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Shit!Shaking her head, she walked into the kitchen and saw the mess. He was right, she never tightened the lids. Hell, half the time, she barely managed to put everything away. She was the epitome of a hot mess express. Grabbing the dishtowel from the counter, she started cleaning up the floor. Dumping the entire mess into the sink, she took the juice-soaked towel to the laundry room and got the mop. Maybe she could be a janitor. “Stop it. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself.”
Finishing up, she put everything away and decided to stop having a pity party. Straightening her spine, she headed for the bathroom. She needed to talk to Preacher no matter how scared she was. Walking down the hallway, she felt like a visitor instead of a resident. Coming to the end of the hall, she eased the bathroom door open and stepped inside.
Standing under the shower spray, Preacher tried not thinking about how badly he had handled the situation with Jack. He’d wanted her to be his refuge, the place where he would find that feeling of comfort, but Jack hadn’t been his port in the storm since their relationship began. It felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall off. It was both their faults. Neither of them had truly opened up. They just circled around everything and nothing.
Preacher hated arguing with her. His mind always went back to a place he hated—his father and his anger. Images flashed in his head of the beatings he and Bones had been on the receiving end of. Their mother had always been the one to defend them, until Preacher’d had enough and started stepping in front of her. Then that horrible night . . .
Slamming his hand against the tiled wall, he wouldn’t relive it. Not again. Nothing could change what happened that night. Hadn’t he and Bones worked through all of this already?
He shouldn’t allow the memory of his father to constantly crawl into his head and have him close himself off to others. The wall he had built around himself rarely came down, and when it did, it was only with a select few. Every time Jack pissed him off or did something that ruffled him, Preacher walked away or let it go. All because he didn’t want to chance losing control and hurting her. He felt like a fucking pussy.
The shower door popping open brought his head up. “Jack . . . I need you to give me a minute.” He closed his eyes, not wanting her to see the pain that lived in them at that moment. When the door snapped shut, he tilted his head back, allowing the hot water to wash over his face and head. Then he felt her step up behind him. “Jack.”
Closing the door behind her, Jack moved closer behind him. Slipping her arms around his waist, she pulled her body tightly to his. She placed a kiss over a scar that ran across his shoulder blade. She stared at Preacher and still found him just as sexy as she had the first time they met.
Resting her forehead against his back, she apologized. “Sorry I’m such a mess,” she said weakly.
Keeping his hands on the shower wall, he bent his head back down under the spray. It made him feel like an asshole to make her feel bad about herself, but she needed to get her head out her ass. Running his hands over his head, Preacher pushed water down his long hair. Turning into her arms, he kissed the top of her head. When she looked up at him, he forgot about being mad. It had been weeks since they’d touched each other.
He moved into her space and kissed her. She leaned into him, opening her mouth where he could take the kiss deeper. The small moan slipping from her throat had Preacher picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Pressing his lips to hers, his tongue swept into her mouth, thrusting along hers. His cock thickened and raged to be inside her pussy.
Moving across the tile floor of the shower, Preacher held Jack against the wall. His cock slid between her legs, the head pressing against her entrance. He pressed into her pussy and heard her wince against his mouth. She was dry as a desert. Breaking the kiss, he stared at her face.
“It’s okay, keep going.”
Preacher stepped back, bringing her body away from the wall, and set her down. Kissing her on the forehead, he moved back. “Let’s just shower, then we can go eat,” he told her without inflection.
ChapterTwo
The clock on the living room wall counted down the minutes while Preacher sat on the sofa, waiting on Jack. He decided taking her out to eat would make it easier for them to talk. She hated making a scene, so he knew she would be compelled to sit and listen to what he had to say. Tonight, they would figure out what they were doing. He crossed his leg, ankle to knee, leaning back into the sofa. His foot bounced as music played in his head.
On the bare wall across from him, the only decoration was the clock that Jack had hung up haphazardly after she moved in. Preacher took in the large open concept area. Neither he nor Jack had tried to settle into his house. Before she moved in, it had been just a place where Preacher laid his head at night. A tax write-off was what Gypsy called it.
Nothing made it seem like a home. Other than the dark wood rafters, off-white slated ceilings, and granite countertops, the area had no personality. Maybe he should buy artwork for the walls.
“I know you want to talk.”
Preacher stopped his foot as he glanced in Jack’s direction. She stood framed in the doorway with her bathrobe on and her hair still damp. She’d been in the bedroom for a half-hour and hadn’t gotten ready. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“I think we should talk before we go out to eat.” There, she said it. The door was open, now she just had to walk through it.
Since bringing her to Lampsing, he’d done everything to make her happy. Every few weeks or so, she ran straight back to Reno and Viper. And as much as it pained him, Preacher was done. Pushing off the sofa, he stood staring at her, shaking his head. She wanted to talk?Okay, he thought,they’d talk.
“I asked you earlier what you wanted. Out of life. From yourself.” He watched her hands twist together as if she was afraid. “Are you afraid to tell me?” She remained silent. Grabbing his keys from the coffee table, he asked her the one question that had been on his mind for months. “Jack, do you want me to move you to Reno?” He saw her gaze jump from looking at her hands to meeting his eyes. “You would be with Viper.”
Still, she remained quiet, which spoke loudly to Preacher. Heading for his bike, his hand barely wrapped around the doorknob when she burst into sobs. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Jack shaking her head. It infuriated him that she couldn’t just open her mouth and be honest with him.
Preacher had seen his father beat his mother trying to keep her in their marriage. He would not be that kind of man in any way. Leaving was easier for him, but hearing Jack sobbing stung.
Moving back across the floor, he tossed the keys onto the coffee table as she ran for him. When she grabbed his shirt, Preacher pulled her into him. All she had to do was be honest and everything would work out. Her hands tangled in his shirt as she told him between hiccups that she wanted to stay with him. “Please, Preacher.”
The last thing he wanted was her to beg him to stay. Instead of walking away, he held onto her. “Make me a promise, Jack.”
“Anything.”
“If you ever want to leave, just tell me.” He would step aside for her to be happy. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I want to open a boutique. I just don’t know how to get the backing,” she mumbled against his shirt.
