“Plan on taking Bliss with you to New York City?”
I grunt. “No.” Although to be honest, the thought had occurred to me.
Cameron nods. “Good plan.”
“Sarcasm isn’t your strong point, Hurley.”
“While thinking things through isn’t yours,” he points out.
I lift another shot glass. “Touché.”
“Ready to leave?”
“Why—the debasement of woman by objectifying them getting to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because we’ve been friends for years, despite your dad’s interference, and I’d rather you not screw up another long-term relationship. So I came here to talk, and make sure you stayed out of trouble.”
Yeah, my dad hates that my best friend is the son of a preacher. He has a huge grudge against preachers, the church, and religion in general. “Aw, Dad, didn’t know you cared.” I salute him and throw the drink back.
“What are your plans?” Cameron leans forward in his seat. “You can’t leave her alone indefinitely. It’s cruel, Jackson.”
“How about this: I’ll go say goodbye, and then you can hang out with her. Keep her company.” Oh, shit. I did not just say that. Damn my drunk ass.
Cameron’s brown eyes glitter. “I accept.” He stands and leaves a tip on the table. “Let’s get you home.”
“You’re no fun when you’re being a feminist,” I say, but stand anyway.
“I’m not being a feminist by demanding people be treated decently.”
We make our way to the entrance, grabbing our coats from the clerk along the way. “What are you being then?”
“A follower of Christ.”
Followers of Christ go to strip clubs? I roll my eyes. “I thought professors didn’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo.”
He flashes me a smile. More than a few of the ladies notice and try to get his attention. “Assistant professors are allowed to have radical thoughts.”
***
It’s almost two in the morning when I stumble inside my house, dripping wet from the storm raging outside.
There’s a light on upstairs, and my heart speeds up a little.
As I arrive on the second landing, I realize it’s the one over the kitchen sink, and not Bliss waiting up for me. Then again, why would she be waiting up on me?
I breathe deeply, the house smells lived in, homey, and not the sterile scent of a dwelling that’s periodically occupied.
It’s… nice.
Thunder rumbles and I get a front row view of lightning streaks in the sky, the benefit of having a wall of windows facing the ocean. It’s rough tonight, the first of two Nor’easters coming in, back to back. I was lucky Cameron managed to get me home without wrecking my car. At least his trip back to his apartment would be in the opposite direction of the storm.
Sheets of rain pound the roof and, not for the first time, I wonder if the rickety bridge that serves as my only access to the mainland will make it through yet another storm.
When I had this house renovated, the construction crew used barges to bring the supplies here, because that bridge couldn’t bear the weight. The engineer who oversaw the redesign of the house had recommended I replace the bridge, one built in the 1920s by the original owners, but I refused. I didn’t want to get rid of it just because it was old, just like I didn’t want to bulldoze the house.
Besides, the bridge and the house had weathered countless hurricanes and storms before, so why mess with what worked?
Crashing on the couch, I take another breath and the scent of Bliss fills my lungs. I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep, but being surrounded by her only serves to make me hard and my heart pound.
I still want her.
She’s still here, in my bedroom, and sleeping in my bed, but I can’t go to her smelling like a womanizing drunk. So I keep my eyes closed and wait for sleep to take me.
***
I wake up with a start and sit up, automatically checking the windows. Sunlight filters weakly through the heavy storm clouds, but the deck is still intact, even with a few chairs blown over.
Bliss appears on the deck, her hair in a ponytail, wearing a loose pair of sweats and one of my shirts. She opens one of the French doors and walks inside, our gazes colliding. Her glasses slip down her nose.
With a sigh, she pushes them back up and just looks at me, not saying a word.
“Good morning,” I say, getting to my feet. I stretch, cracking my neck and back. I’m ready for her righteous anger over me being gone for so long.
“Morning,” she says softly. “Would you like something to eat?”
Her question is not the one I expected to hear first. Something along the lines of “Where in the hell have you been?” would be what I would have led with.
“You plan to make me breakfast like a good little wife?” I ask, and then snap my mouth shut. Yeah, I’d not only left her alone, but I’d left her without money or food. I rank right up there with pond scum. It doesn’t matter that I’d taken care of the food problem the same day I’d left. I’d left her all the same.
“I walked into town and went shopping,” she says, heading to the kitchen.
“You walked?” I croak. It’s five miles to Sweetland.
“Couldn’t find the keys to your dad’s car or I would have driven it.” She fills my plate full of fruit and some toast. “I couldn’t figure out how to work the gas stove or the microwave, so no bacon or eggs.”
“That’s okay.” It was more than okay, because I felt like parasite on the bottom of a pile of shit. I’d left her here, without any resources, not even the basics. She was wearing my clothes because my drunk ass had burned hers, for crying out loud.
“Would you like coffee?”
“God, yes.” And some whiskey with a shot of a vodka and a couple of six packs.
She pours a cup, sets everything on a large tray, and brings it to me while I keep standing there, doing nothing to help her. “Here you go.”
