Been There Done That

by Smartypants Romance

  I nodded obediently. “That’s right, I think I remember this lesson from Sesame Street. ‘Rules are meant to protect us.’ I like your hardcore repackaging of it.”

  He glared.

  “What else?” I pressed. “What else happened today?”

  He set his food down beside him, cupping his forehead with one hand. I unconsciously did the same, alarmed. Jackson was an enthusiastic eater, to say the least. It wasn’t uncommon for him to eat two entrees in a single sitting, packing it all in with a single-minded focus.

  Jackson, not eating? This was serious.

  “Call came in from the Piggly Wiggly early this afternoon. Baby crying in the car, mother asleep in the locked car. A shopper came across them and wanted a welfare check after they couldn’t wake the mother. Wanted us to check it out.” He spoke mechanically, as if reciting a report, but his eyes were fixed intently on some distant spot as he relived the scene. “Knocked on the window, couldn’t wake the mother either. I broke the window and got inside the car. The mother was high, overdosed from the baggie in the footwell below. I radioed for an ambulance and administered a dose of Narcan while waiting for it to come.” He shook his head. “But that baby . . . God knows how long they’d been sitting there in that hot car. Baby’s sitting in a full diaper, screaming her head off. No bottle or formula in the car. No diaper bag with supplies or a change of clothes.” He ran a quick hand through his hair. “Some women went in the grocery store and got a bottle of formula together. I fed the baby, talked to her, all while they came and strapped the mother to a gurney, took her away. Social Services came . . .” His eyes flicked to mine, then away. “They took the baby.”

  “Oh, Jackson. What happened to that baby?”

  He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Haven’t heard.”

  “Did the Narcan help? Did the mother come around?”

  He traced his creased forehead. “Yeah, she did. But who knows if someone will find her in time the next time? I guess I can be glad the baby won’t be with her next time, hopefully.”

  We sat in painful silence. Green Valley certainly hadn’t been immune from the growing, deeply entrenched opioid epidemic. The reality was that there likely would be a next time for that woman unless someone intervened.

  “Jackson.” I scrambled up, crawling until we were hip to hip. I threw my arms around him and he readily returned the embrace. “I’m so sorry,” I said into his hair. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I’m sorry. For everybody involved. And especially the child.”

  He relaxed into my embrace, and his arms tightened around me. We stayed that way for the next few minutes, together. Night came alive around us; crickets, cicadas, and katydids all contributed to a nocturnal symphony. It was nice, giving someone comfort, being there and being needed by someone else.

  Even though the romance between us was fake, the care for each other was real.

  Jackson pulled back enough to look at me, his arms still securely clasped about me. “Why didn’t we work, Zora? You never really gave us a chance, you know. Not really.”

  I let his arm take on the weight of my head as I took in his handsome, familiar face. It was a fair question. About a month into our arrangement, Jackson had made it clear that anytime I wanted to make things real, he’d be willing to give it a shot. So, what was wrong with me? Here was a handsome man, a man of integrity, compassion. Why couldn’t I just reach out and take advantage of all that he offered?

  But even as I considered it, even as my gaze moved admiringly over the short blond beard, the line of his jaw, my mind returned to the man I’d sparred with earlier that day. Nick.

  Dark where Jackson was all light, complicated and secretive where Jackson was guileless. And even before Nick had reappeared, Jackson and I didn’t quite fit. The misalignment, as minor as it might have been to some, would have proved our undoing.

  I told him a truth, one of several. “We don’t want the same things.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “You know what I mean, Jackson. You’re still in your post-high school reject, metamorphosis phase. You’re still enjoying your fancy new butterfly wings.”

  He had the good grace to look sheepish. “You mean all the women.”

  I traced the bridge of his nose, shaking with laughter. “Yes, Deputy. All the women.”

  “Awww, Zora. I would try for you, though. I can do better.”

  I shook my head. “That’s just it. I don’t want you to do anything differently. I want you to have as much time as you need to find yourself.”

