Pretty Jane (The Browning Series Book 3)

by Dorothy Barrett

  ***

  A few hours later, Beau found himself huddled with his family in the gazebo behind the Gate House. His mother was working on a quilt, a smaller-sized patchwork spilling off her knees as she sat in a deep-seated rocker. His father was dozing in the chair next to her, a worn Clive Cussler novel flipped over on the arm of it. And Lily, having spotted Beau as soon as he’d walked into the backyard, had abandoned her sunbathing by the Colonel’s pool, donned a pair of cutoffs, and hoofed it across the huge stretch of grass separating their estates. And now, here she was, parked on the circular bench bordering the perimeter of the old wooden structure in his mother’s rose garden.

  “You told PJ what?” she asked, swiping another grape from the plate lying between them.

  Beau munched on a bite of smoked gouda, taking comfort in the simple food and the familiarity of his parents’ routines. For as far back as he could remember, they’d spent their Sunday afternoons relaxing in the backyard with a good cheese tray and an ice cold pitcher of tea. That’s why he hadn’t called before showing up. Nor had they been surprised when he did.

  Lily was looking at him with surprise now, and a slight bit of alarm.

  “I said maybe we could use a break.”

  His mother tsked as she threaded a needle.

  Lily shook her head.

  His father snored.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “What?” Beau snapped at the brat sitting next to him.

  “That’s the absolute worst thing you could have said.”

  “Aw, come on. I told you we’d just had a pregnancy scare. It was intense,” Beau said defensively.

  “And you’re sure she’s not expecting?” Nadine asked. “I’m almost done with this baby blanket, and it’s not earmarked for any of the ladies at the church yet. I could save it for you if you have a girl.” Nadine smoothed a hand over the lime green and fuchsia creation in her lap.

  “I’m sure, Mama.”

  Nadine sighed before tapping the sleeping man next to her. “Papa Bear, I’m ready for my one o’clock sherry.”

  Finn came to with a snort before leaning over to kiss his wife. Then he lumbered up from the chair and patted Beau on the back. “It’ll be alright, son.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Beau was fairly certain his old man hadn’t heard a word of their conversation, but nevertheless, he appreciated the encouragement. Especially considering his cousin was staring at him like he’d committed some kind of major dating blunder.

  “Why the hell did you use the b-word?” Lily hissed. “Now PJ’s gonna think you want to break up with her!”

  “What? No way. She knows I love her. I told her so Friday—”

  “Yeah, but you also told her you didn’t trust her, you practically forced her to pee on a stick, and then you told her you wanted a break when she was emotionally vulnerable and really just needed your reassurance that everything was gonna be okay.” Lily rattled this off quickly before sucking down a hit of tea.

  His mother tsked again. “Not good, sugar.”

  Shit. They were right. He had made a mess of things with PJ. Now he needed to fix them.

  “Okay. What do I do?”

  “Groveling is a good start.” Lily plucked another grape. “Particularly if you’re on your knees. All my alphas end up on their knees at some point. Can’t get to the HEA without that.”

  “HEA?”

  “Happily Ever After,” Lily explained. “You do want that, don’t you?”

  “Fuck yeah—”

  “Beauregard James Browning! You will watch your language in front of the children.”

  Lily rolled her eyes.

  “Sorry, Mama,” Beau said.

  Nadine Browning cast a stern eye over the rim of her sewing glasses before smiling serenely at her husband as he settled her drink on the table between their chairs. “But I do concur about the groveling,” she said, “and I’ll add that an extravagant gift may also help your situation.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Beau had actually been thinking about this on the drive over. He’d been thinking about it a lot. Because he did owe PJ some really cool bling—

  “Just don’t get her one of those silly negligees with the crotchless panties. Your daddy bought me one a few years ago after he forgot our anniversary, and it was two sizes too small.” Nadine took a sip of her sherry. “He slept on the couch for a week.”

  Finn buried his nose in his book with a sniff.

  Beau shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to rub the image of freaky senior sex out of his head. “Got it. So, yes to the groveling and expensive gifts, and no to the skimpy underwear. Anything else?”

