All That Jazz (Butler Cove #1)

by Natasha Boyd

  I drag a comb through my tangles and pull on jeans and a shirt, making it back to Woody’s just as the man himself sets a plate down at the end of the bar. “Didn’t feel like shrimp tonight?” he asks. “Josh scored a massive haul this morning.”

  Josh is a local fisherman turn broker who bought and sold the other boats’ shrimp too. Fresh local shrimp. There is nothing like it. “Nah,” I say. “I had my heart set on a steak earlier and this is the next best thing.” I upend the ketchup bottle above my plate.

  “So what? Are you a professor yet?”

  “Ha ha. No. But you are looking at the first Fraser of Butler Cove to have a college degree.”

  “Congratulations. You have to wear a cap and cloak or something?”

  I laugh. “It’s a cap and gown. But actually, I won’t be here for the graduation ceremony. It’s a formality anyway.”

  “I’m proud of you, kid. You could have gone the other way, you know? Seen too many latch key kids ending up with the wrong sorts and getting in trouble. But you always had a good head on your shoulders.”

  I finish my mouthful, feeling oddly choked up. And it’s not from the burger or my earlier break down. “You know, Woody, other latch key kids didn’t have someone like you looking out for them after school every day and making sure they got something to eat.”

  “Your momma fed you.”

  “No. A lot of the time she didn’t. Let’s be real. If it wasn’t you, it was Nana Butler.” I think about the day of my eighteenth birthday, when he gave me the worst news I could imagine. I’m glad he was there. Not to mention he’d saved my life when the boat went down. “You’re a good man, Woody. The very, very, best.”

  “I wish you’d hurry up and make some money so you can buy this bar from me and I can retire.”

  I snort. “You’ll never retire. I can’t imagine anything worse than you hanging over my shoulder while I’m trying to measure shots.”

  “I miss mini bottles,” he laments. “The perfect amount. That’s why I can’t leave the bar, all the bartenders bleed me dry.”

  “Plus, I thought you were leaving it to me in your will,” I deadpan. “Why would I buy it?”

  “Hey!” Dirty Harry slaps a hand down on the bar. “He’s leaving it to me.”

  Woody chuckles, and grabbing the remote, flicks through several sports channels until he finds the Braves. “In your dreams, Harry. I guess my loser son will be back to claim it when I finally kick the bucket.”

  “Playing for the Braves hardly makes him a loser.” Though I know he’s joking. He’s the proudest father I know. “You heard from him recently?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No, he’s far too busy for his old man.”

  “And your ex-wife, how’s she?”

  “Ha! Virginia’s getting married. Can you believe it?” He sets the remote down. “Finally found some poor old dude up in Pelzer to grow old with. It’s a load off my shoulders, I can promise you that.”

  “What?” Harry laughs. “You thought she was gonna take you back?”

  “Well, no, but we ain’t gettin’ any younger. And who wants to be alone in their old age? She coulda decided to come back.”

  “You’re not alone. You’ve got me,” Harry reminds him.

  “Temptin’”

  I don’t offer much more to the conversation as the two old friends talk shit as they always do. When I’m done eating, I thank Woody and say good night.

  My phone buzzes and I hesitantly get it out my pocket. Expecting Joey, my stomach sinks as I see it’s Brandon.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Hey,” Brandon echoes. And for the first time, he doesn’t sound like his happy-go-lucky self.

  I grit my teeth. “You back from Florida?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Look, Jazz, I’m sorry, yeah? I know I acted like a clown down there.”

  “It’s fine, Brandon, really. I’m not mad.”

  “You’re not?” He sounds hopeful.

  “No, I’m not. But—”

  “No, babe, don’t say ‘but.’ You’re gonna break up with me, aren’t you?”

  I sigh.

  “Aw. Come on, please don’t.”

  “It’s really not about you. I really wanted to tell you in person, and I’m sorry. But yeah, we’re breaking up.”

  I wince. I’m a shit for doing it over the phone. But I can’t drag this out. And it’s not like we had some kind of epic love.

  There’s no reply for a while.

