"Happily," I said, a giggle-moan ringing in my words as Jackson's thumbs brushed along the edge of my panties.
"Okay, all right, that's enough," Brooke said. "I can put up with a lot of things but I don't want to listen while he fucks you."
"He's not—"
"I don't care," she interrupted. "Something is going on over there and I don't need to be involved in it. We can talk about sex but we can't talk during sex."
"Love you, babe," I said.
"Love you back," Brooke replied.
I ended the call and set my phone aside before looking up at Jackson. "What happens now?" I asked.
I meant right now but I also meant everything after right now.
"Anything you want," he said, still stroking the edge of my undies. "Ask me for anything, Annette. I'll give it to you."
I brought my hands to his face, cupping his strong, square jaw and running my thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes were heavy and exhaustion pinched his brow. "It's my turn to put you to bed," I said, sealing that promise with a kiss. "And when I need it, you'll do it for me."
"That's all?" he asked.
"That's everything," I replied.
27
Strain
v. To separate solids from liquids
Annette
* * *
Two months later
* * *
"It happens like this every year," I murmured, my chin tipped down as I tugged up my coat's zipper. "One day it's lovely and wonderful with cool, crisp autumn air and sunny skies"—I gestured to the dark sky overhead with my gloved hand—"and then there's a cold snap and the next ice age begins. That's the real problem with having homecoming in the fall. It needs to be a springtime deal so people aren't turning into icicles out here. I don't care if that screws up everything with football. It's what I believe."
Jackson murmured in agreement as he wrapped a flamingo scarf around my neck. He was in uniform tonight, wearing a thick, dark sweater over his tan shirt, and a coat over the sweater to ward off the wintry chill. That sweater—with the sheriff's office insignia embroidered on the arm and his name over his chest, worked like a charm for me. I wanted to rake my fingers down the knit, slide my hands under it—I wanted to peel it off him. I wanted to toss it to the floor and get my hands on his skin and keep them there until he couldn't take any more. And then I'd slip into that sweater and see how long it took him to rip it off me.
"I won't let you turn into an icicle," Jackson said, patting the scarf then untying it again. "You look cute. I like seeing you all bundled up."
"Don't get me wrong," I said. "I live for boots-and-long-sweater season but it's the transition between wearing sundresses and sandals all summer to wearing, you know, socks and jeans and then to coats and hats and scarves and mittens. The hats really get me. They fuck up my hair."
"Believe me," he murmured, his concentration locked on the scarf, "I'm suffering the loss of your sundresses, too." He met my gaze with a small smile. "But your ass is on fire in those jeans. I can't figure out whether I should pinch it, spank it, or bite it." He glanced up and down the sidelines. "There's also a fourth option but I'd rather not mention it here."
I waved toward the high school's football field and the cheerleaders warming up within feet of us. "Good call, sheriff. Tuck that one away for later. We don't need to stir up any more attention than necessary."
He followed my gaze to the stadium stands where my family sat, decked out in the high school's colors. "Fuck that," he whispered, bending toward me. "Let them watch."
He tipped my chin up and brushed his lips over mine. There were no secrets about us being together but I wasn't entirely steady with the eyes of the entire town—and my family—on us. I wasn't so self-centered that I believed all these people cared about the minutiae of my life but I was standing on the sidelines before the homecoming game, wrapped up in this big grizzly bear of a man's arms, all while the back of his coat proudly announced his title.
When we parted, I ran my gloved finger over his bottom lip to tidy up the shiny lip gloss left there. "You're a bad influence, sheriff."
"I am." Jackson ran his palms down my shoulders and arms before gripping my hands. "Where's Brooke tonight?"
I shook my head at him, gave him an if you only knew face. "She doesn't attend football games. She has a complex relationship with our alma mater."
"Knowing Brooke, that is unsurprising." Jackson brushed some stray snowflakes from my shoulder. A squall was in tonight's forecast. "We don't have to stay for the whole game."
I snickered at that. "No, we need to stay for the entire thing. Every last minute," I insisted. "It's the homecoming game. You have to do the coin toss thing. I have to crown the homecoming court. We have to stay through the end and we probably have to go back to someone's house for a little post-game potluck, too."
"I don't want a potluck," he grumbled, seizing my waist in his hands. "I haven't seen you all week. I want to take you home."
It had been a busy week. Jackson was in Augusta for a three-day law enforcement meeting, I had two evening events at the shop, and Brooke and I met up for dinner and drinks last night. I worked hard at making time for my friend, even when it would've been easier to cancel on her and spend the evening snuggled up with my man.
But I was determined to avoid that. She was there for me before Jackson I wasn't leaving her on the back burner now that I was with Jackson. She was the sister I chose and I wasn't about to forget that she chose me, too.
"You're seeing me right now," I said.
