Jax woke up, Grace’s name still on his lips. He was breathing hard and drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to his skin. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he slowly began to realize that what he’d seen wasn’t real. That it was just another nightmare. That Grace wasn’t lost. She’d walked away from the accident with a dislocated shoulder and minor scrapes and bruises.
Jax lay there and when he got his breathing under control and his heart stopped pounding out of his chest, he turned to look at the alarm clock. It was ten to five in the morning. He didn’t need to be up for another hour, but it was pointless for him to even attempt to go back to sleep. Whenever he had a nightmare about Grace, he was on edge until he saw her and knew she was okay.
So instead, Jax threw back the sheets that were tangled around his legs and sat on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands before he got up and padded into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and splashed his face with cold water. He looked into the mirror as water dripped off the end of his long, freckled nose. The hollows under his eyes were tinged a light purple.
Mirabelle had a whopping five thousand people in its six hundred square miles, half of which was water. The little beach town made up sixty percent of Atticus County’s population, and boy did those five thousand sure know how to keep the sheriff’s office busy. Deputies worked twelve-hour shifts. Two days on, then two days off; three days on, then two days off.
Jax had worked only the first day of his three-day shift, and he’d had to deal with plenty already: a kid who’d stolen his mom’s car to go joy riding with his girlfriend, more drunken college kids on spring break than he could count, and three house calls for domestic disturbances, two of which had ended in arrests. He was also investigating a string of burglaries that had been going on in Mirabelle. Five alone in the last two months, and they all looked to be connected.
The day before had been a long one and he left work exhausted. For normal people that would mean sleep would come easier, but that wasn’t the case for Jax. For Jax, deep sleep brought on his nightmares. He’d been having nightmares for as far back as he could remember, and at twenty-nine years old, that was a long time. It was hard not to have nightmares when you grew up in an environment that was less than friendly.
Haldon Anderson was one mean son-of-a-bitch, and he took great pleasure in making his son feel like shit as often as possible. When Haldon wasn’t in jail, he was out on a fishing boat making money to drown himself in a bottle of liquor and whatever pills he could get his hands on. And when Haldon got on one of his benders, there was absolutely nothing that was going to stop him. Whether Haldon used his fists or his words, he knew how to make a person bleed.
Haldon had laughed when Jax became a deputy seven years ago. He’d thought it was one of the greatest jokes of his life.
“This is perfect,” he’d said, wiping his fingers underneath his eyes. “A worthless boy doing a thankless job. Working for justice my ass, you’re not going to do anything to make this world a better place. The only thing you could’ve possibly done to achieve that was to have never been born.”
Yup, Haldon Anderson, father of the fucking year.
As a child, Jax couldn’t understand why his mother let his father get away with all the abuse. But Patricia Anderson wasn’t a strong woman and her greatest weakness was Haldon. She hadn’t protected her child like a mother should. Actually, she hadn’t done anything that a mother should do.
Jax shook his head and pulled himself out of the past. That was the last thing he wanted to think about.
He put on a sweatshirt, a pair of gym shorts, and his sneakers before he headed out into the chilly April morning. He stretched for a minute before he hit the pavement and attempted to run from his demons.
* * *
Grace King inhaled deeply as she pulled out a fresh batch of Bananas Foster muffins. The rich smell filled her nose before it expanded her lungs. She smiled as she set them on the counter to cool. These muffins were going to sell out with the morning breakfast rush.
Grace didn’t care if she was making cookies, pies, or cupcakes; she never got tired of it. One of her first memories was sitting in the kitchen at her grandparents’ house while she watched her mother stir chocolate cake batter. Grace’s fondest memories of her mother were the two of them baking together. Claire King had lost her battle to breast cancer almost fourteen years ago. But before she died, she’d passed on her love for baking to her daughter.
Grace had been working in her grandmother’s café since she was eight years old. Now, at twenty-four, she helped her grandmother run Café Lula. The café was a small, brightly painted cottage out on Mirabelle Beach. The promise of freshly baked food kept customers from all over town and the county pouring in no matter the time of day or the season.
The day promised to be a busy one, as Grace had to fill up the dessert case with fresh goodies. She’d been experimenting with cupcake recipes the past couple of weeks. She’d wanted to make something amazing for her sister-in-law’s baby shower. Grace had eaten dinner at Brendan and Paige’s the night before, and she’d been the one in charge of dessert. For fear of disappointing a sassy pregnant woman, she’d brought her A-game and made two different types of cupcakes.
“I think my favorite is the Blueberry Lemonade,” Paige had said as she’d rubbed her ever-growing belly. “But Trevor seems to like this Red Velvet Cheesecake one. I think he’s dancing in there.”
Trevor Oliver King was supposed to be gracing the world with his presence around the middle of May. Grace couldn’t wait to meet her nephew. Paige was over seven months pregnant, and she was one of those women who still looked beautiful even though she was growing another human being inside of her. If Grace didn’t love her sister-in-law dearly, she would’ve been fifty shades of jealous. As it was, she was only about twenty shades.
