“You’re not acting like family, and if you think ‘family’ means anyone can just make asshole, dictatorial decisions that affect everyone else, maybe you need to keep your distance from Walker.”
I realized I’d raised my voice only when the couple in the adjoining booth turned to look back at us.
Tavia’s head pulled back as if I’d slapped her. We glared at each other in silence.
Tavia broke eye contact first, wrapping her arms around herself. Her jaw jutted, her dimpled chin gained prominence, and I marveled not for the first time how much she was like our father. She was the spitting image of him, yes, but she shared his strength of will and stubbornness. I’d never been successful at connecting with either of them, not in a profound way. Would it always be like this? Would my sister, my twin, always be a stranger to me?
“Tavia—”
“I’m not wrong to want more than this,” she hissed, gesturing vaguely around the restaurant, and I knew she was referring to Knoxville, Green Valley, and beyond. Some extraordinary emotion took over face, briefly distorting her features as her shoulders fell inward.
Love and empathy for my difficult, headstrong sister filled my chest and stung the back of my eyes. Maybe we weren’t that different after all. I understood her in that moment, recognized myself and my own yearnings in her plaintive appeal. I wanted more too, I realized, albeit in a very different way. It seemed we were both trapped.
“Tavia—”
“I’m not you, Zora, and I don’t want to be. You want to fight the world so others can get a chance at a piece of it. Well, I know better, and I’m fighting for myself, for my own share, for more than my share if I can help it. For me. And no one’s getting in the way of that. Not even my brother.”
I examined her fierce expression, the gentle flare of her nostrils, the fierce grip of her fists on the table and gentled my voice. I loved my sister and admired her naked ambition, even if it was jagged-edged and bled everyone around her dry. How could you not appreciate the sheer will it took to pursue something with such a single-minded focus?
But I also loved my sweet, protective brother.
“I shouldn’t have led with my issues with Walker. I should have started by asking how you’re feeling.” I recognized the moment when she decided to stop, change course. She had the instincts of a cross-examining lawyer, and oh, that’s right, she also had an agenda for this lunch.
So much for connecting, for having a real moment. I suddenly wondered if the previous moment, the demonstration of her emotion had been real. Maybe I was just blind and easily manipulated. My shield rose back in place.
“Cut the bullshit. What do you want?”
She was silent for a beat, then, “Two things. Walker and I are going out of town for a conference at the same time the American Cancer Society is doing their gala in Knoxville. We need you to—”
“No. You know how much I hate those things.”
“Oh, come on. This isn’t torture. You get gussied up in a ball gown, press a little flesh, and present a big check.”
Press a little flesh. It would be as revolting and nerve-racking as it sounded.
“Get Dad to do it. He loves giving those long-ass speeches for a captive audience.”
“He’s coming with us. You’re the researcher. You work with cancer patients, Zora. Hell, maybe it won’t hurt to have people remember what you do for the community—”
“Tavia—”
“Zora. There’s no one else. For once, can you pretend to care about our family’s business?”
That was patently unfair, and she knew it.
“Also, I wanted to know how you felt about Nick being back,” she added smoothly, and I realized that was likely her real objective for inviting me, what she’d been circling around from the start. “I heard he was back in town.”
I studied her and her now empty, inscrutable expression. Was she asking as my sister? Or on behalf of Leffersbee Financial?
“Yes,” I said, trying to work the starch out of my voice. “He’s back. I don’t feel any way about it.” I’d never told her all that happened after Nick left; I’d only trusted Leigh with that truth. Tavia would scent blood in the water and pursue the issue mercilessly if I told her about my current entanglement with Nick.
She squinted at me. “Really? I would have thought you’d feel . . . I don’t know, something more. You were devastated after Mom found that letter from him.”
I wondered if Tavia and I would ever grow into a better relationship once we weren’t still so affected by the need to prove whatever the hell we felt a need to prove to ourselves and each other.
“What do you want?”
She leaned in, eyes bright as she went in for the kill. “Do you mind if I contact him, meet up with him? I’m trying to break into some of the same corporations he already has relationships with—”
Why hadn’t my mother’s uterus stopped at one fertilized egg?
Nick had just gotten into town, I was trying to find a way to manage my feelings while keeping a professional distance from him, and I didn’t want to get into why it didn’t feel okay to ask him for personal favors for my family.
“And if I say yes? Yes, I mind. Does that mean anything?”
Her mouth twisted. “Then I’d ask you to think big picture and not be selfish. This family, this business, our name, it belongs to you, too. You don’t care about the work we do at the bank, and you never have. The least you could do is not get in the way of our future growth and the work we’re doing to build on the legacy we all share.”
I sat back in the booth and slowed my breathing in an attempt to contain the rage buzzing through my skull. I thought of how I’d pretended interest in the bank and its inner workings as a kid, just so I could spend real time with my father. I thought of the times I’d wished I had the same closeness with my dad that Tavia and Walker cultivated by working so closely with him each day. How frustrated I’d always been by the fact that the bank, the business, had come to define our family in so many ways. Just as when I was a child, it was more clear than ever to me that I was outside that circle and I always would be.
