“No. I can’t impose. I’m sure I can find…”
“Call home,” I said to the voice activation since I’d synced my phone to the navigation.
“No! Don’t.”
The phone rang through the speakers.
“Seriously, please don’t—”
“Hello.” My father’s voice boomed in the small cabin, interrupting Josie’s protest.
“Hey, is Mom around?” I asked.
“Dolly, one of your sons.”
“Please don’t,” Josie whisper-pleaded.
There was some noise in the background before my mom came on the line. “Hello, one of my sons.”
“You’re on speaker, I’m with Josie.”
“Hello, Josie.”
“Hello, Mrs. Briggs.” Josie waved her arms, silently begging me not to do what I was about to do.
“Josie’s Airbnb fell through and with the mum conve—”
“Bring her here, we have plenty of room,” my mom cut me off.
“Oh no, Mrs. Briggs I couldn’t possib—”
“Thanks, Mom,” I spoke over Josie. “We’re about ten minutes out.”
“See you soon, kids,” my mom chirped before the line disconnected.
As soon as the call went dead, Josie shifted toward me. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” I asked innocently. “All I did was tell her that your Airbnb fell through.”
Even in the darkness that the evening brought, I could see the mortified expression on Josie’s face.
I wanted to put her mind at ease. Hell, I wanted to put my mind at ease. What I didn’t want to do was dive too deep into the reason that I’d made the offer for Josie to stay at the farm.
Since I couldn’t admit to Josie, or myself, the real reason that I’d spoken up, I went with a no lesser truth. “If I would’ve taken you to Parrish Creek, my mom would have beat me with a switch.”
“How would she even have known?”
“Dolly Briggs knows all and sees all,” I answered sincerely.
Her eyes cut to mine, glaring with disbelief.
“It’s true. Ask anyone. It’s a running joke in my family, the town, hell all of Clover County. I don’t know how she does it, but she does. Nothing gets by her. When I was a kid, I heard the phrase having eyes in the back of your head, and I thought that my mom actually did. I used to try and look for them under her hair.”
Josie smiled, “That’s cute.”
Cute? I couldn’t remember that adjective ever being used to describe me. But somehow hearing Josie say it made my chest feel all warm. “You think I’m cute?” I asked.
Was I flirting with Josie Clarke? Yes. Should I be? Hell, no.
“Um…no…I mean…yes…I mean…no…I mean…what you said was cute.” She stumbled over her answer before turning her attention back to her computer.
“Home sweet home,” I announced as my headlights shone onto the wrought iron security gate, complete with a large brass plate smack dab in the center with a capital B engraved on it. I pressed the automatic opener and it began to swing open.
Memories swirled in my head of the times before my dad had upgraded the system, when someone would have to jump out of the car and open it. It usually ended up being the youngest boy in the car. Which meant if it was only Sawyer or Wyatt and me, I was the one hopping out.
“Wow, this place is…” her voice trailed off as the truck rolled up the driveway to my childhood home.
To me, it was just home, and all that encapsulated. No matter how long I was away from it, or what improvements and changes my parents made, it was still somehow hermetically sealed in my memory.
I tried to see it through fresh eyes, how she might be seeing it. The white farmhouse with a black shaker roof and wraparound porch sat at the end of the long drive. Since the last time I was home, my mom had had my dad install string lights that lined the drive giving the entrance a much more inviting feel.
“It’s like out of a movie.”
I’d never thought of it that way, but I supposed if I were location scouting for a farmhouse, this would fit the bill.
I got out of the truck and was walking around to the passenger side when she opened the door.
“I was going to get that.” I picked up my pace and reached out, holding it open and offering her my hand as she stepped down.
As soon as her feet hit the gravel drive, she started to reach for her bags, which were stored behind the bench seat.
“I’ve got them.”
“I can take them,” she argued. It was in vain, though, since I had much longer arms than she did.
I easily retrieved them without a fight.
