by Boone Brux
I’m sorry, did I say stretching in the sunshine was bliss? No, this was bliss. The way he claimed me. The way he made me feel completely wanted. It had been a long time since that had happened.
It didn’t take long for Jax to get me where I needed to be, his own release quickly following. I could get used to waking up in his arms, making love, knowing that he’d be in my bed at night. Call me old fashioned, but I wanted a happily-ever-after.
When we’d finally recovered from our love match, we hopped in the shower and spent another twenty minutes making sure every inch of skin got washed. There’s something to be said about the way cats clean with their tongues.
Finally, I wrestled my very happy body into a pair of cargo capris and a Big Rays Rib Shack T-shirt. I went to the kitchen to make us a hearty breakfast of sausage, eggs and biscuits. In case Jax got the hankering for a little afternoon delight, I wanted to make sure he kept his energy up.
Needless to say, he cleaned his plate, popping the last bite of biscuit into his mouth as he headed out the door.
“See ya tonight?” I called as he jogged down the stairs.
He stopped and looked up at me. “Sooner, if I’m lucky.” With a wink, he took the last set of steps two at a time and headed out the door.
A sigh slipped from me. I couldn’t help it. Jax brought out all sorts of girly emotions. I could manhandle a resistant spirit into the afterlife with no problem at all, but with just a wink and a smile, Jax turned me into a pile of pudding. It was kind of disgusting, but I loved it.
Though my weekend had started off with a bang, it was still the weekend, which meant domestic chores. First on the list, laundry. The mountain of wash had been stacking up for two weeks. If I didn’t tackle it today, I’d have to start washing my undies in the sink. First off, gross. Secondly, gross.
After shoving the first load into the washing machine, I added soap and pressed start. Nothing happened. I pushed it again, but still nothing. So, I punched the button three more times because obviously the first two times hadn’t been enough. No light. No happy song signaling the joy of doing laundry. Nothing.
Leaning around the machine, I strained to check the cord. It was still plugged in. Well crap, like a lot of things in my life, I’d ignored the tired chug and odd rattle of Mags. That’s what I’d named my washing machine.
I’d inherited it from my Aunt Sugar, who had received it as a wedding gift when she married my Uncle Jessup. Mags had loyally churned out load after load for a couple of decades, and I just didn’t have the heart to resuscitate her.
Giving the machine a gentle pat, I whispered, “Don’t worry, Mags, I’ll never be able to replace you.”
Actually, I would. I’d been eyeing a nice front loader at Deacon’s Hardware, but never seriously considered buying it. Even admiring the gleaming red machine had felt like two-timing on Mags. But now that she’d passed on, she’d want me to be happy. And if happiness meant a 4.5 cu. ft. front loading machine with steam technology, then by God, I’d buy it—for Mags’s sake.
That didn’t solve my immediate problem of no undies and a mountain of dirty clothes. It looked like my Saturday would be spent in the sultry confines of the local Suds-n-Duds Laundromat. It was just a block down the street, but it would be a bitch lugging all my dirty laundry to it.
Quarters, I needed lots of them. The only good thing about using the laundromat was that I’d be able to do my wash all at once.
I glanced at the clock. Eight-forty-five. It was still early, which meant if I hurried, I might be able to commandeer the big washing machine. Mrs. Peebles usually bogarted the machine to wash her bedspread. My question was, what did the woman do that warranted washing the thing every week? And did I really want to know?”
After dumping my laundry into a giant lawn bag, I shoved the jug of detergent and a box of dryer sheets into my canvas tote and grabbed my wallet. With grunting steps, I dragged the load to the door.
I stopped at the top of the steps and eyed them. In this case the path of least resistance would be best. Giving the lawn bag a solid push, I nudged the mass over the threshold and crossed my fingers, praying the bag wouldn’t split and spew my clothes all over the place.
The black plastic blob eased down the first three steps, picking up speed around step six, hitting hauling-ass velocity at step eight, and then slammed into the closed door at the bottom. Hallelujah! It held.
