“No.” Aiden picks up the trimmer and stalks off, calling over his shoulder, “You owe me—and not just for this.”
“What else should we do, Jack?” Devon asks, and Jack sweeps his eyes over the house, looking at ease as he tells everyone what to do.
“Wash off the sidewalk and front porch.” He points at the others. “Quinn, you and Topher work on the leaves in the yard. I’m sure Elena has rakes. Maybe wash the outside windows.”
“Rakes are in the shed. Topher knows where,” I say. Might as well join in.
“Check the backyard too. Collect the leaves in trash bags,” Jack adds.
As the guys amble off, I ease in closer, brushing at my hair. Again. It’s no use. “Um, thanks for coming. You didn’t have to do all this.”
His lips tilt up. “Hmm.”
We just stand there. I swallow. I’m not looking at Mama, but I feel her staring at us.
She nudges me. “Elena, get some drinks out here. There’s ice tea or water or Sun Drops from the Cut ’N’ Curl. I closed it today, but here’s my key.” She presses it in my hand. “Take Jack with you to carry them.”
“Sure.” He nods, eyes on me. I don’t think he’s stopped looking at me. “Never had a Sun Drop,” he murmurs.
“Citrusy soda. Addictive. Bottled in Middle Tennessee,” I say.
Mama squints at him. “That’s because you’re a Yankee. In the South, we drink them all the time. You heard what I said about lunch tomorrow. You coming?”
Jack pauses, his face flushing. “I appreciate the invitation, but . . .” He looks at me, and I shrug.
All your fault, buddy.
“I, um, already have plans.”
I frown. Really? It’s the off-season.
But I know what it is.
He wants a little, but not a lot.
I get it, and I’m fine.
Totally fine.
“Next time, then.” She shoos us away. “Go on; stop gawking at each other. I’ll finish the staircase. Y’all can work on the screened-in porch when you get back.”
It’s like I’m a teenager all over again, and she’s ordering me around. Jeez, this is my house. Fine.
I take off for the beauty shop across the street, and Jack follows me, keeping pace.
Ugh! Why didn’t I at least put on lipstick this morning?
“Are you mad at me?” he asks quietly after a few steps of silence.
I dart a look at him, then back at the road in front of us. “For coming?”
He nods.
“No. I just figured I’d see you Monday at rehearsal.”
He frowns at that. “I didn’t see Preston.”
I scoff. “Is that why you came? To stake your claim?”
“Partly. Plus, I wanted to see where you lived.”
“I’m right off Main. Everyone knows my house.”
“It’s a beautiful place.”
“Thank you. There’s still a lot I want to do: modernize the kitchen, redo the hardwood, add a garage—that’s next for sure.”
“Nice.”
Our conversation is so . . . mundane! What is wrong with me?
Plus, I’m irked he turned down Mama for lunch.
Let that go, Elena.
I head to the door of the shop, unlocking it and heading inside. After clicking the lights on, I walk over to the white fridge and grab one of the cardboard boxes on the top to put the drinks in.
Jack is behind me. “I wish you’d look at me, Elena. Should I not have come? I just wanted to see you, and you sounded like you needed help.”
I shut my eyes. He’s not only great at orgasms, but he’s kind . . .
But . . . part of me is terrified.
He’s going to crawl inside my heart.
He’s going to break it into a million pieces.
“Yes. I’m glad you came.” I whip around, and he’s eased in closer, backing me up against the fridge.
He wipes at my cheek. “Smudge on your face.”
“Dusting.”
His elbows land on either side of my head against the fridge, eyes holding mine. “I can’t believe you left me—then hung up on me. No one treats me this bad.”
I cock my hip, feigning confidence I don’t have. “Figured I owed you one for the morning you left me.”
His head dips as his nose runs up my throat. “Also, you left a hell of a hickey on my neck; hence this awful turtleneck. Didn’t want your mama to see it.”
My breath hitches. “Jack . . .”