  “Brandon?” I ask. “You okay?”

  He sniffs and clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m cool. I really liked you.”

  “I liked you too.”

  “Is it coz of your posting? I saw the board. I know you probably don’t want to do some long distance thing.”

  I imagine him blinking his chocolate brown eyes, the long lashes lazily opening and closing as he did so well. It’s hypnotic. Eyelashes like that on men should be banned. They make girls do reckless things.

  “You’re right. I don’t want a long distance thing. But also, we’re not right for each other. But you’re a good guy, Brandon.”

  “Just not for you.”

  “No hard feelings?”

  He sniffs again and sighs. “Yeah. No hard feelings. But I gotta hang up now coz I’m getting choked up.” The phone goes dead.

  I look at the phone in my hand.

  Jesus. What a day.

  I slip into my room and face-plant onto my bed.

  It feels like I only slept for five minutes, but my phone is going nuts. I grab at it, keeping one eye closed against the bright screen. Dawn is creeping into my bedroom.

  Jay Bird: Call me. It’s urgent.

  Jay Bird: You’re not answering. I need your help.

  Jay Bird: Did I mention it’s urgent? I know u r mad at me, but could u just call me?

  I’m not mad. I simply feel defeated when it comes to Joey and me. After what happened in his hallway last night, it all seems so pointless.

  Jay Bird: IT’S ABOUT KERI ANN AND JACK EVERSEA

  I sit upright, swinging my legs off the bed. I shake my head and tie up my hair. I fell asleep with it wet so I probably look like medusa.

  Jazzy Bear: Keep your pants on. I was asleep. Give me a sec.

  Bad choice of words. I cringe, wondering if our interactions will continue to be minefields. I hustle to the bathroom, and when I’m done I brush my teeth, splash cold water on my face, dry it, and put on tinted moisturizer and lip balm. My hair just … is. I pull on clothes and call Joey back within five minutes. “What’s up?” I ask when the line connects.

  “Some asshole reporter woke me up ringing the doorbell at six this morning. He’s about to publish a shit stinking tabloid piece about Jack, saying Keri Ann was his home-wrecking piece on the side. He says Keri Ann caused Jack’s girlfriend to miscarry their baby. Shit.” He huffs out the last word. “Is it true?” He doesn’t pause for me to answer. “I thought he was broken up with Audrey Lane when he got together with my sister. Tell me I haven’t believed some bullshit.”

  “Okay, calm down, okay? First. No, you haven’t believed bullshit. This story is bullshit. His ex girlfriend is a lying cow. But you know people will believe whatever is printed. So we’re just going to have to deal with it.” But I felt sick with nerves for my friend. Keri Ann wouldn’t have to deal with it alone though. Joey and I would do whatever we could to help her through it. We, we, we. “Give me a second, okay. Let me get online, see if it’s out yet.”

  “I don’t think it is. I think he wants to give them a chance to make a comment or whatever.”

  “Big of him. I’ll check anyway and call you back. Actually, I’ll come over.”

  “No. This asshole is here, sitting outside in his car. I guess he’s hoping I’ll lead him to wherever Jack and Keri Ann are.”

  “Okay. Take K’s bike, you can take the cycle paths here to the marina. He can’t follow by car, he won’t know where you’re going. We can catch Dan before he takes the boa
t back over to get them from Daufuskie.”

  He lets out a long breath. “Okay. Thank you. See you soon.”

  “See you soon.” I hang up. Then I text him immediately.

  Jazzy Bear: If he gave you a copy of his story, bring it. K and J are going to need to see it to know what they’re dealing with.

  Here I was hoping not to have to see much of Joseph so I can dissect what the hell went on with us yesterday in his hallway. And also make sure it doesn’t happen again. And now fate has conspired to throw us back together. Fabulous.

  I pull up an internet browser and type in Jack Eversea.

  Oh shit!

