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“Then they tried to push you two together even after that?” he asks incredulously.
“Yup. Our mothers refused to let the dream die. A few months after catching him, I had enough and told them if they didn’t stop, I would leave Charleston. They didn’t, so I left. I graduated with a degree in journalism that my mother was sure I would never use, and when I applied at The Sun, Gus decided to give me a shot. He was aware of my background as a debutant, and I guess he felt like I’d be a good fit for the life and style spot they had open.” Thank God for that man. “The pay was crap to start, but I have a trust set up from my grandparents that I was able to pull from after I graduated. I would have gotten the whole thing at once had I gotten married, but the monthly checks are a great supplement to my salary from the paper. It keeps me in fabulous shoes and lacy underthings.” I realize as soon as it escapes my mouth how that sounds.
“Yes, I do appreciate your hot-as-fuck heels and little ‘underthings.’” Jackson’s eyes go molten, and I remember our time during his brother’s celebration dinner at his parent’s when he fucked me against the wall in his childhood bedroom. My heels made me just the right height for him to be able to bury himself deeply inside me, the scrap of lace I had on pushed out of the way to allow him access. I gulp some more wine.
“Well, that’s my sad story.” We need a subject change STAT. “What horrific, life-changing stories do you have for me?” I laugh, trying to shake off the suddenly charged energy in the room.
“You already know the worst one. I would definitely call that life altering.”
Ah yes, Lindsey’s kidnapping. It was Jackson’s stalker that had her, claiming that Lindsey was trying to break up her and Jackson. There was a scuffle, and the gun Helen held had gone off, killing her. From what I understand, she died in Jackson’s arms.
I reach over and touch Jackson’s arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “No apology necessary. It’s not something I really talk about. I did the therapy thing for a while. I figured if I was going to make Lindsey go, I should probably talk to someone too.”
I didn’t know this.
“I didn’t feel particularly guilty about the way Helen died. I know that probably sounds harsh, but she was going to shoot my brother. I won’t ever be sorry for stopping her.” My hand is still on his arm, and he reaches over and links our fingers. “But having someone die in your arms is on a whole other level. Seeing the light go out of her eyes, that’s not something you can really describe.” He squeezes my fingers. “And seeing how my thoughtlessness affected everyone around me? That definitely had me rethinking a lot of things.” He shakes his head and looks out his dining room window as his thumb strokes my hand.
“Like what?” I ask softly.
“It was my fault she was in our lives. I didn’t really know her, but my lifestyle didn’t lend itself to getting to know people. She was just a girl in a club to me. Maybe if I had been more aware of what was really happening around me instead of always looking for the next thing that excited me, I would have noticed her hanging around me and there was something off about her.” Jackson shakes his head and lets out a breath. “I will never forget the blood that covered my brother’s chest or the terrified look in Kasey’s eyes when she was holding his head before the paramedics got there. Or the state Lindsey was in when we found her. That’s the shit that changed me. Made me realize life isn’t one big party and women aren’t interchangeable to suit my mood.”
Wow. Something like that happening to anyone would have a profound effect on them, but I’m still surprised to hear Jackson’s admission. It’s not like he’s less human than anyone else, but I’ve never been privy to this side of him. It’s doubtful many people have.
“But everyone made it out and is alive and healthy now. That’s because you stopped her. You were the hero in that story.” My words are hopefully reassuring to him.
He looks at our clasped hands and a soft smile plays across his lips. “No, I’m not the hero there.” He shakes his head slightly, then looks me in the eyes, his gaze doing things to my insides that I’m not ready to deal with. “But maybe I can be in yours.”
Okay, this sweet and thoughtful side of Jackson is playing some serious tricks with my mind. Jackson Hayes being my hero is so out of the realm of anything I ever thought possible. That’s not what this is. I don’t need a hero, just a date to a wedding. That’s as far as I’m willing to go, even if the idea is tempting.
Pulling my hand away from his, I clear my throat and stand from the table. Things are getting too intense, and Jackson and I, in emotionally charged situations, have proven to be dangerous time and time again.
I grab my purse and jacket as he stands from his chair.
“Thanks for dinner. It was delicious.” It’s suddenly awkward between us. This is why we should keep things light and slightly combative.
As I stiffly make my way to the door, trying not to turn around and kiss that damn handsome face of his, he follows, that irreverent smirk still on his lips.
He opens the door for me, his hand grabbing the top edge, holding it for me. As I step over the threshold, he stops me with his hand on my wrist and leans over, softly brushing my cheek with his lips.
“Good night, Red,” he whispers in my ear.
I swallow hard. The proximity of his body and the feel of his breath against my cheek have my pulse going into overdrive. We’re quickly approaching a danger zone I swore I wouldn’t put myself in again.
Clearing my throat and stepping back, I give him a wide, friendly smile. Because that’s all this is going to be. Friends.
“Night, Prince.”
Turning on my heels, I make my way to the elevator. Jackson doesn’t follow, but he’s still standing in his doorway, gazing at me with an expression I can’t quite put a name to. Not lust, though there is that, but something more. Before the elevator doors close, I give him a slight wave and then blow out the breath I was holding after they seal shut. Leaning back on the wall, I bang my head a couple times.
This is getting complicated. Again.
Chapter 9
Jackson
SomethinghaschangedbetweenAbigail and me. I can’t put my finger on when, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would say it was probably the night she had dinner at my apartment. We’ve fought plenty, we’ve allowed the raging chemistry between us to take over and succumbed to the lust we felt, but we’ve never just talked. That night I got to see a softer, vulnerable side of her. And I showed her mine. I could tell she was uncomfortable, so I turned on the charm when she left. Not necessarily so she would end up in my bed again, which I wouldn’t have been opposed to, but to put us back somewhere she was familiar with. But when those elevator doors closed and I was alone in my empty apartment again, I couldn’t help feeling like that was the most comfortable I have ever felt with her. Or anyone.
