by Leger, Lori
He chose that moment to execute a perfect spin on his left foot and discovered her watching him. He gave her a bright smile. “Hey, are you feeling better?”
She nodded, as she walked in and lowered herself onto a stool at the island. “Much better, thanks. What smells so good?”
He lifted the lid on the pot and showed her the contents. “Homemade chicken noodle soup. Carrie says it’s the cure for everything.”
She put a hand to her belly. “I’m famished, is it ready?”
“You’re probably a better judge than I am. It’s been simmering for an hour and a half.”
She walked over and checked out the soup. “Oh, yeah, it’s done. I’ve got to have some of this.”
He got two bowls off the shelf and handed her one.
She poured heaping ladles of the steaming soup into the bowls, and they each brought one to the island to cool.
She took the opportunity to ask about his moves. “So, you dance?”
He shrugged. “Chloe and I took lessons. She wanted to make sure I didn’t embarrass her in front of her friends.”
“And you sing too?”
He froze. “Uh. No.”
She swiveled in her chair to face him. “Yes you do. I heard enough to recognize talent when I hear it. Why doesn’t anyone know?”
Jackson grimaced. “I guess I haven’t had much to sing about in recent years.”
She stared at him, thinking of the life he’d led with Chloe. “I guess not.”
Jackson turned away from her. “Toby used to tell me how much he loved hearing you sing, though. Have you ever sung in front of an audience?”
“In high school chorus and now my church choir. Have you?”
“I think I’d freeze up singing in front of other people.” He turned to her with a gleam in his sexy, brown eyes. “I’d sing for you if you asked me to, though.”
She bit her bottom lip, and forced herself to turn away from him. “The soup should be cool enough to eat now.”
“Maybe you’ll sing for me one day,” he said.
“Maybe we could sing together,” she answered in a rush before changing the subject. “Do you want some crackers with your soup?” She reached up for a box from the pantry.
“That sounds good. I hope it’s seasoned enough.” He seated himself at the island and placed some crackers on the plate next to his bowl.
She sat across from him, took a bite, and rolled her eyes in pleasure. “It’s just right. God, I’m so hungry.”
“You haven’t had anything in your stomach in over twenty-four hours.” He picked up his spoon. “So, did you learn anything from this experience?”
She gave him a crooked grin. “No more sandwiches from convenience store gas stations for me.”
Jackson chuckled. “I’m just glad I was here to help.”
She gazed up at the sincerity in his face. “Thank you, Jackson. Holding someone’s head while they puke in a bucket is going above and beyond the call of friendship.”
He gave her a gracious nod. “For you, anytime.”
Jackson dropped the spoon in his empty bowl—his second of the meal. “I’ve done all the damage I can do for tonight. How about you?”
“I’m done too, but it was delicious. Thanks for cooking for me.”
They cleaned the kitchen together, soft country music playing in the background. Her sudden request took him by surprise.
“I’ll take that song now, Jackson.”
“What song?”
“The one you said you’d sing for me if I asked you to.”
“You said we could sing one together,” he reminded her.
“Did I?” she asked, as he nodded.
She got up from the island and went to her computer. He stood over her while she was searching for a particular song.
“Do you know Another Try by Josh Turner and Trisha Yearwood?”
“The song, not the lyrics,” he said.
She went online and printed out the lyrics. “Here, listen to it once with the lyrics in front of you. Then we’ll play it again and sing it. It’s easier to sing a duet than solo.”
He tensed up immediately. “I don’t think I can do this.”
She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Come on Jackson, you’ll never conquer your fears if you don’t try. It’s easier if you close your eyes.”
They listened to it once then she started it over. Jackson closed his eyes, and at his cue to start singing he hesitated slightly then began. He could hear he was singing in pitch, but he couldn’t manage to get the volume up.
