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Chapter Twenty-One
Jackson
Ileft Lena in the living room with a small fire in the fireplace so she’d stay warm and went to send Luke the pictures and other information he’d need to start the process for a restraining order and divorce. When I came back to the living room, I found Lena asleep.
I let her sleep for a couple of hours, and once the sun slipped down below the horizon, it seemed a bit chilly. I relit the fire and pulled a blanket up over her, careful not to disturb her, but she stirred and opened her eyes.
“Oh hey, I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was, but I’ve also been thinking.”
“About?”
“This might seem silly, but I feel so helpless. I mean, not because I’m hurt, but here you’ve taken me in, a complete stranger, and I have no way of repaying you. Maybe you could let me work in your pub when I’m feeling better? I don’t know, washing glasses or something. I don’t have much experience—well any, actually—as a waitress or anything, but I’m not used to having someone care for me, and it’s sort of weird since you hardly know me.”
I knelt in front of her and took her hands in mine. “I know enough about you to know you’re a decent person, that you’ve been wronged, and that you need help. That’s all I need to know.” I smiled at her.
“What?”
“The swelling on your eye seems to have gone down almost completely; it looks as if all the ice worked.”
I smiled and stroked my hand lightly down the side of her cheek and again wished I could make her bruises go away with a brush of my fingers so I could revel in the taste of her full, generous lips.
No, Jackson, not this woman.
As much as I wanted her, it would have to be on her terms when she was ready.
“When your bruises are healed, and when you’re feeling completely back to normal, would you be open to some self-defense training?”
“I guess so.”
“Great. Until then, concentrate on getting stronger. I’m not worried about you paying me back for anything. If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be.”
The front door slammed, and Rufus howled as Lena’s body jerked, and Rosie scurried under the sofa.
“Jackson, here’s your guitar. You left it at the bar again. Quiet, Rufus.” Brodie blew into the room carrying two guitars over his shoulder.
“Brodie, do you have to announce your presence by slamming the door?” I let go of Lena’s hands, got up, and took the guitars from my brother.
“You know me, bro, I like to make a grand entrance. Oh, hey, Lana, how’s your eye?”
“It’s Lena, by the way,” I told him.
“Huh?”
“It’s Lena, not Lana. Who’s got the bar?”
“I thought you said … Derrick. Sorry.” He glanced toward Lena. “I thought you said Lana the other day.”
I decided to let it go, no point in explaining. “Derrick? Good. Is he closing or are you going back?”
“I’m going back. I’m starving. Have you guys eaten dinner yet? Want to order Chinese?”
I looked at Lena—she nodded. “Yeah, sure. You order. Any particular item you like best, Lena?”
“Sesame beef, spicy.”
I raised my brow and smiled at Brodie.
