“Do you know what windows you want them in?” he asks.
“I’m clueless on this stuff.”
He winks. “I’ll handle it.”
I wait for butterflies. There are none. I don’t think those Jason-induced butterflies are about indigestion, after all. Darius is already kneeling next to one of the boxes, and I hurry inside to inspect the contents of the takeout to find steaks and potatoes. I need to pay him for this meal. I can’t lead the man on like this. I stick it in the oven on warm, which should be safe for a good long while. Long enough to have another friend talk.
I also don’t want to take advantage of him, and I decide to grab one of Jason’s beers from the fridge for him. I exit out to the patio and, oh my God, I run into him while he’s holding the air conditioner. He tumbles backward, down the stairs, toward the yard. The unit flies with him, and so do I. He groans as he and I fall, and the air conditioner lands on top of him, or part of the air conditioner, the sharp edge. I jolt upward, shove it off of him, and he sits up to scowl at the deep gouge in his leg that is really, really close to that part of a man’s body they value most.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I say. “We have to stop the bleeding.”
“I got it,” he says, his face pale as he yanks his belt out of his belt loops, while making noises that sound a lot like the ones my client that went into labor in my office made—kind of a groan, grunt, and howl all wrapped in one. He tosses it on the ground. “You got it. Wrap it around my leg and pull it tight, will you?”
I nod and it’s not long before my hands are all over his body and really close to that part of him, and he’s making those sounds. If anyone walked up right now, I’m pretty sure they’d think we were having the worst sex on planet earth, but I don’t think he really cares about anything but his leg. “All done,” I say. “I’ll call 911.”
“You have to drive me to the hospital.”
“What about an ambulance?”
“Just drive me, will ya?” He tries to get up, and I have to help him, which almost lands us on the ground again. And so we hobble to the car while he settles on a howling sound this time.
I seal him in the car and hurry to the driver’s side. Once I have us on the road, I blow out a deep breath. This is my life as a single gal. I’m definitely not putting this in the romance novel or the divorce guide. I’m not exactly the poster child for the perfect romance or dating experiences.
…
Fifteen minutes later, we walk into the ER of the hospital right by the courthouse and everyone knows everyone, including Darius.
“What happened?” a nurse asks.
“I went on a date with her,” he groans, scowling at me.
The nurse gives me a dubious look. “Oh good grief,” I say. “We collided and he fell down. He was holding my air conditioner at the time. I’m kinky like that. Guys holding air conditioners turn me on. I even gave him a cookie for the show he put on.”
“See?” Darius snaps. “She’s crazy.”
“Obviously our love affair is over.” I look at the nurse. “I’ll go get some air.”
I head for the door and don’t look back, but the minute I step out into the muggy night, I halt, as a big, brawny angry man charges toward me.
“What the hell happened?” Jason demands, stopping in front of me. “What the hell did you do to my man?” he demands, stepping up on me. Like right up on me.
“It was a freak accident. He was helping me put a new window unit in and—”
“I’m your damn landlord. You want a window unit, you talk to me.”
“I did. You blew me off and mocked me.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me to him. “I told you not to date my men.”
“Actually, you told me to do what I wanted and pretty much said you were through with me. And can you stop grabbing me?”
His jaw clenches, and he cuts his stare before looking at me again. “That’s what you think? That I told you I was done with you?”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“Whatever. This wasn’t because of a date. I told you. It was a freak accident. The kind that seems to follow me everywhere lately. I came through the door. He was holding the air conditioner and we collided. And how do you even know?”
“It’s a small town. Everyone knows everything.”
“And yet you thought I was your local TMZ? I’m just a city girl standing in front of a country cottage asking it to take her away.”
“Until you leave.”
“Right. When I leave, I’m going to write a tell-all about you. That story perhaps about a man who played ball and decided to be a rancher while wishing he was still playing ball. A man who secretly practices while he thinks no one is looking, but his grandmother knows.” And that was out before I could stop it, damn it. “I wouldn’t actually tell that story. That was just me talking to you. You know that, right?”
He studies me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s go inside.”
“That might be safer than me standing here speaking to you.”
“Yes,” he says. “Yes, it would.”
I nod and he releases me, which should please me, but the cold chill that washes over me in the hot night say it doesn’t. He not only lets go of me, he starts walking away. I stand there, watching him walk, not sure if I should follow. I just called the man on his fake life after trying to kill one of the men who works for him. Really? Should I even be here? That’s when Jason halts and turns my direction. “Coming?”
“I don’t know if I belong here.” And I’m not just talking about the hospital.
Jason fully rotates, closes the space between us, takes my hands and starts walking again.
I double-step to keep up with him, and he doesn’t let me go until we’re solidly inside the hospital again. He motions to the desk. I motion to the empty waiting room. He nods and we divide and conquer. I with the important task of saving him a seat in a room full of empty chairs. Him finding out what’s going on with Darius.