  “So what do you want?”

  “I don’t want someone who needs to change in order for us to fit. I want someone who is already right, just as they are, and thinks I’m right, just as I am.”

  “You want the fairy tale.” He turned his gaze to the sky. Orion and other neighboring constellations were faintly visible in the approaching darkness. “Happily ever after.”

  I shrugged. “Something like that, I think. One day, when I have time. And I don’t want one of your conquests to brain me with a can of peas in the middle of the Piggly Wiggly and post the footage online.”

  He bit back laughter. “I’m always up-front with ladies. Although, I prefer it from the back . . .”

  “Uh-huh,” I laughed. “You still sticking to Nashville for your pickups?”

  “Yeah. I may have, uh, over-hunted a bit here in Knoxville. I need things to die down a bit. Especially given our relationship.”

  “I’m surprised it’s lasted all this time. We’ve done pretty good so far, fooling everyone. You think maybe it’s time to give up the charade?”

  His arms fell from around me. “Are you asking now because of Nick?”

  “No. Not at all. But I don’t want our little farce to get in the way of you finding true love. It works for me because I don’t have my family breathing down my neck—”

  “Same here. My dad is so happy that I’ve settled down, and with a catch like you. He loves you, Zora. And yesterday I overheard my mom on the phone telling one of her friends she hoped we had a fall wedding. Something about a rust-colored mother-in-law dress she found. She’s been telling everyone how smart her future daughter-in-law is.”

  I was torn between amusement and distress. “Oh no. This isn’t good.”

  “Jess told me she was proud of me, and glad that I pulled someone with both brains and boobs. She says I haven’t had the most discriminating taste.”

  I shook my head. I loved his sister, and her candor. “That’s not really fair to the women you’ve dated. I’m sure they all had a good supply of both.”

  “I told her I liked your boobs well enough. Don’t get me wrong, they’re amazing from where I’m sitting.” Unabashedly, he craned his neck to get an eyeful of my chest in the light knit sweater I wore. “But I’m more of an ass man. Luckily for me, you’ve got both. You know, you’re like that old lady, Sophia something? The one that’s still sexy at seventy-something? My mom is always going on about her.”

  I closed my eyes. “There’re about five things wrong with what you just said, Jackson.”

  He grinned. “That’s what’s so great about us. We’re exactly ourselves. You think you could go on a date and eat a lamb chop the way you just did if I was any other man?”

  I reared back. “What are you suggesting? That I should daintily pick at a salad—”

  “Nope. I’m saying that when you’re yourself, when you’re not uptight—”

  “That’s the second time you’ve called me uptight—”

  “Pay attention,” he said with great patience, and I shut up because I could see he was serious. Serious Jackson often had great insights.

  “You’re sexy as hell. And you don’t even know it. Now, I’m not one of those folks who find that attractive, like ‘she doesn’t even realize what she has, it’s part of her charm.’ Screw that. I wanna see you embrace that shit. Be confident. You had me turned on over here just from eating th
at lamb chop.”

  “That’s because you’re a horndog, Jackson. It wouldn’t take that much to turn you on.”

  “There’s some truth to that, okay. But that’s not all of it. You were sliding the bone back and forth between your lips.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” I said, and pushed off of him. “I’m going back to my side now.”

  “Listen to me. You’re more than your brain. You’re working with great material here.”

  I rested a hand against my not-quite-flat stomach. “No, I—”

  “Nope.” He held up a hand. “Don’t wanna hear it. I wanna see you getting ready for our battle of wills with Nick.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. We’re not making anything easy for him. And you’re not going to play noble and pretend-dump me from our pretend-relationship while he’s circling. I need to get my eyes on him, get a feel for him. What time is your flight to New York tomorrow?”

  “Takes off at four p.m. But listen, Nick and I, we’re not going to spend any significant time together, let alone battle. I’m there to do a job, then I’m done with seeing him ever again.” At least, I hoped so.

