by Katie Ashley
Mentally, I went through the instructions, and this time I managed not to step on Jackson’s foot on the first count. Instead, I made it to the third before stabbing his opposite foot.
He grimaced but managed to continue going through the steps. I thought I was making pretty good progress when Jackson laughed. I glanced quizzically up at him. “You wanna ease up on the death grip?”
I had been concentrating so hard on getting the steps right that I hadn’t realized I’d been squeezing the life out of Jackson’s hand and shoulder. “Oops, sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’d just like to have feeling in my hand again,” he replied with a grin.
I giggled. “Why don’t we take a break?”
He nodded. As we pulled apart, Andrew appeared in the doorway. “Ah, I see I’ve been replaced by a younger and more handsome model!”
Aunt Vivian sashayed over to him. “Younger maybe. But never more handsome!”
As they became engrossed in flirting, Jackson turned to me and said, “You think I let her off too easy, don’t you?”
I blinked my eyes in confusion “Wait, what?”
“Brynnie. You think I should be pissed at her for blowing me off.”
I fought my gag reflex at his cutesy play on her name. Once I recovered, I countered with, “It’s really none of my business.”
Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. “I think from what you said out in the hallway you were making it your business.”
Blowing the stray strands of hair out of my face, I said, “Okay fine. Do I think it was incredibly rude of her? Yes, I do. Happy now?”
“I would have thought you of all people would understand what she’s going through right now with her parent’s divorce. I have to be understanding, because I know where she’s coming from. It’s hard being separated from one of your parents.”
And there it was: a prime questioning opportunity. “Oh, so you’re in a similar situation as me and Bryn?” I asked innocently.
“Yeah, my parents are divorced, and my dad…well, I just don’t get to see him that much.”
“Does he not live around here?”
“Yeah he does.” His face flushed. “Um, well, he sort of does. He…he travels.”
Before I could ask another question, Aunt Vivian clapped her hands. “Talk while you’re dancing!”
“Guess she means business,” Jackson said, drawing me back to him.
“She’s been in drill sergeant mode all week.”
As we started over yet again, Jackson said, “I know you haven’t been around Bryn in a long time, but she really isn’t as bad as you think she is.” When I gave him a skeptical look, he said, “Yeah, she’s bossy and opinionated and sometimes selfish, but she’s going through a lot.”
“Look, I get her parent’s divorcing is hard—I’ve been there, done that, but at the same time, she doesn’t have to take it out on everyone—especially you.”
He shrugged. “I guess I just see her differently—I mean, we’ve known each other all our lives. And six months ago, a lot of people turned their backs on me because of something my dad did.”
I couldn’t help getting tripped up on my feet at that line. “Oops, sorry,” I mumbled as I regained my composure. “You were saying?”
“Bryn stood by me—she even told a lot of those people off. When she loves you, she really does have your back.”
I didn’t have an easy comeback, let alone an argument, for that one. It was obvious that Bryn really cared for Jackson enough to stick by him, and that, in turn, made him putty in her hands. It also made things even more difficult for me.
I finally got the hang of dancing and let loose enough for Jackson to waltz me around the ballroom floor. Just as I was starting to enjoy it, the ballroom door banged open.
Bryn stood with her hand on her hip. “Jackson, why haven’t you answered my last few texts?”
Jackson immediately jerked away from me. “Miss Vivian wanted me to help with Jules’s dance lessons.”
I could have almost enjoyed the completely enraged look that flashed on Bryn’s face if Jackson hadn’t been the recipient of at least part of it. His jaw clenched and unclenched as if he were bracing himself for her wrath.
She huffed in exasperation but then caught my eye. Her demeanor suddenly softened. “I’m sorry, honey, but if we don’t hurry, we’re going to totally miss lunch with the crew.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “And I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it.”
Wow, talk about putting on a show. Bryn could seriously have taught classes on the art of manipulation.
Jackson nodded and then glanced over at me. “Sorry, Jules. I guess I better go.”
