The few times I had used my wish for personal things, they’d always worked out. But I thought part of the reason that might’ve been was that I was never very specific. My first wish had taught me a lesson. Things happen in ways you’d never expect them to. So I always got right down to the core of what I needed and simply asked for that.
I stood running my thumb over the ridges of my quarter as I stared at the still water of the well. Then I took a deep breath in a futile attempt to clear my cluttered mind and quiet my thoughts. Of course I wanted to wish for things to be different with JJ, but that ship had sailed. At this point, I just wanted to get through my day without constantly thinking of him and crying myself to sleep every night.
I wasn’t trying to obsess over him. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was just that, for the past month, every time I’d turned around, a different Briggs brother had been in my face. Except the one I’d wanted to be there, that is. At least one, usually two, would stop by during my shifts at the Spoon. Every shift. I saw them when I got to work, when I left work, and even on my evening runs.
I had started growing a little paranoid but calmed myself down by pointing out that Wishing Well was a small town and maybe it had always been that way and I just hadn’t noticed. There weren’t that many places to eat. And my evening runs were on fairly high-traffic (by Wishing Well standards) paths. So it was extremely plausible that these Briggs sightings were nothing new. It was just that, after the unfortunate events of the Fourth (yes, that was how I was mentally referring to my time with JJ), the Briggs brothers stuck out like sore thumbs to me because each one of them had something that reminded me of JJ. Trace and Travis had his smile. Sawyer had his eyes. Beau had his frame. Cooper had his voice. Jackson had his hands. And Wyatt had his nose.
There were just so many of them that they were impossible to avoid.
I blinked back emotion as my thoughts catalogued the similarities DNA had blessed—or cursed, depending on how you looked at it—the Briggs boys with, and tears filled my lower lids. When a single sad drop slipped down my cheek, I wiped away the physical proof that I seriously needed to get a grip. Hopefully, this wish would be the first step in that direction.
Sniffing, I straightened my shoulders with a renewed sense of determination. I was stronger than this. I wasn’t going to let one weekend, one perfect, mind-blowing, life-altering weekend derail my happiness or my life. So, if I couldn’t avoid the constant reminders of it, then I would focus on the only thing I had control over. Me and my reactions to them.
Closing my eyes, I whispered shakily, “I wish the raw pain and heart-breaking emptiness would go away.” Then I tossed my quarter into the well. I opened my eyes in time to watch it splash and ripple the serene surface of the water.
The tiny waves hypnotized me as I stared down at them. I lost track of time until a familiar, deep voice sounded behind me, snapping me back to the now.
“What’cha wish for?”
What the… No. Way.
My stomach dropped like a block of cement in a pond and my heart was suddenly lodged in my throat. I had to be hearin’ things. Rocking back on my heel, I shifted my weight and pivoted in a half circle. Lifting my head, I blinked twice as I tried to swallow past the large lump in my throat.
JJ Briggs was leaning against his truck, casual as could be, wearing the black Stetson I hadn’t seen on his head since before he’d left for college.
My lips, my limbs, and my brain went totally numb. Was I imagining this?
A cocky grin tipped his lips. “I bet I can make your wish come true, Pip.”
Pip. Nope. This was real. He’d never use that name in one of my fantasies.
“What are you doing here?” My voice was so small that it shocked me that it had traveled the short distance between us.
Holding up a single gold key on a silver key ring, he said, “Just picked up the key to my new house from Mrs. Jenson.”
Jan Jenson was the only realtor in Wishing Well, so it made sense that, if he’d picked up a key, it would be from her. But that didn’t come close to answering all the questions swimming in my head like sharks in a pool filled with chum.
“Your new house?” I was happy that my tone was stronger than it had been moments before.
“Yep. I’m moving home.” The smile that spread on his face was bigger than the Kool-Aid man’s.
Oh s-h-i-t.
My stomach flipped more times than a car rolling down Critter Peak.
