“Mm-hmm.” His drawl was growing on her. If he talked to his commanding officers like that, she doubted he’d be in the Air Force long, but that didn’t matter to Anna.
Nope, not at all.
But he was watching her like he thought she was worth watching.
And it couldn’t be bad for her to feel attractive for one night, could it?
Nothing wrong with feeling good.
She snapped her attention back to the game. Kaci wound up to toss her second bola at the ladder. It didn’t matter how Jackson looked at Anna, because that zinging thing in her chest that kept happening when he looked at her was margarita chemistry, not commitment.
He was like a practice date. A Kaci-approved, nondangerous, practice date.
He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, vigilantly watching Kaci. “So how’s the old ant-mobile?”
“Ant-free for over a month now, thank you.”
Kaci’s toss came up short. Lance wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her through the proper tossing technique.
Jackson tucked his hands under his arms. “You ever get to wondering if she’s tossing bad on purpose?”
“Used to, but I don’t anymore.”
In the sparse light, his eyes looked like midnight. “So is she acting?”
“That’s a three-point question.”
“Gonna be like that, is it?” He rubbed his chin. “All right then.”
The grin he gave her made her nether regions quiver.
They were practicing being on a date too.
Kaci’s last bola, thrown with Lance’s assistance, neatly wrapped the two-point rung. Lance stepped up for his turn. “No cheating,” Anna called.
Lance gave her a mock salute.
Then he hooked the top rung.
“Three points,” Jackson said. “So is she acting?”
Anna shook her head. “She understands the principles, but she’s the reason people talk about throwing like a girl. She can’t quantify the force in her arms.”
“You might could think about taking statistics instead of thermo. Your odds here ain’t looking good.”
It was Anna’s turn to grin at him.
After Lance’s last toss, the guys were up four to two. Anna scampered around the yard grabbing her bolas while Jackson unwrapped two of his and snagged the third one at his feet. When she stepped back into the game, he gestured for her to go. “Ladies first.”
“Nuh-uh. Whoever’s partner scored most last round goes first. You’re up.”
“House rules?” Jackson called to Lance.
Lance hid a laugh behind a cough. “Go on and let her go last.”
Jackson tested the weight of his bola. “You play dirty?”
“Three-point question.”
It took him all three tosses, but he draped a bola over the three-point rung. Anna stepped up and stared down the target.
“You gonna tell me if you play dirty?” he said.
“Maybe.” She lined up, gave her bola a tentative swing, and let it fly.
It wrapped around Jackson’s bola and pulled it off the ladder.
She flashed a triumphant grin. “Don’t think I need to answer that now, do I?”
“That’s just one kind of dirty.”
“You go, sugar,” Kaci called. “How about you rustle us up some points now?”
At the end of Anna’s turn, the guys were still ahead, four to three. Anna scooted close to the pool again when Lance handed Kaci her bolas. Jackson stepped up next to her. “So how’s a Yankee girl get to be a redneck golf shark?”
“Raw talent combined with a little bit of a buzz.” Once the margarita wore off all the way, she’d probably get so tense from being this close to him that she’d start throwing worse than Kaci usually did.
Kaci’s first toss sailed clear over the ladder and hit the fence. Jackson chuckled. “Sure hope she ain’t planning on tossing her bouquet.”
She scored two points on her next toss, but her last throw went wild. Anna tried to skitter out of the way. Jackson ducked the same way, and they bumped shoulders. The bola plopped into the pool beside them. He reached a steadying hand to her, and a shiver slinked down her arm and straight to a couple of other parts that hadn’t had any attention in a long while. “Okay?” he asked.
Anna sprung away and brushed her hair out of her face. “Oh, sure. You betcha. Just peachy. At least I’m not wet.”
So to speak.
He glanced at the pool. She did too. The bola floated to the bottom in a slow circle. Waves rippled out on the surface of the water, shimmering in the floodlights. If she could see her own panic level, it would probably look something similar.