  “You could write her a poem saying how sorry you are for being a dick,” Lily said.

  “Yeah. No.” Beau popped another cube of cheese. “Next.”

  “A grand gesture,” his mother suggested.

  “Oooh, I like it. But you gotta do it in public.” Lily took another hit of tea. “And on your knees. That shit’s a must—”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Finn slapped his book down on the table. All eyes swung to him. Beau’s father was a quiet man by nature, so on the rare occasion when he did contribute vocally, it usually meant he had something important to say, and everyone needed to shut the hell up and listen. “Son, I have been married for forty years. I’ve been in the dog house with your mama more times than I can count over the course of ‘em. Now, I’ll admit I haven’t the foggiest idea what’s landed you in hot water with your lady now, but let me tell you what I have learned after four decades of being a husband.”

  “What’s that, Pop?”

  Finn eyed him soberly. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. It doesn’t matter if she hurt you too. All that matters is that you look your woman in the eyes, and tell her from the depths of your soul that you are sorry and you love her. Everything else is just frosting.”

  Finn went back to his book.

  Nadine patted his hand.

  Lily sniffed. “Yeah, that’s pretty good, but I kinda like the frosting.”

  Beau smiled, a plan forming as he rose from the bench. He just needed one night, one night to make some calls and do some shopping.

  Because truthfully, he liked a little frosting too.

  Chapter 49

  By Monday, PJ still hadn’t heard from Beau, and she was not okay with it. The bad-ass Chevy currently parked in the lot at the clinic had certainly taken the edge off some of her frustration, but PJ had still spent much of her session with Thelma obsessing over the fact that two days had gone by, and the man had yet to send her an “I forgive you for lying, and I’m sorry for being an asshole” cat meme. It was totally unacceptable.

  As PJ sat with Thelma in the lobby waiting for Juliana, she snuck another peek at her phone.

  Nope. Still memeless.

  PJ shoved her phone in her backpack, banishing the device as she silently stewed. She’d give him one more day, one more day of this so-called break, and then, meme or no meme, she was coming for him. And she had some serious wheels now, so tracking that sexy fucker down wasn’t gonna be too hard. PJ zipped up her bag, resolve tightening her chin. When she looked up, Thelma’s mother was walking into the clinic, her own phone surprisingly MIA.

  “So, how did things go?” she asked.

  PJ’s ire with her boyfriend was momentarily forgotten as she took in Juliana’s tentative smile. “Great,” she said, rising quickly from her chair. “We had another salon day.” PJ tapped Thelma’s hand. Thelma pulled off her headphones, a faint stream of pop music buzzing about her head as she blinked. “Show off your mani, girl.”

  Thelma held up her hands, the nails of which had been liberally coated in bright blue polish. “I painted them myself,” Thelma said. “It smeared on my skin a little, but PJ wiped around them with a Q-tip. She also used a Wite-Out pen to put the letters on them.”

  Juliana leaned in to check out PJ’s handiwork. “FHS Falcons,” she read, her eyes lighting up, a grin forming. Then
she surprised PJ again by giving her an enthusiastic high five. “Best manicure ever,” she said, holding her palm up to her daughter as well.

  Thelma slapped it without hesitation before going back to her jams.

  Juliana’s fingers curled into her palm, as though she were trying to hold onto the warmth of that touch. Then her hand fell slowly to her side as she turned back to PJ. “So what else has my daughter been working on?”

  PJ filled the woman in, thrilled to finally be going over some of the social skills lessons Thelma had been mastering during her sessions. Across the lobby, Rhonda and Janelle were locked in a similar discussion. Max scrambled away from them a couple minutes into it and barreled into PJ for a hip hug. PJ squeezed the boy back, trying to control the sudden rush of emotions that were hitting her at the warmth of his touch.

  When the kid darted back to his mama, PJ caught Janelle smiling at her, and this was definitely hitting PJ in the feels too because it wasn’t a fake one. It was as genuine as the one Juliana was laying on her now.