I jogged down the steps and shoved the bag into the corner of the landing. First, I needed quarters. No sense in lugging the thing to the store with me. Doubting anybody would steal my dirty clothes, I left the building unlocked and headed to the store.
Being that this was Shifter territory, our town wasn’t very welcoming to humans. We tell ourselves that it’s for their own good. That gives everybody an excuse to not roll out the southern hospitality.
Take the grocery store for example. If a tourist passing through town stopped for supplies, all they’d find at the front of the store would be dusty canned goods, rock hard loaves of bread, and some not-so-fresh fruit. People don’t tend to linger when there’s nothing edible to buy.
But locals know to ignore the Employees Only sign and go through the back door. That’s where all the action happens.
I pushed through the flaps of thick plastic hanging across the entrance and strolled to the counter. “Morning, Lurleen.”
“Poppy. You’re up early.” As usual, the store sentinel perched on her stool with a cup of coffee steaming next to her. “Was that Jaxson I saw leaving your place this morning?”
Did I mention that secrets were impossible to keep around here? It was a miracle that nobody besides Jax knew I was a grim reaper.
“It was.”
No use in lying. I knew she knew, and she knew I knew she knew. Plus, she’d probably called three or four people already this morning, so chances were good that most of Assjacket knew that he’d spent the night at my place again.
“Looks like things are getting serious between you two.”
Though she hadn’t posed it at as a question, it totally was. “Things are going really well, thanks for asking.”
She lifted the coffee to her lips and peered over the rim at me. “I heard there might be wedding bells in the future.” Tipping the cup, she took a long noisy slurp, and then swallowed. “Heard his daddy wasn’t too happy about it.”
“You heard that, did ya?” Around here gossip traveled like a dry brush fire, especially when it involved the Jacksons, but the rate at which it traveled still surprised me. “Interesting.”
“So?”
I laid a twenty on the counter. “Can I get two rolls of quarters, please?”
“Yep,” she said, hitting a button on the register. The drawer clanged open, and she extracted two rolls, depositing my twenty inside. “Mia Henry’s mom came in this morning. Said her daughter was at the house last night. Saw the whole thing.”
Of course. I’d forgotten about Mia. I scooped up the quarters. “Let me set the record straight. There are no wedding bells in our future. He hasn’t asked me to marry him. Nor have we even talked about it.”
“But the part about his daddy not being happy was true, right?” She sipped again, her attention fixed squarely on my face. No doubt looking for any hint of me lying.
“That’s not really a surprise, right?” I said, stating the obvious. “Our families haven’t been on good terms for decades, and I’m not a Shifter. The fact that his dad isn’t happy with us dating isn’t really gossip, is it?”
Disappointment crossed her face. “I guess not.”
“Okay then.” I held up the quarters. “I gotta get going. My washing machine died so I’m headed to the laundromat.”
“Better hurry before Mrs. Peebles gets there. I heard she spring cleaning. Bedspreads, curtains, blankets, the whole kit and kaboodle.” Lurleen shook her head. “That woman has a real problem. Seems all she does is clean since her husband up and had his heart attack.”
“You know what
they say. Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
“If that’s true, then she’s giving Jesus a run for his money.” She took a swig of her coffee, downing half the contents. “She’s the best argument for finding a husband I can think of.”
“Maybe you should help her with that.” It was evil, I know, but diverting Lurleen’s attention to a more worthy endeavor meant she might stop prying into my life. Plus, the Widow Peebles would no doubt find love. “I bet you know all the eligible bachelors around the county.”
“I do.” She set down the cup and reached for her phone, sliding it toward her. A serene smile curled her lips. “Well, I won’t keep you, dear. I know you want to get started on your washing.”
I’d bet she couldn’t wait to speed dial whoever was at the top of her gossip phone-tree. Mission accomplished. Sorry Mrs. Peebles, but all was fair in love and war.
“Alrighty, then.” I shoved the rolls of quarters into my pocket. “Have a great day. Don’t work too hard.”
