by Leger, Lori
“You don’t have to wait here with me, Giselle. I’m fully capable of staying by myself until Sam gets back.”
“Lexie’s team is practicing over there.” She pointed to a practice field. “They figured they’d get one in before everyone goes on vacation and hope the kids retain a little.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I hadn’t noticed.”
“What happened with Izzy?”
“What do you mean?”
She grinned. “Gretchen and I saw her walk away from the concession all upset. What happened?”
“She asked me to give her a ride. I said no, and when I tried to leave—she—grabbed at me …” he finished, lamely.
She leaned forward to hear him better. “She did what?” He cleared his throat and actually turned a shade of red.
“She grabbed at my crotch. I told her I wasn’t interested.”
Giselle snorted in an effort to hold back the laughter. “And then?”
“Uh, I think Carrie chewed her out.”
“For grabbing at your crotch?”
He shook his head. “For what she said after I said no.”
“Which was …”
Jackson cleared his throat uncomfortably. “It’s not important.”
“Go on, you can tell me,” she urged.
“She suggested to her equally trashy friend that you and I were already…You know,” he said, obviously reluctant to finish. “Who the hell dresses like that for a ballgame, anyway?”
Giselle chuckled. “She wasn’t here for the game, she was here for you. She said she’d make it her business to find out who you were. People see you and Bill here, and—well, the two of you kind of stand out in a crowd. You’re both so—tall.” She supposed it wouldn’t do to expound on his and his uncle’s exceptional drool-worthy qualities.
“I guess so.” He cocked his head, squinting his eyes against the setting sun. “How’d you know she was here? Did she say something to you before that?”
Giselle giggled. “Are you kidding? She sounds like one of Santa’s reindeer with all that jingling and jangling.” She waved her arms and shook her butt in a comic imitation of Izzy that had Jackson in stitches. “Did you hear what Carrie said to her?”
“No, but I can guess.”
She grinned. “Me too. I’m glad she’s in my corner.”
They made their way over to the batting cages. Lifting his arms, he hooked his fingers in the wire fencing above the gate. Giselle watched his muscular arms flex and strain, and wondered again how one man could look so damn good in faded jeans and a tee shirt.
She tore her gaze away from bulging biceps long enough to speak. “How’s the fledgling romance going? Have Bill and Gwen spoken again?”
“Oh yeah. It’s all fireworks and phone calls that last for hours. Did you hear he bought a new truck and cell phone yesterday?”
“I did and I’m impressed. Gwen’s accomplished a lot in a short time with Mr. I don’t need no fancy cell phone and my old truck is just fine,” she said, in a near perfect imitation of Bill.
Jackson laughed again then tweaked her nose. “You’re pretty good. Maybe you should take that act on the road.”
“Yeah, right,” she snorted. She looked up at him and sobered. “I’m happy for him, though. He’s such a good man. And Gwen seems really sweet. They make a good match.”
“I know, right. He said he feels twenty years younger. I predict they’ll be married soon and working on adding to the family.”
She couldn’t keep from smiling at a particular mental image. “I can see Bill with a new baby. Can’t you, Jackson?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I can.”
She hesitated a moment. “I can see you with one, as well. Maybe Gwen will produce that friend for you, after all.”
“Are you that anxious to see me married off?”
Was she? “I’m-I’m j-just saying. I know it’s what you want, and you want it soon, and I—I think you deserve to have children—of your own. You deserve to be happy.”
Jackson seemed to weigh her comment before replying with one of his own. “And what about you, Giselle? Don’t you deserve to be happy again?”
“I am happy—happy enough.” Thankfully, Sam chose that moment to return with Jackson’s bike. She spun around to watch him turn into the park entrance. “Here’s your ride.”
She waited for Sam to park the bike and climb off. “How was it?”
Sam slipped off the helmet. “Handles like a dream. My bike is a real smooth ride, but this is like a Rolls Royce in comparison.”
