You Can't Hurry Love

by Lee Kilraine

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing we aren’t planning on telling her. I love your mother, but we aren’t letting her and her expectations ruin this moment. Not today. In fact, I think we should come up with a bucket list of things mad, bad, and dangerous to know Jo should do just once in her life before we retie straitlaced Jo.”

  “Fine. Go ahead and put get drunk at the top of the list and cross it off because I am.” She giggled loud enough to wake the puppy. “Time for a potty break.”

  “I know. I have a bladder like a kitten.”

  “I was talking about the puppy.”

  “Oh, right. You take him out to tinkle and I’ll grab a pad of paper and some cheese and crackers to help absorb some of the alcohol. And another bottle of wine. You can’t half-ass a bucket list item. If you’re going to cross off get drunk, it needs to be all sheets to the wind.”

  They didn’t half-ass it at all. After the puppy’s needs were taken care of, even playing with the squeaky squirrel toy Jo had bought him until he fell asleep again, they shared another bottle of wine while they wrote up Jo’s bucket list.

  “Seriously, Jo. If you didn’t worry about freaking your mother out—what would you want to do?”

  “My mom can’t help it. You know why she’s—”

  “Yes, I know, but I don’t want us to argue again. This isn’t about her anyway. Just name some things you wish you could do.”

  “Travel.”

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

  “You aren’t getting into the spirit of this game. It’s just for fun, Jo. Silly drunk fun. Making a list won’t hurt your mom. Come on. Live a little, even if it’s only on paper.”

  “Fine. I’d like to eat sushi in Japan.”

  “Now we’re talking.” Georgie scribbled it on the list. “What’s next? Think of something decadent, maybe a bit careless or—dah, da, da dah—shocking even.”

  “Sleep out under the stars.” She saw the look of surprise on Georgie’s face. Camping out seemed like such a simple thing. But to overprotective parents who’d lost one child, letting their asthmatic daughter camp out in the middle of nowhere was too worrisome. That worry hadn’t disappeared even though Jo had outgrown her asthma.

  Georgie drank more wine and wrote before looking back up. “What else? Aha! Another blush. Spill it, JJ.”

  “Spend a full day in bed . . . not sleeping.” Was that asking too much? It required some pretty amazing sexual chemistry between two people. Not to mention stamina. Something sadly lacking in her previous relationships, which explained why sometimes her relationships were short-lived and never even made it to the bedroom.

  “You and me both. Okay, start spitting them out faster so you don’t think about them. Go.”

  “Wear handcuffs.”

  “I believe you already did when Barney arrested you.”

  “Oh, good point. But I think it should count.”

  “Oh . . . oh! See? I told you that you had a wild soul dying to come out and play. Okay, I’m writing it down and crossing it off.”

  “Dye my hair a crazy color. Skinny-dip at midnight. Crash a wedding. Taste a grape at a grocery store—”

  “You’ve never—of course you haven’t because that would be like stealing to you.”

  “Do something truly shocking. Do something completely impulsive. Get a tattoo.”

  “These are good.” Georgie looked up from writing and pointed the pen at Jo. “But don’t get a tattoo on impulse. Tattoos need lots of thought because they’re forever.”

  “This is for fun, remember? Pfft. Can you see me getting a tattoo?” Heck no. Her poor mother would go into shock when that made it through the Grapevine.

  “Maybe a henna one. Although maybe not even that.”

  “Shh, I’m on a roll.” Funny how too many glasses of wine cracked her secret longings wide open. “Leave my handprints in wet concrete. Smoke a cigar. Give in to instalust.”

  Georgie’s head jerked up from writing. “You could have plenty of opportunity for that last one if you were Paxton’s pretend girlfriend for the next six months. Just sayin’. You can rack and stack those Cates brothers all day long because each one is better-looking than the next.”

  “Looks aren’t everything.” Jo frowned down into her empty wineglass. “Besides, Paxton and I are sworn enemies. Trust me when I say there’s no attraction there.”

  Her friend snorted.

  “Hey now. You’ve seen the fireworks every time the two of us are near each other.”