But really, Grace couldn’t be happier for her brother and sister-in-law. Brendan was going to be an amazing father. Much better than his or Grace’s had been.
Neither Brendan nor Grace had ever had their fathers in their lives. Brendan’s dad had gotten their mother pregnant when she was seventeen. When he’d found out, he promptly split town and never looked back. But while Brendan at least knew who his father was, Grace had no idea about hers. It was one of the great mysteries, and a constant source of gossip in Mirabelle.
There were many things in life that Grace was grateful for, her brother and Paige topping the list. They were a team and they worked together. They loved each other deeply. And Grace envied that stupid dopey look they always got on their faces. She wanted that. And she knew exactly who she wanted it with. It was just too bad for her that the man in question was stubborn and refused to see her as anything besides his best friend’s little sister.
Grace took a deep breath and shook her head, bringing herself back to the muffins that she had to take to the front of the café. There was no need to concern herself with frustrating men at the moment. So she loaded up a tray with an already cooled batch of muffins and went to load the display case before the eight o’clock rush of customers filled the café. But when she pushed her way through the door she found the frustrating man in question on the other side, staring at her with her favorite pair of deep green eyes.
* * *
Jax’s whole body relaxed when he saw Grace push through the door from the kitchen. The moment she saw him her blue eyes lit up and her cupid’s bow mouth split into a giant grin. She’d always looked at him that way. Like he was her favorite person in the whole world. God knew she was his.
“Heya, Deputy. Let me guess,” she said as she put the tray down on the counter, “you came here for coffee?”
No. He’d come here to see her. He always came here to see her. But coffee was a legitimate enough excuse, especially since he hadn’t gotten that much sleep and was at the beginning of another twelve-hour shift.
“Please,” he said, drumming his long, freckled fingers on the counter.
; “Did you eat breakfast?” she asked as she pulled a to-go cup off the stack and started pumping coffee into it.
“I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” She looked over her shoulder at him and pursed her lips. “You know that isn’t going to fly for a second. I got just the thing to go with this.” She put the steaming cup and a lid down on the counter. “Go fix your coffee while I bag up your breakfast.”
Grace turned around and pushed through the door to the kitchen as Jax grabbed his cup and went over to the end of the counter where the sugar and milk was.
Since Jax was four years old, the King women had been feeding him. Between them and Shep’s mom, theirs were the only home-cooked meals he’d gotten after his grandmother died. If it hadn’t been for them, he would’ve gone to bed with an empty stomach more nights than most.
Patricia Anderson wasn’t much of a Susie Homemaker. Between her long hours working at the Piggly Wiggly, and drinking herself into a stupor and getting high when Haldon was on parole, she sometimes forgot to stock the freezer with corndogs and mini pizzas for her son.
“Here you go.”
Jax turned to find Grace by his side. She hadn’t gotten the height gene like Brendan. She was about five-feet-four and came in just under Jax’s chin. Her petite stature and soft heart-shaped face inspired an overwhelming urge in him to protect her. She’d always inspired that feeling in him, ever since her mother brought her home from the hospital all those years ago.
“They’re Bananas Foster muffins and they’re fresh out of the oven,” she said, holding out a bag.
“Thanks, Princess,” he said, grabbing the bag and letting his fingers brush the back of her hand.
God, he loved the way her skin felt against his.
“Anytime, Jax.” She smiled widely at him. A second later she stepped into him and grabbed his forearms for balance as she stretched up on her toes and kissed his jaw.
It was something Grace had done a thousand and one times before. She had no concept of personal boundaries with him, and she was wide open with her affection. And just like always, when her lips brushed his skin he had the overwhelming desire to turn into her. To feel her lips against his. To grab her and hold her against him while he explored her mouth with his.
But instead of following that impulse, he let her pull back from him.
“Eat those while they’re hot,” she said, pointing to the bag.
“I will,” he promised.
“Do you need something for lunch? I can get you a sandwich.”
“I’m good,” he said, shaking his head.
“Really?” she asked putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes at him.
He couldn’t help but grin at her attempt to intimidate him.
There was no doubt about the fact that Grace King was tough. She’d had to grow a thick skin over the years. Even though Jax, along with Brendan and Shep, had done everything in their power to try to protect her, they couldn’t be there to shield her from everything. So Grace had done everything to even up the score with whoever tried to put her down. She wasn’t a shy little thing by any means, and she’d tell anybody what was up without a moment’s hesitation.
“I’ll stop somewhere and get something,” he said.
“Or I can give you something now,” she said, exasperated. “I’m getting you a sandwich.” She said turning on her heal and walking back into the kitchen.
“Grace, you don’t have to do this,” Jax said, following her.
“I know,” she said, looking over her shoulder as she opened the refrigerator. “But I’m going to anyway.”
Jax watched as Grace filled a bag with two sandwiches, a bag of chips, a cup of fruit salad, and his favorite, a butterscotch cookie.
“This should last you till dinner.”
Jax didn’t say anything as he pulled his wallet out to pay for everything.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Grace said, shaking her head. “You are not paying.”
Before Jax could respond the side door in the kitchen opened and Lula Mae walked in.