It’s a tough choice for me, but I choose a row of chairs facing the door Darius disappeared through that leads to the back. Jason speaks to the lady behind the counter, a young blonde who flirts with him, of course, because he’s the local hottie, the Flying J, the man they probably all want. Not me. I don’t want the man a million women want. I want a man who wants me and makes me forget a million women want him. This man, the one I got naked with like a fool asking for a broken heart, saunters back my direction and claims the chair next to me. “He won’t be long. They’re stitching him up, and apparently he has a broken rib he claims is from your elbow.”
I cringed. “I was on top of him.”
His brows shoot up. “Is that right?”
“Oh good grief,” I breathe out. “Stop saying is that right. You ask me that when you don’t believe me, and I don’t like it.”
“I never said I didn’t believe you.”
“I was on top of him because we fell, Jason.” I twist around to face him. “It wasn’t even a date.”
“Of course not.” He leans back in his seat and sits there, smelling good and being an asshole.
“I told you. He was doing me favor.”
He glances over at me. “Did you kiss him?”
“Is that some criteria to judge what is or is not a date?”
“Did you kiss him?”
“No. Apparently I only kiss men who hate me. No wonder I’m writing a divorce guide.” I sink back into my chair. “No wonder I’m so damn good at divorce.”
He looks over at me. “You mean your ex?”
I don’t look at him. “And you.”
“I don’t hate you, Jessica.”
“You hated me the minute I got into town in my high-heeled boots.” I glance over at him. “And what could you possibly know of my ex?”
> “Enough.”
“Obviously not, or you wouldn’t keep acting like I came here to destroy your world.” I cut my stare. “I came here because—you know why I came here.”
Seconds tick by before he says, “We’ve both been burned.”
I dare a look at him. “I guess that’s one thing we can agree on.”
“I think there’s a lot more than that that we agree on.”
“Do we?”
“Yes,” he says. “We do.”
“I’m just a city girl and you’re—”
“Someone who’s been unfair. I’m sorry. I told you that you could stay and heal.” He scrubs his jaw and presses his hands to his knees. “And I kept judging you by my past.” He draws a breath, exhales it in a puff, and then offers me his hand. “Truce. Friends.”
Friends.
Why does this word cut me open when “friends” is supposed to be a good thing? He looks at his hand and mine, a question in that look. I hesitate and then press my hand to his, the connection electric, heat radiating up my arm and across my chest. “Friends,” I whisper, but I’ve never had a friend that makes me feel what this man feels.
His eyes warm, a sizzle in their depths, and if this is what friendship feels like, I’m very confused. “Jason, you’re still holding my hand.”
“Yes. Yes I am.”
“Mr. Jenks?”
At the nurse’s voice, we break apart and stand. “You can come back if you’d like.”
I grab my purse, eager to see how Darius is doing, and Jason and I move forward. The nurse holds her hand up. “Just Jason. He doesn’t want to see you.”
I feel this like a punch. Jason turns to face me. “Let me just go talk to him and—”
“I need to go, Jason. We both know I do.”
I turn and hurry out of the hospital and to my car. Once I’m inside, I turn on the engine and start to drive. I want to go home, only I’m not sure where that is right now.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Jason…
I watch Jessica walk away, and I want to go after her, but Darius is hurt and he’s one of my men; he’s family. We’re his family because I happen to know that, like so many of the men on the ranch, I’m it for them; my grandmother and I are home and family. But damn if I’m not starting to think the same of Jessica. The minors gave me a taste of what it’s like to be in between things and unsteady, like she is right now, but I always knew I had this place to come back to. Jessica doesn’t have that place. Damn it to hell, I’ve been hard on her. Roarke’s right. She’s not Tessa.
“Jason?”
I snatch to attention and nod to Lily, the nurse, that I’ve known since grade school. “Take me to him.”
“He’ll be glad to see you,” she says, leading me down a hallway. “I called the minute he checked in. I knew you’d want to know.”
“And I do.”
“Who’s that woman who did this to him?”
“Jessica didn’t do this to him. It was a freak accident.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone throwing an air conditioner on a man. I thought about calling the police.”
I scowl at her. “It was a damn accident, Lily. Let it go. Jessica feels bad enough.” We stop at a door.
“If you say so,” she says.
“I do.” I open the door and enter the room to find Darius sitting on the table with his ribs bandaged up.
“I doubt this makes it into her romance novel,” he says. “And for the record, I’m officially a country girl kind of guy.”
For a man trying to draw a line of friendship with a woman, I’m way too relieved by this news.
I laugh and sit down. “Your ego is bruised. You’ll get over it.”
“Yeah, well, that might be true, but I’ll do it with some space between me and that woman.”
It’s two hours later when I walk him to my truck and drive him home. Once he’s inside and drugged up, I call my grandmother. “Darius is hurt. He could use some grandma time in the morning.”
“Oh my. What happened?”
“He tried to date Jessica. It didn’t go well.”
