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“You do that an awful lot.” Jackson straightened, and his eyes glinted in the ambient light flickering out from the candles.
“I said I was sorry,” she grumbled, pinkening further. Okay, so she was a little brash. Did he have to keep pointing it out like that?
“I meant apologize. Not that you have a damn thing to be sorry for. I like how you are.”
“Oh,” was all Carly could manage. But Jackson kept his easygoing stride. He gestured toward the far side of the yard, to a thicket on the opposite side of the yard from the men playing horseshoes.
“My mother plants a lot of vegetables herself. Her garden’s just behind that cluster of crepe myrtles, if you want to have a look. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
Carly blinked. “Okay. Sure.”
Jackson guided her around the crowd on the outskirts of the vast yard until they’d reached a dirt path winding through a thick cluster of trees covered in purple and white blooms. The woody branches hung so low over the path that Jackson had to duck significantly to get by a few of them, and after a handful of steps, they were completely shielded from the view of the crowd.
“How come the garden is so far away from the house?” Carly asked, tipping her head at the clearing about thirty feet in front of them. The cool, musky scent of crepe myrtle blooms filled her nose, making her almost dizzy with their sweetness.
“My mother’s flower beds are mostly in the yard, close to the house. She swears that this part of the lot”—he paused to point at the waning daylight poking through at the end of the short trail—“had the best soil for growing, though, so she put the big garden out here. Personally, I think it was because she needed a little refuge every now and then from raising four crazy children.”
Carly grinned. Boy could her mother relate to that. She was convinced that at least some of those times hermamaretreated to do laundry in the quiet of the basement, there wasn’t a whole lot that needed washing. “How about your dad?” she asked, curiosity growing. “Did he hide out here, too?”
Jackson stopped short on the path so suddenly that Carly had to change course to avoid crashing into him. She stumbled, and her balance threatened to take a vacation before Jackson reached out and wrapped his fingers around the bare skin of her upper arms.
“I don’t have a father.”
The monotone of his voice caught her by complete surprise, and she stared at him, eyes wide. “Oh, God. Did he pass away? I’m so sorry—”
“No.” The word escaped through Jackson’s teeth, his jaw cranked shut.
“Then I don’t understand.”
Exasperation flickered over Jackson’s features, but his tone remained hollow. “What’s not to understand? I don’t have a father.”
Deep in her gut, Carly felt an old ache prickle to life on an even older memory, one that was so faded around the edges that it was barely more than a snapshot in her mind. “But everyone has a father.”
A low, needful current of energy ran between them, and Jackson dropped his gaze to where his palms wrapped around her arms, fingers firmly closed around her soft skin. By the time he lifted the glance to meet hers, his crinkly blue eyes were bottomless and utterly flat.
“Not me.”
9
Jackson needed to shut up, and he needed to do it right fucking now. Christ, he’d been an idiot to open his mouth in the first place. No matter how easy talking to Carly had been.
“The garden’s right through here.” He dropped Carly’s arms and ducked through the last of the tree branches, mere steps away from the open air of the garden. Even though he knew it was rude, he moved ahead without waiting for her. Guilt pricked at him, but he continued to walk away.
“Jackson, wait.”
He took a step, and then another. No way was he going to talk about this. He didn’t care how sexy Carly’s laugh was, or how pretty she looked when he teased her into blushing. She was out of her mind if she thought he was going to go the get-in-touch-with-your-feelings, Kumbaya route over his daddy issues. Especially since the issues werenon-issues. And for Chrissake, he barely even knew her.
“Hey!” Her voice unloaded like a firecracker, which—given the date—would’ve been ironic enough to make Jackson laugh if he hadn’t been so stunned. Rooted to his spot, all he could do was turn halfway around and gape at her. Carly’s eyes flashed, liquid bronze and full of fire, but her words were steady and quiet.
“Look, you don’t seem to like apologies much, so I’m not going to make any. Clearly, you don’t want to talk about your father, which is fine by me.” He didn’t see her so much as feel the heat of her as she made her way toward him on the path. When he turned to face her fully, there were only a scant couple of inches separating their bodies.
“So, this can go one of two ways. Either we can forget it and still have a good time, or you can drive me back to my car in the world’s most awkward silence. It’s up to you, but quite frankly, I’m hoping we can forget it.”
“You are?” he blurted, too surprised by her moxie to say anything else.
“Yes. I’d like to see your mother’s garden, and plus, I’m hungry.” Carly’s eyes flicked upward, meeting his with a no-nonsense stare. “So, is that okay, or do you want to just call it a night?” Her voice lifted with just the smallest hint of gentleness, but her gaze didn’t budge.
GoodGodshe was hot.