  PJ wrapped up her lesson recap with Thelma’s mother, then waved to the pair of them as they trailed Max and Janelle from the building. Seconds later, a hand was at her shoulder. PJ glanced up to find Ms. Patrice standing next to her.

  “Nicely done,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  “You know, in all the time Thelma has been coming to Journeys, I’ve never seen her mother so engaged in the program.” Ms. Patrice patted her on the back as her daughters shuffled into the lobby. “I had a feeling about you, Miss Jane. You are doing outstanding work with both our clients and their parents.”

  “Thanks,” PJ said again, her eyes welling up, her emotions getting the better of her.

  “You know, you might consider getting your BCBA credential. We have a shortage of Board Certified Behavioral Analysts right now, and with a little more education, I do believe you’d make an excellent one.”

  PJ frowned. More education meant more school, and she’d been stubbornly refusing to entertain the notion for weeks, but suddenly it didn’t seem like such a crap-tastic idea. Maybe she could just take a couple classes at the local junior college to see what it was like. How bad could it be? PJ must have been making a face because her boss laughed.

  “Just think about it,” she said with another pat.

  “Yeah, alright,” PJ said without much enthusiasm.

  Ms. Patrice hustled her daughters to the door. “Y’all have a good close.”

  “Will do,” PJ called after her.

  Several minutes later, the building was empty save for PJ, Brecken, and Rhonda on clean-up duty. Between the three of them, they made short work of tidying the common room, and it wasn’t long after that they were all filing out into the parking lot.

  “’Night, girl,” Rhonda called as she skipped over to her boyfriend, who was waiting in his truck.

  “Yeah, see ya tomorrow.” PJ watched as the woman settled into the passenger seat before settling a wet one on her man. Then her gaze shifted across the lot towards the spot near the tree.

  Of course, it was empty. She’d told Beau not to come. She didn’t need him to anymore. But fuck if she didn’t want him to. PJ sighed.

  “You okay?”

  PJ turned to find Brecken watching her as he pocketed the keys to the clinic. “Yeah, I’m good.” PJ wiped at her eyes, wishing she could blame the sudden wetness there on allergies, but truthfully, she’d never been one to suffer from them.

  “You sure? I can hang with you for a minute, if you want me to.”

  “Nah. I’m fine. Just on my period.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yep.”

  “But you gotta new ride. That’s cool, right?”

  “Hells, yeah.”

  Brecken grinned, his gaze darting to his boyfriend’s Scion, which was parked in the spot next to Beau’s. “Well, hey, my ride is here, so don’t stand here moping for too long, okay?”

  “Yeah, no worries. I’ll be riding your ass home with my big V8.”

  Brecken snorted.

  “That was by no means a gay joke. Just a total statement of fact.”

  Brecken rolled his eyes and sauntered off. “Later, P.”

  “Later.”

  PJ watched Brecken stride across the lot. Then she unlocked her Chevy and sank into the driver’s seat, breathing in the glorious scent of new car leather as she ran her hand lovingly over the wheel.

  Already, PJ was in total sync with her ride. She’d taken her out for a spin yesterday, spending some quality time bonding with the car while driving past Beau’s apartment a half dozen times. Right now, her girl was absolutely reading her mind.

  “Fuck it,” PJ said, slotting her key in the ignition with sudden decisiveness. “Break time’s over.” PJ smiled, nervous excitement coursing through her as she fired up the engine. Then she glanced into her rearview and abruptly frowned.

  Brecken was still in the parking lot with his boyfriend. Only they weren’t sitting in the guy’s Scion. They were standing beside it, and they appeared to be arguing. Mike had his back to PJ, but she could tell by the erratic movements of his arms that he was pissed. Brecken held up a cautioning palm, his mouth moving quickly, like he was trying to calm the guy.

  PJ tapped the key in the ignition, silently debating with herself as the engine rumbled. This wasn’t her problem. Whatever trouble was brewing between the two was not something she needed to get involved in. She had her own stuff to sort out with Beau.

  PJ’s hand fell to the gear shift, her eyes flashing once again to her mirror.

  Mike shoved Brecken up against the Scion.

  Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. PJ took a deep breath, chanting the words in her head, her fingers clenching on the knob of the shifter. Old PJ would so throw down right now. New PJ was much more evolved.

  Mike threw a punch.

  Aw, hell. She wasn’t that evolved.

  PJ shoved her door open, climbed out of her car, and stalked across the parking lot, the Chevy’s big block still rumbling in her wake.

  Mike didn’t hear her coming. He was too busy hollering at Brecken, who’d just managed to dodge his fist. “Iss my car. Give me the damn keysss!” Mike’s voice, a drunken slur, was oddly familiar.

  “Damn it, man, you’re wasted. You shouldn’t have even driven over here!” Brecken shouted back. “You coulda killed someone. This ain’t you man. This is your da—”

  Mike lunged at him.

  PJ made her move, charging in a flat out run before springing up like a wildcat.

  Mike buckled forward as the weight of PJ’s six-foot frame hit him square in the back, her long legs wrapped around his middle, and her right arm snaked around his neck. “Leave him alone, asshole.”

  “Aw shit, PJ! Let him go!”

  PJ barely heard Brecken’s cry as she was too busy trying to hold on. The second her elbow had choked up around his windpipe, Mike had gone berserk.

  The guy was a good couple inches shorter than she was, but he was strong, with thick, corded arms that were swinging up as he tried to pry hers away from his throat, a strangled gasp slipping out as he swung her about.

  “Mike, don’t—”

  Brecken rushed toward them, but PJ didn’t have a second to process his alarm before Mike took several steps backwards and slammed her up against something hard. PJ’s head cracked against it, her grip on the man loosened, and then she was falling.

  “PJ!”

  “PJ?”

  She looked up, the world spinning, the voices above her distorted. The first belonged to her coworker. Brecken’s face loomed over hers, panic lining handsome features that were growing blurry. The second belonged to the drunk guy. PJ blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. For a moment it did, and she managed to get a good look at Brecken’s boyfriend for the first time.

  “PJ?” he said again.

  “Well, fuck me,” she murmured as she stared at Skate Park Mike. Then her vision fogged over again, and
everything went black.

  ***

  The next time she blinked, the world was white all around her. The walls were white. The cabinets pushed up against them were white. The door at the end of the cabinets was white. And the bed she was lying in was topped with thick white linens hugging her like poofy, white clouds.

  PJ tried to focus on her hand lying on those clouds. A tube stuck out of it, and it was bandaged over with white medical tape.

  PJ frowned. Holy crap. How hard had she hit her head?

  There was a familiar chuckle as someone sat down on the soft white clouds at the end of her bed.

  She was not white. She was brown. And light was spilling around her. It was so bright, PJ was blinking again. This time, when her vision cleared she saw stars… gold stars shining from the little badge clipped to the nurse’s uniform the woman was wearing.

  “Ivy?”

  “Hello again,” her counselor said jovially.

  “Am I dead?”

  Ivy shook her head, her long mane of dark curls bouncing as she laughed.

  PJ squinted at the woman’s uniform. On closer inspection, it didn’t actually appear to be a uniform. It was stark white, flowing, and kind of made her look like a choir singer. Or a ghost. PJ swallowed. “Are… are you?” she asked hesitantly.

  Ivy smiled. “That depends on how you look at things.”

  “Can you be any more cryptic?”

  “Try another question. We’ll see.”

  PJ rolled her eyes. “Well, since I’m pretty sure you’re not a ‘Counselor OS,’ whatever that is, how about you tell me who you really are?”

  Ivy grinned. “Oh, I’m definitely an Old Soul.”

  “Old Soul?”

  “Older than most,” she said mysteriously.

  “Jesus.”

  Ivy shook her head. “Nope, not him.”

  PJ hadn’t meant it as a question.

  Ivy sighed. “Look, Miss Thang, I just wanted to check in with you one last time before I go.”

  “Go?” PJ peered past her visitor to that white wall with its white door. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got others to counsel.”

  “Okay.” PJ’s head was starting to hurt. Or maybe it was her heart. She wasn’t sure. “Will I see you again?”