I take the tray and set it down, picking up the plate of food and a fork. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I want to apologize.” Best to get on her good side, before I tell her that I’m leaving again. Could this day get any worse?
Her face remains the same, smooth and emotionless. “Okay.”
“My temper got the best of me. It won’t happen again.”
“Because we won’t be together after today… or because you’ve decided to grow up?”
Her words, while true, sting. At twenty-four, and after all I’ve accomplished in life, you would think I’d have more maturity than to stomp out of a room at the mere mention of my ex’s name to pout for three days.
“I’d like for us to stay together, and I’m willing to make it worth your while.”
The corners of her mouth turn down. “I don’t want your money, Jackson.”
“If we stay married, then it’s our money,” I point out.
“Only if we have sex,” she reminds me. As if I need reminding of that.
I take a step toward her, and she steps back, her eyes wary. “I’m not asking for sex. I’m asking for your help.”
“How will pretending to be married help you?”
It wouldn’t hurt or help me, but since she doesn’t know that, and I can’t think of a real reason why, I make one up. “Because I can’t get the money I’ve earned until I’m… thirty or married.”
“Why?”
“It’s in a trust and that’s the conditions of it.” Okay, so I’m half lying. I really couldn’t get to my money until this year, but she doesn’t have to know that. Or that I already have access to it.
“What about your dad? Are you still rebelling against him?”
Damn. The girl doesn’t forget anything. “That’s just icing on the cake.”
“I’ll stay married to you if,” her hands twist together, the ring I’d given her catching my eye, “
you’d agree to pay for me to take classes at night, at the local college? On the bulletin board near the town hall, I found the flyer for ones they’re offering—”
That’s what she wants—an education? Not a lump sum of money? “Deal.”
Her face lights up. I’ve never seen her so happy, not since the time I tried teaching her how to play guitar. I grin, unable to help myself. Her joy is that contagious. My guilt is gone, replaced by the certainty that while I’m away in New York, Bliss will be fully occupied. She’ll want for nothing while I’m away, too.
Whatever she needs, I’ll gladly supply it before I go.
“I’ll go sign up today,” she says, practically bouncing toward the stairs.
I rub my hands together. Being married is a hell of a lot easier than I’d thought. I planned to be married for as long as it pissed off Everett. Which most likely meant that Bliss and I would be together until someone murdered him in his sleep.
“While you do that, I’ll take a shower, and then later we can go get some lunch to celebrate.”
She stops at the top of the stairs. “I can’t.”
My grin fades away. “Why not?”
“Because I already have plans.”
“With who?”
Her cheeks color. “Your friend, Cameron. I saw him the other day in town, when I was trying to read the bulletin board posters in the town square, by the courthouse. He said that if you agreed, he would show me around campus today and make sure I wouldn’t get lost at night.”
How very gentlemanly of him. “He put you up to this?” On the one hand, I’m happy, but on the other, I’m suspicious as hell.
That blush of hers deepens. “Sort of. I had wanted to go back, but before I didn’t have the time or the…”
“Money,” I say flatly. “Good for you, honey.” I lean into her. “Hope all those classes keep you warm at night.”
Her nose wrinkles, and she steps back. “You smell like a strip club.”
How would she know what they smell like? “Yeah, well, I did a little celebrating with some strippers. Really dedicated strippers,” I taunt. “They were all about getting the job done to my satisfaction.”
Pretty green eyes turn soft behind the lenses of her glasses. “You don’t have to run away from me, you know.”
No, I don’t know. Actually, Bliss makes me want to run away and stay all at the same time. I’ve never been so confused in my life. And why in the hell isn’t she jealous, mad, or something other than patient and understanding?
“I won’t hurt you, Jackson, at least not on purpose,” she says. “But you won’t know that until you at least attempt to trust me.”
“What makes you so damn trustworthy—because you want to use my money to get an education instead of buying jewelry or houses?” I sneer, trying to keep her at a distance.
“None of it does.” This time, Bliss moves closer to me, searching my face as she lightly brushes my hair back. “Learning to trust someone is taking a chance to put your ego, your heart, and your feelings in their hands, then hoping they don’t crush it to death.”
“Are you willing to trust me, Bliss?” I say, scared as hell she’ll say yes, while equally terrified she’ll find me not worth it and say no.
“Haven’t I already?”
Chapter Seven
Bliss
Jackson ignores me the entire ride into Sweetland. Instead, he turns on the radio and listens to the DJ talk about the massive storms coming in this afternoon.
The SUV travels down the tree-lined street of the small town. Moss is draped on the branches, and daffodils grow at the base of each tree. It’s very green and yellow.
Small stores with big display windows showcasing their wares and American Flags flying beside each door make it seem picturesque.
We pass by a huge, brick building, students hurrying in and out.
It’s very intimidating. I swallow and fight the urge to wring my hands.
Cameron waits in the parking lot, standing beside a black pick-up truck, with gigantic tires, just like he’d described.