“You’re what?” Clarification seemed like my only move in this emotional chess game.
“Moving home,” he repeated.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. Opened it again with every intention of speaking, but when I was unable to produce any sound closed it again. I was officially stunned.
JJ was standing in front of me. Live and in person. In Wishing Well.
Jefferson James Briggs was moving home.
Checkmate.
Chapter 15
JJ
“Sometimes you gotta risk it to get the biscuit.”
~ Grandma Dixie
Speechless. That was how my announcement had left Destiny. Utterly speechless. Which, considering the alternatives, seemed like a win in my book. Speechless gave me the opportunity—which other reactions such as screaming and throwing things did not—to talk and explain.
Unfortunately, when I opened my mouth to do just that, nothing came out. Closing my mouth, I breathed deeply in through my nose and tried my best not to let the uncertainty coursing through my veins like water spraying out of a popped fire hydrant show like a billboard on Main Street.
Trying to shake my unexpected tension off, I gave myself a little pep talk. All I needed to do was talk. Just talk to Destiny. She didn’t need to know everything I was planning right that moment. In fact, I knew it was better if she had time to adjust to things. She wasn’t big on change, and she’d need time to process these new circumstances which included me moving home. Sadly, my pep talk was doing nothing to alleviate my nerves popping like kernels of corn in hot oil.
Damn. Why the hell was I feeling like this? It wasn’t like I was dropping down to one knee and proposing—at least, not yet. That was part of my plan, but I knew we weren’t there yet.
First, I just needed to make sure she was happy about me being back. Which meant I needed to speak. The problem was I could not seem to form a coherent thought or sentence to save my life right now.
While I tried to come up with the right words, the flush Destiny had worked up on her jog had completely drained from her fair skin as she stared at me like I was the ghost from Christmas past.
“You’re moving home?” Her voice was coming out as barely a whisper, and if I hadn’t possessed mad lip reading skills, I wouldn’t have been able to discern what she was saying.
“Yes.” I nodded, not feeling quite as confident as I had less than an hour ago when I’d signed the paperwork that had made me the proud owner of a ranch-style home on six acres of land about two miles from where I stood with Destiny right now.
“You bought a house.”
“Yes,” I confirmed even though she hadn’t asked a question.
Her jaw ticked as she asked, “Why?” Color was returning to her china-doll cheeks.
I would have bet my last dollar that her newly acquired blush was one born out of anger and not excitement or arousal, but it was nice to see that I hadn’t lost my touch when it came to affecting her. That was an extremely silver-lining, optimistic, glass-half-full way to look at this situation, but hey—over the past month, I’d made some life-altering decisions for not only my future, but my team’s and, hopefully, Destiny’s as well. Silver-lining, optimistic, and glass-half-full were all I had at this point.
I could have given her a lot of answers. The first one that popped into my mind was, To be with you. Since that answer would have been as well received as a singing telegram at a funeral, I went with a safer choice.
“Because this is where I live.”
“Where I grew up.” A grin pulled at my lips. “And, now, live again, since about half an hour ago, when I signed on the dotted line. This is my home.” I almost slipped and added, You are my home, but thankfully, I caught myself.
Something that I wanted to believe was hope or excitement flashed over her face, but it could have just as easily been fear and panic. Still, since I was on my silver-lining kick I decided that it was the former.
“What about your rehab?” Her brow bunched up.
“I’m done.”
“Why aren’t you on the road? With the Waves?”
“I needed to take care of some things first.” Which was only half the story.
The truth was, I was retiring, but my publicist had planned a press conference for next week and I was not supposed to tell anyone until then.
The organization knew I wouldn’t be coming back. My agent and Jessie knew too, but that was it. Even if the press picked up that I’d purchased a home in Wishing Well, it could be easily explained as wanting to reconnect with my community. A lot of players lived in their hometowns. It was a way to stay grounded and connected to family during the off-season.