After the first four lines, Giselle joined him, harmonizing in a sweet, clear voice. It lifted him, gave him the courage to continue, and by the end of the duet, his discomfort had all but vanished. At some point, she’d stopped her own singing and stood watching him as he finished the final stanza as a solo.
The music rolled to a stop and he stood there, refusing to fidget under her gaze. He raised his right hand slowly to cup her chin and push lightly to close her gaping mouth. “Are you that shocked that I can do something other than piss you off?”
She seemed to snap out of her daze and straightened her spine. “I’m sorry, but I was so impressed that I forgot to jump in,” she stammered. “You sing beautifully, Jackson.”
“Thank you, Ma’am. So do you.” He gently pushed a strand of hair away from her brow. “Now, What should we do for the rest of the weekend?”
Her brow lifted at his reference to ‘we’. “I don’t know.”
“Someone else is enjoying our vacation, so we may as well have some fun. God knows you’ve earned it,” he added.
She nodded, made a show of looking around. “Do you see the phone anywhere? I really want to talk to my girls.” He handed her the phone and she plopped herself on the sofa to call Bill. They were at a restaurant on the River Walk so she kept the conversation brief, told them she loved them, and hung up. She was quiet afterward, and shrugged when Jackson caught her wiping a tear from her eye.
He crouched next to her, placing one hand gently on her shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”
She nodded once before giving a contrasting shake of her head. “They didn’t even sound like they missed me,” she said, sobbing quietly into her hands.
Jackson laughed as he grabbed a tissue and handed it to her. “They missed you. They called here three times while you were still passed out.”
She nodded and wiped another tear away. “I guess I’m just a little lonesome. I’ve never been away from them this long before.” She wrung her tissue and looked around. “And I’m wondering what I’m going to do while I’m alone in this big empty house for the next two days.”
“I’ll keep you occupied. You think you’d feel up to a bike ride tomorrow?”
Her face lit up with excitement. “Could we?”
He laughed at her reaction. “I can swing by and pick you up tomorrow morning.”
Her brow furrowed. “I’d rather meet you at your place.”
Jackson nodded, wondering much of her suggestion had something to do with her not wanting people in Kenton to see them together. “There are lots of great roads out by Uncle Bill’s.”
“What time do you want me there?”
“It’s cooler in the mornings, so how about around nine?”
“I’ll be there.” She gave him a huge smile.
“Great, I need to get home to take care of some things.” He walked to the utility room to get his clothes from her dryer.
“It’s a good thing you had extra clothes,” she said.
“I keep extra sets of workout clothes in my truck.” He stepped into her guest bathroom to change.
He walked out looking sexy as hell in his jeans and tee shirt, his hair slightly tousled. Giselle reached up to smooth his dark locks and their eyes met for a brief second.
When he opened the back door, she looked past him. “Why is Carrie’s car here?”
“We didn’t want your nosy neighbor to talk, so Sam drove it
over and brought my truck to his house. Your reputation is intact, m’lady.”
“That was considerate of you, but she’s out of town all week. I owe you big for this one, Jackson.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed.
He hugged her. “Next time I’m nauseous, I’ll call you. You can hold my head while I puke in a bucket.”
She smiled into his tee shirt. “You got it.”
Jackson placed a hand on her head, and pressed her gently to his chest. “Besides, I promised Mac and Lex I wouldn’t leave your side.” He placed a gentle kiss on her crown before resting his chin on it. It felt far too good having her in his arms this way. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to pull away from her. “I’ve got to go,” he murmured, heading for his truck. He buckled up, returning Giselle’s brief wave before she closed the door behind her.
The ride home was quiet, too damn quiet, without her presence. He could only wonder about tomorrow’s bike ride, and its possibilities of eventually leading to more—if God was willing. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought.
Jackson heard the ruckus from his living room. The neighbor dog’s vicious snarling and barking accompanied by a feminine screech. He ran to the door, hearing his own name being screamed, jerked on the door just in time for Giselle to run into his open arms. He spun her away from the snapping and snarling, and yelled at the dog until the animal ran back to its own house.