I nodded. “Thanks again for helping me.” And then for Bryn’s benefit I said, “You’re a really good dancer.”
He gave me a small smile. “Thanks.” Hand in hand, they started for the doorway before calling goodbye to Aunt Vivan and Andrew who had witnessed the entire bizarre scene.
Aunt Viv cleared her throat. “I think we could all use something refreshing to drink. Why don’t we go to the kitchen and get some of Alice’s fresh lemonade?”
Easing out of my heels, I said, “I think I need something a little stronger than lemonade.”
She grinned. “So do I honey, so do I!”
Chapter Seven
Friday morning dawned sunny and clear. In fact it was so scorching by seven am that my t-shirt was soaked through with sweat as I pounded the pavement. Once I finished my run, I headed back to the house for a quick breakfast with Mom and Aunt Vivian. Fortunately, Aunt Lenore and Bryn were once again absent from the dining room table. Lucky me!
“What are you planning on doing this morning, Julianne?” Aunt Vivian asked, glancing up from the newspaper.
“Um, I think I might take in some sights,” I lied, as I swigged some orange juice. Since my entire day from three o’clock on was blocked off for party preparation, I needed some me time to center and focus. In other words, I needed some bounty hunting. I planned on heading over to Raye’s office right after breakfast. But I sure as heck wasn’t going to tell Mom and Aunt Vivian that.
Mom smiled over her poached eggs. “I think that would be lovely, honey. I wish I could come with you, but I’m volunteering down at the Brandewine Institute this morning.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a group home for adults with disabilities.”
Aunt Vivian smiled broadly. “Annabel has done wonders with some of the residents there. She’s practically a celebrity.”
Hmm, Mom being a do-gooder was an interesting development. However, the mention of a group home immediately sent flashing lights off in my head from what Raye had told me about Jackson’s brother, Evan. I quickly filed that tidbit of information away for another day when I would be free to do some recon work.
After I took a quick shower, I made myself somewhat presentable. I was going to have big hair and tons of makeup forced on me for the party in a few hours, so I tried to keep things as simple as possible. I headed outside, grabbed a cab and made my way over to Raye’s office.
When I didn’t find Sherry at the front desk, I went on down the hall and threw open Raye’s door. “Okay, tonight’s the snooty high society party, and I’m totally freakin’ out. I need to blow off some steam. Hit me with anything you got jumper wise.”
The chair swiveled around. At the sight of someone other than Raye, I jumped. A guy a little older than me with jet-black hair and dark eyes stared back at me. “What are you doing here?” My gaze quickly scanned the room. “Where’s Raye?” I demanded, silently hoping this guy wasn’t some former felon looking for revenge.
“Hello to you, too.” When he gave me a crooked grin, his silver tongue ring gleamed in the light. Standing up, he offered me his hand. “I’m Wyatt Deluca, Sherry’s son.”
He must’ve taken after his dad because he didn’t look anything like Sherry. He was tall with a slight build, and he would’ve probably passed for buff if I hadn�
��t been so used to Raye and his team of Ex-Marine body builders.
When I didn’t immediately respond, Wyatt continued, “And you must be Raye’s cousin, Jules.”
Tentatively, I reached over and shook Wyatt’s hand. “Sorry. It’s just I was expecting Raye to be here.”
“Yeah, well he and my mom ducked out for a quick lunch. I told them I’d man the phones for them.” Wyatt’s gaze swept over me, lingering a little longer that it should have on my chest and legs. “Raye tells me you’ve done a little bounty hunting back in Texas.”
I sniffed at his skeptical tone. “I’ve been on my father’s Apprehension Team for a year if that’s what you mean by a little.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m all for Girl Power or whatever it is you call it when girls do guy things.”
“Bounty hunting isn’t just a guy thing, you know,” I countered.
“Actually, I want to break into bounty hunting myself.”
With the way he dressed, he looked more like a rocker wannabe than a bounty hunter. “Good luck with that.”