Giselle leaned in to get a closer look at Jackson’s bike. She could see her reflection in chrome that was buffed to a high polished perfection, smoothed her hand over the custom painted tank. She nodded, able to appreciate the machine’s beauty.
“Looks like someone wants a ride,” Sam spoke from behind her.
She glanced back, giving him a hopeful look. “I really would.” She met Jackson’s gaze and for a moment she thought he might volunteer to give her a ride.
He gave her a one shouldered shrug. “Sorry, I have to get back to Lake Coburn. Maybe another day.”
She gave him a nod and straightened, wiping her hands on her shorts. “I understand completely. See ya next week, Jackson.” She headed for Lexie’s practice.
Jackson watched Giselle walking over to Lexie’s field.
Sam’s comment jolted him. “You know, Jack, if Carrie were here she’d ask if you’d lost your freaking mind.”
Jackson mounted his bike and adjusted the straps on his helmet. “Not yet, Sam. But with her seated behind me on this thing? I may have lost my mind by the end of the ride.”
A week later, Giselle, Gretchen, and Lauren sat in the bleachers waiting for Allie and Mac’s game to begin.
“Are Jackson and Bill coming?” Gretchen asked.
Giselle gave her a nod. “Jackson should be here on his bike and Bill’s picking up Gwen and Alyssa along the way.”
Lauren leaned forward in her seat. “How’s that going?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone in a week. We were in New Orleans for four days.” The sound of a motorcycle entering the park had the group of women facing that direction. Jackson fit his bike into a spot near the front of the park and dismounted. He started the walk to the bleachers wearing his standard uniform of faded jeans, and white T-shirt, his Ray Bans pushed up in his hair, and his helmet tucked under his arm.
An older woman seated next to them gasped. “My God, who is that?”
The three women exchanged knowing looks as Lauren explained his identity.
“Honey, I may be sixty-five years old, but I’m not too old to appreciate a fine looking man when I see one.”
“Yeah and he’s got an uncle that looks just as good,” Gretchen told the woman. She pointed Bill out, arriving with Gwen and Alyssa. “There he is now.”
The woman groaned as she shook her head in disappointment. “Damn, the good ones are always taken.”
The women scooted over at Gwen and Alyssa’s approach to make room for them, while Bill and Jackson hung back.
Jackson sauntered up to the team dugout to speak to Mac then turned back toward the bleachers. “Hello ladies.” His gaze lingered longer on Giselle. “How was your trip, stranger?”
She shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. We’d been before, but I couldn’t work up the nerve to go any further. I don’t feel comfortable traveling without—well—with just the girls and I. I don’t feel safe, you know? I hate driving in traffic.”
Before Jackson could respond, Lexie called out to him. He turned in time to catch her launching herself into his arms. “Hey munchkin, I missed you. Good Lord, you must have grown two inches since I saw you last.” He hugged her tightly then put her down so she could run off to play.
“We just got back from San Antonio,” Lauren told Giselle. “That’s where you need to take the girls. There’s so much to do there, and the drive wasn’t that bad.”
Gwen turned to her. “Bill, Alyssa, and I are planning on going the first weekend in August. Why don’t you and the girls come with us? It would give Alyssa some company.”
“I don’t want to impose like that, Gwen. The three of you are trying to bond right now.” She bit her bottom lip as she remembered something. “That’s where Toby and I were supposed to take the girls this summer. We’d never been.”
“I went five years ago, but it was a bust,” Jackson said.
“What happened?” Lauren asked.
He shrugged. “My wife had a way of turning every vacation into a living hell.”
Gretchen leaned forward. “What did she do, Jackson?”
“The usual—found fault with everything. We changed rooms three times.” He slid onto the bleacher beside Giselle.
Giselle slid over to make space for him. “What was wrong with the rooms?”
“Not a thing, as far as I could tell. I suspect she did it just to piss me off. She thrived on childish public displays of anger.”
“Did it work?” Giselle asked with a hint of tease.
