My life looked too much like a crime novel…
“Well, I’d be willing to bet that you’ll be hooked after the first chapter of book one. Sometimes we need to get outside the box…shake it up a little. I think you’d be surprised. The plot is impressive. Hit number one on the New York Times Bestsellers with every release.”
I could tell this guy had been in publishing—naturally selling story lines with every conversation.
“Romance?” I challenged.
“Yep—although pretty unconventional,” he said, lifting one corner of his mouth, just like Jackson did.
“Okay. You sold me.”
He laughed. “Take them, they’re yours.”
“Oh, no… I didn’t mean—”
He leaned over and cupped his mouth as if telling a secret. “I can get more. I’m close with the publisher.”
I laughed just as Jackson strolled in, hair still a bit damp from his shower. His eyes roamed over the two of us, landing on Jacob. There was a silent exchange between them, thoughts expressed only through their eyes, like a brotherly code.
Jacob’s smile never wavered; Jackson’s smile never appeared.
“Cody’s awake,” Jackson announced.
The statement was obviously meant for me, but he stared at Jacob.
“Oh…okay,” I said calmly, turning back toward Jacob as he handed me book one of The Quinton Chronicles. “Thank you, Jacob. It was nice talking with you.”
“Anytime. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, Angie.”
Two steps into the hallway, I heard an exasperated sigh from Jackson. “Really, Jacob?”
The questioning exclamation was cause for me to stop, curious as to what would be said next, but the only sound to follow was Jacob’s laughter. The genuine glee was absolutely contagious. Jackson followed suit a few seconds later with a low chuckle, and my heart knocked hard inside my chest.
I’d never grow tired of that sound.
**********
After helping Jessie with party preparations for the last several hours, she’d kicked me out of the kitchen and told me to go relax. Now heavily engrossed in the world of Detective Maverick Quinton and his new partner Reagan Harper, I was grateful for the excuse to read.
She spun around, her hair whipping violently in the wind as she shoved a finger into his chest. “You may think trust is a luxury, Quinton, but in my book it’s a requirement! You can’t build a house on a wet foundation. Stop looking for reasons to nullify my existence in this case...I’m not going anywhere. Get used to it!”
He stared at her, eyes sharp and narrowed. It wasn’t that he didn’t notice her—he noticed, too much. He didn’t want to need her, he didn’t even want to like her, yet there she was, refusing to be ignored. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her bony finger away from his chest. No woman was going to tell him how it was—not even his new partner. He didn’t care what abbreviations followed her name; she didn’t know him.
She didn’t know anything.
“The only thing I’m required to do is make sure that at the end of the day we are both still breathing.”
Her eyes grew round, as her hand twisted away from his grasp. For a moment he thought she would sprout tears, proving once and for all that he was owed a different partner—of the male variety.
But she didn’t cry.
“You’re the worst kind of arrogant there is,” Reagan challenged.
He laughed humorlessly. “And what kind is that, sweetheart?”
“The kind that’s born out of necessity—like a custom-fit suit of armor. You think its protection, but it’s not. A lot of materials are made to look like iron, Quinton. But I can see through your armor, and it ain’t made of iron.”
“How can you stand this heat?”
My head snapped to attention. Covering my eyes against the rays of the sun, I held my finger into book one of the Quinton Chronicles to save my place.
“I live in Texas, remember? It’s hot there,” I answered, closing the book while holding my place with my finger
“Want to go out on the paddleboat? I promised Cody another ride.”
“Sure,” I said, using a blade of grass to keep my spot in the book before setting it down.
Glancing at the book, Jackson asked, “Is it any good?”
“Yeah…I’m surprised I’m so hooked, actually. I don’t usually care for this genre. Your brother has good taste.”
I knew he heard me, but instead of replying, he jogged ahead, calling out for Cody to untie the boat from the dock.
**********
I was definitely sweating now.
My shorts were stuck to my backside like sticky plastic wrap. Twisting my hair atop my head, I hoped a sudden rush of wind would dry my neck. No such luck.
Jackson and I occupied the two main seats on the paddleboat, while Cody sat in the back, facing out toward the water. He had a life jacket on, even though I was confident in his ability to swim. I glanced at my co-captain. The heat had to be overwhelming him like it was me, but somehow, instead of looking like the sweaty pig I was…he looked cool.
That was annoying.
Without warning, Jackson stopped paddling. In one swift motion, he stood, ripped his shirt off, and dove into the water. The boat rocked violently at the sudden movement. I clung onto the side for dear life while Cody laughed hysterically and joined him in the water a second later.
They splashed and swam, leaving me to cook like a grape in the sunshine. I was sure by the end of our time on the lake I would be a raisin. The water was so tempting, but I was not in swimwear.
I slipped my sandal off and tried to stretch my foot gracefully into the water—desperate for some relief, but it proved an awkward task. Even with legs as long as mine, I could barely touch the water with my toes.
Jackson swam over to me, a devious grin on his face. “What are you trying to do there?”
“I’m hot, Jackson. What does it look like I’m doing?”