Wyatt crossed his arms defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
It was then that Raye interrupted us. “So, I see you’ve met my future step-son,” he said, with a broad grin.
“We were just getting acquainted,” I replied.
Raye patted Wyatt’s back. “I guess he told you he’s in training to join the team.”
I nodded.
Rubbing his chin, Raye said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about how you need to get close to that Marshall kid, and how you said you don’t have a lot of experience with guys.”
At the strangled noise that erupted from my throat, Wyatt ducked his head and started quietly cracking up. “I have experience with guys!” I protested.
Raye gave me a funny look. “But you just said the other day you wouldn’t know how to get close to Jackson or try to get his attention away from your cousin because you can’t flirt.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, desperately hoping I could literally die of the embarrassment I was feeling. It was one thing to have admitted to Raye that I was a dateless loser, but to have him say it in front of Wyatt was just too much.
“Anyway, I was thinking that Wyatt could help you out.”
“What are you suggesting he do?” I asked, glaring at Wyatt, “Be my pimp or something?”
“Yeah right,” Wyatt replied with a grin.
Raye shook his head. “No, I was thinking he could be more of a coach. You know, tell you the right things to say or do to reel Jackson in. I can’t help you out in that department because I’m pushing forty, so I don’t know what guy’s are interested in nowadays.”
“And just what qualifies him to do it instead?”
Wyatt leaned forward. “Well, I am a guy, and I do have considerable experience with girls.”
“Spare me,” I muttered.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of my help?” Wyatt teased.
“Of course I’m not!” I stammered. “Fine, I’ll let you coach me. Not that a guy like you would have even remotely the same taste as a guy like Jackson, but whatever.”
Wyatt swept his hand to his heart. “Ouch, Jules, you really brought the claws out on that one.”
Raye stepped between us. “And Wyatt, I thought it would be really good for you to learn some things from Jules about bounty hunting.”
Wyatt’s dark eyes widened in horror. “Are you crazy? I’m not learning this business from a chick!”
“At first, I was skeptical about Jules’s knowledge. But her father is one of the best bounty hunter’s in the Mid-West, and if he believes in her enough to put her on his Apprehension Team, then you can bet she’s a damn good bounty hunter.”
A beaming smile spread across my face at Raye’s compliments. “Thanks. Your approval means a lot to me.”
Wyatt scuffed the carpet with his boot. “This is freakin’ ridiculous. You have two other ex- marines on your team, and you want me to learn from her?”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of my help?” I said, throwing back his line.
He glared at me. “Fine. What choice do I have?”
“Good. Glad to hear it,” Raye replied.
I reached over and snatched the pack of Marlboro Lights out of Wyatt’s jeans pocket. “Lesson #1, you’re never going to be able to outrun a suspect if you’re a smoker.” I tossed the cigarettes in the trash.
Wyatt clenched his jaw but didn’t protest. “Anything else?” he practically growled.
“No, not that I can think of at the moment, but I’ll let you know.”
Raye gave me a wink. “Okay, how about showing Wyatt how we research jumpers?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Eight
I ended up staying at Raye’s for most of the afternoon. Wyatt might’ve been a stubborn, sexist pig about working with me, but he did catch on pretty fast. I showed him how to compile stats like jumper’s weight, eye color, and noticeable marks like tattoos, and he managed not to be a jerk for most of the time.
Later when I got back home, Andrew was waiting to chauffer me over to the Serenity Day Spa to have my hair and makeup done. After I breezed through the door, a woman named Leslie pushed me down in a chair and sized me up. Then she got busy on my hair. First, she swept it back into a loose twist. Using two glittering pink combs, she hid the army of bobby pins holding my hair up. She kept out a few loose tendrils that she used the curling iron on. Then she sprayed my hair within an inch of its life.