Lurleen gave me an absent wave, her attention already fixed on her new quest. Feeling pretty proud of myself, I strode through the front of the store and stepped onto the sunny sidewalk. Unfortunately, my self-satisfaction was short-lived.
“Poppy!”
I spun toward the person shouting my name and groaned. My Aunt Sugar waddled toward me with my cousin Honey and Aunt Charlotte bustling behind her. Farther back strolled my cousin Amy. From the shitty grin on her face, she was already loving whatever was about to happen. “Hey, guys.”
The smell of gardenias arrived several feet before Aunt Sugar did. She claimed it was her signature scent and that people would remember her even after she’d left. No argument there. The cloying scent saturated everything she came in contact with. Before I could dodge her, she pulled me into a hug. Well, crap, I’d have to shower again.
“Oh, Poppy.” She clutched me to her. Her stiff hair brushed against my cheek. “We heard about last night.”
“Really?” I gently eased away from her and stepped out of arms reach in case she got the urge to hug me again. “What about last night?”
“About the fight between Jaxon and his father,” she said.
“Yes,” my Aunt Charlotte chimed in. “That he threw a punch at Frank to defend your honor.”
“And that Jax said he was going to marry you whether his family liked it or not.” A wistful sigh flowed from my cousin Honey. “It’s so romantic.”
“Wow, okay.” I held up a hand. “First off, Jax would never hit his father. He’s a law officer, remember? It goes against everything he stands for. Secondly, he never asked me to marry him. So, please stop spreading that rumor.”
“He never mentioned anything about your relationship to his parents?” Amy asked. I glared at her, knowing she was trying to stir up trouble. “What?” A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’m just trying to get to the truth.”
“Yes, Amaryllis Jean.” She hated that name. Using it was tempting death, but she totally deserved it. “We did talk about our relationship. No, his father was not thrilled that we were dating, but there were no punches thrown.”
Charlotte glanced around, checking for eavesdroppers, and then dropped her voice to a loud whisper. “I heard Jax’s mother threatened to divorce Frank if he didn’t accept you into the family.”
“Come on, Aunt Charlotte, does that even make sense?”
“Well...” She fumbled with the giant plastic beads at her neck. “It’s what I heard.”
“Y’all need to stop gossiping.”
“But you and Jax are still dating, right?” Honey asked.
“Yes but—”
“Has he told you he loved you yet?” she said, cutting off the rest of my answer.
“Yes, but only once. It’s not like we’re tossing I love you all over the place.”
“But he said it.” Aunt Sugar gripped Aunt Charlottes arm. “We need to start planning.”
“Yes.” Charlotte spread her fingers in jazz hands and swiped wide arcs in the air. “I’m thinking summer peach and blush for the colors.”
“With a hint of watermelon pink to make the whole thing pop,” added Sugar.
“Wait.” I waved my hands at them, but my aunts ignored me, already too deep in planning my dream wedding.
“We could do Mason jar center pieces with fairy lights,” Honey said.
“And butterflies,” Amy added.
“Oh yes, lots of butterflies,” Charlotte said, clapping her hands.
“And maybe a gazebo draped in gauze and flowers,” Amy prodded, working my aunts into a wedding frenzy.
“Shut up, Amy.” I scowled at her.
“What?” She gave me a look of mock innocence. She was loving this way too much. “I’m just excited about you and Jax, that’s all.”
“Listen.” I grabbed Sugar by the shoulders. “We’re not getting married. There’s no wedding to plan.” From the glazed expression and wide grin on my aunt’s face, I could see she wasn’t listening. I raised my voice to nearly a shout. “There is no wedding.”
“Not yet maybe.” Sugar gave Charlotte a conspiratorial nod. “Maybe one day... soon. If you play your cards right.”
“I’m playing my cards just fine, thank you very much. Besides, I don’t need a husband to have a fulfilling life.”
My two aunts and cousin Honey burst into laughter. I sighed, my gaze drifting to Amy. She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head. “You’re the one who wanted to date Jaxon.”
“Would you please do something? This is getting out of hand.”