He kisses my ear, his teeth nipping at my lobe. “Yeah, say it like that again, all breathy, and I’ll forgive you for leaving me . . .” His chest presses against me. “I like your mama. She’s feisty. No wonder you turned out so wild. Little hellion.”
“I am not wild! I’m a librarian.”
“You keep saying that, but you’ve got a streak in you, and I like it.” His hand skates down to hold my hip. “This is what I wanted when I woke up. You. In my arms. Me inside you. I might have even pulled out the handcuffs. You missed out.”
“I have my own handcuffs. Pink and fuzzy . . .”
“Wild woman.”
“You best get rid of that tent in your jeans before we walk back,” I whisper.
He kisses my throat. “We’re going to get your place nice and pretty, Elena. And when everyone is gone, I’m going to do bad things to you in your bed. Is it one of those big old-fashioned ones, high off the floor?”
“No, it’s a new king-size one,” I say, sighing as he tugs at my hair, pulling it down.
He stares down at me. “I love your hair, the color, how long it is.”
“I’ll just have to put it back up. And we can’t do this in the beauty shop.”
“I just want to kiss you.”
“Uh-huh. Never knew a man who loved to kiss so much.” I slide my hands up his shoulders, tangling in his hair. “Now stop talking. Mama’s probably timing us. If we’re here too long, she’ll barge in.”
He laughs and takes my mouth, groaning as our lips cling.
And I’m lost all over again.
How will I ever let him go when it’s over?
Chapter 27
JACK
I tuck a Tigers hat on my head and exit the SUV and open the door of Leo’s Pizzeria, the place in Daisy Elena swore was the best place in town for takeout. I ease in the door and check out the interior. Busy as hell for nine o’clock at night on Saturday in a small town, but she’s starving after all the work we did today. I grin for no apparent reason other than I have to feed her, and if she wants pizza . . .
A few patrons I recognize from the school give me wide-eyed looks, then send me a wave. Friendly but not jumping up to mob me. I like that and wave back. Don’t feel like small talk. Just want to get back to her place.
“Do you have garlic knots?” I ask, recalling how she loves bread.
The cashier is a girl with braces, wearing a red Leo’s hat and an apron. She glances at me, then does a double take. “Uh, yeah. There’s six in an order.” She blinks rapidly.
“Right. Two of those, then. A large cheese, a large supreme, and a large pepperoni.” Damn. I’m probably ordering too much for just us, but I don’t know exactly what she likes. I left her at the house, laid out on the couch with that little pig in her lap, her lids shutting. She swore she just wanted a nap. I smile. She best get one, because I’ve got plans . . .
“Anything else?” the girl asks, staring hard at me.
I look down to take out my wallet, used to the avid attention, yet it always feels strange at first. Takes me a minute. “You got anything for dessert?”
“We have homemade chocolate pies. The owner’s wife makes them every Friday. They’re usually gone by tonight, but we have three.”
I nod. “Throw those in.”
She tells me the total, and I swipe my card.
She hands it back to me. “Uh, are you Jack Hawke?”
There it is. I put on a smile and look back up. “Yeah.”
“I saw you on TV today.”
I inwardly groan. “Well, I hope it was good.” Because it probably wasn’t.
She pushes up her glasses, and I automatically think about Elena. This could have been her a long time ago, a teenager working at a store, waiting for college. I wonder what she was like in high school. Total nerd, I bet. Shy. But not. Wild. But never showing it. I bet she ran the yearbook club or the library society with an iron fist. I wish I knew her then. Ah, hell, who am I kidding? She wouldn’t have looked at me twice. Football player. Jock. Never talked unless I had to.
“It was on The Today Show this morning, the weekend edition,” the cashier says, bringing me back.
I frown. “What was it?”
“It was a video of you running with a girl in your arms. It was pouring rain, and y’all ducked inside a hotel. There was a photo too—looked like you and Ms. Riley in some bakery.”
Dammit. Should have seen that coming.
“Can I get your autograph?”
“Uh, yeah.” My head is a million miles away as I sign a napkin she pushes at me.