  “You’re smarter than that, doc. Listen. I’m a man. I hunt. Nick didn’t come all this way for a stroll down memory lane. He’s after something. And I’d guess you’re the trophy buck.”

  “That’s a sick analogy. Should I be flattered if I catch an arrow in the heart?”

  He studied his hands in the glow of the lantern. “We can’t know who he is now, after all this time. And I’m not letting him anywhere near you when I don’t know his intentions. So, as far as you or anyone else is concerned right now, we’re together. Until we sort things out or he’s gone. Got it?”

  Warmth filled my chest. “I love you, Jackson James. You’re a good friend.”

  He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his gaze warm on my face. “I love you, too, Zora. And I know we’re just friends. Fact is, even though I loved watching you crawl over here and I can’t wait to watch you crawl back, and as good as I think we could be, I would never want to lose your friendship.” He nodded to the minimal distance between us. “What we have right here, means a lot to me. There aren’t many people I could just unload with like I can with you, you know?”

  I relaxed into his side. “I do know that. And you know I’m always here for you.”

  “I do. And one more thing.”

  “What?”

  He took his time answering, studying the sky. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about that baby, and Nick—his history, momma, and childhood. But it’s not the same. Not everything can be fixed or saved. Sometimes, when you try to help a hurt bear out of a trap, he doesn’t thank you. He bites.”

  Chapter Nine

  Zora

  “Tell me everything. And I mean everything.” Leigh’s voice blared through the speakerphone, filling the tomb-like silence of the hotel room. I held my phone chin-level as I peered over the balcony railing, staggered by the astonishing view of midtown Manhattan. From my fourteenth-floor perch, Central Park stretched below me as an endless green canopy. Angry traffic noises drifted up to the open window. It was stunning, and what had to be the best view in the entire world. I’d rolled my eyes when Leigh dropped me off at the airport that Monday morning with strict orders to call her as soon as I arrived. “Yes, Mother,” I’d singsonged. But now I was strangely happy to hear her demanding voice.

  Considering the task ahead, I was also less confident.

  “Tell me again why you turned down a trip in a private plane?”

  I sank into the plush upholstery of the nearby armchair. “Flying in Nick’s private plane increased the likelihood of a private conversation.”

  She was silent for a beat, then ventured, “So, you’re afraid of being alone with him?”

  My fingertips blindly traced the embroidery of the chair’s upholstered arm. “I don’t trust myself. It’s different. He’s different. But he’s also still very familiar. My reasoning and my feelings aren’t talking to each other. So I can’t decide if I want to run or—”

  “Fuck his brains out?”

  “Leigh!”

  “Sorry, sorry. I’m projecting. He’s evil, but he’s sexy as hell. Listen, don’t be nervous. You’re there to do a job, and you’re fantastic at what you do. If you focus on that part, maybe the rest of the hard stuff will fade into the background.”

  “That’s . . . actually decent advice.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. And if you’d read any of the books I’ve passed along, you’d have an idea of what to expect.”

  “I don’t have time for bodice rippers.”

  “Romance novels are a guide to life. I’ve read enough of the ‘millionaire boyfriend resurfaces’ trope to know what’s next.”

  “Enlighten me, then.”

  It was impossible to miss the undercurrent of excitement in her voice. “First of all, expect this guy to be four steps ahead of you at all times. It’s precisely that kind of cunning that made them millionaires in the first place.”

  “Oh, of course.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Next, he’s going to lean hard on the nostalgia, really go out of his way to remind you of the past. Try to convince you he’s still the same ‘aw shucks’ small-town boy he always was. Then . . .” Her voice lowered. “He’ll figure out the one thing you really need. And whatever that thing is, he’ll throw everything he has at it. You will be so overcome with gratitude, you’ll get over your reservations, let him tap it, and settle down in suburbia with a shitload of trust fund babies.”

  I followed the progress of a woman walking along the sidewalk, pushing a stroller. “If that’s the typical plotline in your books, we need to discuss your taste in literature.”