To the casual observer, Grace and Brendan’s grandmother wouldn’t strike a person as someone to be feared. She had a kind face and bright blue eyes that, when paired with her ample stature and friendly disposition, inspired a feeling of warmth and openness. But Lula Mae was fiercely loyal, and those blue eyes could go as cold as ice when someone hurt anyone she loved. Lula Mae had declared Jax as one of hers over twenty-five years ago, and she’d marched down to his parents’ house more than once to give them a piece of her mind.
Jax had spent more nights sleeping at the Kings’ house than he could count. It was one of the few places he’d actually felt safe growing up. And even now whenever he saw her or her husband, Oliver, he had that overwhelming feeling of being protected.
“Jaxson Lance Anderson,” Lula Mae said, walking up to him, “what in the world is your wallet doing out? Your money is no good here.”
“That’s what I just told him.”
Jax turned back to Grace, who was wearing a self-satisfied smile.
“Your granddaughter just gave me over thirty dollars’ worth of food,” he said, indicating the stuffed bag on the counter before he turned back to Lula Mae.
“I don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “Now give me some sugar before you go and keep the people of Mirabelle safe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jax said, leaning down and giving Lula Mae a peck on the check.
“And next time I see that wallet of yours make an appearance in this establishment, you are going to get a smack upside that handsome head of yours. You understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jax repeated.
“Good boy.” She nodded, patting his cheek.
“Thanks again,” he said, reaching for the bag of food and his coffee. “I’ll see you two later.”
“Bye, sugar,” Lula Mae said as she rounded the counter.
“See you later,” Grace said, giving him another of her face-splitting grins.
Jax headed for the door, unable to stop his own smile from spreading across his face.
* * *
Grace stared at Jax’s retreating form as he walked out of the kitchen, and she appreciated every inch of it. He had a lean muscular body. His shoulders filled out the top of his forest green deputy’s shirt, and his strong back tapered down to his waist. His shirt was tucked into his green pants that hung low from his narrow hips and covered his long, toned legs.
And oh, dear God, did Jaxson Anderson have a nice ass.
Though her appreciation of said ass had only been going on for about ten years, the appreciation of Jaxson Anderson had been discovered a long time ago. He was the boy who saved her from bullies on the playground. The boy who gave her his ice cream cone when hers fell in the dirt. The boy who picked her up off the ground when she Rollerbladed into a tree. The boy who let her cry on his shoulder after her mom died.
Yes, Brendan and Shep had done all those things as well, but Jax was different. Jax was hers. She’d decided that eighteen years ago. She’d just been waiting for him to figure it out.
But the man was ridiculously slow on the uptake.
Grace had been in love with him since she was six years old. She loved his freckles and his reddish brown hair. His hair that was always long enough to where someone could run their fingers through it and rumple it just a little. Not that she’d ever rumpled Jax’s hair, but a girl always had her fantasies, and getting Jax all tousled was most definitely one of Grace’s.
Jax was always so in control and self-contained, and so damn serious. More often than not, that boy had a frown on his face, which was probably why every time Grace saw his dimpled smile it made her go all warm and giddy.
God she loved his smile. She just wanted to kiss it, to run her lips down from his mouth to his smooth, triangular jaw.
Grace sighed wistfully as the door shut behind him and turned to her grandmother.
“You get your young man all fed and caffeina
ted?” Lula Mae asked as she pulled containers out of the refrigerator.
“I don’t know about ‘my young man,’ but I did get Jax something to soak up that coffee he came in for.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Lula Mae said, looking at Grace and shaking her head pityingly, “that boy did not come in here for coffee.”
“Hmmm, well he sure didn’t ask for anything else,” Grace said as she walked over to the stove and started plating the rest of her muffins.
“Just give it time.”
“Time?” Grace spun around to look at her grandmother. “How much time does the man need? He’s had years.”
“Yes, well, he’ll figure things out. Sooner than later I think.”
“I don’t think so. To him, I’m just Brendan’s little sister.”
“There’s no just about it,” Lula Mae said, grabbing one last container before she closed the fridge and walked back to the counter where she’d piled everything else. “He doesn’t have brotherly feelings for you, Gracie. I’ve never seen anyone fluster that boy the way you do.”
“Oh, come on, Jaxson Anderson doesn’t get flustered,” Grace said, shaking her head.
“If you think that, then he isn’t the only one who’s blind.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You see, Gracie, you’ve never had the chance to observe him when you aren’t around.”
“And?” she prompted, gesturing with her hand for her grandmother to carry on.
“He changes when you’re around. Smiles more.”
“Really? Because he still frowns a whole lot around me.”
“Well, that’s usually when some other boy is trying to get your attention, and he’s jealous.”
“Jealous.” Grace scoffed. “Jax doesn’t get jealous.”
“Oh, yes, he does. Grace, you need to open your eyes; that boy has been fighting his feelings for you for years.”
And with that, Lula Mae went about fixing her menu for the day, leaving Grace even more frustrated than she had been the minute before.
Unstoppable (A Country Roads Novel) Page 33