La Fleur de Love: The Series: Books 1 - 4

by Leger, Lori

  He nodded, staring out at the sunset. “It’s the best time of the day to be out here.”

  She spoke quietly, afraid to disturb the solitude of the moment, but for some reason, longing to hear the sound of his voice. “Did you grow up on this ranch?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Naw, Bill didn’t buy this place until after Chloe and I were married. He said he wanted to be ready when we had kids.” He snorted, “You can see how well that turned out.”

  “Best laid plans and all that.”

  “That’s right.” He sighed deeply, then looked over to the right of him and smiled. “This one’s out like a light.”

  Giselle looked to her left. “Mac is, too.” She gazed out at the blazing sunset. “Are you angry with me, Jackson?”

  He stared straight ahead and waited, as though he were considering how to answer.

  “Not so much angry, as disappointed in your actions, I guess. I thought we’d become friends, but then you distanced yourself.”

  “I told you why—”

  “I know why you did it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less, especially when you change the rules to suit you.”

  She turned to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “First you totally ignore me, then you’re friendly, then you ignore me again. It’s hurtful and confusing. Frankly, I’m fed up with your attitude.”

  “What attitude?” Her voice rose more than she intended.

  He cocked his head and faced her. “If you’re friends with someone, you’re always friends, not just when it suits you.”

  “I don’t want people talking about me, and insinuating that I didn’t love my husband enough,” she insisted.

  “Give me a break, Giselle. Anyone who knows you also knows how much you loved Toby. I can’t believe you’d shut me out just to satisfy a couple of sluts, one of which wanted to get her hands on your husband.”

  “Now she wants to get her hands on you.” She spoke in a low murmur, more to herself than to him.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What’d you say?” he demanded.

  She turned to him, irritated that he wouldn’t let it go. “I said Izzy wants to get her hands on you now.”

  He froze, bringing the boat to a quiet halt on the far edge of the pond. “Did this Izzy person tell you that?”

  “That’s what she said that night. She said she didn’t know who you were, but she was damned sure going to find out,” Giselle admitted.

  “Did she really?”

  The slightest hint of a devilish grin revealed itself, and she suddenly wanted nothing better than to slap it off that handsome face of his. “Do you want an introduction next time you’re in town?” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

  “It depends. What’s she like?”

  “What you’re really asking is what does she look like, right?” She snorted in disgust as Jackson shrugged and took his sunglasses off to give them a leisurely cleaning with the edge of his T-shirt.

  “I guess she’s pretty enough, if you like that type. She has big boobs, thanks to one sugar daddy or another, and lots of curves in all the right places. Let me think, I didn’t actually see her that night, but the last time I did, she was blonde, but that varies. She wears lots of eye makeup—that never varies, and always, always wears a ton of jewelry. She’s in her early to mid-thirties I believe. It’s kind of hard to tell, because she has that classic, slutty, rode-hard-and-put-up-wet look about her, you know?”

  Jackson nodded and gave a grunt of understanding.

  “Izzy’s responsible for several separations and divorces in Kenton. Her and those weak-willed husbands that couldn’t keep it in their pants,” she added.

  He slid his sunglasses back on. “She sounds interesting.” Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Did you say you were interested?”

  “I said she sounds interesting, but I guess I’m not quite weak-willed enough. That’s not what I’d look for.”

  “What type are you looking for?”

  “I’m not looking at all, actually.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want another woman right now, or that you’ve already found one?”

  “Is this really any of your business?” he snapped.

  “It is if you’re going to be bringing her around my girls.”

  He swung his head around, ripping off his sunglasses so fast they flew to the bottom of the boat. “What the hell gives you the right to insult me like that? Have I ever acted in any way that would make you think I’m irresponsible enough to bring some tramp around these girls?”

  She slipped off her own sunglasses. Their gazes clashed, one full of intense anger, the other full of self-righteous indignation—until she realized that his anger had been fueled by hurt.