He grins when he sees Jackson’s SUV and heads in our direction as we park and get out. I’m wearing the clothes I had on the night Jackson and I got married, a jean skirt and a pink blouse.
“I hope you don’t mind—”
Jackson cuts me off. “He doesn’t mind me being here at all, do you, Cam?”
“No, I don’t,” Cameron says, handing me a folder. It’s purple and gold, with the school name and mascot on the front. “I hoped you come with her.”
Jackson’s mouth smashes together, and I drop my gaze to the folder again, tracing the outline of the school’s name, then look up at Cameron.
The second time I met him, at the town’s bulletin board, I almost ran in the other direction because I was so embarrassed, but he’d put me at ease and just waved at me while he tacked up a couple of posters. We didn’t speak again until I was trying to sound out the words on one of the fliers, desperate to find a job as a backup plan.
I think he’s a good friend for Jackson to have, but right now, neither one of them look very happy to see each other.
“Isn’t this for real students?” I ask. “You know, the ones that will graduate with a real degree?”
Jackson takes the folder from me. “Why wouldn’t your degree be as real as theirs?”
“Um,” I say, my face beginning to heat.
Cameron’s gaze bounces between the two of us, a dark look in his brown eyes. Then he gives me a lopsided grin. “You are a real student, Bliss, and you’ll receive a real degree.”
“If you say so.”
“Shall we tour the campus?”
“After you, Professor.” Jackson places his hand on the small of my back, a possessive move that thrills and annoys me. Why does he care if Cameron’s nice to me, or even flirts a little? I’m nice back to him, but flirting—? I’ve never had the chance to flirt with anyone.
We walk across campus, Cameron pointing out buildings, the campus bookstore, and the cafeteria.
I feel like a fraud as we pass by students and professors alike, strides purposeful and hands full of books. There are signs up everywhere for different events.
A group of girls, wearing green shirts with pink triangles on the front, sits in the middle of the courtyard, eating and laughing as boys slowly walk past them.
Cameron takes the lead, escorting us inside a modern brick building. “This is the Green Building, home of adult educational services.”
Jackson gives me a look, but I turn away. My ears turn hot. “How many people are usually in a class?” I ask.
“Ten. I like to keep it small, so that my assistant and I can do some one on one.”
“Hold up,” Jackson barks. “You’re her teacher?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
The two of them are practically toe-to-toe. Jackson seems larger than life, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s wearing boots. Cameron’s more relaxed with his polo shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops.
Or maybe it’s just because Jackson has something Cameron will never have—presence. That elusive It Factor that makes regular people stars.
Whatever Jackson has that makes him a star isn’t the reason my skin tingles when he touches me. It isn’t the reason why when he kisses me, I can’t think or see straight. The first time we touched, I felt it… a connection, an attraction that no matter how hard I wished for it to go away, it wouldn’t.
That connection is bound to be the death of me.
*** *** ***
Jackson
Friend or not, Cameron’s throwing off some really obvious vibes concerning Bliss. He’s attracted to her, and it pisses me off to no end. Don’t even get me started about their meet cute in town. Wasn’t that how my ex and my brother first met? It’s like history’s trying to repeat itself, and if it does, I’ll be the one left in the cold again.
“What of it? Seriously?” I growl. “You’re panting after my wife, damn it.�
�
Cameron flushes. “You are completely wrong. Wasn’t I the one telling you to get your ass back home to your wife?”
“What you said then, and what you actually did behind my back, are two completely different things,” I grind out.
“I don’t sleep with my students,” Cameron says, his jaw working.
“Who said anything about sleeping?” Yeah, that helped this entire conversation, but all I can think of is my friend’s easy agreement to hang out with Bliss while I’m in New York. I’ve turned unreasonably jealous, something I’ve never been before, not even when Violet was with Cole.
Well, it wasn’t the same type of jealousy. I wanted what I had, not what I haven’t. Now all I want is Bliss, and I haven’t even had her. Yet.
Bliss’ gaze bounces between the two of us, but she scoots a little closer to me, and not him.
I smirk at Cameron. That’s right, asshole; she wants me, not you.
Cameron curses under his breath. “If you want a fight, I’ll give you one, but not over her and not where I work, or where your wife will be going to school to learn how—”
“If going here is going to cause problems between the two of you, I’d rather learn online or something,” Bliss says.
I open my mouth to agree with her, and then realize if she doesn’t have something to do while I’m gone, then she’ll be all alone. Or with Cameron.
Looks like my trip to New York will be postponed.
“Not a problem, baby doll. You’re all enrolled here. I’ll be happy to drive you to class each day and pick you up when you’re done.” Or buy her a car. She could drive herself. On second thought, I could buy her a car… and still take her to class and pick her up afterwards.
Flashing a smile as I snag my phone from my pocket, I text my publicist and Everett, and then takes Bliss’ hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. “Anywhere else she needs to see?”
Cameron eyes me. Yeah, he’s not convinced at my sudden change in attitude. “Not really.”
True For You (Boys of the South) Page 5