  That damn Ashley girl from USCB who Keri Ann told me was all over Jack a few nights ago at the Snapper Grill has apparently decided to post her pics. I scowl at the picture of Jack with Ashley attached to his face like a sultry barnacle as she snapped a selfie. Granted Jack was looking off somewhere else, presumably at Keri Ann since she said he’d eye stalked her all night. But it’s still pretty damning. It only serves to make his ex, Audrey Lane, look further vindicated. Ugh. Talk about bad timing.

  I call Keri Ann’s phone and as expected it cuts straight to voicemail. I text her to call me too, just in case. Then I lose track of time checking all the sites and reading the comments from the trolls. Ashley’s Facebook is blown up with jealous friends from college. Some girls I know. Ashley’s a temporary celebrity herself. I guess that’s what she was going for. I shake my head. People are so weird. I wish I’d thought to tell her to hold the pics, but who knew the reporter was about to do a number on Jack.

  I try Keri Ann’s phone again. Still nothing.

  There’s a sound at my sliding glass door and I jump. “You don’t sleep with this unlocked, I hope,” Joey says as he slides it open and slips inside in running shorts and a hoodie. I hold my breath. I’m assailed with images and sensations of him pinning me against the wall last night. Letting my breath out slowly, I try to act normal. This is going to be so freaking hard.

  I probably did forget to lock the door last night. It’s typical that it would be the first thing Joseph says.

  “She’s not answering her phone,” he says.

  “Cell service is for shit on Daufuskie,” I say, then nod at my computer. “So it gets worse,” I go on and angle my screen so he can see.

  He looks over my shoulder and the scent of him freshly showered causes me to cross and uncross my legs. He left me unsatisfied after all. That’s all it is.

  And about that … what a jerk.

  I instantly feel better.

  “Who is this?” he asks at my screen.

  “That would be Ashley. I went to school with her. And no, nothing happened apart from her engineering that idiotic selfie of her making out with Jack’s ear.”

  Joey scowls at the picture.

  I close my laptop, breaking his trance. “I’m thinking I should go with Dan on the boat to intercept them at Daufuskie,” I suggest. “He leaves in an hour. You said the reporter is hanging around the house, so we don’t want to go back there. I can see if Dan can drop us at a dock in Savannah instead, then you can take my car from here and meet us there.”

  “Good idea, but you go to Savannah, I’ll go to the island to get her.” Joey folds his arms.

  “No offense, but K is going to need her best friend not her overbearing, judgmental, I-told-you-so brother.”

  “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.” He sounds fine, but a flicker of hurt crosses his face.

  “Sorry. No filter. As you know. But think about it.”

  He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, I can see your point. Also I might feel inclined to deck Jack’s smug face. He spent the night debauching my sister while leaving this fucking mess in his wake.” He pulls the folded pages out his pocket, holding them out.

  “It’s not his fault, Joey,” I say, taking them. “I know it’s a sore spot for you because she’s your sister. But he’s a good guy. I promise.”

  He purses his lips but doesn’t say anything.

  I scan through. It’s pretty bad, but it will be old news soon. I just have to convince Keri Ann she can deal with it. “Anyway, I’m sure what they did last night was probably closer to making love than what we did against the entryway wall in your house. If anyone was ‘debauched,’ I was. And by the way, what century are we living in? Debauching? Seriously?” What on earth possesses me to just bring it up like this? I don’t believe myself sometimes.

  “Are you done?”

  I shrug.

  “What we did last night wasn’t debauched. Granted it wasn’t how I imagined it would be when I got to be inside you again.”

  My stomach drops at his words. He’s imagined being inside me … again?

  “We fucked,” I offer up the explanation as a bizarre means of protection.

  He pins me with his blue eyes, then leans down and gets in my face. “It was way more than fucking and you know it.”

  I swallow as heat flashes through my veins and my throat constricts. “Actually, I don’t. Besides,” I can’t help adding, “it wasn’t that good for me, anyway.”

  Joey sets his arms on either side of me and leans down closer, his face inches from mine. His eyes haven’t left me. “I love how you just say whatever the hell is on your mind. And I love that I’m on your mind.”

  “You’re not. At all.” I shake my head.

  He smiles. “Liar.”

  “Remove yourself from my personal space, Joseph,” I warn.