“Oopsies,” Kaci said.
Jackson gave Anna an amused once-over. “Darlin’, this one’s gonna cost you.”
“I’ll go get the pool skimmer.”
That made him grin bigger. “You afraid of the water, or you afraid of having fun?”
She was afraid of what seeing him wet might do to the funny thumping in her chest.
He snagged his shirt behind his neck and stripped it off in one smooth motion. “Mind holding that for me?”
Reflex made her accept the warm fabric. She caught a flash of solid chest, a tiger paw tattoo and a sprinkling of dark hair. Her mouth went dry. He hopped into the pool, then dove down in one fluid stroke to snag the bola off the bottom.
Anna gulped. Her thighs quivered and her heart banged her chest so hard she checked to make sure her breasts weren’t bouncing.
He surfaced and held the bola up.
She reached for it and fumbled it twice before she had a solid grip on it, and even then, she almost dropped it back into the pool.
He pushed up out of the water and grabbed a towel. He gave his head a quick rub-down, making the muscles in his arms flex and stretch. Droplets sluiced down his chest and abdomen toward his waistband.
He tossed the towel aside, then pinned her with an amused look while he held out his hand for the shirt.
Caught. She nodded at his tattoo, which had the number 33 in the middle of the paw. “Huh. Thought that’d be your momma’s name.” Her voice almost sounded normal. She surrendered the shirt, praying it didn’t have any sweat marks from her clammy hands, and turned her back on him. She waved to Lance. “Ready when you are.”
Jackson stepped up beside her, his shirt on again thank God, and quietly watched Lance score a couple more points.
But once they’d gathered the bolas to take their turns, that ornery spark returned. “Sure you don’t want to go first?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Starting to think you’re fixing to throw the game so you can get into my kitchen.”
If he’d promise to help with his shirt off… “Interesting. How big is it?”
“What you really gotta be thinking about is how I plan to use it.” He lined up for his first throw. “You watch this right here. I’m gonna show you the right way to ring a three-pointer.”
Anna suppressed a smile. “Uh-huh.”
“What? You think I can’t do it?”
She rolled her shoulders back. She’d forgotten the thrill that came with flirting. “Everybody gets lucky now and then.”
He chuckled. “Tell you what. I hit this one, you tell me how late you were to class that day we met.”
She hoped Kaci was right about his momma raising him right, or she’d be answering too many personal questions tonight. “And when you miss?” she said with more composure than she felt.
“If I miss. Whatcha wanna know?”
The heat must’ve melted what was left of her brain, because she couldn’t think of a single decent question. “Why you thought of the Windex,” she finally said.
“Deal.” He let the bola fly. It circled through the air, then hit the three-point rung and wrapped itself neatly around.
That one would be impossible to knock off. “Sixteen minutes. My professor gave a pop quiz to start the semester,
and I flunked it because I wasn’t there.”
He winced. “Aw, jeez, I’m sorry.”
Anna shrugged. “I was already late before I saw the ants. My fault. Bet you can’t hit another three-pointer.”
“Been late since?” he prompted.
“Two-pointer. I still want to know about the Windex.”
He tossed his second bola and ringed the one-point rung. He glanced at her, then grinned an unabashed grin. “Saw it in a movie.”
“Which movie?”
He gestured toward the ladder. “Two-pointer.”
His toss fell short.
“Movie?” Anna prompted.
He raked a hand over his short hair, and she noticed a hint of curl at the ends. “Can’t remember the name. Some girly flick with big hair and ugly dresses.”
What did Windex have to do with big hair and— “And a wedding?”
“Sounds about right. Kaci hog-tied me and Lance and glued our eyeballs open so we had to watch it all. Didn’t mind the hog-tying part, but that glue gunked up my eyes for weeks.”
He’d used My Big Fat Greek Wedding to make himself look good.
