“But you have no clue what you’re looking for.”
I tried to unscrunch my facial features. “Well, no.”
He laughed. I kept my eyes locked on the hoses in my engine. “Go try to start it.”
I slipped between him and the car, successfully avoiding any contact. I left the driver’s door open and tried to start it. This time it didn’t even turn over.
“Do you have jumper cables?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.” I’d unloaded everything from the car into my new garage, feeling powerful that I’d even had one. I leaned out of the door to see him. He’d turned his Boston Bruins hat backward and was leaned over the engine. “Do you?”
“Ironically, no. I sent them with Ember when she went to Nashville.”
Ember? “Oh, well, that leaves me in a pickle.”
He lowered the hood and closed it with a click. “I’ll take you home. Unless there’s someone you’d like to call?”
“My phone is in the library.” I glanced at my watch. Twenty minutes until I had to be home for yet another dose of medication. “I don’t think Will can get here in time,” I muttered.
“I don’t think he’ll mind if I take you home.” He opened my door wider and held out his hand before letting a charming smirk cross his face. “After all, I’ve had my mouth on yours, right? What harm could a ride be compared to that?”
I tried to fight it, but couldn’t stop the slow spread of a smile across my face. I took my handbag with one hand, Jagger’s with the other, and let him help me from the car. That small touch was brutal. I hadn’t imagined that electric and highly inappropriate spark between us.
He opened the passenger door of the Defender and boosted me into the seat. “Lucy has missed you.”
I ran my hand over the dash. “Hi there, Lucy.”
“Where to?”
“Oh, I live in Enterprise.” It was a tiny town outside the gate, but it was the farthest Mama and Daddy would let me get.
“Me, too. It’s close to work.” He winked and started the car. Dropkick Murphys blared through his sound system for a few seconds before he could turn the volume down to a non-deafening level. “Sorry.” He pulled onto the road, winding us through Fort Rucker’s housing.
Memories crashed through me of summer nights, Peyton’s laugh, and sneaking out for concerts. “Don’t be. I love them.”
“Really? They don’t seem like your kind of band.”
“First, you don’t know me well enough to even guess what kind of music I like. Secondly, maybe I have a thing for Matt,” I said, naming one of the band members.
“Really?” He swung his gaze in my direction before taking it back to the road.
I laughed. “No, not really. I like them. ‘Rose Tattoo’ is my favorite.”
He shook his head with a smile, and we rode in companionable silence. I gave him directions to my townhouse, and he pulled into the drive. “I live about three blocks from here,” he said.
“In the apartments?”
“No, I share a house with Walker and Masters over there.” He pointed across the main street. He helped me down, and I didn’t shiver at his hands on my waist. Nope, not in the least bit. Liar. “So, it’s been bugging me for weeks—why can’t you swim?”
My cheeks heated, and I dropped my eyes to my pink toenails. “Because it used to scare me, and now…it’s too late, really.”
“It’s never too late to learn how to swim, Paisley.” He lifted my chin.
“What? Like I’m going to throw on some arm floaties and head on down to the pool with the neighborhood kids for lessons? Mortifying. I’d rather put out a campfire with my face.”
The smile that swept across his face was hotter than the sun-soaked pavement that threatened to burn through my sandals. “No. I’m going to teach you.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I muttered.
“So you keep saying.”
“I’m serious.”
“Then it’s a good thing sex isn’t necessary to swimming.” He winked.
“Will wouldn’t like it.” I clung to whatever reason I could.
“I’m sure Will doesn’t want you drowning, either.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to…” Every reason I should was countered with the main reason I shouldn’t. But I needed to learn, and he wouldn’t make fun of me.
“Look, I know it’s odd, and that you don’t know me. But I pulled you out of that water. I filled your lungs with my own breath, and if that doesn’t make me responsible for you, I’m not sure what does.” He curved the brim of his hat. Was it a nervous habit? “I can’t stomach the thought of that happening to you again, of me not being there.”
“I can only offer you friendship, Jagger.” His name tasted as dangerous in my mouth as he looked.
“Good, because that’s all I’m asking for, I swear. I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning.” He drove away before I could change my mind, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d started down a slippery slope.
Chapter Six
Jagger
You saw her drowning. You watched it happen and did nothing about it. Well, except pay for her funeral.
Coffee in hand, I knocked on Paisley’s door. I couldn’t count how many times I’d picked a girl up at her place, and I’d never been this nervous, friend zone or not.
The door opened, and her roommate smiled at me. “Ah, Mr. California.”
“Hey, Morgan.”
Her eyes lit up, like always when girls were surprised I remembered their names. Had to love a photographic memory. She stretched her arms above her head, raising her shirt enough for me to see the tanned skin of her stomach. Then she slid her hands down the sides of her waist and smiled. I knew that look in her eyes. It was the same that led to many dropped panties in my general direction. Now usually I’d take that as an invitation and pursue, but she didn’t even stir me, even if I hadn’t sworn off women.
Fuck. Maybe my dick was broken.
“Morgan! Is that Jagger?” Paisley’s voice echoed from behind her.
“It sure is.” She moved aside, motioning me in.