  “Friend, my experience with love has been the exact opposite of a fairy tale. Even though I’ve been dragged through the mud, stomped on, spat on, and disfigured by love, I still believe in it for others. I still think the men I read about in these novels are the standard by which all mortal men should be judged in real life. It’s why I keep insisting that you get Jackson’s best.”

  Nope, I wasn’t touching that.

  “Besides, I spend my days telling kids what they should expect during the course of their cancer treatment. I’m not exactly in the mood to read NPR’s retelling of the world’s horrors when I get home. You of all people would benefit from a good sexy book. A little wish fulfillment, a reminder that happy endings exist, would do you a world of good. Especially since Jackson never seems to be where you are.”

  “Next subject.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “The . . . St. Regis?”

  “Are you serious?” Her question was breathless.

  “Yep. In the Tiffany suite. It’s all done up in Tiffany blue. And get this. I have butler service.”

  “Shut up!”

  “I’m serious. I don’t usually drink coffee or tea, but I let him set up the tea service just because.”

  “Is there a bidet?” Her voice dropped an octave. “Have you raided the room for everything you can steal? I mean, bring home as rightfully yours?”

  I laughed. “I haven’t had a chance, I just barely got in the room.”

  “Okay, tell me everything. I want to know all the details. What amenities do you have?”

  “I’m here to work—”

  “The amenities!”

  We switched to FaceTime so I could take her on a tour of the decadent suite. I showed off the highly-glossed surfaces of the bathroom, the shower large enough to comfortably fit an elephant, and the sleek sitting room furniture.

  “Get this,” I said, loping over to pick up the small red box on a credenza. “The room came with a ‘romance kit.’”

  On-screen, her mouth fell open. “Shut up! What’s in it?”

  I read off the contents of the box. “Let’s see . . . condoms, lube, towelettes, massage oil, breath mints. Huh. Even a ‘lover’s game.’”


  She let out a dreamy sigh. “So that’s how the rich do it. You gonna save the kit for when you see Jackson?”

  I hesitated, caught. Leigh turned her to ear to the camera, a shit-eating grin on her face. “What’s that? What do you have to say?”

  “I don’t want to talk about Jackson.”

  “I agree, he’s not worth discussing. Not if he’s not going to at least make a guest appearance in New York while you spend intimate alone time with your old—”

  “It won’t be intimate or alone.”

  “Not if you can help it, huh? Thinking about spreading some of that massage oil all over Nick’s fine, cheating ass, aren’t you?”

  Just that quick, my traitorous mind imagined peeling off the black sweater I’d last seen him in and discovering what delicious surprises awaited underneath. Nick was more solid, substantial now. Bigger. I wouldn’t mind smoothing a little massage oil all along firm terrain, letting my tongue follow where—

  ALERT!

  “Definitely not.” I fanned myself. Great. Now I was hot. “And I don’t need Jackson here. Even if he didn’t have to work, I’m more than capable of—”

  “Hey, what’s that?”

  I laughed. She had the attention span of a gnat. Her face filled the screen. I was treated to a close-up of her nostrils. “Behind you? Are those flowers?”

  I walked her over to the desk where a massive profusion of tropical blooms took up fully one quarter of the desk.

  “There’s an empty floral shop somewhere.”

  “It’s huge,” I acknowledged.

  “What did the card say?”

  “It’s a thank you from his company, Rocket Enterprises. Standard, boilerplate language on the card.”

  “Uh-huh. And what’s that other thing?”

  I turned the phone to face the direction of her craned neck. “It’s a basket.”

  “Of what?” I hesitated again and one of her brows went up. “What are you hiding, Z?”

  I let out a sigh. The flowers were beautiful. And plentiful. I’d never cared about flowers, not really, but I appreciated the gesture for what it was. But it was this, the contents of this medium-sized wicker basket with the blue and white checkered lining, that had made my breath catch when I first spotted it earlier.