Enough.
I stood up, fished in my purse for a twenty and threw it next to my plate. Tavia’s startled eyes rose to meet mine.
“Zora—”
“You’re right, Tavia. It’s time for me to look out for myself, to get my own piece of the world. Don’t ask me to do anything else for the bank after this gala. I’m officially resigning from the family business.”
Chapter Eight
Zora
“Look at this spread!” I mimed swooning as I took in the feast assembled on the blanketed bed of Jackson’s truck, eliciting a soft chuckle from him.
Cooper’s Field was surprisingly empty for a Friday evening and day was slowly yielding to night with a stunning display of pinks and purples along the horizon. It was blessedly quiet, with only a few tentative cricket chirps.
Sigh. I needed this.
Jackson’s lips curled with his trademark smirk. “You know I love it when you use the word ‘spread’ in any context.”
I couldn’t help my huff of laughter. “You’re so romantic. You always know just what to say.”
He waggled his brows. “I know.” He reached for my arm from the height of the truck, easily hauling me up and over.
“Are these flowers for me?” I smiled at the cellophane wrapped red roses lying next to the battery-powered lantern. “Awww. You really are romantic.”
I settled into the corner while he made his way to the paper bags nestled against the cab. “It’s my job to make sure you never forget that, cupcake. I can’t remember the last time I bought you flowers.”
“Hmm.” I pushed aside the plastic, burying my nose in the soft, fragrant blooms. “These are amazing. I will display them proudly. And publicly. Speaking of which . . .” I rummaged through my crossbody knapsack and retrieved a grease-spotted paper bag. It was still warm. “I brought your sugar. Dad
dy.”
Jackson turned with an unrepentant grin, and then he laughed. “Liked that, did you?” Jackson always laughed at his own jokes, and I found this hilarious about him. He didn’t care if anyone else thought he was funny, he thought he was funny, and that was good enough.
“No. You know I don’t.” I leveled him with a scowl. “Didn’t we talk about how creepy that is? Haven’t I threatened to disembowel you for talking like that?”
Jackson inched his way over to me on his knees, setting a Styrofoam container in front of me. “Ah, that’s just ’cause you haven’t been properly inspired. Under the right circumstances, you’d be shocked at what you might be willing to call me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that.”
He arched a blond brow. “And whose fault is that?”
I grinned, rolling my eyes, taking him in as he settled his broad shoulders against the cab and stretching his long legs in front of him. Jackson was definitely a looker. He’d come a long way since our high school days, when classmates called him “shrimp,” “metal mouth,” and “pizza face.” Those classmates were jerks, scum. Bottom dwellers. I’d always appreciated all versions of him.
Anyway, Jackson may not have peaked in high school, but he’d roared into his college years with a vengeance. I took in his flawless tan complexion, warm brown eyes, and close-cropped blond hair, thinking he still had a certain swagger even outside of his deputy uniform.
“Like what you see, right?” Jackson gave me a lecherous wink as he opened the Styrofoam container on his lap. “You could be riding this ride, sweetheart. You’re the only reason you’re not.” He kept his voice light, like it was all a joke, but I knew there was an undercurrent of truth in his words.
We’d been pretending, playacting, for a long while now. This agreement between us was mutually beneficial: his parents stopped harassing him about when he was going to settle down with a nice girl, and my parents stopped harassing me about working too much or having no time for a personal life.
The idea had been borrowed from my cousin, Dani Payton, and her multi-year engagement to Billy Winston. After their engagement was broken, it became abundantly clear that the relationship had been entirely for show, a ruse to make both appear more settled, dependable, and trustworthy in their chosen fields. It had also diverted attention away from their personal lives. It had worked.
And if it worked for them, then . . .
I sighed deeply, resting my head against the lip of the truck and stretching my legs out parallel to his. “I have no doubt it’s a thrilling ride.”
“Really? No doubt?”
“It’s just . . .” I felt myself frown. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“It’s never easy with you, Zora.” His gaze skated over me. “That’s your problem. You’d be a lot happier in life if you learned how to just take what you want without questioning everything.” He shook his head when I opened my mouth to object. “Eat your food before it gets cold.”
I popped the top, discovering beautifully braised lamb chops bathing in their own juices. Stalks of asparagus and a pillowy biscuit resided alongside.
“Thank you so much, Jackson,” I said, strangely feeling a tickle in the back of my throat. “For getting dinner, for making time for me on your rare Friday night off—”
“You brought the fried chicken last time, and I know how you hate fried chicken. This wasn’t a hardship.”
“That’s not the point.” I sniffed. “I just appreciate this, and you.”
“Hell, we’re almost married, according to half the town,” he said around a mouthful of steak. “You deserve something, don’t you? Well, if you won’t let me buy you a ring, have some meat.”
Our gazes met and we both collapsed into laughter.
“You’re perfect for me, Zora.” Jackson’s soft smile made me want to hug him. He loosely braceleted my ankle with his thumb and forefinger and gave my leg a gentle shake. “You’re the only woman I know who would get teary over lamb chops while barely looking at roses.”