“Oh, you think this is getting out of hand?” Her gaze drifted to somewhere just beyond my shoulder. “Just wait.”
I didn’t want to look, knowing I wasn’t going to like whatever was headed toward me. I turned, anyway. “Well, crap.”
Burl and Bonnie Dolbinrod, my grandparents, were on a collision course with me. “Poppy Mae,” my grandpa barked. “I want a word with you.”
I plastered on a serene smile and folded my hands in front of me like an obedient granddaughter. “Isn’t this my lucky day? All my family in one place, coming to see me. What a surprise.”
“Is a true?” my grandpa asked.
I played dumb. “Is what true?”
“That you’re marrying into the Jackson family.” My grandmother’s question came out with a squeak. “And that Jax and his father got into fisticuffs over you?”
“No! That is not true,” I said.
“Don’t try to protect those people, Poppy.” My grandpa grabbed my cheeks, holding my face between his hands. “If Frank Jackson has done anything to besmirch your reputation, then it’s the Dolbinrod’s duty to defend your honor.”
Oh my God. How had things gotten so out of hand? I shook my head, nearly knocking my messy bun loose from its hold. “No grandpa, there was no besmirching of reputations. I had a very nice dinner at the Jackson’s. That’s all.”
At that point, I figured it was better to lie than to arm my grandfather with anything he could twist into a reason to escalate problems with the Jacksons.
“That’s not what we heard,” grandma said.
“Obviously.” I needed to put an end to this. “But you heard wrong, so you can set your minds at ease.” Backing up, I started my slow retreat. They followed, speaking all at once.
Movement across the street caught my eye. Jax strolled out of his office, his intent to join us clear. Luckily, my family was in deep conversation about the state of my relationship and didn’t notice him. I caught Jax’s eye and gestured for him to stop. His steps faltered and slowed. I shook my head. His trek reversed its course, backing toward his office again. Smart man. If my family got ahold of him while in their frenzied state, Jax would never get free.
I stopped next to my apartment door, pondering my next step. Clearly, my family didn’t have any intention of leaving, and I still needed to get to the laundromat before Mrs. Peebles claimed the big washer. Deciding to make the best of a bad situation, I opened
the door and handed the tote bag to my Aunt Sugar.
“Can you guys help me with this?” I rolled the lawn bag out the door.
“Good gracious, Poppy, what’s in that bag?” my grandma asked.
“My laundry.” I pulled the door shut. “My washer broke so I’m taking it to the laundromat.”
“You’d better hurry up before Harriet Peebles gets there.” Charlotte shook her head. “I heard she’s spring cleaning.”
Sugar hoisted my bag over her shoulder. “I heard that too.”
“Here, give me that.” Though my grandfather stood several inches shorter than me and was about half my weight, he hefted my laundry onto his shoulders with ease.
“Be careful, grandpa. It’s heavy.”
He made a dismissive grunting noise and headed down the sidewalk. My aunts, grandma, and cousin Honey followed at a speed walker’s pace behind him. I hung back to walk with Amy. If I was lucky, they’d have my laundry sorted by the time I got there.
We walked in silence for a couple of yards before Amy asked, “So, was it really a pleasant event at the Jackson’s last night?”
I cocked an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
She gave a disgusted snort. “I figured.”
“The food hadn’t even been served before Frank started in on Jax.” I trusted Amy with almost all of my secrets—almost. We’d been best friends forever because unlike my other female relatives, she didn’t gossip and had the same sick sense of humor as me. “It pretty much went downhill from there.” I shrugged. “The only one who was nice to me was Jax’s mom, Donna.”
“Well then, you’re in,” Amy said.
“Hardly, the rest of the family would rather I disappear forever.” I laughed. “At one point I actually thought Martin was going to try to bribe me to stop seeing Jax.”
All traces of humor evaporated from Amy’s expression. “Did he?”
“No, but he did show me his big cannon.”
She stopped and yanked me to a halt. “He showed you his what?”
“His cannon.”
“And by cannon you mean his...”