“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Ready to spit fire, he stalked to his neighbor’s house and punched the doorbell several times. Finally a younger man of about twenty-five or so answered, shirtless, and wearing boxers.
Jackson jabbed his finger in the man’s face. “The next time your dog attacks someone in my yard I’m going to do something about it. I’m not telling you again, either. You keep his ass chained up, or else.”
The young man stepped out onto the porch full of congenial bravado. “Dude! Brutus is harmless. He’s all bark and no bite.”
He backed the younger man up against the stucco exterior of his porch, his face inches from the younger man’s. His voice lowered to a menacing level. “My name is Jackson Broussard. You can call me Jackson … Mr. Broussard … Or sir, if you prefer. But don’t you ever call me dude. From here on out, whenever I see that dog—” He pointed at the animal cowering inside the doorway, “—he had better damned well be on a leash, and your ass had better damned well be on the other end of it. You got that?”
The man swallowed. “Y-Ye-Yes sir. I’ll keep him chained up from now on,” he stammered.
Jackson headed back to his own front porch, passing Giselle, who’d watched the altercation from the steps. He stopped at his door, letting her go in first.
“I’ll kill that dog if he comes after you again.”
Giselle placed a calming hand on his arm. “Don’t kill the dog because of the owner’s stupidity. I’d feel terrible.”
“Yeah? Well you’d feel worse if he bit you, don’t you think?” he said, irritably. “I wouldn’t hurt the dog, but I’d have him picked up. What if it had been Lex or Mac?”
A look passed over Giselle’s face. “Then I’d hurt him.”
“You see? It’s not right that it’s allowed to run loose, and that guy doesn’t seem to give a damn.”
She smiled. “Do you feel better, now that you’ve vented?”
He shook his head, and grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, but I miss my old neighbors.”
“Was it a family with kids?”
“No. Just old. Did you not hear me say “my old neighbors”?”
His comment earned a snort along with a well-timed, “Smart ass,” from Giselle.
“And they didn’t have a mean-ass dog.” He grinned at her eye roll. “I’ve got something for you if you’re ready.” He pulled a helmet from his utility room.
She made a show of it. “For me?”
“Safety first. I guessed at the size.”
She slipped it on and adjusted the strap. “Perfect fit. How do I look?” She took two exaggerated steps and spun, a move worthy of any runway model.
He grinned. “A hell of a lot better than yesterday.”
In less than five minutes, they turned onto the highway that led out toward Bill’s place. Jackson pushed the bike a little harder, picking up speed, forcing her to hold on tightly. He reveled in the feeling of her arms wrapped around his waist. Her long, tanned legs pressed up against him. How the hell was he supposed to be in her presence all day and not go crazy from wanting her?
They drove for an hour, up and down winding country roads. They passed fields of rice, nearly ready for harvest, and pastures with peacefully grazing cattle. She pointed out a pasture full of horses. He pulled the bike over, so they could watch a foal run on its spindly legs.
Giselle checked her shoulders for burning and pulled a small tube of sunblock from her pocket.
Jackson watched her apply the sun block to her shoulders and arms. No problem. Once she began rubbing it on her long legs, it was a different story. Her hands, moving in long, slow strokes, up and down her upper thighs and calves, seemed almost erotic. So erotic that he had to walk away.
“Jackson?”
He turned, seeing her holding the tube out to him.
“Could you put some on my back, please? I don’t want to get a tan line.”
“Sure.” How difficult could this be? She turned in front of him and he squeezed some lotion into his palms. He rubbed it onto her upper back, bared from the tank top she wore, and slid one finger slowly under the edge of the top to spread the lotion evenly. Determined to torture himself further, he applied more lotion to his fingers and pushed her straps out of the way to spread it on her bare skin.