And then he’d admitted to it. Wasn’t something most guys she knew would’ve done. “Your eyes looked fine to me.”
“Shucks, ma’am, your eyes look real fine too.”
So did his smile. But despite the weird flippy-do in her belly, she had to laugh. “I walked right into that.”
“Sure did.”
“C’mon, Anna,” Kaci called. “Get us back in the running.”
Now that, she could handle. She stared down the target and tested the weight of her bola. She swung it back and forth. She was about to let go when Jackson murmured, “’Course, your trunk’s real fine too. Nice ’n clean.”
The bola slipped out of her hand and almost beaned Lance. “Sorry,” she called to him.
He waved it off. “Suppose you owed me for Kaci here.”
Anna turned on Jackson, hands on hips, bolas dangling against her knee. “Are we playing dirtier now?”
“Sure wouldn’t mind, but my momma’d have my hide if she heard I cheated. Betcha your last name you can’t hit that there two-pointer.”
Anna faltered. She hadn’t decided yet what she wanted her last name to be.
He seemed to realize he’d goofed, because he started to say something, but she cut him off before she let her brain process the words. “Middle name if you still have four points when I’m done. But if I knock you off, I want to meet this momma of yours.”
He glanced over at the ladder, then back at her, his eyes getting all squinty. “Big fighting words for a Yankee.”
“Chicken?”
“That’d be like being afraid of winning. You go on and take your turn, then go on and whisper that little name right here in my ear.”
As if. Anna got into good bola-swinging stance and let it swing like a pendulum. No way could she take his three-pointer off. But she might be able to do something about that one-pointer. She brushed her thumb over the divots on the golf ball. Yeah, she could take his one-pointer off.
“Got a lot of equipment to squeeze into my drawers,” Jackson murmured.
Anna burst out laughing. She almost dropped the bola. “Stop. Just stop.”
“Starting to think I shoulda offered something better than chocolate.”
Two tosses later, Jackson was down a point, and Anna’s competitive nature had stepped in a pile of something that reeked of relationship stink.
She’d asked to meet his mother.
“Huh,” he said. “Looks like I’m gonna be needing your phone number.” He rocked back on his heels. “’Course, you’re gonna be needing my address before this is over so you can fix up my kitchen right good.”
On her next turn, Kaci managed to avoid hitting anything major, including the ladder. Lance did too, but Anna suspected that was on purpose. She and Jackson lined up for their turns. He gestured to the ladder. “Two-pointer for your middle name.”
“Three-pointer.”
He cast a sideways glance at her.
She gave him a saucy grin. “I might be a Yankee, but I’m not easy. Your last name if you miss.”
He hit all three rungs with his three bolas. After his last toss, he looked at her expectantly. She gaped at him. “Who’s calling who a shark now?”
“You still got a chance to knock me off the board.”
At the end of the round, the guys were winning by a landslide.
“Grace,” she said.
“That’s a right pretty name for a Yankee.”
“I’ll be sure to pass your compliments on to my parents.” She signaled Kaci. “Your dishes are on the line here,” she called.
“Don’t I know it, sugar. You had to go and ask ’em to mop the yard with us, now didn’t you?”
“So start scoring some points.”
By sheer miracle, or more likely pity from the men, ten minutes later the guys’ score was steady at twenty to the women’s eighteen. One point, and the Bama boys would win.
Jackson lined up for his first toss.
“I was kidding about meeting your mother,” Anna confessed.
“Now who’s chicken?” he teased.
“Come on, you introduce the woman who sets up your kitchen to your mother, she’s gonna start hearing wedding bells.”
His toss went wild.
Anna giggled.
“You’re learning, Anna Grace.”
Hearing her name rolled out in his Southern drawl gave her a glimpse into a world that gave her the shivers. She shut them down and put her game face back on. “If you miss, you owe me your middle name.”
He ringed the two-point rung.
“You’re over points,” Kaci called. “Doesn’t count. Has to be exact.”
