
r Jumbuck Springs stars.”
“Really?” he murmured. “Because I’m about to do a very indecent thing to you and while I am fine with going down on you in direct view of your grandmother’s kitchen window, and she does have a heart like an ox, I’d still hate her to think I was the kind of guy who would debauch her granddaughter in the open should she be up getting herself a drink of water or something.”
Selena’s breath hitched at his wicked promise. Her belly went into free fall. Her ovaries melted down.
“True,” she muttered, grabbing his T-shirt and backing him up a half-dozen paces until his ass hit the wall of the house. “She can’t see us here, though.”
He spun her around until her back was firmly against the wall. “No,” Jarrod grinned, “She can’t.”
Then he sank to his knees and reached for her zip.
The End
You won’t want to miss Amy Andrews’ new series….
Outback Heat
If you enjoyed Some Girls Don’t, you’ll love the other Outback Heat stories!
Book 1: Some Girls Do
Buy Now!
Book 2: Some Girls Don’t
Book 3: Some Guys Need a Lot of Lovin’
Book 4: Some Girls Lie
About the Author
Multi-award winning and USA Today bestselling author Amy Andrews is an Aussie who has written fifty romances from novellas to category to single-title in both the traditional and digital markets for a variety of publishers. Her first love is steamy contemporary romance that makes her readers tingle, laugh and sigh. At the age of 16, she met a guy she instantly knew she was going to marry. She just smiles when people tell her insta-love books are unrealistic because she did marry that man and, twenty odd years later, they’re still living out their happily ever after. Amy works part-time as a PICU nurse and spent six years on the national executive of Romance Writers of Australia where she organized two national conferences and undertook a two year term as president. She loves good books, fab food, great wine and frequent travel – preferably all four together. She lives on acreage on the outskirts of Brisbane with a gorgeous mountain view but secretly wishes it was the hillsides of Tuscany.