The sight of goose bumps rising on her bare flesh caused a hitch in his breathing. As his breathing stopped, hers increased to accommodate her quickening pulse. He stared at the spot on her neck, thinking he wanted nothing more than to cover it with his mouth.
He cleared his throat and turned away. More difficult than he imagined.
Jackson handed her the tube and swung his leg over the bike. Feeling her gaze on him, he started the ignition and waited for her to join him, thankful the helmets shield hid all evidence of churning emotions.
They rode on for another hour, until they came to a century old oak tree with a plaque near it. He pulled up slowly and turned off the ignition, then used the kickstand to rest the heavy bike before they both dismounted.
Jackson set both their helmets on the seat and walked slowly to meet her. “You’re not hurting, are you?”
She rubbed her backside and made a face. “My butt is sore, but I’ll live. My body has gone through some changes since I last rode a bike.”
“It couldn’t have changed that much.”
“After two children, you bet your ass it has.”
Jackson released a feral sounding grunt. “If that’s true, I wish I’d known you back then.” Tantalized by the blush staining her cheeks, he forced himself to be a gentleman and redirect the conversation. “What did you think of that Marc Broussard CD I gave you?”
She nodded. “I love his style. And his voice—he’s got this deep, bluesy sound—very unique. It works for him.”
“You know, he’s playing in Lafayette tonight.”
She nodded. “I did hear that he’s going to be at some club called Red’s. I thought about trying to see him, but we weren’t supposed to be here this weekend.”
He nodded. “But we are, aren’t we?”
Giselle grinned. “Yes, due to my inability to read convenience store sandwich expiration dates—we are here.”
“It’s the club’s opening tonight, and I hear it’s a nice place. I have a personal invitation from the owner, if you’re interested. It happens I’m an investor.”
“I never thought of you as the type to invest in a club.”
“The owner, Red McAllister, is a college buddy of mine. Great guy, and brilliant businessman, I trust him. You want to go with me?” It surp
rised him to see the spark of excitement in her eyes.
“I haven’t danced in a while, so I may be a little rusty. What time would we leave?”
“Doors open at 7:00, since it’s opening night, but I imagine it won’t start kicking until 9:00 or so. But I’d like to get there a little early to get in a quick visit with Red before he’s pulled in all directions. Can you be ready by 5:30?”
She nodded, and looked at her watch. “That’s doable, but I’d have to do some shopping here in Lake Coburn. All I have in my closet are mom clothes and Mardi Gras ball gowns. How about if we grab a bite to eat then you take me to my truck so I can hit the mall?”
“Sure, I don’t mind letting you go early if I get to see you later this evening.” He took a deep breath as a blush infused her lovely face with color. The fact that it happened over his words was such a huge boost to his morale. Not to mention a turn on.
He brought her to a small mom and pop diner for a relaxing lunch. They made plans for the evening, deciding to stay in Lafayette for the night.
“I’ll book two rooms as soon as I get home. The best hotel in Lafayette is only a few blocks from the club.”
They rose from the table and Giselle turned to him. “I’m excited about this. I haven’t been clubbing in forever. Thank you, Jackson.”
He gave her a gallant bow. “It’s my pleasure,” he said. For once he didn’t doubt it would be.
Giselle found the perfect dress. A slinky black number with gold metallic threads woven throughout that draped and hung in perfect folds. The dress had a halter neckline, and a daring low cut back, necessitating a trip into Victoria’s Secret. Her mani and pedi were still fresh, as was her haircut.
She spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for the short trip to Lafayette. By the time Carrie knocked at her door around 5:15, she was dressed and ready, black clutch in hand and bags at the door.
Giselle welcomed her friend inside. “I was just about to call you to let you know my plans.”
Carrie’s mouth opened in surprise. “Well, I’m assuming you feel better. You look wonderful. What’s up?”
“Jackson and I are going to a club opening in Lafayette.”
Carrie nodded in approval. “You’re going to the opening of Red’s place. Give him my love when you see him.”