  “Mmhmm. I sure have. Here’s the elephant in the room you’re ignoring: you don’t have to like someone to lust after him. There’s a reason for those pyrotechnic explosions between you two.”

  “Yes, there is. He can be a jerk.”

  “He’s only a jerk to you. He’s nice, smart, and not afraid to go after what he wants. Have you seen the look in his eyes when he’s set some goal in his sights?”

  Oh, she’d seen it all right. Every year in high school when they competed against each other for class president. There had been a fire in his eyes, a magnetic intensity that had made her freeze in place and wish . . . what? That things had been different between them?

  Georgie nodded. “Uh-huh, I see you have. Now imagine how it would feel if you were his goal . . . and all that green-eyed intensity was aimed right at you.”

  She called up Paxton’s light-green gaze and imagined it focused on her, eating her up, burning hot into her, and the air literally stagnated in her lungs on a gasp.

  “Told you.”

  “No. No, no, no, that didn’t just happen.”

  “You keep telling yourself that. Have you ever seen him in the courtroom?”

  “Two days ago, as a matter of fact.”

  “I mean a serious case. He’s impressive. The man slices and dices in there. Trust me when I say I wasn’t the only woman in the courtroom paying rapt attention, if you know what I mean.”

  “Seriously? Wait a minute . . . you work at the bakery. How would you have been in the courtroom enough to watch—” Jo tilted her head as her friend’s cheeks flushed pink. Huh, who could—“Why, Georgeanne Savage, you’ve been going to the courtroom to drool over Gage Tierney.”

  “Yes I have and I’m not one bit embarrassed about it. He’s extremely hot in his police uniform. Besides, how else am I going to drool over him without my brother finding out?”

  “So I’m not the only one not going after what she wants.”

  “Unlike you, I have a very good reason for not going after Gage. Hawk would kill him.”

  “Valid point.”

  “Here you go, lady. The dreams of your alter ego. When you’re ready to start living your own life—not the one your parents are comfortable with—here’s your cheat sheet.” Georgie smacked the paper onto the coffee table. “You’re welcome.”

  Jo blinked down at the list, trying to ignore the scooped out feeling in her stomach. Pull it together, Jolene. There was nothing wrong with not causing her parents stress. Nothing.

  She needed to sober up was all. As soon as she sobered up, that bucket list would go back to sounding crazy instead of exciting. So exciting. And tempting and—

  Coffee, Jo. Go drink coffee.

  Sure enough, two cups of coffee later things were falling back into order and reason returned.

  “Why are we killing the lovely buzz with coffee again?” Georgie took a pitiful sip from the You Can’t Scare Me, I’m a Teacher mug Jo had handed her.

  “To get our feet back on the ground so we can deal with reality.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Living within established rules can be fun. I don’t need to break the law or do crazy things to feel—”

  “Yes? Feel what?” Georgie arched one eyebrow at her.

  Biting her lip, Jo pushed the wistful feelings down deep and out of the way. “Happy.”

  “Happy’s good. Nothing wrong with happy.” Georgie frowned down into her coffee before relea
sing a sigh and looking back up at Jo. “Okay, I’m halfway sober, so go ahead and hit me with reality. What have we got?”

  “Problem number one: I’ve got to figure out a way to get the puppy back to Maggie without her father figuring out I stole it.”

  Georgie’s forehead creased and her fingernail tapped on the side of her coffee mug. “That’s going to be tricky.”

  “I can’t just give the puppy to Maggie or he might think she was involved. Which is the very thing I was trying to avoid in the first place.”

  “Yeah, that would mean you ruined your perfect record for nothing.”

  “I can’t drop it off to him at their house because what’s to stop him pulling this whole thing again?”

  “I’ve never liked that man. Have you ever noticed that his eyes have a beady look to them?”

  “It’s going to have to be in public. I’m going to have to return the puppy in front of witnesses. I’ll tell him I found his daughter’s puppy wandering around and he’ll have to act excited to have it back, but he’ll know that I know what he did. That should work, right?”