I pushed my sunglasses to the top of my head with one hand, holding the cup of coffee from Boldly Going marked “Paisley” in the other. “Hey there!” She walked across the hallway, flustered. “I just need a minute.”
The townhouse was immaculate, and bare. I passed the half wall that separated the living room from the entry and glanced around. Everything was beige and white, from the furniture to the carpet. There were no pictures on the walls, no real personal effects besides a few pictures framed on the end tables.
“Morgan, have you seen my—”
“On your dresser,” she answered.
“Oh, right!” Paisley bounded from the kitchen toward the stairs, passing me without a glance.
Holy shit. Those legs… Ah, there was the familiar stirring from down below. Nice to see you, buddy.
“So, swimming?” Morgan asked, hopping onto the kitchen counter opposite from where I waited.
“Yeah, I want to help her learn.”
“Is that all you want to help her with?” She batted her eyelashes over her large brown eyes.
“We’re just friends, Morgan. I know all about Will.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m not sure why I’m surprised, really. Paisley wouldn’t carry on behind his back.” Her southern accent drew out the words like dripping molasses.
“We’re not carrying on. I only want to make sure she doesn’t drown again.”
She cleared her throat as Paisley descended the stairs. “Ready?” The neck strap of her swimsuit peeked out over her tank top, and I had the momentary fantasy of untying it. Right, because I’d gone straight back to ninth grade, hormones and all.
Morgan slid down from the counter, snatching the coffee cup out of my hand and taking a long pull. “Yum. Caramel macchiato is my fave. Thanks!” She smacked a loud kiss on Paisley’s cheek and headed up the stairs, pausing to blow me a kiss.
“I don’t drink coffee anyway. Don’t worry about it, and I really appreciate the gesture.” Paisley half smiled. “I guess I’m ready. And I’m trusting you not to poke fun at me.”
“I would never.” How easily she said that word. Trust wasn’t something I was going to discuss, even in passing. That was something earned.
She pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Just don’t take me anywhere I can embarrass myself.” She bent over to grab a purple backpack, and I clenched my hands to keep from touching the blond strands that dangled near my fingers.
No distractions. No women. Only friends.
“I have just the place.”
“You’re certain about this?” Paisley asked from the passenger seat. We hit another bump on the dirt road, and her grip on the oh-shit handle tightened.
“Certain. You want to go somewhere you won’t be seen, right?” Ridiculous, but if that’s what it took, then…fine.
“Right, but I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
I snuck a look at her. Her lips were pursed, and her eyebrows puckered, worry lurking in her eyes. Our bodies jarred as we hit another mud-soaked rut, and I forced my attention to the road. “Don’t worry so much.”
She laughed, but it was forced. “That’s kind of all I do.”
My mouth opened, but her phone rang before I could get a word out. She dug through her purse and caught it before “Shipping Up to Boston” hit the chorus. The girl actually was a Dropkick Murphys fan. Well, shit, if that didn’t attract me more.
“Hey, sugar,” she answered, sticking my dick in cold water with the reminder that she had a boyfriend. “Yeah, I know.”
What kind of guy held Paisley’s attention?
The pissed-off tone of his voice came through the phone, but I couldn’t make out the words. “I didn’t know you were coming over this morning. No, of course you don’t need an invite, I just wish I’d…seen you before I left.” She giggled, and it damn near killed me. “No, of course not. I know you’re upset.” There were more words cutting off any attempt she made to get a word in edgewise. “Yes, I know it’s on the counter. Will, seriously, don’t you think I can keep track of that myself? I don’t always need it on. I’ll be fine, it’s only a swimming lesson.”
She told him. Score one point for honesty.
“I understand you’re upset, but you need to give me a little wiggle room here.” Two more of her deep breaths and we rounded the corner to our destination. “Will. Will! Please trust me enough to know what I’m capable of.”
Two breaths and the small lake came into view. “I know. I love you, too. I’ll call you once I get home.” I threw Lucy into park and reached for the door handle as she hung up. “I’m so sorry about that.”
I shut my door and made my way around to hers. “You don’t need to apologize to me.” I helped her down.
“He worries.”
“You guys sound like you have great communication.” Okay, that was officially the lamest shit I’d ever said, but I envied it.
She propped her sunglasses on top of her head and squinted at me. “We do. We’ve been friends nearly our whole lives. There’s a lot of history there.”
Before it could get any heavier or more awkward, I kicked off my flip-flops into the heavy grass. “Are you ready?”
She peeked behind me at the lake. “Wait, you want to swim here?”
I shrugged. “One of the guys told me about it. It’s secluded, clean, and we have it to ourselves.”
She shook her head and waggled her finger at me. “Oh, no, not here. This is not a good idea.”
I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the hood of my truck. “This is the idea, Paisley. Get your clothes off and get in the water.” Her eyes widened, and I didn’t miss the way she raked her eyes down my chest. Was she a tattoo kind of girl? Or was her boyfriend the clean-cut guy she could take home to her mom? “Does the ink bother you?”
She blinked a few times, then jerked her eyes to my face as her cheeks flushed. “No, not at all.”