As we made our way up the steps to the front door, I was struck with the strangest feeling and it took me a moment to identify what it was.
As a teenager, I’d never dated anyone from Wishing Well or even Parrish Creek, the next town over, because it felt like doing that would’ve tied me to this place. And as an adult, my career hadn’t exactly lent itself to having a serious relationship.
Since I’d never experienced bringing a girl home, I had nothing to compare it to, but this was what I imagined it feeling like. And I didn’t hate it.
Chapter 6
Josie
“The only value someone else’s opinion has is the value you give it.”
~ Josephine Grace Clarke
Nerves pinged through me as I walked up the steps of Jackson’s parents’ farmhouse. Not because I didn’t want to impose, although I didn’t. But the bulk of my anxiety was tied to the same questions that had come back to haunt me when I’d found out Jackson was picking me up. Now those questions were flashing in my mind like neon signs.
Do Mr. and Mrs. Briggs know who I am?
Have they seen the show?
Did they see the video?
My stomach dropped as we approached the front door. My heart was racing again. My chest was tight. I was dizzy.
In that moment, I was kicking myself for not insisting that I take a car service. Things had been so stressful for Mia, I just hadn’t wanted to upset her more in her condition.
A loud creak sounded when Jackson pulled open the screen door and it sounded like a horror film. Sadly, this wasn’t a movie. It was my real life. I tried to step forward, but I remained planted in place, each breath growing more and more shallow.
Jackson must’ve noticed because he bent down and whispered against my ear, “Breathe.”
My entire body relaxed at his command. The heat of his breath, and the deep timbre of his voice worked a lot faster than the 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 Method ever had. And from the goosebumps that rose on my skin and the butterflies partying in my belly, it was a lot more enjoyable as well.
“Don’t let out the bought air!” The same booming voice that I’d heard answer the phone called out.
“Come on in, kids!” Jackson’s mom exclaimed as she appeared in the hallway wearing an apron that said: Your Opinion Wasn’t In My Recipe.
We walked in and there was a flurry of hugs and introductions. Dolly Briggs welcomed me with open arms. Literally, she pulled me into a warm embrace. I’d never known my mother, and my grandmother wasn’t exactly the maternal, nurturing type. As soon as she released her hold, I felt sad that it was over.
Walker Briggs reminded me of The Brawny Man or Paul Bunyan. He was a couple of inches taller than Jackson, who I guessed was at least six foot two. He had a full beard and would’ve been a little intimidating if not for his wide smile.
“Why don’t you go get Josie settled in Harmony’s room while I finish up in the kitchen.” Mrs. Briggs pointed her finger in Jackson’s face. “And young man, next time you open the lady’s door.”
My jaw dropped open. She’d been in the back of the house when we’d arrived. How had she seen that?
“Yes ma’am.” Jackson turned toward me and gave me an I-told-you-so look that I very much deserved.
As soon as we started up the stairs, I whispered, “How did she k
now?”
He glanced back at me with a half-grin that had my lady parts tingling with awareness. “She knows everything.”
As we made our way up the stairs, I was struck by how good Jackson looked from behind. I would’ve thought nothing could’ve beat the view from the front, but this one definitely gave it a run for its money. His cotton shirt was pulled taut over the wide expanse of his chiseled shoulders and muscular back. He looked so powerful, so dominant. I wasn’t even sure how that was possible from this view, but he pulled it off.
We’d just reached the top of the steps when Dolly called out from the bottom of the stairs. “Supper will be ready in twenty! Do you have any dietary restrictions, Josie?”
“No, Mrs. Briggs. Thank you.”
Jackson stopped up short and turned on a dime toward me. I almost plowed right into him. Not that I’d be complaining if I did. The limited contact I’d had with him had been more action than I’d had in close to a decade. It was strange, but when your first boyfriend exploits your first time in the most public way, it didn’t exactly make a person want to jump back into bed with someone.