"Yeah, Annie, I am," he said, his voice gravelly. "And I'm wondering whether I was wrong about your fuck-hot ankles now that I'm seeing you in jeans. Goddamn, girl. The things you do to me."
I started to explain my fascination with his official sheriff's uniform sweater but I spotted my mother and sisters headed straight toward us. I wasn't sure where they'd left my dad and brothers-in-law but those men seemed to follow the old adage of being seen but not heard. Sometimes they went above and beyond with silence and absence.
"Oh. This is special," I murmured, stepping out of Jackson's embrace. I didn't go far but I didn't want them to see me pawing at him. They'd file it under my repeated acts of desperation and never let me forget it.
While I hadn't shut my mom or sisters out after their visit to my store a couple months ago, I wasn't seeking them out either. I accepted that there was a world of difference between me and the rest of my family and I wasn't about to change any of that. It didn't matter whether that difference sprung from choosing this profession over theirs or the tremendous gap in our ages or even my failure to be born a boy. It didn't matter at all.
Jackson swung his arm over my shoulder, tugging me closer. "Don't say a word. I've got this," he said under his breath.
"Got what?" I whisper-shrieked.
He shook his head once and held out his free hand to my mother. "Mrs. Cortassi. It's a pleasure to see you this evening," he boomed.
She accepted his hand but couldn't tear her constipated stare away from his hold on my shoulder. "The pleasure is all mine." She glanced away from me and gestured to my sisters. "I don't believe you've met my daughters. Rosa, Lydia, and Antonella."
He nodded toward each of them. "I've met my favorite," Jackson said, pressing a kiss to my temple.
My mother blinked at us for a moment as she struggled to process the picture before her. For my part, I was struggling to hold back a giggle. "Oh, yes," she said, eyeing me. "Yes, you have met Annette."
"Not only have I met her but I've spent the summer falling in love with her," he said. "Long before she knew it, months ago, I was falling for her."
In place of my bones was jelly. Even after two solid months of Jackson telling me he loved me—and saying it back—the accompanying rush of bone-melting heat hadn't faded.
"Oh my god," Nella muttered, curling her fist in front of her mouth.
My mother recovered, cooing, "Sheriff, you're such a sweetheart. We must have you
over for Sunday supper. How about next weekend? Yes, next weekend. You're coming over. It's settled."
I wasn't sure whether my invitation was implied or they were hoping to get alone time with him.
Jackson glanced down at me, his hungry stare concentrated on my lips. "Does that work for us, beautiful?" he asked.
"It's fine," I said, my cheeks warming under his study. "I think. Probably."
His eyebrow arched up in question and I gave a quick shrug in response. I couldn't refuse with an audience.
"Now that I think of it, Annie and I have plans next weekend," he replied, turning back to my family. "Yes, I just remembered. We'll have to take a rain check." He motioned toward them. "Why don't we have you over to our place?"
"You and An-Annie," my mother repeated, stumbling over Jackson's nickname for me.
"Your place?" Nella asked. "You have a place? Together?"
"When did that happen?" Rosa asked.
Jackson smiled at me, nodding. "Back in August," he said, still staring at my mouth. "I'm not too proud to say I begged. I couldn't spend another night without her and I begged her to come home with me, stay with me." He patted his belly and shot them a quick grin. "And her baking, my god. I can't function without her pastries. But I'm sure you know all about her talent in the kitchen."
There were a great many wonderful things about Jackson. The list was long and remarkable, not unlike his…ahem. But the trait I most admired in him was his willingness to make a bold move on behalf of another. He looked after me when I was drunk and sad. He listened to the Nevilles when others had dismissed their concerns. He confronted Brooke about her father's issues despite her history of tearing those who crossed her in half. And now he was picking off my family's shady comments and straitjacketing them where they stood.
"Annette, you've been holding out on us," my mother chided.
Jackson blew out a sharp breath before saying, "Not at all. Everyone in town is a fan of her baking."
"Speaking of the town, how are you finding Talbott's Cove, sheriff?" Nella asked.
"It's a great place to call home," he said, his words wide with certainty. "But it wouldn't be half as great without this lady right here. I don't know what I'd do without her. She keeps me on my toes, I'll tell you that. But I'm not saying anything you don't already know, right?"
Nella looked like she was witnessing a live-action atrocity. Hands fisted at her sides, mouth hanging open, eyes bugging out. I loved my sister but it was amazing to see her furious over something as simple as this man professing his love for me. And my muffins.
"Sure," Rosa murmured, bobbing her head. "I guess…I guess I can see that."
Lydia had the decency to appear bored with the whole conversation, craning her neck around the stadium. "I wonder if they're selling nachos at the concession stands tonight," she mused, tapping a manicured finger to her lips. "I really want nachos."