Once I succumbed to a coughing fit induced by the spray, she got busy on my make-up. Foundation and loose powder were applied, then a hefty amount of blush to give my cheeks color. Finally, she began working on my eyes. She’d chosen sparkly pink eye-shadow that shimmered when it hit the light. Once she’d heavily lined my eyelids, she added mascara to my lashes.
“All right. I’m all finished,” Leslie finally announced, stepping away to reveal my reflection in the mirror.
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. I glanced back at Leslie, and then quickly said, “I mean, you’ve done an amazing job. Thank you so much.”
“No problem. Fortunately, you gave me a lot to work with,” she replied matter-of-factly. I fought the urge to say, “Lucky for us both I’m not hagsville!”
By the time I got back to the house, it was a little after four. I was a bundle of nervous energy. Even though I was too wired to sit still, Aunt Vivian banished me to my room to rest until party time. I knew there was no way that was happening, especially since I had to sit upright so I wouldn’t mess my hair or makeup.
So I flipped on the TV in the sitting area of the suite and flopped down onto the loveseat. On the American Movie Classics channel, I found one of my all time favorites, Giant. It was all about Texas and featured the very handsome Rock Hudson and James Dean along with the epically beautiful Elizabeth Taylor.
I got so lost in the movie that the time flew by. Before I knew it, Mom was knocking on the door. “Julianne, it’s time to get you into your dress.”
Reluctantly, I turned off the TV and hurried to open the door. “Just let me go get on the tor—I mean, bustier and stuff.” I escaped into the bathroom. Once I’d wiggled and grunted my way into that bustier, I threw on my robe and headed back into the bedroom.
Mom had my dress all ready for me to step into. “You’re going to look so amazing tonight—not that you don’t always look pretty,” she said, as she worked on the row of buttons.
“I hope so.”
“Are you okay, honey?”
“I’m a little nervous, that’s all.”
Mom finished with the buttons and turned me around. “You’re worrying for nothing. Just try to have a good time. That’s all that matters in the end.”
I decided not to argue that she’d be singing a different tune if I made a fool of myself and embarrassed her.
With the last button fastened, I could barely breathe. I think the dress accentuated
my figure by cutting off my air flow as well as my circulation.
“You look beautiful,” Mom said, with tears shimmering in her eyes.
“Thank you,” I replied. “And um, thanks for doing all this for me.” Wow, had I actually just thanked Mom for all this party nonsense? My dress must’ve been cutting off the flow of oxygen to my brain.
Mom beamed. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She gave me a light kiss on the cheek. “All right, I better go slip my dress on. The guests will be here very soon.” She headed out the door, leaving me alone with my nerves.
From the row of windows, I watched the elite arrive in their limousines and chauffer driven cars. It was totally surreal that all these people had come out to see me. Simple, unassuming, would rather-be-in-cowboy-boots-riding-horses me.
The plan was to allow enough time for everyone to arrive before I was announced. Aunt Vivian was giving the stragglers until 6:30. As soon as the clock chimed the half hour, I was to come to the staircase landing. As I paced, I could hear the party in full swing. Bits of conversation mixed with strains of music wafted up the stairs. I felt like I might puke.
With my out of control nerves, I needed a reassuring voice—one that wasn’t a part of all this party nonsense. So with a shaky hand, I picked up my cell phone and dialed Dad.
It was Remy who answered. “Yo Jules, how’s it hanging?” he asked, before dissolving into laugher. I rolled my eyes as I heard Colt start howling in the background. Ugh, why did my older brothers have to be such pains?
“Why are you answering Dad’s phone?”
“Because Dad’s with Tom booking a felon.” Before I could get excited, Remy said, “No, not the Million Dollar felon. Just some random crack head on Tom’s jumper list.”
“Oh, I see.”
“What can I do for ya, Little Sis?”
I glanced down at my pink, poofy gown and then at my hand that was slightly trembling. “Um, well, this is really more Dad’s area of expertise. You know, talking me down from the ledge.”
“Dude, Colt and I are fully capable of handling the situation. Lemme put you on speakerphone.”