There were only a couple of inches between us and my body lit up with awareness. He stood so close I was staring at his broad, well-built chest. I had to tilt my head to look up at him. The look in his eyes as he stared down at me was doing all sorts of funny things to my system. There were tingles and flutters in places that I’d thought were permanently out of service and the sensations had my breath growing shallow.
“What?” I asked.
“Aren’t you a vegetarian?”
A tiny thrill raced down my spine. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the proximity of Jackson in the cramped hallway or if it was the knowledge that he’d actually put thought into something like whether or not I eat meat. And he’d actually been right. I’d been a vegetarian for the past decade, but I always made exceptions when I was a guest at someone’s home.
Growing up around Hollywood types I’d heard it all from vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, lactose-intolerant, pescatarian, kosher, to paleo. I’d had friends that only ate things that were a certain color, like green or orange. It’s not that I couldn’t get behind any diet that included Doritos, it was just that I thought it was ridiculous to enforce it when someone was showing you hospitality.
Unless you had a serious allergy, like say to peanuts or shellfish, my grandmother raised me with manners. I ate what I was served.
But how did Jackson know about my vegetarian status? Maybe he was able to read people the same way I was. Or maybe he could just read me.
That thought made me much happier than it should have.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, needing to know what led him to that conclusion.
His eyes shot down to the tag hanging off of my suitcase and he flipped it up with his thumb. It was bright pink and read: I DON’T EAT ANYTHING THAT POOPS.
I’d had it on there for over a decade and had completely forgotten about it.
“Oh, right.” A smile spread on my face and my cheeks heated as embarrassment bubbled up inside of me. He didn’t have some special connection to me, he was just observant. “Um… I am.”
His blue stare pinned me in place. Logically, I knew that there was just as much oxygen at my disposal as there had been seconds before. But somehow the intensity in his stare had tricked my brain into thinking that all the air had been sucked out of the hallway. I tried to breathe but felt myself growing lightheaded and it had nothing to do with an impending panic attack. During those, I went into flight mode. I wanted to escape. Right now, there was nowhere I’d rather be.
I could hear my air exchange, but still, my lips tingled with numbness.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jackson’s tone was gravelly and deep, causing my already racing heart to speed to new levels.
I had no idea what he was talking about. My brain was too busy processing all the sensations that his nearness, his stare, and his voice were inspiring. “What?”
“When my mom asked, why didn’t you tell her you don’t eat meat?”
“Oh…sorry…right.” The vegetarian thing. Hearing where his mind was, shocked me back to reality. This entire attraction, this ‘moment’ was just a figment of my over-active imagination. “Um…I just…” Words, Josie, I chided myself. String ’em together and form a sentence. “I’m a guest here. That would be rude.”
It may not have been the most eloquent explanation, but it made sense. At least, I thought it did. It was hard to be sure with the entire world spinning.
I waited, sure he was going to ask a follow-up question, but instead he opened a door and set my luggage inside. “This was my little sister Harmony’s room. There’s a bathroom through there.” He pointed to a door in the far left corner.
“Oh, okay.”
He stepped back out into the hallway.
“Thanks.” I hated that my response was as breathless as it was.
I didn’t respond to men like this. Ever. But there was something so different about Jackson. He was so…male. I knew that was a silly description considering it applied to half the population, but that’s exactly what he was. Manly. Masculine. Rugged. Yet, I’d seen some of the movies he’d worked on as the director of photography, so he must have a creative side as well.
My grandmother would love him.
“I’m just down the hall. If you need anything.”
He walked away and I entered the room I’d be staying in, shut the door and leaned against it. I needed a moment to regain my bearings and catch my breath.
This entire day had not gone as planned. I’d planned to have a meeting with Mia on the way here. Then I thought I’d be ordering take-out and working on Hot Tea in the comfort of a two-bedroom Airbnb.