  “I’m planning on getting very, very intimate with your personal space.” He lifts up slightly, a hand coming between us and flicking open the top button of my jeans. “We have an hour, and I intend to use it wisely.”

  My hand grabs his. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask and cannot stand that my voice is breathy.

  “You quite rightly pointed out my ungentlemanly and thoughtless behavior.” His hands continue working on my buttons, and then he’s curled his fingers over the waistband and is tugging. “I think I should be allowed the opportunity to set things right.”

  “I—”

  He cuts me off with his mouth on mine, his tongue slipping lazily between my lips.

  It’s my weakness. I love his mouth.

  My hand lets go of his and reaches up to thread into his hair. Why am I so easy when it comes to Joey? I can’t let him decimate me like he did last night. He kisses me deeply. He kisses me over and over until I’m a gooey mess of memories of our make out sessions.

  I’m stuck deeply in nostalgia and arousal. It’s not a healthy mix. “Stop,” I manage on a breath.

  Joey blinks like he’s in a fog. I ignore the jig my heart does that he can lose himself in me too. “Jazz,” he whispers. Then he’s picking me up effortlessly and depositing me on the bed. He’s tugging my unbuttoned jeans down my bare legs and over my bare feet. I’m not stopping him. Why am I not stopping him? I’m watching his face, that’s why. I’m seeing his eyes fix on my pale pink underwear. His jaw flexes and his nostrils flare. A lock of his dark blond hair falls across his eyes, and he looks up at me through it. Is he waiting for me to stop him? Because he looks so delicious looking up at me hungrily like that, there’s no way I want him to stop. Plus, my body is burning up from the inside out. He better be able to put me out of my misery.

  Biting my lip in case I say something completely idiotic, defensive, or worse beg him to continue, I say nothing and wait for him to move again. I’m not resisting. That should tell him everything.

  He unzips his hoodie and shrugs it off. He didn’t even stop to put on a t-shirt this morning. I want to press my face against his skin. Dammit.

  Walking over to the sliding glass door, he locks it then pulls the thin curtain across the window, casting us in half light. His intent pours even more fuel onto the fire that’s burning under my skin. I’m so turned on, it doesn’t feel normal.

  “My mother’s not here,” I say, my voice catching as I see him start to the bedroom door. I pull
my knees up, my feet flat on the bed. “You sure are making a production out of this. It better be good.” My tone belies my quaking need.

  He chokes out a laugh and shakes his head as he comes back to the bed. “You know, I think I just adjusted my goal. Not just to make you come but to make you speechless. Give us all a break from your ball busting.”

  “Go ahead then.” I lift my head and fold my hands underneath. “Give it your best shot.”

  HE KNEELS ON the end of my bed and runs his warm hands up my calves to my thighs. I expect his destination to be my underwear, but he surprises me by continuing on up over my belly, slipping under my shirt, over my ribcage, and skimming my breasts. My heart is beating in my clogged throat.

  “I think you’re off course. I’ve never come from someone playing with my nipples before,” I quip breathily.

  “You can’t play the whole course if you don’t start on the front nine.”

  “Yes you can.”

  “Shut up.” His thumb and forefingers close over my nipples through the fabric of my bra and tug.

  I gasp. “Didn’t bother you last night.”

  “It did bother me.” His legs follow his body up the bed, kneeling over me. “But I got a mainline hit of the smell and taste of you. I’d been watching you in that tiny fucking bikini all day¸ and I got … what should we call it … tunnel vision?”

  “Did you just call my girl parts a tunnel?” I ask, incensed. But I arch up helplessly as his fingers continue their glorious work. I’m feeling the pull deep inside me. I’m feeling it between my legs. I’d like it to be his mouth and teeth, not his fingers.

  He uses the arch of my back to slip a hand underneath me and wrangle my bra snap. The fact it’s tricky for him, makes me melt further. “Did you just use the term ‘girl parts’?” he asks. “I’ve never known you to ‘beat around the bush,’ so to speak.”

  My loose bra pushes up easily, baring my chest to him. His fingers return to their work and I close my eyes.