Hell, I would have bought a house a lot sooner if I hadn’t been avoiding the gorgeous, blue-eyed redhead shooting daggers at me at that moment. If I’d visited often or had a place there before now, I would have screwed up the only thing that had ever made sense to me, even when it was the last thing that should have—my feelings for Destiny Rose Porter.
When I’d left her sleeping soundly in her bed after I’d spent the entire night on a constant rotation of making love to Destiny, watching her sleep, waking her up, making love to her—then repeating the whole cycle over again—I’d known I had to make this work. I’d also known I had to do it the right way, which was why I’d forced myself to stay and finish my PT.
“You needed to take care of some things first? Like what? Little things like buying a house?” Destiny asked, as if there were a very good chance I should be carted off in a strait jacket.
“Yes.”
“Here. In Wishing Well.”
“Yes. I’m moving home.” It felt so good to say. Out loud. To someone who mattered, and not someone who had a vested financial interest in my decision. To say to someone who loved me. At least, who I was ninety-nine point nine percent certain loved me.
“Home?” Her eyes narrowed as confusion swam in her baby blues.
“Home.” And just saying that word lifted the fifty-pound weight I felt like I’d been carrying around for the past four years or so.
“Why? Why are you moving home now?” Concern swept over her beautiful face, and she moved closer, stopping at the edge of the top step. “Is it your injury? I thought… I mean, the guys on Sports Center… All the guys at the Spoon said… Your brothers said… I thought you were getting stronger? That you would be able to play again?”
“I am stronger, and I got cleared to play.” I just wasn’t going to.
“So, why are you here?” Her brow furrowed deeper.
“Because this is where I want to be.” A huskiness filled my voice. I hadn’t meant for it to be there, it just sort of happened around Destiny, especially when I was discussing things I wanted.
The sunshine shimmered off her golden-red ponytail as she shook her head from side to side. Her brows were knitted and her mouth fell open. I could see that she was trying to fit what I was telling her now into what she already knew. Which would be like predicting lotto tickets.
Impossible.
Lifting her hands palm side up, she raised her voice several decibels as she yelled, “That’s it? This is where you want to be?”
As the conversation intensified, I was glad that early on weekday mornings in Wishing Well the town square tended to be quiet. If it had been a few hours later, or on a weekend, we would have been surrounded by an unwanted audience.
“Yes.”
“But why now? Why is this where you want to be now?” She not only took a step back, but also crossed her arms in front of her chest in a defensive stance. I could practically see the walls she was desperately trying to erect around her heart.
It killed me to know she felt like she had to protect herself from me, but why wouldn’t she? After all, it wasn’t like I’d ever done anything to make her feel like she could trust me. Starting with my colossal assholery at prom. Then my disappearing act after the July fourth weekend, followed by total radio silence.
Honestly, it had taken every ounce of self-control I’d possessed not to call her, text her, message her, or get in touch with her in some way to tell her that she was all I could think about. That not a second passed when I wasn’t consumed by her.
But I hadn’t done that. Not because I hadn’t wanted to, if only for the selfish reason that I’d wanted—no, needed—to hear her sweet voice, even if it was telling me off. I hadn’t been able to do that because I’d needed to get my preverbal ducks in a row before I did that. Otherwise, there would have been a better-than-likely chance she would have told me and my ducks to migrate north because she wouldn’t have trusted that I was there to stay—which I was.
“JJ,” she said. It had sounded like a plea on her strained voice, and unless I was crazy or seeing things, her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
Okay, speechless I could work with. Even yelling and throwing things I could take. But tears… No way in hell did I want my homecoming to end in tears. Time to pull my head out of my ass and change the tides of this emotional current. She wanted to know what I wanted now, okay—might as well give the lady what she wanted.
“The truth?” I asked, not convinced she was ready to hear it.
Her hands flew up in front of her as she let out a puff of air before responding sarcastically, “Sure, why not. Just for fun, for once, why don’t you tell me the truth?”
“You. Destiny. The reason I want to live here now is you.”
