by Lisa Carter
Or maybe not. Darcy laughed as a small, but fierce Chihuahua pulled his owner down the block.
Antique cars crawled by. The local beauty queen waved from a flashy convertible. The children’s division of wheeled entries came next.
Darcy pointed out the children belonging to people Jax might have a connection to. Like Zander, another one of Anna’s at-risk students, whose uncle fixed boats at the marina. And the little guy whose mother worked at the Savage Garden Center—Oscar, peddling madly to keep up with the older children.
Finally, the smallest participants.
She nudged Jax, but he’d already seen the blur of streamers and pinwheels fastened on the Big Wheels. Brody was at the helm, his grandfather trotting alongside. And right behind them, Brody’s grandmother pushed Ruby in her stroller.
Brody’s little legs pumped, churning the pedals. The grin on his face was huge. “Daddy! Dawcy!” He let go of the handlebars. “Wook at me! Me big!”
The trike wobbled. Everett said something. Brody clamped both hands on the handlebars and the Big Wheels righted itself.
“Not too big too fast, please,” Jax whispered.
She looked at him. Saw the pride on his face. The wonder. The love for his son.
“Way to go, Brody.” Jax held up the flag, waving it wildly. “I’m so proud of you, son.”
Darcy slipped her free hand into his. “I’m so proud of you with Brody.”
He squeezed, twining his fingers through hers.
“Wed, white and bwue,” Brody called.
“Come on.” She tugged at Jax. “Let’s follow Brody around the square.”
Stepping into the street, they cheered Brody past the fire station, florist shop and church until he reached the finish line.
Later, there was ice cream. As the afternoon wore on, many families went home with cranky, overtired children. Brody lay spread-eagled between Darcy and Jax on the quilt, out for the count. Exhausted from the parade.
Anna and Ryan said their goodbyes as baby Ruby kicked up a fuss.
Jax made a face. “Just like her mother.”
Anna stuck out her tongue at him before walking away. “I heard that.”
“’Cause I meant you to...”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Brothers and sisters.”
He leaned on his elbows. “We tried our best to make you an honorary Pruitt sibling.”
“Is that what I am, Jax? An honorary sister?”
“When we were little, yes.” He lay down next to his sleeping son. “Now...not so much.” He closed his eyes.
She pulled her knees to her chin and watched him sleep. Uninterrupted, she took her time. Enjoying just looking at him. Appreciating his strong features. The irresistible cleft in his chin.
The lines carved into Jax’s face only a month ago had eased. This place was good for him. Good for him and Brody. Home, where they belonged.
Did she belong here anymore? She shut her eyes, and the activity in the square became a distant clamor. In a few months, she’d leave her family, church, Jax and Brody to make a new life for herself.
With the way she felt about Jax, should she leave? Yet because of the way she felt about Jax, could she stay?
Opening her eyes, she found his gaze scanning her face. Her limbs twitched.
“Sorry.” She let go of her cramped knees. “I must’ve fallen asleep.” Brody no longer nestled between them. “Where’s your little guy?”
Jax stretched out on his side. “Mom and Dad took him to their house. I’ll pick him up after the fireworks. He wouldn’t like the noise.”
“Oh.” She ran her fingers through her wind-tangled locks. “You didn’t have to stay.”
He caught her hand. “I’m right where I want to be.”
And so was she. As darkness fell, a local group performed contemporary love songs. Jax got up at one point and returned with two sparklers.
“I figured you’d want one.”
She sat up and reached for it. “You know me so well.”
Jax lit the sparkler, which flared to life. “Not as well as I’d like.”
Her heart did a slow-burning spiral in her chest. He lit the other sparkler for himself. A boom shattered the air, saving her from having to reply.
A blue starburst exploded against the night sky, swirling into a kaleidoscope of color. There were oohs and ahhs.
Their sparklers fizzled out, but other fireworks crackled in quick succession—white, green, pink. Plumes of dazzling light shot skyward over the harbor before falling once more to earth. Then in a tumultuous finale of a dozen rockets, it was over for another year. The acrid scent of gunpowder hung in the thick summer air.
Jax grabbed the handle of the wicker basket and Darcy folded the quilt. It had been the most wonderful Fourth of July she’d ever experienced. And she didn’t want it to end.
He escorted her through the departing crowd, her elbow cupped in his hand. She quivered at the touch of his fingers on her skin.
“Cold?”
She wasn’t about to admit what his touch did to her equilibrium. To her good sense. They crossed to the residential section.
She sighed. “I should’ve brought a jacket. The wind off the water can get—”
He stopped on the sidewalk in front of her house. After putting down the basket, he took hold of her bare upper arms.
“Jax...what’re you doing?”
The silvery glow of moonlight reflected on his face. On his mouth. On his hooded eyes. “What I should’ve done a long time ago.”
Darcy’s legs felt as stable as a jellyfish on land.
His thumb moved across her arm. “I should’ve told you how much you mean to me, Darcy.”
Darcy’s heart thudded.
“There’s so much I want to say, but...” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I have so much baggage.”