My mother clapped her hands together. "About that Sunday supper," she said, her gaze swinging between me and Jackson. "We really must have you over. Give me a date. There has to be one Sunday when I can get you two at my table."
"That's very kind of you," Jackson replied. "But we'd be happy to host you. It would give us a chance to show you the house we're buying and the plans we have for remodeling. I'm sure you want to see the new displays Annette has at the shop, too."
I shifted a bit, pressing the side of my face into Jackson's chest to smother a laugh. My family had never once visited my shop to see new storefront displays. I rubbed my cheek against that sweater I liked so much and sucked in a lungful of his scent. He truly was one of the good ones.
"Yes, of course," my mother agreed. "How about—"
"Wait, wait, wait," Nella interrupted. "You're remodeling a house? Where?" She pointed at me. "Why all the secrets, Annette? What are you trying to hide?"
Jackson's chest rose and fell under my cheek. Rose and fell. "As I'm certain you can see, we're not hiding anything," he said.
Still directing her comments toward me, Nella continued, "Then why haven't you told us about any of this?"
Jackson and I glanced at each other, our half smiles mirror images of each other. "We didn't hear back about our offer on the house until yesterday so it's as new to you as it is to us. And Jackson was in Augusta and I had that author event on Wednesday, and we've been busy," I said, still looking at him.
"Really busy." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth. "Since Annette doesn't require your approval, I can't imagine you'd be anything but thrilled for her. Isn't that right?"
"We can be thrilled and ask questions at the same time," Nella argued. "The two are not mutually exclusive. This has happened rather quickly. Wouldn't you agree, sheriff?"
A low growl sounded in Jackson's throat as he tightened his hold on me. I had to hide my face again.
"Oh my god, Nella," Rosa murmured. "Can you stop trying to prove a point for a freaking minute? You don't have to be a bitch all the time."
"Who are you calling a bitch?" Nella snapped.
"What are we talking about?" Lydia asked, her eyes narrowed as she looked between us. "Never mind. Someone will tell me later. I'm going to get nachos."
My sister turned and walked away, not troubling herself with pleasantries.
"I want to hear about this house," my mother said, holding both hands at her side as if to hold down my sisters' comments. "Where is it? When will it be ready?"
"We put in an offer on the old Dickerson house," I said. "It's in bad shape but the land is incredible."
Incredible and private. When we started tossing around the idea of finding a place together, something new to us, one of the top requirements was a home that afforded us a degree of privacy. Our days were spent interacting with the community and sharing ourselves with this town but we also needed a place to close the doors and be alone.
We hadn't expected to find something as fast as we did but we couldn't pass up the ancient farmhouse with the woods at its back and the ocean shimmering in the front.
"And the view," Jackson added, his chin brushing the crown of my head. "The view's the best."
"The work will take several months but we figure we'll be moved in come springtime," I said. "Maybe summer. We'll see how the winter goes."
The school's marching band launched into the fight song as the players jogged onto the field. My mother gestured between her ears and mouth, indicating it was too loud to talk right now. She dropped a quick kiss on my cheek and gave Jackson a one-armed squeeze. She gathered up Rosa and the still-fuming Nella, and headed back to the stands.
When the referee beckoned to Jackson to lead the coin toss, he took my hand and led me to the center of the field with him. I hadn't expected to join him for this portion of the festivities but I didn't mind. If there was anyone left wondering about my man's relationship status, this moment cleared it right up.
Several players from each team huddled around us, watching as he popped the coin into the air and then slapped it down on the top of his hand. Instead of looking at the coin, he hooked his arm around my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.
Jackson's lips a breath from mine, he whispered, "Didn't seem like the right time to tell your family that you've come to your senses and agreed to marry me. We'll tell them when my parents come to visit in a few weeks. We'll have to invite Brooke, since she's been sitting on this info since last weekend. That will be fun. They can all be hysterical together."
A smile stretched across my face as I remembered us hiking around the Dickerson Farmstead, marveling at barely-standing barns, rows of apple trees marching into the woods, stone bridges over deep streams. We'd followed a path that led to a seaside cliff and watched the ocean rush over the rocky shoreline below. I was too busy counting the wild blueberry bushes lining the path to notice Jackson had dropped down to one knee.
I didn't remember his exact words but I remembered feeling chosen. Worthy. Those sensations didn't swamp my system like a bath in warm honey bec
ause he wanted to spend a lifetime with me but because I finally believed I deserved it.
I was worthy of a big, full, messy love.
I was worthy of living the life I'd imagined for myself.
I was worthy of skipping over the scraps and taking everything I'd ever wanted.
If I had it to do all over again, I would've remembered what Jackson said as he knelt before me, but I wouldn't have traded that burst of confidence—of knowing what I wanted and accepting it, too—for anything.
Just one more thing…
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Hard Pressed Page 22