I take a deep breath. I’ll need to warn Elena. I wince, hating to put her in the spotlight like that. If reporters start showing up here . . . fuck, I’m surprised they haven’t already with the play, but since that first pic with me and Timmy at the play, they’ve seemed to fade away. Not much long-term interest in a feel-good story for those jerks. Whatever. I may have started this with the intention of cleaning up my image, but I like Timmy and Laura. Genuine, honest people.
Pizza and the rest of my order in hand a few minutes later, I get back in my car just as my phone rings.
“What happened?” I ask Aiden. He left Elena’s around two o’clock so he could get ready for his date with Sophia. He must have left the gala early if he’s already calling . . .
“Is that any way to say hello?”
“Just tell me what she said. Everything.” My hands clench the steering wheel, and I realize that her dangling that Cosmo article in front of me has been on my mind more than I thought.
A long sigh comes from him. “Sophia is hot, man. Smoking.”
“Uh-huh.”
“She was real into me too.”
“Just get to the point, Alabama,” I growl, anger ratcheting up, and it isn’t because I even fucking care that he was with her, but I’m so goddamn annoyed that she’s manipulating me.
“Look, I showed her a great time. We had dinner, danced, but she said she wants to see you, and she’ll sign whatever you want.”
I lean back on the headrest. “You failed, Alabama.”
“I did not! I did everything you wanted, man—I did, but it’s you she wants to see.”
I curse. It was a half-assed idea anyway. My gut knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she laid her eyes on me and said whatever she wanted to get out.
“Does this mean you’re not going to help me? Dude, come on. I put all my charm out, and I got that in spades—women fucking adore me. I did my best—”
I hang up on him and call Lawrence, my teeth gritted.
“Yo! What up? Tried to call you earlier. Have you seen that video of you and Elena? It’s not bad. Very chivalrous. I’m still waiting for her NDA—”
“Fuck that. Get with the lawyers and send the tightest nondisclosure you can come up with to Sophia. She’ll never say one fucking word about me again as long as she fucking lives. Do it now, Lawrence; I want this mess over and done with. Tell her once she signs it, I’ll meet her. She can say her piece. And then it’s done. Got it?”
I hear him rustling around, probably writing it down. “Got it.” He sighs. “I know you hate this. I’m sorry, man. You sure you can deal with her?”
My jaw pops. I don’t know what it will be like to actually see her again.
But I want her out of my hair. Forever.
Plus, it makes my gut clench to picture Elena and her whole family reading about whatever shit she decides to come up with next. And now that reporters know Elena’s face, they’ll get a name soon, and what if they hound her, dig into her past, figure out the lingerie?
Later, I pull into Elena’s driveway. Topher’s car is gone still. He left to hang out with Devon and Quinn at the Razor. Pretty sure he just wanted to give us some time alone.
Taylor Swift music is blaring from a speaker as I walk in the door, and Romeo pops out of a little tent in the den and glares at me. I’m not sure how I feel about the little pig. He follows Elena everywhere, throwing snippy glances at me.
“Hey, dude,” I say. “Where’s your mama?” I walk into the spacious kitchen, setting the food down on her island. Romeo sits at the doorway, watching me.
“Want some garlic bread, little piggy?” I pull out one of the garlic knots and dangle it in my fingers.
His snout twitches.
“No?” I take a big bite. “So good, mmm.”
He shuffles, dipping his head as he gets up off his haunches and walks slowly to me, eyes on the bread.
“You can have this, right?” I say, bending down to scratch his head.
Give me, give me, his brown eyes say.
I hold it close to his mouth, a little unsure about those teeth. He snatches it faster than I thought he would, and I jerk and fall back on my butt. He gives me a condescending stare—Amateur—and runs back to the den.
Laughter comes, and I look over at Elena, who’s come in, hair wet, wearing long pajama pants with unicorns on them and a tank top. “Are you scared of Romeo?”
“No! He just startled me. His teeth nipped me.”
“You trying to bribe him with bread?”