Only the quilt in her arms separated her from him. “I understand about unfinished business, Jax.”
The tree house, the swing, the conversation with her father she’d put off for years.
“I don’t know how to let go of the past, Darcy. To begin again.”
“You don’t have to shoulder the weight of the past alone.” She lifted her face. “I’m here for you, Jax. If you’ll just let me in. Please,” she whispered. “Let me in.”
Into his heart. Into his life. Into his future.
“Don’t you think I want to—” His voice broke. “I long so much for sunshine, baby.”
The unexpected endearment turned her insides to mush.
Her heart soared. He felt something for her. She knew he did.
“That last morning before Basic... I never intended to hurt you.” He pulled her to his chest, and she dropped the quilt. Her heels came off the ground.
She felt the warmth of his skin, the erratic beat of his heart. He unsettled her in the nicest possible way. It was hard to think, this close to him. She didn’t want to think, just wanted to relish this moment.
His chest heaved. He tilted his head. The culmination of her dreams—he was going to kiss her.
In his arms, she didn’t feel like the grubby little tomboy who never quite fit in. She felt beautiful and understood and cherished and...
He didn’t kiss her.
Instead, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m damaged goods, Darcy. I still have so much to work through before I could ever...”
Whoa. Not what she’d hoped. Was he actually asking her to wait for him? Again? This time, to sort through his feelings for his dead wife?
It felt like she’d already spent most of her life waiting on Jax Pruitt.
More than grief and loneliness stood between them. The tortured guilt he felt over Adrienne’s death wasn’t something Darcy was prepared to fight.
What was so wrong with her that she always
came in second place?
She took herself out of his arms.
“Darcy.” His breathing was as rapid as her own. “I owe you so much for what you’ve done to bring Brody and me together.”
Gratitude. Was that what this was with Jax? Some misplaced sense of owing her?
“The rest of the week is booked solid.” She struggled to find her footing with him, to return to what they’d always been to each other. “I should go.”
Jax nodded.
His easy acceptance of the status quo between them only further tightened the knot in her gut. Why was she so easy to let go of?
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She picked the quilt—and her dignity—off the sidewalk. “Maybe not. I’ve decided to join a trekking expedition to Machu Picchu next spring with a group from Alabama. I need to make some calls and finalize my plans.”
He stared at her. “The Inca Trail?”
She made herself smile at him. “Come Labor Day, I probably won’t be back. For a while.”
His shoulders squared. “Right.” His mouth flattened.
Anger licked at the underside of her belly. Was that all he could say? Was that all he was going to say?
She was so stupid. A small—or not so small—part of her had wanted him to vehemently protest. To beg her not to go. To ask to go with her.
Idiots didn’t come as big or as fanciful as Darcy Parks.
Something flared in his eyes. “Good night then.”
Her stomach quivered, treacherously. “Goodbye, Jax.” She pivoted.
“That’s always been my problem, Darce.”
She stopped, her back to him.
“I don’t know how to say goodbye to you,” he rasped. “Then or now.”
She stared straight ahead. Her house was dark, her parents already in bed. “When you figure it out, Jax, let me know.”
Leaving him standing alone on the pavement, she headed up the driveway toward the backyard. Thankful for the darkness, hiding the flow of tears on her cheeks. After all, PKs weren’t supposed to cry.
And quietly, she climbed into the tree house.
Chapter Thirteen
Jaxon Pruitt was the biggest idiot that ever lived. If he’d doubted it before, now he knew it to be true. He had a month of lonely days to prove it, too.
No more picnics. No more excursions. No more anything with Darcy.
She was aloof and reserved, keeping her distance. The oh-so-polite, arm’s-length smile at the shop. The PK smile she handed him at church every Sunday—a smile she’d never used for him. Until now.
He’d once believed himself a highly trained operative. But Darcy Parks was a genius at evasion. Gliding as effortlessly past his attempts to engage her in conversation as she glided a kayak through a tidal marsh.
Jax had no doubt she’d have probably made a better Green Beret than him. And he was getting very little sleep. Lying in bed, thinking of her while evening thunderstorms boomed overhead.
He was so frustrated with her. Jax raked a hand over his face. Frustrated with himself. Bottom line, he missed her. He missed her more than he’d believed possible, considering he saw her every day. But she wasn’t herself with him anymore.
She made sure Brody didn’t miss her—Jax would give her that. As hot July mornings turned into even hotter August afternoons, he sweated and guided the business, while she spent lots of time with his son. Long Johns at the diner. Ice cream at the creamery. Having fun—without him.
And he was sick and tired of being without her. He missed teasing her. Horsing around. On the dock, flicking towels at each other. Talking and seeing her eyes brighten. The play of the sunlight across her face. The freckles dancing across the bridge of her nose. He’d lost the sunshine.
Growling, Jax beat his head against the wall behind the counter. What was wrong with him?
“You okay, boss?”
He straightened at Savannah’s concern. He pushed off from the wall. “Fine. Never better.”
Jax walked outside, scanning the square. Yep, there she was. Pushing Brody on the swing set in the church playground. Having tremendous fun together. And she never even glanced his way.