Sure, I was a little testy. But honestly, my skin felt like melted wax.
“So get in, then.” He floated on his back with ease, revealing abs that shouldn’t exist on a real, live man. I diverted my eyes.
“I’m not dressed for it.”
Guys had it so much easier. If they wanted to swim, they just did it. A simple strip down was all they needed. Not so for a woman though. Nope. There were all kinds of wardrobe malfunctions we had to think through. My tank top was light pink—soaked, it would be nearly transparent, not to mention I was wearing jean shorts. That was likely the worst swimming cloth imaginable. There was just no getting around that.
“Oh, come on, who cares. This is the lake, not a populated beach front.”
“No.” I shook my head.
I looked toward Cody, floating on his back in his life jacket, making motor sounds. I smiled at him, despite the sweat dripping off my face. In that unguarded moment, Jackson grabbed my dangling leg.
I gasped.
“You have two choices: Jump or-”
SPLASH!
I swam up to the surface, sputtering, as I heard Jackson and Cody laughing.
“Urgh! You said I had two choices!” I yelled, shoving a wall of water at Jackson, who was quite amused at the turn of events.
“Yeah, but when I realized you’d never jump, I decided I had better seize the opportunity before you pulled your foot back.”
“You are so mean!” I bit the insides of my cheeks, trying desperately not to smile.
Jackson swam to me as I backed up underneath the lip of the paddleboat.
“Say it again,” he challenged, his voice low and smooth.
“You’re mean,” I said with half the conviction as the time before it.
“Say it again.”
I shivered, the cool lake water soaking into my bones, stealing my breath from my lungs—or maybe that was Jackson. I couldn’t be sure.
“You’re mean.” I whispered the words this time, their meaning completely lost
now.
We treaded water, staring at each other, unsure of what should happen next.
I reached up and grabbed hold of the ledge, steadying myself. He did the same, trapping me between his chest and the boat. My eyes skittered past him, searching for Cody who was still on his back, humming.
My chest ached when I saw the intensity of Jackson’s stare. “What do you want from me, Jackson?”
I took in a shaky breath as his hand grazed the top of my head, freeing my hair to fall down my shoulders and back. His fingers combed the length of it while an army of goose bumps marched up my neck.
I stopped breathing entirely.
His voice was so low it was hardly audible. “I don’t know.”
Yet as soft as the words were, their weight was crushing.
He doesn’t know?
Turning to pull myself back into the boat, Jackson gripped my hips and pulled me to him once again.
“Don’t, Angie.”
“Don’t what? What is this, Jackson?” I swallowed, reminding myself to keep my voice low. “I don’t need any more complications in my life, and that’s what this is starting to feel like—like one big, messy complication. I appreciate all your help the past few weeks, but I think…”
His eyes grew dark as the arm around my waist loosened.
“You think what?”
I exhaled. “I’m going back in two weeks.”
Thoughts and feelings could change, they were fluid—but leaving wasn’t. That was concrete.
“Don’t you think I know that?” He practically growled.
Another shiver went through me.
“Hey! Guys—look there’s Pippy! And Peter!” Cody yelled, pointing to the yard where Pippy, Peter, and the man I assumed was Caleb, all stood waving at us.
Jackson hoisted himself back into the boat then reached for my hand to pull me inside. He did the same for Cody.
Neither of us spoke on the paddle ride back.
Jackson tied us up to the dock and Cody jumped out and ran over to Peter, asking him when they could play pool in the game room. As I started to stand inside the boat, Jackson put his hand out to stop me.
“Here, you'll want this.” He tossed me his shirt.
“What? Why?” I asked.
He looked down at me and immediately I remembered. Crossing my arms over my chest, my cheeks flamed.
“I will bring you a towel.” He was halfway across the deck when he said it.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” I muttered in reply before slipping his shirt over my head.
**********
A relationship with Jackson was like playing a game of connect-the-dots, while blindfolded. There was no numeric system that led the way; no big picture set as a guide. There were just dots—haphazardly placed at will. His will.
I kept busy by arranging several vases of flowers.
When Cody was in kindergarten, I took a job as a florist part-time, and even now, working with flowers remained one of the most soothing hobbies in my life. My love of flowers was also behind my name change from Angela Luterra to Angel Flores years ago.
As I clipped the few stems, I breathed in a sigh of relief. All I had to do was keep this up, and I could get through this night. I didn’t know what Jackson wanted from me, but I knew without a doubt, that my feelings for him were stronger than his for me. That had been made abundantly clear earlier today at the lake.
Hiding in a house the size of this one, was easy. When the caterers arrived, I became one of them. When the bakery deliveryman came with the birthday cake, I led the way the table. I simply never stopped moving.
Pippy introduced me to several groups of people when the guest started to arrive—mainly relatives and good friends. It was quite a gathering for a forty-second birthday celebration, but maybe that was normal around these parts.
As someone made a toast in the next room over, the doorbell rang. Since no one else was close, I decided to add doorman to my list of titles for the evening.
Opening the door, my jaw fell slack.