  “Sure. I mean, so what if he figures out what you did? He’ll have to worry about his reputation.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay. Problem number one is solved, in theory. What’s next?”

  “Right. Problem number two: how to go back to ignoring the blight, torment, scourge, vexation, exasperation, aggravation, pest, and thorn in my side that is Paxton Cates. Because in my experience he rarely takes no for an answer.”

  The doorbell chimed, startling the puppy from his nap into tail-wagging excitement. Stepping around the puppy and over to the door, Jo peered into the peephole and groaned. “Speak of the devil.”

  Chapter Four

  Paxton stood on the small front porch of Jolene’s house listening to the dog bark inside. He owed that little dog for the opportunity that had landed in his lap. And Paxton was a man who paid his debts—which was why he’d just spent the last hour over at the county animal shelter.

  He hadn’t been able to discover the dog’s original owner on account of Frank Bufford’s passionate belief in privacy, but Frank had agreed to let Jo adopt the dog as long as she paid the adoption fee. Paxton was pretty sure that was on account of the crush Frank had had on Jo since middle school.

  The door opened, and he could tell Jolene Jolene Joyner wasn’t thrilled to see him. Here’s hoping he could change that, because he was set on talking her into helping him, which would mean six months of close proximity.

  “Paxton.” Jo stood in the narrow sliver of the open door and kept one hand on the doorknob. “What . . . what can I do for you?”

  Did she just slur her words? He leaned in closer to get a better look in her gray eyes and sure enough, they looked a bit unfocused. Well, this could be helpful. And a lot of fun.

  “I wanted to drop off some papers and talk.” He lifted the manila envelope in his hand for her to see, smiling his most winning smile. “Is now a bad time?”

  “You know, it is.” Jo stared up into his face, biting her lip, probably trying to figure out a polite way to tell him to bug off. “I’m in the middle of something here.”

  “Happy hour?” Her pout made him want to smile, but he refrained. He wanted her to let him inside to talk. Getting her mad wouldn’t be helpful. “This won’t take long, Jo. I promise. If you could just spare me a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Jo, is that Pax?” The door was pulled out of Jo’s hand and it swung wide open in welcome. “Looking good, Paxton.”

  “Georgie. How’s the bakery business these days?” He wasn’t surprised to find her here, seeing as the two had been best friends . . . well, about as long as he and Jo had been enemies.

  “Great. Who doesn’t like baked goods, right?” She nudged Jo with her elbow and cleared her throat, but Jo just kept staring at him. “Okay, you two go ahead and talk while I take the puppy for a walk.”

  Georgie disappeared into the house only to pop back out with the sleepy-looking puppy in her arms. “Take your time. I’ll probably be walking this little dude at least twenty minutes. Puppies have so much energy to burn.”

  The puppy was so relaxed his legs flopped around with each step Georgie took. You wouldn’t hear Paxton pointing that out, though, and because Jo wasn’t even noticing, he was going to take the opportunity Georgie was giving him and make the most of it.

  Jo’s narrowing gaze tracked her friend down the sidewalk before those perfect ingrained manners jumped her, seemingly like a monkey on her back. She gritted her jaw and rolled her shoulders back. “Might as well come in. Did I need to sign something else from court?”

  Stepping inside, she opened the door wide for him to follow.

  He’d never been in her house before, but it was pretty much what he would have guessed. Neat as a pin, no clutter, and decorated in neutral colors. Beige walls, white furniture, soft honey-toned pine floors. Exactly like he’d picture a buttoned-up, cashmere-sweater-wearing English teacher with an impeccable reputation would live in. Sedate. Prim and proper. Bland. Except for the two empty wine bottles on the coffee table.

  “Not need, no.” He pulled his gaze from the bottles and watched her walk ahead of him, her slim, athletic build accentuated by her loose-flowing pants. She’d kicked her shoes off by the door and Paxton’s eyes homed in on the bright polish on her toes. It was some pink color that made him think of tropical flowers. Splashes of silver glittered on a few of them. It looked out of place in her homage to neutral everywhere else. Surprisingly sexy. “I drew up a contract for our six-month relationship.”