  “Answer me, dammit!” Lexie jerked slightly in her sleep at the intensity of his bark.

  She tore her eyes away from his handsome, but furious face and looked out toward the sunset. “No, you haven’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You’re damn right you shouldn’t have.”

  “Look, I said I was sorry.” That’s as far as she’d go when it came to throwing herself on his mercy.

  He resumed his pedaling but veered the boat toward the bank.

  Apparently she’d irritated him enough to cut their ride short. “Bill and Gwen seem like a good match, don’t they?” She followed her attempt to change the subject with a statement that tasted like bile on its exit. “Maybe she’s got a friend for you. You and Bill could always double date.”

  “I’m not Uncle Bill,” he growled. “I don’t need help finding a woman.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I meant I don’t need to be ‘set up’. Someone invited Gwen here for him. Was it you?”

  She cocked her head in concentration, trying to remember. “I wrote invitations for twelve of Mackenzie’s classmates, but I don’t remember writing one for Alyssa. I’ve never even heard Mac talk about an Alyssa. I wonder who invited her.”

  “Gwen said she’d been surprised to get the invitation since Alyssa has never been in one of Mac’s classes. Carrie probably invited her. She’s just enough of a busybody to do something like that,” he insisted.

  She smiled as she pictured Bill and Gwen together. “Well, they seem perfect for each other. I don’t know her, but Carrie and Sam both like her. Maybe this will be good for Bill, for all of them.”

  “I hope so.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Bill was married a long time ago, you know. They were both very young and his wife died in childbirth, or miscarried, or something like that. I think it nearly killed him.”

  “You know about that? I don’t think he’s aware of it.” She shook her head. “Amazing. How is it that two men, who are as close as you and Bill are, have never discussed something as important as that?”

  “For one thing, I was an infant when it happened. We’re not chicks. We don’t feel it necessary to bare our souls about something that happened nearly four decades ago.” He was pensive for a moment. “Besides, I never told him I knew. I didn’t see any point in it. I always figured if he didn’t want to bring up the subject, he must have had his reasons. When did he tell you about that?”

  Giselle stared at the back of his neck, where his sweat dampened hair met smooth, tanned skin. She swallowed and forced herself to speak. “That Sunday morning before Sam and Carrie’s barbeque. He credits both your parents with saving his life, but mostly your mom.” She stopped to think about the kind of woman Elise Broussard must have been. “You know, Jackson, your mother’s words and actions, thirty-six years ago, helped me to understand what I’d been putting my own children through. In a way, she helped me to snap out of it enough to take care of Mac and Lexie. Bill must have had a great deal of respect for your mother.”

  She paused, and closed her eyes, letting the peacefulness of the summer afternoon envelop her. The boat drifted, aided only by a su
btle breeze.

  “Do you remember much about your parents, Jackson?” She opened her eyes to watch his reaction as she waited for his answer. His gaze fixed on the sunset as crickets chirped from the banks of the pond. She heard the call of a mockingbird in the distance, then the gentle whinny of a horse in a nearby pasture. Had nearly given up on a response from him when he finally spoke.

  “I remember a few things, like how my mom tucked me into bed at night and taught me my prayers. And how when my dad carried me on his shoulders, I thought I could touch the sky. I remember how he clowned around with Uncle Bill, and I remember watching my mom and dad dance in the kitchen to the radio. They did that a lot. But this one time it was to that Van Morrison song, Into the Mystic. I stood there watching until I realized I wasn’t alone. Uncle Bill had walked up behind me, and he was watching them too. Then he put his finger over his mouth to keep me quiet and pulled me away. When we got to another room, he explained that mom and dad been dancing to their song and we shouldn’t interrupt. You know …” He paused to wipe his brow with the back of his hand. “Even as a little kid, I could see it. I could feel that my parents were so in love that nothing would ever separate them.” He shook his head. “I always figured God knew it too, and that’s why he took them at the same time.”