Dee Bradford?
She seemed quite surprised to see me here as well.
“What a great surprise. I didn’t know you would be here tonight, Angie.” Her perfectly manicured hand clutched her heart as she smiled. “This is my husband, Marcus Bradford.”
“It’s a nice to meet you, Marcus, and it’s nice to see you again, Dee,” I said, opening the door for them to enter.
“You’re here for the birthday party?” I asked her, puzzled, as we stood in the entryway.
She opened her mouth to answer me, but then looked up and beamed at something behind me. Before I could turn to investigate, I heard a familiar voice at my back.
“Hi, mom.”
Dot. Line. Dot.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Again, my mouth fell open. “She’s your—you’re his mother?” I swiveled from Jackson to Dee.
Confused was an understatement.
“Yes,” she said. “We don’t usually advertise all the family connections within the company. Nepotism is frowned upon I hear.” She laughed as she threw her arms out to hug Jackson.
I watched him, his face calm and composed as ever. I couldn’t get past my astonishment. How did I not know they were related? Marcus shook his hand.
“Good to see you again, Marcus,” Jackson said.
I remembered then that this man was not Jackson’s father. His dad had died years ago from a heart attack, leaving his mom as a widower—Dee Ross as it turned out. She had apparently remarried.
But still, there were so many missing dot connections in my brain.
And then I remembered something else—something from earlier that morning at sunrise. I’d heard Jackson say it, but it didn’t make sense then, and I wasn’t even sure it made sense now, but I recalled it nonetheless.
“My father and Jacob were cut from the same cloth, even though they never shared the same blood.”
What did that mean? Dee said she’d been a single mom…she had told me that at our meeting in Dallas…but did that mean—
“You’re gonna hurt yourself, thinking that hard,” Jackson said, staring down at me. I looked around, Dee and Marcus had already walked past us into the party. I was standing in the same spot, hand still frozen to the door handle.
“I’m just confused. You’re mom told me she was a single mom at one time.” I kept my voice low.
His eyes swept over my face in a way that made my insides swim.
“Jacob is my half-brother. My father adopted him once he and my mom had married. Jacob was about ten at the time. I came along two years later.”
I bit my bottom lip, soaking in this new revelation.
“Come on, let’s go to the party.” He reached for my elbow. “That is, if you’re done hiding from me.”
I flushed hot, nodding.
**********
There was no shortage of food; it was everywhere. But even still, Jacob didn’t hold a plate in his hands. Instead, he held a very familiar thick, green smoothie. I shuddered at the sight of it.
“So you’ve met our mom?” Jacob asked, bumping his way through the crowded living space to get to me.
“Yes, although that connection was lost on me until tonight.” I chuckled.
“I figured she wouldn’t have said anything to you about that at your meeting in Dallas. She’s all for real first impressions,” he said, leaning in so that his voice was muted.
Prickles of anxiety crept up my neck. “What do you mean?”
He grinned and glanced over at Jackson who was getting us something to drink.
My stomach dropped.
Jackson and I?
“And you most certainly have impressed her,” Jacob said, drumming his finger on his tumbler glass of green goo, “which is one of the highest complements a woman can be paid. Her approval is worth its weight in gold.”
For what felt like the tenth time that evening, I was at a loss for words.
I was overcome with a need t
o breathe fresh air. “Will you excuse me, Jacob? I need to—please, excuse me.”
I shuffled through the crowd to the back patio, careful to slide the door shut behind me. The air was stuffy, humid, but I could breathe easier out here than inside. My mind swam with snippets of conversations and jumbled memories. So many things were starting to make sense now. I had been so stupid to assume that a CEO like Jackson would be working with a runt like me out of the goodness of his heart. He’d been requested to—by his mother.
Dots and lines were connecting left and right, but all I wanted to do now was erase them—all of them.
“Jacob said you were out here.”
It was Dee, in her designer summer dress and heels. She had not received the casual memo apparently.
She leaned against the patio rail near me, studying my profile as I looked out at the dark lake, my manners struggling to surface.
“I’m sorry about what happened—at the interview. Jackson told me how upset you were. He was furious when he called me yesterday, wanting to make sure that nothing had leaked from the inside. And I’ll assure you, as I assured him, nothing did. We have done everything in our power to protect you, Angie, but Divina is a ruthless and resourceful woman. Though I understand your reasoning for keeping the whereabouts of your ex-husband a secret, we need to come up with a plan-”
I turned quickly, facing her for the first time. “Who—you and Jackson?”
She was startled by my tone; I was startled by my tone. But I meant it. Playing nice had gotten me nowhere. I was still back rolling the dice moving inch by inch, while these socialites had swooped in and purchased every high-dollar property that Monopoly sold.
I was so out of my league.
“Well, yes…along with our public relations department,” she began. “We feel we need—”
“I don’t know if I can hear this right now, Dee.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t let someone like Divina stop you from your future,” she said, placing her hand on her hip.
“I don’t care about Divina!” I blurted.
All Who Dream (Letting Go) Page 15