“I loved the roses,” I protested. “And it’s the thought I care about, the effort you put into doing this when we’re both already tired. But you know how I feel about lamb chops. They’re meat lollipops.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed as I slid the first one in my mouth. “Right. Meat lollipops. This is definitely one of those moments when I wonder why we haven’t had a bedroom rodeo yet.”
“Because you keep calling yourself ‘Daddy,’” I teased.
“He saw the text, though, didn’t he?” He looked insufferably smug as he forked up green beans.
Yesterday, I’d filled Jackson in about Nick being back in town as well as an overview of our first encounter. I knew that Jackson would hear the news of Nick’s return from someone, and I didn’t want him worrying that “Mr. Rossi’s” sudden reappearance would jeopardize Jackson’s agreement with me. But I hadn’t told Jackson about today’s morning meeting yet.
Looking up at my continued silence, Jackson pushed, “He saw it, didn’t he?”
“How did you know that?”
“Because I know you. You told me what time you were meeting. And you don’t have it in you to ignore text messages and phone calls. You always look as soon as they come in.”
I considered this as I chewed. I hadn’t realized that about myself. Surely, that can’t be true, can it?
“It’s true,” he said, as though reading my mind. “I figured he’d still be with you by the time I finished the call I was on. Figured he’d likely be stretching things out. I knew you’d pull out the phone. And if it were me, reappearing after all those years, I’d make it my business to find out who was texting or calling my long-lost love.”
I speared a stalk of asparagus. “He saw it. I dropped my phone—”
Jackson’s rich laughter rolled through the deepening shadows. “Of course you did, Zora.”
“Shut up.” I couldn’t help cracking up at my own usual awkwardness. “I dropped it, okay, and he read it—”
“What did he say?”
“You are enjoying this way too much.”
“I’m sorry.” He made a half-hearted attempt to wipe the smile from his face with a large hand. “What did good ol’ Nick have to say when he saw you were on your way home to Daddy?”
I hurled a crumpled napkin at him. “You don’t want to know.”
Jackson’s fork paused midway to his mouth. “Actually, I do.”
“Please don’t make me.”
“Zora.”
I took my time chewing another stalk of asparagus. “He mentioned something about . . . your height in high school.”
An unholy light flared in Jackson’s eyes. “I blame you,” he said deliberately, pointing his fork in my direction.
“Why is this my fault?”
“First you tell all those people I don’t make you come—”
“Jackson.” I laughed helplessly. “I told you that’s not what happened. The computer came on all by itself!”
He shook his head. “So the computer can come on all by itself, but you can’t?”
Now I was laughing so hard I had to set my food to the side. God, what a crazy few days.
“They heard an early draft of an educational video. We were role playing. Literally no one thinks that video had anything to do with me in real life. It was scripted.”
He shook his head. “Everyone in that room, from now on, is going to look at you and think, ‘No wonder that poor girl is so uptight. It’s because Jackson James isn’t getting the job done.’”
“I am not uptight.”
He scoffed, sawing off another piece of meat. “Please. You’re far too self-aware to be pretending you don’t know that about yourself.”
“So this is about your pride? It’s important to you that three strangers at the university think you’re a bad lover?”
“Yes. I take that seriously. I don’t leave a job unfinished. Ever.” He watched me beneath lowered lids. “I�
��ll prove it right now. Take off your pants.”
I ignored him. “No, your timing was perfect. He saw it. And his face got all—”
“Jealous,” Jackson supplied.
“Yes,” I crowed, relishing the memory of Nick’s tight expression.
He studied me. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Your face is all scrunched up, like you’re confused about something.”
“I guess . . .” I thought about it. “He dumped me. He left me. And I still don’t know where he went for so many years or what happened.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, I know I had unrealistic expectations. I had this stupid fantasy that we’d see each other again one day and it would just, I don’t know, work out. I was stupid, naive. Childish.” I couldn’t look Jackson in the eye. “I’m explaining badly. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I wouldn’t? Are we living in some revisionist version of history in which Ashley Winston did not return after eight years of being gone and immediately take up with Drew Runous?”
I winced. “Yeah, that’s right. And you still see her all the time around town. You do understand.”
He lifted a shoulder before going after more green beans. “Eh. She never made me any promises—not like y’all—and I’m happy for her. I really am. Not how I might’ve imagined things turning out all these years later, even with me being an idiot at times, but . . . what can you do? Can’t fight fate.”
I watched him, taking in the drawn lines around his eyes and mouth, lines that even the deepening shadows of dusk didn’t hide. “You all right, Jackson? You have a hard day? A bad call?”
His sigh originated from the pit of his belly. “Just a crap day. People can’t take a speeding ticket with good grace.”
I fought back a smile. “You still lighting up anything that moves a single mile over the speed limit?”
He threw me a mock glare. “Rules are rules for a reason, cupcake. Everyone would do well to remember that. You start letting people do whatever they want, pretty soon there’s a car wrapped around a tree.”
Been There Done That Page 10