Instead of this unaccountable pity party, he ought to be glad, grateful Darcy had pulled the plug before they got in over their heads with each other. Sailed past the point of no return.
The night of the Fourth, he’d almost given in to the feelings building within him. The need to tell her—
He blew out a breath. Being unable to completely let her go wasn’t fair. They couldn’t go on this way. With him pushing her away and reeling her back over and over again. She was smart to walk away from the giant failure that was Jaxon Pruitt.
Yet his reasoning failed to ease the hole in his heart.
Every stinking day when he brought Brody to his mom’s, like an idiot, he’d stand on the deck, gazing at the tree house, wondering if Darcy was there. So close and so out of his reach.
Which was as it should be. Right, God?
Ironic that what he so feared, he longed for the most. With Darcy, he felt an emotional intimacy he’d never managed to achieve during his marriage to Adrienne. Only increasing his sense of guilt. A never-ending cycle of recrimination.
Why was it so hard to let go of Darcy?
It also bothered him how quickly she’d reverted to what they’d always been to each other. And the idea of her heading across the bridge, hiking the Andes without him...
The prospect—the likelihood—that she’d never return made Jax physically sick to his stomach.
But she was right to steer clear of him. He was a disaster. And if he ever gave in to these impossible feelings for her, they were another disaster in the making. Though if that were true, why did losing her forever cut so deeply?
“Oh, Darce...” he whispered. “What am I going to do with you?” He pinched his nostrils. “What am I ever going to do without you?”
What was wrong with him? He shut his eyes against the obvious answer. Which, because of his situation, was no answer at all.
“Daddy sick?”
He opened his eyes to find Brody standing at the bottom of the shop porch. He raised his gaze. Darcy stood behind his son. He flushed.
Worry pinched Brody’s features. “Daddy?”
“Is something wrong, Jax?” She glanced toward the storefront. “Has something happened?”
He swallowed. “Nothing’s happened.”
Except everything he believed he knew about himself, about her—about him and her—had turned on its head.
She took a step. “Are you all right?” Her voice was sharp.
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I needed a break.”
“Are you sure?” She always read him so well.
He lifted his shoulder and let it drop. “What could be wrong with Jax Pruitt?”
Her eyebrow arched. “Shall I make a list?”
She took Brody’s hand and walked him up the steps until they stood next to Jax. “You wanted this business. I’m leaving in two weeks. So you need to stop scaring your son and just suck it up, Pruitt.”
He placed his hand over his heart, feigning pain. “Good thing you didn’t become a nurse, Darcy. ’Cause you have a terrible bedside manner.”
“You seemed glad enough of my bedside manner the time you had your head stuck in a toilet.”
Jax laughed. “I did, didn’t I?” It felt so good to laugh with her.
Her lips quirked. She never could stay mad at him for long. He’d make sure of it.
“Don’t you have an excursion to guide, Jax?”
“Aye, aye, Captain Bligh.” He winked at her, intending to annoy. It did.
She rolled her eyes.
“Me. Me. Me.” Brody bounced in his baby Crocs.
Jax shook his head. “Y
ou’re not big enough, son. But one day for sure.”
Brody poked his lip out and glared. “Me big. Not baby.”
Darcy threw Jax a look. “Of course you’re not a baby, Brode. Maybe Daddy could bring you back a treasure, though.”
“Tweh-zuh?”
“Watch my mouth, Brody.” Jax pursed his lips to trill out the consonants. “Tah.”
Brody fastened his gaze on his father’s lips, concentrating. “Tah.”
“Rah.”
“Rah,” Brody parroted.
“Treasure.”
Brody gave a little nod. “Tweh-zuh.” He smiled.
Jax sighed.
“Close enough.” Darcy ran her hand over his son’s silken locks. “Let him be two, Jax. Give him time.”
Brody held up three fingers. “Me thwee, Dawcy.”
“Not yet, buddy.” Jax ruffled his son’s hair and as he did so, his hand brushed Darcy’s fingers.
Brody leaned into the touch of both their hands. Jax’s eyes shot to Darcy.
She took a breath. “Time.”
Exactly what he was running out of with her. Already he felt the clock ticking toward her departure. As inexorable and unstoppable as the tide. Leaving him with a vague sense of panic, of impending doom.
But per his usual genius, he came up with a plan. An end run around her defenses.
“Remember how every August 13 we piled into the tree house to watch the Perseid meteor showers?”
Her eyes narrowed. “So?”
“So Brody’s never seen a meteor.”
“And your point?”
He gave her a supercilious smile. “My point is, today is August 13.”
Darcy would have made a good schoolteacher, with her pursed lips and disapproving glare. Though if any of his teachers had looked like her, school would’ve held a great deal more appeal for him. He folded his arms across his chest.
Her eyes flickered at his movement. “Best viewing won’t come till the wee hours of the morning. Kind of late for a little guy like Brody.”
“My little guy will be great. We’ll bunk tonight at Mom’s, and I’ll carry him over in time for the show.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”