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Jackson placed a kiss on his wife’s temple, his hand placed on the small of her back.
“Hey, Tyler.” Catherine’s smile was full of kindness and warmth. “You remember Marisa,” she said, nodding her head to the gorgeous brunette with soulful eyes and a siren’s voice.
“Yeah. Hi. How are you?” I asked, feeling like a complete ass. I remembered her now. Who could forget her? With those big brown eyes, those full and pouty lips, and a body that would stop traffic.
She was petite, with an athletic build. The yellow tank top she wore showcased toned arms. White shorts modestly covered her sculpted legs. She was a bright sunshiny image of perfection, making me want to take a dive into the abyss and explore every mesmerizing inch of her.
“Hi. Taylor, was it?” she asked, extending her hand.
Her handshake was firm. I cleared my throat. “Tyler,” I corrected her. “Tyler Sanderson.”
Her mouth formed into an O before a tiny chuckle escaped. “Sorry ’bout that. Tyler,” she rectified. “Nice to meet you.” Her smile was warm and inviting, and I immediately wished this had been our first introduction. Not that heinous New Year’s Eve a few years back. If I was lucky, she didn’t have any memory of it. But luck hadn’t been on my side lately, and I didn’t feel it was going to turn around any time soon.
Just as I was about to ask Marisa a question to try and get the conversational ball rolling, Mark strode in. His voice was loud and boisterous, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “I tell ya what. Having a wife yelling at me from the other end of the country is not what I signed up for when I agreed to come out here.”
“You’re the one who offered to come help with this thing,” Jackson said, reminding him that it was an option for him to help out on our current contract. His skills were needed, and they were an essential part of our assignment. But we could have made it work without him.
Mark rolled his eyes and ignored the comment. “I love the woman, but damn, the kid won’t fuckin’ sleep, and she’s blaming it on me,” he scoffed. “Everything’s my fault.”
“Cullen’s still keeping her up?” Catherine asked, sending him a sympathetic and understanding glance.
“Yup. How could I be to blame? I’m not even there. Fuck.” He raked both hands through his light blond hair and tugged as if somehow that was going to make him feel better.
“Listen,” Catherine said. “Sometimes, you just need to let her vent and take it. It’s not easy, no matter how adorable your kid is. No matter how much you love them more than life itself, sometimes, you want to murder someone. And unfortunately, right now, that person is you.”
He scrubbed his palms over his green eyes. “Yeah, well. It’s horseshit. Complete and utter horseshit.”
“Why don’t you call Charlie and tell her that?” I goaded Mark.
“Yeah. And right after I do that, you assholes can plan my funeral. Because I tell you, the woman would find a way to murder me from three-thousand miles away.”
“Maybe you should send her some flowers,” Marisa suggested.
“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. “I need a drink.”
“Beer’s in the fridge. Grab us one too,” Jackson said and motioned for me to join him at the table. “We’re gonna need ’em, if we have to continue listening to your bitching and moaning.”
“Real fuckin’ cute, Muffin. Wait till you guys have one screaming all hours of the day and night.”
Catherine and Marisa chuckled.
“I personally can’t wait,” Jackson said, sending a wink Catherine’s way.
Catherine and Marisa sat with us a few minutes later. Conversation ensued, and while we were all active participants, I wanted to have a few minutes one-on-one with Marisa. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I caught her looking at me a few times. The frustrating thing was I couldn’t tell if she was skeptical or intrigued.
I didn’t have a chance to find out either.
“I gotta go. Duty calls,” she said, whispering something quick to Catherine as she embraced her in a hug. “Nice seeing you, Jackson, Mark,” she said with a tiny wave. “Great meeting you, Tyler.” She emphasized my name, making it clear she indeed knew it now.
“You too,” I said, half-standing, then sitting again when she gestured for me not to get up. My smile was tight as I contemplated following her out and asking for her number. I chose otherwise, figuring it just wasn’t in the cards.
* * *
“Hey,” Catherine called, running out the front door I had just closed. Her face was flushed. “Here.” She handed me a folded piece of paper.
“What’s this?” I asked, intrigued.
She raised both brows and motioned to the paper. I unfolded it.