I knew what would come next, the inevitable what does it all mean every girl asked. I hadn’t told anyone the real translation of the words that stretched across my chest, arm, back, and abs. Those truths were mine and mine alone. “Let’s swim.”
“No, you don’t understand—”
My patience slipped another notch. She was not getting out of this. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll get in first, but you’d better be right behind me, or I’m throwing your cute little ass in.” I ran at the water, jumping in where it looked deep enough. The cool water slid over my head. I stood, the water coming to my chest. “Get in here.”
“No way.” She shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “I’ve lived here long enough to know you don’t swim here. Not with George.”
“Who?” I looked left and right. Nothing to be seen but the smooth, barely rippled surface of the water, and the tall reeds that banked it. The mud slid between my toes as I flexed them deeper.
“George. He’s—”
“Stop making excuses and get in the water. I can’t teach you to swim if you’re on land— What the fuck is that?” Two rounded eyes appeared thirty feet away, lingering above the surface of the water…coming this way. Fast.
“Get out!” she shrieked.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I kicked forward, swimming for the shore as fast as I could, wishing I hadn’t come so far out to start with. I made it to the bank and didn’t pause in my headlong flight to the car. I scooped up Paisley, tossed her over my shoulder, and barreled for the door.
I swung the door open and shoved her inside. She scrambled over to her seat as I jumped in mine, slamming the door home. “Seriously! What the fuck?”
We both swiveled our heads toward the shore where a very large, very green alligator ambled out of the water and onto the bank. He opened his mouth wide, like he needed to show me those massive freaking teeth, and snapped his jaw shut.
“That is George,” Paisley said, and she had the audacity to laugh breathlessly. “George is why you don’t swim here.”
“George.”
She reached over the space that separated us, patting my leg like she was soothing a puppy. “It’s okay, tough guy, he doesn’t eat people.”
“He’s an alligator!”
She smirked, the corner of her mouth raising just high enough to start my blood flowing to the area of my body I didn’t need it to. “American alligators don’t eat people. Well, they’re a last resort, really.”
“You screamed at me to get out!”
“Well, I certainly didn’t want you to be his first.” Her green eyes sparkled in laughter.
“And to think you trusted me not to poke fun at you?” She had the nerve to flat-out laugh, and damn it if it wasn’t contagious. My hands flexed on the steering wheel. “You’re a handful of trouble, Paisley.”
“So I’ve been told.” Her smile killed me.
I threw Lucy into reverse and whipped her around. My shirt went flying off the hood.
“You’re going to lose—”
“Let him have it.”
“Honey, I’m home,” I called out as I dropped my keys and cell phone on the entry table next to Grayson’s.
“Fastest swimming lesson ever,” he answered, straight-faced, from the kitchen.
“Yeah, well, there was an alligator.”
“A what?” He pivoted, almost dropping the marinara-soaked spoon onto the floor.
“Don’t ask. Dude, you cook?” I hadn’t smelled anything so good since I left— Yeah, not going there.
“Dude,” he mocked me, “you don’t?” He motioned to the island. “Make yourself useful and start layering lasagna noodles.”
“That I can do.”
“Good. Maybe I’ll make a man out of you yet.”
Grayson was hard to get a read on.
He’d shown up on the first day of class asking if anyone knew of a cheap place to rent, having spent every last second he could with his family in North Carolina before coming down, so it was take him in or leave him to fend for himself.
I’d taken Josh in as a roommate for the same reason—he put his family first, and I figured that had worked out, so why not take the chance.
I washed my hands and started the base layer, laying the noodles the way Mom had done on the days she’d been well enough to cook. “This all for us?”
“Well, I couldn’t get a flight home this weekend.” His jaw flexed. “And I figure we’ll be eating like POWs in SERE school next week.”
Ah, yes, Survive, Escape, Resist, Evade. Where we’d learn to eat bugs and shit if we crashed our birds. A whole three weeks of mind-blowing fun. “Good idea. Garlic bread?”
He shot me a look that blatantly told me to go to hell. “What do I look like?” He cracked a half smile, which was more than I’d ever gotten out of him, and motioned his head toward the fresh-baked Italian bread on the counter.
The guy didn’t miss a beat. “Awesome.”
“There’s steaks in the fridge for dinner, too.”
Holy shit, I lived with Guy Fieri. “Beer?”
He raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t bother to answer. Of course there was beer. “There was mail for you.” He used his head again to motion to the coffee table, keeping his hands busy with the lasagna.
Once we were finished, I opened the bill and grimaced. At least I knew where she was, even if it cost me a fortune to keep her there. Knowing was precious, because not knowing, worrying about what the fuck she was doing, was agonizing. I’d been there a few too many times.
Yes, five minutes and a large check was more than worth it. I sealed the return envelope and held it to my forehead, the closest I could get without her dragging me down into her private hell. “Anna.” I let the ache of missing her in for the smallest second, mourning her loss as if she’d died. But maybe one day… No. That thought broke me every time I tried to believe. I closed the door on it with the lid of the mailbox and walked back into the life I’d fought so fucking hard for.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Grayson asked, sliding the pan into the oven.
Eyes Turned Skyward Page 5