“Your middle name?” Anna prompted.
“Now that’s cheating. Didn’t miss. Just didn’t hit the right one.”
“Semantics. One-pointer, or your middle name.”
“Gonna make me break a sweat here.”
She doubted he ever sweat over anything. But he wrapped the one-point line. Anna was up.
“Need a three-pointer, sugar,” Kaci called. She bounced on her feet. “Let’s show these boys what for.”
Three points. No pressure. She could do it.
And then she’d let Jackson off the hook on the chocolates, and tonight would be all fun, no consequences.
She’d keep hanging out with Kaci and the rest of the girls, and things would be cool and comfortable whenever she happened to run into Jackson. No pressure. Just some fun.
She lined up her shot. She swung the bola back and forth. Three points. She could hit a three-pointer.
She started to let go.
“It’s a real big kitchen,” Jackson said.
The bola slipped out of her hand and whipped across the yard to the ladder. It wrapped around Jackson’s two-pointer and knocked it to the ground.
“Twenty-one,” Lance called.
Kaci swatted his arm. “Nuh-uh. She’s got two tosses left. Don’t you be counting your balls before Anna’s done with ’em.”
Jackson’s chuckle rumbled low and deep. “Beautiful.”
Anna gritted her teeth. Two tosses. She could tie the score, or she could try to knock his other bola off.
Or she could completely miss and end up owing Jackson a clean, organized kitchen.
On the one hand, she didn’t need to get any more attached to him.
On the other, she did love putting a big mess away.
Were there Hail Mary passes in redneck golf?
She tossed her second bola, and it draped itself neatly over the two-point line. Twenty-one to twenty. If she knocked Jackson’s bola off and hung hers on the one-point line at the same time, she and Kaci won.
If not—the kitchen.
“Long shot there,” Jackson said.
Anna wiped her hands on her shorts. “Mm-hmm.” Staring down that ladder was like staring down thermo.
“You can do it, sugar,” Kaci called.
The night insects chirped happily, completely oblivious to the stakes riding on Anna’s toss. A few stars had popped out overhead. The ladder glowed eerily in the yard lights. With a long, slow exhale, she wound up her toss, and let the bola go.
The middle of the rope smacked the one-point rung. Jackson’s bola wobbled there, but didn’t fall off. Anna’s two-pointer, though, slid off its rung and plopped to the ground, followed neatly by the bola she’d just tossed.
She’d knocked herself off the board. Lost the toss. Lost the game. Lost the bet. She owed him. And owing him sent various parts of her a-tingling that no longer a-tingled for any man. Her a-tingle meter had to be off, because she was quite certain it’d never tingled that high.
Maybe he’d go shirtless while she paid up.
Lost the bet? More like lost her mind.
She squared her shoulders and faced Jackson. “Looks like I’ll be needing your address.”
His slow, triumphant grin sent another wave of a-tingles down her spine.
“Wouldn’t be right gentlemanly of me not to offer to let you off the hook, seeing how I didn’t know you got a broken partner,” he said.
“Afraid of letting me and my label maker into your kitchen?”
“No, ma’am. Looking forward to it. You know how to use a kitchen, or just put stuff away in one?”
He so wasn’t in the plan, but a little bit of fun never hurt anybody. So long as she kept him only for fun, she’d be fine. “Three-point question.”
“You’re on.”
Chapter Eight
To his way of thinking, if a man had a good shotgun, football season, and a dog, he had all the love he needed.
—The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels
JACKSON HADN’T PLANNED on staying late enough to help with the clean up, but on his way through the kitchen to say good-night, Kaci shoved a piece of apple pie at him and offered him a second to take home if he made himself useful. He took one bite and offered to marry her instead.
Pretty safe bet considering she was already taken. But it earned him a smack upside the head, and not from Lance. “Anna made that pie.”
“She bake biscuits this good?”
Southern Fried Blues (The Officers' Ex-Wives Club) Page 7