He leaned back and swiveled his head slowly to look at her through his dark tinted sunglasses. “What do you think?”
Giselle studied his expression for a moment then leaned back to meet his gaze head on. “I think you took it all with a grin, just to piss her off.” She grinned slyly at him.
Everyone waited patiently for Jackson’s answer. He finally smiled and nodded. “You know me too well.”
Giselle laughed softly. “Was she upset?”
“Extremely upset. We finally cut the trip short and just came on home. I’d love to go back, but I doubt it’d be any fun alone. I wouldn’t mind driving if you and the girls wanted to come with me. I could get us separate rooms in the same hotel Bill and Gwen are staying.”
“There you go,” Lauren said. “Sounds like the perfect solution, Giselle. You’ll have a blast. There’s the water park, the caverns, Sea World, The River Walk, the wax museum, Ripley’s Believe It Or Not—All kinds of things to do.”
Giselle nodded slowly, contemplating the possibilities. “Let me think about it.”
Once their team ended the game with a narrow win, Giselle asked everyone to follow her to her truck. She and her girls passed out the gifts they’d brought everyone from New Orleans. Mac and Lexie saved Jackson’s gift for last—a gold tee shirt, with a tiger riding a motorcycle on the back and LSU on the pocket.
“This is the coolest shirt ever,” he said, clearly pleased with his gift.
At Lexie’s urging, he slipped out of his shirt to try on the new one. The circle grew quiet at the sight of a bare chested Jackson.
“You sure have a lot of muscles,” Allie said, giggling.
Giselle’s face remained stony as Lauren nudged her in the rib and whispered in her ear, “He certainly does, doesn’t he?
Every woman there had seen the flash of tan skin and his muscular display in the few seconds it’d taken to change shirts.
Jackson smoothed the shirt down and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. When he was done, he turned around for the two little girls and posed. “How does it look?”
“I like it!” Lexie said.
Mac nodded. “You look very handsome. Do you like it? When I saw it, I knew we had to get it for you.”
“I love my shirt,” he said, lifting them both easily for a group hug. He turned to their mother. “I really do. Thanks for thinking of me, Giselle.”
“You’re welcome,” she murmured.
Gwen placed her hand on Giselle’s arm. “Are you going to take Jackson up on his offer for San Antonio?”
She nodded. “It sounds too good to pass up, doesn’t it?”
Gwen turned to Alyssa. “Mac and Lexie are coming with us on vacation. Won’t that be fun?”
The three girls began to jump up and down excitedly.
Giselle looked up at Jackson. “Are you sure you don’t mind? They can drive you crazy on trips.”
“I’m preconditioned to crazy, hon.” He gave her a wink. “I got this.”
The next two weeks flew by as Jackson and Giselle prepared for their trip. Bill took care of the rooms, booking four at the same hotel, one of the nicest in the city. Giselle scoured the internet researching and scheduling things for them to do while they were in the city. They planned to leave as soon as Lexie’s game was over on Thursday evening and spend the weekend. Monday they would drive home so that Gwen could go to work on Tuesday.
Thursday, day of departure, Giselle managed to squeeze in some last minute shopping in Lake Coburn before Lexie’s ballgame. She’d cut it close shopping, time-wise, and skipped lunch. Too rushed to hit a fast food chain, she grabbed a sandwich at the same convenience store she tanked up her small SUV on the way home. By the time Lexie’s game started, she was feeling a little nauseous.
“Are you feeling okay, Giselle?”
She chanced a look at Jackson, and pressed a hand to her stomach. “Not really. I think something I ate is disagreeing with me.” She stuck it out for two more innings. At the top of the third, Jackson leaned in close.
“What exactly did you eat? You’re looking a little rough.”
“A ham and cheese from a convenience store cooler.”
He took her elbow and helped her to her feet. “I think you should go home—now.”
Too sick to argue, she nodded. “I think you’re right.”
“I should get that in writing.”
“You’re funny.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re green. Need me to go with you?”