“What in the world?”
I tell her the story, and by the time I hang up, somehow I’ve driven to the damn cottage. I’m sitting outside while Jessica’s inside, but damn it, she was upset. She was upset when she came to the cottage anyway, and a blow on top of a blow is something I understand well. Me being here is about that friendship I promised her. She’ll leave and I won’t. I can’t. Diving into this training camp, poking old contacts in the baseball world for this training camp, stirred my itch for baseball, but Darius’s injury reminded me of why that can’t happen. I’d have to turn my back on this place and my family.
I exit my truck and start walking toward the cottage. She’s a city girl who won’t understand my decisions, and I won’t try to convince her. I’m not diving in deeper with Jessica. I’m not falling for this woman only to have me stay and her leave. I’m just checking on her.
I cross the lawn to find the offending air conditioner lying on the ground. It’s big. That thing had to have hurt like a bitch. I climb the stairs and my boots scrape the wooden surface. I reach to knock, and Jessica opens the door, her dark hair piled high on top of her head. She changed into black leggings, a tank top that clings to her naked breasts, and despite this, I hyper-focus on her pink painted toes. She’s a rose in the middle of a place that is all cactus and thorns, and yet she’s not a delicate flower.
“How is he?” she asks.
“His ego is bruised, but he’ll live. He’s home resting. Martha will go by and see him tomorrow.”
“Those cookies will cure anything, especially hand-delivered.” She cuts her stare and then looks at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Installing your air conditioners. It occurred to me that had I gotten you a pair before now, none of this would have happened.”
“That wouldn’t have served your purpose.”
“Which was what, Jessica?”
“Sending me back to Dallas.”
“I’m not trying to send you back now.”
“But you were?”
“Yes. I was.”
“What changed?”
“What didn’t change?”
She searches my face, looking for something she might just find if she tries hard enough, and I can’t let that happen. “You going to let me in?”
“It’s late, Jason.”
“The heat doesn’t go away at night this time of year.” I squat down and glance at the other unit still in the box on the porch. “Good choice.” I stand up and pull a knife from my pocket to open the box, pulling the unit out and tossing the box over the rail. “You going to let me in?” I ask, stepping to the door.
“Jason,” she breathes out. “I can’t keep doing this with you.”
She can’t keep doing this with me. I could read ten things into that. I’m not her ex, in a three-piece suit, driving a BMW, but I don’t think that’s where her head is at all. “Friend. Landlord. The man who’s going to cool you off tonight.”
“I doubt that, but fine, come in.” She backs into the cottage.
My lips twitch with that comment, and I follow her. “I’m going to take the old units out. They’re way past their day. The two new ones will have you freezing and wrapping in blankets, I promise.”
“What if the one we dropped is broken?”
“I’ll check it. If it’s broken, I’ll replace it for you and pay for both of the units.”
“I don’t need you to do that. I got my advance. The money might have to last me a long time if I don’t go back to the city, but now I have months to decide.”
If she doesn’t go back to the city. Those are the last words I expected to hear from her. My gaze lands on the bottle of wine, and h
er date comes back to me. I don’t like the punch to my gut that follows. My jaw sets hard. “I’ll pay for the units.”
Kelly meows at her feet, and Jessica picks her up. I go outside, grab the unit on the ground, and come back inside to test it. “It’s fine,” I murmur without looking at her. I stand up and get to work, eager to get out of here before I do something foolish, like forget the meaning, and restriction, that comes with “just friends,” though I didn’t technically use the word “just.”
I decide the unit in the bedroom needs to be over and done with. I walk in there and think of her, and her naked body, in the bed that I’ve slept in many a night. And her, standing in front of the window, grabbing that damn flashlight and threatening to kill me with it while wearing absolutely nothing. She was killing me, all right. Shaking off that thought that will get me in trouble, I get to work. I’ve just finished installing the unit, when I hear, “Jason.”
I rotate to find Jessica standing in the doorway, looking like the city girl I want to strip naked. Right now.
“What’s up?
“I feel kind of bad for suggesting this, but Darius brought dinner. Steaks. I put them in the warmer. They might be a bit dry now but—would you—have you—oh hell. Stay for dinner? Or at this point, a midnight snack. I don’t want to throw the food away, and I suck at eating alone.”
I should say no. I should be smart and leave before temptation takes control, but damn it, I’m not going to do it. I close the space between us and stop in front of her. “What’s wrong with being alone?”
“It’s very empty.”
She’s right. It is. “It’s better than spending time with the wrong person,” I say. “A lesson I learned the hard way.”
“Right.” She steps back. “I understand.”
I catch her arm. “What do you understand?”
“You don’t want to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Jason…
“I wasn’t talking about you,” I repeat.
She wets her lips nervously, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her show insecurity. It reminds me again that she’s human, while the city is not. While fucking Tessa was not. “I wasn’t talking about you,” I repeat, releasing her. “Let me finish up. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
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