  Stiffening, she paused before sliding gracefully onto the couch in a smooth, fluid motion. “You mean the one I already said no to?”

  “That’s the one.” He looked her right in the eye and smiled before pulling the sheaf of papers from the envelope. “I thought if the agreement was laid out on paper, you could see how simple it really is. Helping me out could help allay any feelings of guilt you have about not paying me.”

  Jo rolled her eyes. “Letting me pay you would take care of that.”

  “I am letting you pay me. Only we’re using the barter system instead of actual currency. Think of it as an exchange of services.”

  “That sounds a bit dirty.” A delicate snort escaped before she slapped a hand across her mouth while she pulled her prim demeanor back in place. “I mean, I see why you put it in writing when you say it like that.”

  “Exactly.” He made sure his face was expressionless, the look he often wore when talking with a new client, even though he wanted to grin at her. Because tipsy Jo was charming and a little bent. “Look, we both know we’ve never gotten along . . .”

  “True.”

  “I’m not even sure why.”

  “For starters, you cut off my pigtail in Mrs. Barlow’s class.”

  “Right. But we were five.”

  “My hair was my pride and joy. Everyone commented on it.”

  “I remember that. It reminded me of moonbeams.”

  “Mrs. Barlow cried when she saw what you’d done. The lady in the front office cried. My mama cried when she came to pick me up. The woman who had to give me a pixie cut cried. And then I cried when I got home and finally looked in the mirror. The only one who didn’t cry was my sister. She laughed and laughed at me. It was all very traumatic.”

  “Jeez, I had no idea. I’m sorry five-year-old me was such a little shit.” Hell, he was one of five boys. Half the time they acted like a tribe of primal monkeys. “If I could go back in time and kick his ass, I would.”

  Her lips wiggled, slipping into a soft smile, even letting a dimple peek through. “I appreciate it, but go easy on the kid; he was only five.”

  Damn, she had a pretty smile. It had been a long time since Jolene had graced him with it. Maybe even as far back as before his performance of Paxton Scissorhands in preschool. He wasn’t going to waste the moment. He saw the opening and made his move. “Appreciate it
enough to read over the contract I drew up?”

  “No.” Her eyes stared into his before she shrugged and reached out, accepting the papers from him only to lean forward and place them on the coffee table without even giving them a glance. “Why don’t you give me the highlights?”

  “Absolutely. You and I will pretend to be in a committed relationship for a period of six months”—he saw her flinch and moved to head it off—“and not a day more. At the end of the six-month term, I, Paxton Magnus Cates, will manage to perform some stupid, thoughtless act and you will end our relationship. Debt paid.”

  “Even if you haven’t achieved president of the universe yet?”

  “President of the Judicial District Bar Association, but yes. Six months and not a day more.” He watched her bite at her bottom lip. Her tell. Every client, innocent or guilty, had one. Some unconscious sign he picked up on to know when he either had them—or had lost them. He’d lost her. She was tempted but not ready to leap. Yet.

  “So . . . what do you want me to do? Sign it? Just sign away the next six months of my life?” She threw her hand out for emphasis, accidentally knocking over one of the wine bottles.

  The bottle spun and skidded across the table, heading for the floor, when he intercepted it before it fell off the edge. “No. What I want you to do is sober up. Read it. Then sign it.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve never had this much wine before. I normally have a two-glass limit.” She sighed, blinking her soft smoke-gray eyes at him. “We drank the wine while I told Georgie about my arrest. Who would have guessed it was a two-bottle story?”

  Paxton would have. The idea of Jolene Joyner doing so much as jaywalking would have been a hilarious joke around town a week ago. “You know, Jo, I’m beginning to think I don’t know you at all.”

  She snorted, and not the delicate kind either. “Why would you think you know me?”

  “We’ve known each other since we were four.”

  “That doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. I don’t know you.” He pointed at her, then stood, deciding now was a good time to leave because this was the longest they’d gone without growling at each other. “And you don’t know me. It goes both ways.”