I stand up, scoffing. “No.”
She wanders over to the pizza, takes out a slice from the supreme, and takes a big bite and chews. “God, this is so good.” She sways over to the cabinet and pulls out plates, grabs napkins and sodas from the fridge. I watch her, the way she moves, hips swishing, completely at ease as she arranges our food. She takes a seat on a stool and pats the one next to her. “Come on; let’s eat.” Her eyes drop. “Thank you for today, by the way. You guys did everything so fast. Saved me so much time.”
Nerves ramp up as I take her in, not wanting to end our camaraderie. I need to tell her about Sophia.
Shit. I don’t want to.
I take a slice and eat instead, my head weird, messed up.
How will Elena feel about me seeing Sophia? Is she going to freak out?
What are we?
Do I really need to tell her?
Somebody will tell her . . .
Damn, it’s been such a good day.
Do I have to go and ruin it?
She laughs, her eyes gleaming over at me.
“What?” I say.
She takes a drink from a Sun Drop. “Are you even aware that you’re humming to Taylor Swift? I love this song.”
I grin, relaxing. For a minute there, I thought she might see how torn I am.
I cock my head. “‘You Belong with Me’?”
“Damn. You even know the name of it.” She giggles. “Hmm, high school song about the girl who wants the guy who’s dating the cheerleader.”
“I was just thinking about what you were like in high school.”
“Badass nerd.”
“Knew it. You wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”
“Oh, I would have looked all right.” She sends me a little grin. “Sing it for me.”
I roll my eyes. “Can’t a man eat in peace? And why do you want me to? My voice is terrible.”
“Sing it! Sing it!” She pounds her fists on the counter.
“Dammit, woman. No. Your knees were a special case. How are they?”
“Fine. Please, Jack, pretty please. I promise to do whatever you want later . . .” Her eyes glint, a wicked gleam there—and I’m lost.
I set my pizza down and pick up the chorus, singing along with Taylor as she goes to the verse about the guy in his faded jeans and how the girl wants him even though he’s with the wrong girl, when she�
��s the one who understands him. She knows his favorite songs and his dreams and wants him to see her.
Elena watches me avidly, her chest still, as I wrap up the song. I should feel like a total idiot. But I don’t.
It’s her, and shit . . .
She gets me.
I can hum Taylor Swift all day long, and she might be the only person who knows it.
There are a few moments of silence when I finish, the stereo bleeding into another song.
She’s staring at me . . . like . . . like . . .
I don’t want to hurt her.
“Elena, I have to tell you something.”
She pauses, frowning at my short tone as she picks up another piece of pizza. “Sounds serious.”
“I’m going to meet with Sophia soon.”
Her eyes flicker, her face carefully blank. “You’re still talking to her?”
“No. I never want to see her again, but she wants to meet. She says that she’ll sign a document that she’ll never talk about me again. That’s the only reason I’m going. She wanted me to go to this gala thing, but I sent Aiden, and he was supposed to—forget that. It’s me she wants.”
“Ah. Is that why you turned down lunch tomorrow?” She pats her mouth with a napkin and stands.
I pause, grimacing. No, that was just . . . I don’t know . . . shit . . . too much, too soon.
I can’t answer that, so I say, “I don’t want to see her—you know that, right?”
The kitchen grows tense, and I swallow, seeing hesitation on her face, that tiny bit of distance that’s—
“Elena, if I don’t, then who knows what she comes up with next? She’s dangling this abortion issue, and I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea when you see it or hear about it or—”
“Did you ever love her, Jack?”
I lick my lips, thinking for a second. “No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I dated her. She came to games and parties. I cared about her.”
“Have you ever been with a girl you couldn’t live without? College?”
“Never had the time it took. Never wanted to get too involved. Football always came first.”
Her face shutters more, her eyes down as she stares at the pizza. “I see.”
“Are you angry?”
She taps her fingers on the island, mulling, then looking up at me. “I’m not angry about you seeing her. She betrayed you.”
Not My Romeo Page 24