She waved him off. “No, I can make it.”
And she did—just barely—make it to her bathroom before emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.
By the time Jackson and her girls joined her, she’d emptied a lot more than that, suffering from cramps and nausea so violent she thought she would crack her rib again.
Another hour of more of the same had her realizing she was in for a long night of it. After the latest bout with nausea, she turned to her self-proclaimed caretaker.
“Take the girls to San Antonio, Jackson. I don’t want their weekend ruined. They’re looking forward to this.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you but I knew you’d feel that way. I’ve already called Gretchen and Caleb. They’ve agreed to go in our place. Is that okay with you?”
She managed a weak “Yes,” before succumbing to another round of dry heaves.
Gretchen entered Giselle’s bedroom around 8:00 p.m. “How’s the patient?”
Jackson stood, looking down at Giselle. She lay there, still as death, with a cold wet washcloth over her eyes. “Not good.”
Gretchen shook her head. “This will probably last into tomorrow, and probably still won’t feel worth a damn until Saturday. Keep her hydrated.”
He nodded. “I will.” He handed her a prepaid Visa. “This should take care of all your expenses. You’ve got two adjoining rooms, already paid for. Just make sure your bunch, along with those two monkeys have a great time.” He rested one knee on the floor and reached out to Mac and Lexie, who stood at the door, looking uncertain. “Come here girls. You be extra good for Gretchen and Caleb, okay? Mind your manners.”
“But, what about mama?” Lexie turned her tear-filled eyes toward her deathly still mother. “Who’s gonna take care of her?”
Jackson gave her a hug. “I will sweetie, don’t you worry.”
Mac’s big brown eyes watered. “You won’t leave her, will you, Jackson?”
“I promise I won’t leave until she’s feeling better. But we want you girls to have enough fun for both of us. She’ll feel better soon. Now give mom a kiss. You’ve got to get going so you can have a great time.”
Giselle made the effort to acknowledge her daughters, paid for it dearly with another wave of nausea. Jackson left to see her daughters leave, returned in time to hold her head with one hand while she threw up in a bucket he held for her. Under normal circumstan
ces, that would have mortified her.
Tonight, as sick and weak as she felt, she was glad not to be alone, even if it meant having Jackson seeing her at her absolute worst.
To his credit, he kept his promise to her girls. He never left her side for more than a few moments. All throughout the night and into the entire next morning. When it finally ended, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Giselle woke up a little lost. A glance at her clock told her it was almost seven o’clock. The light filtering through her curtains told her it was p.m. and not a.m. She picked up her cell phone from the nightstand, managed to catch that it was Friday evening before it died on her.
She took her time rolling out of bed, cringed at her reflection in the full length mirror, and staggered to the bathroom. A shower did wonders to make her feel better. As did a fresh set of clothes. She’d just passed a brush through her blow dried hair, when she caught a whiff of something appetizing enough to make her stomach growl.
Exiting her bedroom, she tiptoed down the hallway toward the kitchen, stopping to watch Jackson stir a large pot of something. He had the stereo on low and she listened, in amazement, as he began to sing along with Josh Turner to the tune of Your Man. He’d also showered, judging from the dampened locks of black hair semi-curling at his neckline. He wore work out shorts, and a sexy as hell sleeveless shirt that revealed every line and ridge of his bulked up arms.
The sight of him, along with seven months of celibacy, awakened feelings of need as he put his head back to sing a few lines of the song. His deep, resonant voice sent shivers down her spine as neurons sizzled, making it impossible to ignore the blatantly sexual signals oozing from the man.
How had she gone so long without seeing this side of him? How had she ever been able to sit next to him and not feel the intense magnetism he projected? She was starved for the touch of a man, but now she could admit to herself that it wasn’t just any man she wanted touching her. She wanted the touch of this particular man.
Jackson danced his way to the counter in a smooth and graceful two-step, his back perfectly straight, and his head held high.
She sucked in her breath. All of that—and he could dance, too?