  Giselle watched Jackson’s face as he let memories from his past wash over him. She could see the need in him to find his own connection with another person, the kind his parents had with each other. She concentrated so hard on his expression that his next words made her jump.

  “Just before my folks died, I overheard my mom telling Uncle Bill that he needed to find another wife. He said he’d lost a wife and child on the same day and couldn’t even think of replacing her. She said it wouldn’t happen unless he let it.” He cleared his throat then. “That same night, my parents put me to bed and kissed me goodnight. Uncle Bill stayed home with me so they could go dancing for New Year’s Eve. They hardly ever went out and mom was so excited. She looked so pretty.”

  Jackson laughed quietly. “I remember my dad saying ‘See you next year, my boy’. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, because that sounded like a long time to me. My face must have shown it, because dad laughed and said they would see me the next morning.” Jackson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I never saw them again. Not alive, anyway.”

  Giselle covered her mouth to quiet the sob that built in her throat.

  “I guess that’s why that conversation my mom had with Bill stayed so clear in my head all these years. It was almost the last words I ever heard her speak. I was two months shy of my fifth birthday.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you miss them?”

  He nodded. “Every day. Bill was good to me, and I love him, but I still remember what it was like to have all of them—my mom, my dad, and my Uncle Bill. We were a family. I want that, Giselle. I’ve always wanted it. To be part of a family again—kids arguing, babies crying, chaotic holidays and family gatherings …”

  “Like Sam and Carrie’s, with enough people to play baseball?”

  He nodded. “Just like that. I wanted a houseful of kids, and one day grandkids.”

  “You could still have that. You could meet someone.”

  “I’m thirty-six years old, Giselle. I need somebody soon who’ll be willing to help me have all that. I’m tired of waiting for it, and I’m frustrated as hell.” He released a long, deep sigh and began pedaling toward the dock.

  The silence in the boat weighed heavily on Giselle’s mind, filled her with a melancholy.

  Jackson helped her get the two sleeping girls to her truck. Once everyone was safely buckled in and settled, she started the engine. She paused to glance up at him through the open window. “Thanks, Jackson—for everything.”

  He lowered himself to pass a glance over the two girls in the back seat. Then his gaze found hers. He placed his hand over the arm she had resting on the window opening. His next words seemed finite, almost as if it were more than a simple farewell. Caused an uneasy stirring in her heart.

  “Take care, Giselle,” he said, then turned and walked away.

  Jackson met up with Bill in the stables. “Well, you had yourself a good day, didn’t you?”

  Bill leaned on the pitchfork he’d been using to meet Jackson’s amused gaze. “Yep. A very productive day.”

  “Are you going to see Gwen again?”

  Bill grinned. “As soon as I can. As often as she lets me.”

  “Do you really think you should be moving that quickly?”

  “Son, it’s like I told her, I’m too old to be playing games. That’s just a waste of time and it’s too precious to me now. Besides, as it happens, she feels the same way.”

  “Well, you’re a big boy and a good judge of character, so I won’t bother with the usual precautionary words.” Jackson slapped his uncle on the back. “I hope everything works out for you.”

  “Me too, but I need to bother you for some advice, son.”

  Jackson grinned. “Like how to date in the new millennium?”

  Bill chuckled. “What the hell would you know about it? You haven’t been on a date since the nineties. Don’t worry about me, I can still teach you some things about women.”

  “Then why haven’t you dated recently?”

  “Who says I haven’t dated?”

  “I haven’t met any of them.”

  Bill turned toward his nephew. “Why should you meet them?”

  “It seems like you’d want to introduce them to your family,” Jackson mumbled.

  Bill snorted. “They weren’t exactly the type of women you bring home to meet your mama.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And even if they were, you ain’t my mama.”

  “Oh.” Jackson wasn’t about to go there. “What kind of advice do you need, then?”