Now I was in a farmhouse that looked like it was designed by the queen of farmhouse herself, Joanna Gaines, and I’d be having a family dinner.
I looked down at my travel attire. I wore loose-fitting joggers with an elastic band that hit me mid-calf, a loose white V-neck T-shirt, and a scarf. I’d forgo fashion for comfort any day of the week.
It was fine for a flight, but not dinner. I unzipped my luggage and lifted the lid. I started to grab jeans and a shirt, but I heard my grandmother’s voice in the back of my head, “Darling, are you really going to wear that to dinner?”
I sighed and grabbed a floor-length maxi dress instead. It wasn’t too dressy, but a definite step up from jeans.
A text came through and I saw that it was from Mia.
Mia: Just heard the news that you’re staying out at the farm. I’m so happy that you are. Dolly and Walker are the BEST. Have fun!
Fun. That’s exactly what I wanted to have with Jackson. Naked fun.
As badly as I felt for lusting after Mia’s brother-in-law, I had to admit I was a little relieved. I hadn’t dated anyone since Gio and it hadn’t been difficult at all. I hadn’t been attracted to anyone. I was beginning to think that I never would be again. But Jackson Briggs had proven that wasn’t the case. I was all sorts of attracted to him. It was just too bad that I’d met him under these circumstances. He was off limits.
Chapter 7
Jackson
“If falling in love was a choice, it would be called climbing in love.”
~ Josephine Grace Clarke
I watched as Josie ate the last bite of her dinner and still couldn’t get over the fact that she didn’t eat meat, yet she’d not said anything to my mom. And she’d eaten the chicken. It was a small thing, but it revealed so much about the person she was.
Add to that the grace with which she’d handled all the questions that my parents had bombarded her with about her grandmother, she had the patience of a saint.
It turned out that Josie’s grandmother had been my dad’s first crush. He’d seen her in a John Wayne film when he was eight and he’d fallen in love. My mom gave him a hard time about it during dinner. He’d even blushed. I could count on one hand how many times I’d seen my
father blush. It was always because my mom was giving him a hard time about something. She was definitely his praying mantis.
“Thank you so much. This was delicious,” Josie said as she stood to help clear the dishes.
“Oh stop, you don’t need to help.” My mom shooed Josie. “In fact, it’s a lovely night for a walk. Jackson why don’t you show Josie around the property, and that will give me time to get her room in order.”
“The room is perfect.” Josie shook her head. “Please don’t go to any trouble.”
My mom smiled widely. “Sweet girl, I raised nine children, changing the sheets on a bed is not going to any trouble.”
Sweet girl. Unlike most Southern women, Dolly Briggs didn’t toss terms of endearment around. She only used them for people she cared about, people she considered family. It looked like I wasn’t the only one that Josie Clarke had charmed.
“I can change them,” Josie offered eagerly. “Please. I feel so bad that this just got sprung on you.”
I may not have known Josie that well, but I did know my mother. And there was no way that a guest was going to change the linens in her home.
Hoping to avoid a battle of wills, I decided to intervene. My chair scraped against the hardwood floor as I stood. “We’ll get out of your hair, Mama. Thanks again for a delicious, home-cooked dinner.” I bent down to kiss my mom on her cheek.
She leaned in for the kiss and patted my stomach. “You need some fattening up.”
“I’m fine.” I’d spent the past six months on assignment in Cambodia. There were days that I’d lived on protein rations. It was just part of the job.
I offered my arm to Josie, who I could see was battling with whether or not to accept it. I stared at her, silently communicating that she wasn’t going to win this one.
She either picked up on my unspoken cues or came to the same conclusion on her own. With a forced smile, she wrapped her delicate fingers around my T-shirt covered bicep. I tried to ignore the zap of electricity that shot through me at her innocent touch.
We’d only made it five feet away from the house when she dropped her hand. “I’m sorry. You really don’t need to do this. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”
Loving Jackson (Wishing Well, Texas Book 10) Page 4