My heart and my fists clenched when her immediate reaction was a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes widened as all the color that had filled her cheeks moments ago drained from her face.
This was not the direction I’d wanted to shift the tides in.
I was pulled to her like a magnet, as I pushed off the side of my truck and crossed the sidewalk that separated us in one stride. Destiny’s position on the top step made her only slightly taller than I was. Lifting my chin, I looked directly into her eyes as I made this promise.
“I’m here to stay, Pip.”
The use of her nickname had the desired effect, and her lips pursed together as her nose twitched, which had always reminded me of Samantha on Bewitched.
Yep. Not that there was any question in my mind, but it was certainly official now: An irritated Destiny Porter was the cutest thing this world had to offer.
A lot of other emotions were brewing behind that irritation, but her spine stiffened and her chin jutted out as she purposefully started down the steps. She was using all the power my comment had fueled inside her to her advantage as she attempted to brush past me.
Before she did, though, I slid my hand to her delicate wrist, wrapping my thick fingers around her soft skin and stopping her in her tracks. Her pulse was racing out of control beneath my touch. When her gaze reached mine, I could see construction was complete on the walls she’d been erecting. She was guarded.
Which was fine. For now.
“Don’t I get a welcome-home kiss?” I grinned the grin that had always garnered me a lot more than a kiss in my twenty-eight years.
My request caused the fire that had always been like my personal kryptonite to blaze in the aqua windows to her soul.
“Oh, I’d love to tell you exactly what you can kiss, but Gram raised me better.”
I released her hand with a wink as my grin grew wider. “I bet you’re spelling it in her head though.”
Before Destiny spun on her heel and began jogging, her n
ostrils flared. And I knew, as her heart-shaped, mouthwatering backside swayed in rhythm to her pounding feet, that my little spitfire would be fuming all afternoon.
It might not be the reaction most guys would hope for when they moved home, especially from the only girl they’d ever loved. But this was me and Destiny. That’s what we did.
For us, this was foreplay.
Chapter 16
Destiny
“She’s about as friendly as fire ants.”
~ Grandma Dixie
“I’ve got it,” I snapped at poor Stan, whose only response was a raise of one bushy, gray eyebrow.
“Sorry.” That was at least the fifth apology I’d made in the two hours I’d been on my shift. I was wound tighter than an eight-day clock thanks to one Major League pitcher who’d looked sexier than sin leaning against his pickup truck this morning.
I grabbed the hamburger with cole slaw, the club sandwich and fries, and the pulled pork sandwich with potato salad Stan had just rung the bell to announce were up while I tried to delete the image of JJ in his white T-shirt, worn blue jeans, work boots, and—the real kicker—his black Stetson from my memory hard drive.
It wasn’t working. Apparently, my system had decided to do an auto-save of that image that could not be deleted.
Great.
It was surprising that the cowboy hat had been the thing to tip the sexy scales to undeletable. Since I’d grown up in Texas, I would have thought I was immune to a sexy man in a Stetson. In fact¸ up until two hours ago, I would have thought that it was a little too cliché and stereotypical to get my engine started, but I would have been wrong. Because one look at JJ and my entire body had said, Vroom, vroom.
Not that it mattered. That was what I had to keep reminding myself. There was no way I was going to let him take me for another test drive no matter how sexy he looked in a Stetson. I couldn’t. Fourth of July had been a one-night-only affair. I’d allowed myself to indulge because I had known that JJ would be gone the next day—which he had been.
Except, now, he was back, apparently putting down roots. As crazy as that sounded, I had very mixed emotions on that out-of-left-field turn of events. Especially since this was the first I was hearing about it. All month, my heart had stopped when my phone had buzzed, expecting it to be him. It hadn’t been. Every time I’d opened my e-mail or logged into Facebook I’d expected to see a message from JJ waiting for me. There hadn’t been, though. Nothing. Not even a, “Hi.”
Teasing Destiny (Wishing Well, Texas #1) Page 9