  “Who’s the best carrier for a mobile phone?”

  “I thought you didn’t have any use for one,” Jackson said, once he’d recovered from the shock.

  “I didn’t before. Now I do so Gwen can reach me.”

  “Welcome to the new century, Uncle Bill.”

  “I’m also buying a new truck tomorrow.”

  Jackson’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re seriously getting rid of that old Ford?”

  “No, I’m going to hang onto it for farm work. But the first time I go pick Gwen up for a date, I want it to be in my brand new truck.”

  “Oh Lord, I can’t believe it took a woman to get you to come into the new age. Good for you, old man.”

  Bill laughed and continued his previous chore of shoveling hay into horse stalls. “You know what they say, you’re only as old as you feel—and today I don’t feel a day over forty. So, how was your day?”

  “Confusing as hell,” Jackson growled, as he picked up a second pitchfork and joined his uncle in tossing the fresh hay into the nearest stall.

  “That’s because you won’t listen to me.”

  “Your ass,” Jackson snorted. “I let loose on Giselle in the boat when she made a comment I didn’t care for.”

  “And that ended how, exactly?”

  “She apologized. I told her I could find my own damn woman and I didn’t need to be set up like, well, like you.”

  Bill stopped shoveling hay and looked at his nephew. “I figured as much when Alyssa and Mac met for the first time today.” He wiped his brow and released a low chuckle. “I asked Carrie to find me someone. It’s nice to know she’s taking care of me.”

  They worked in companionable silence for a while, just the two of them in the barn with the animals. After debating whether or not to broach the subject, Jackson finally spoke up. “You know, Uncle Bill, I know about the wife and baby you lost a long time ago.”

  Bill leaned on his pitchfork. “You do? It wasn’t a big secret or anything, I just didn’t see any reason to bring it up. How’d you find out?”

  “I overheard you and mom talking about it the same day she and dad died. She was telling y
ou it was time to find another girl.”

  Bill smiled at the memory. “Elise was always trying to set me up with some friend of hers.” He faced the west, toward the setting sun. “New Year’s Eve—Jamison was taking Elise dancing.” He passed a hand over his face. “That was a bad time for both of us.”

  Jackson nodded, and leaned against the wall. “I told Giselle I’m tired of waiting for a family. I must have used up my reserve of patience on Chloe.”

  Bill leaned over to pick up a length of rope and slowly wound it into a coil. He walked over and hung the rope on a hook near Jackson’s head. “Maybe you’re just tired of denying your feelings for Giselle.”

  Jackson met his uncle’s gaze. “I’ve already admitted that I’m attracted to her.”

  Bill shook his head, “I’m not talking about physical attraction. I’m talking about the fact that you’re in love with her. Are you ready to admit that?”

  Jackson pushed away from the wall. “Don’t start. Her husband was one of my best friends. I would nev—”

  “You would never have acted on it as long as Toby was alive. Believe me, son, I, better than anyone, know that.”

  Jackson let his head drop and closed his eyes. After a few moments of silence, he met his uncle’s sympathetic gaze. “I’ve loved her for so damned long. I wanted what she and Toby had. But I wanted to be the man who had it with her. I’ve loved her for three and a half years of my life now, Uncle Bill.” He lifted his arms, let them fall heavily to his sides. “I don’t know how to go on if I never get the chance …Dammit!” He kicked an empty bucket and sent it flying noisily across the wooden floor of the tack room.

  Bill walked over to where the bucket landed, and picked it up. “What is it you’re so upset about?”

  “Now that you know and I’ve accepted it, well, shit!” he snapped. “What if?”

  “What if, what?”

  “What if she never returns the feelings? What do I do then?”

  “Then, you do what we’ve been telling her to do for months. You move on, look for someone else to fill the void.”

  Jackson groaned and walked away from his uncle until he was outside of the stables. He paced slowly, both hands clasped at the back of his head.