by Penny Reid
While she spoke with Hannah Townsen, I did a quick sweep of the restaurant, spotting Cletus Winston and Drew Runous—Ashley’s husband—almost immediately. They were standing near a cluster of benches where folks waited to be seated. Holding my breath, I searched the rest of their party, bracing myself for—
Long dark hair. Smooth, tan skin. Addictive, musical laugh and voice.
“Crap.” My stomach stiffened. Actually, it was the area south of my stomach that stiffened.
“What?” Charlotte had come to my side without me noticing.
“Uh—” I shook my head to clear it, determined not to look over at Raquel again “—it’s crowded. I think we should go somewhere else.”
“It’s not that crowded. And where else would we go? And we have a reservation. Hannah said our table is almost—” She cut herself off with a gasp. “Oh my gosh! Is that Raquel Ezra?”
Crap, crap, crap. “Appears to be.”
“I’d heard she was in town. Marina Simmons said her brother said she was at the station today. I can’t believe she’s standing right there. She’s so—gosh—she’s stunning.”
“Most movie stars are generally considered pretty.” I plucked a menu from the holder by the door and studied it.
“What? No. She’s not pretty. That word does not apply here. That woman is full-blown gorgeous. Striking, you know? Like she’s so beautiful, she doesn’t look real.”
I grunted, staring at the menu I’d memorized when I was ten.
“Jackson, what is wrong with you?”
“Pardon?” I flicked my attention up to Charlotte and then promptly returned it to the menu.
“I know you’re her biggest fan.”
I opened my mouth. No sound arrived.
Charlotte huffed. “You used to drag me and Zora and all the other women in your harem to every one of her movies on opening night.” She hit my shoulder and then slid her palm down my bicep, gripping my forearm. “You have to go over there and introduce yourself, say hi, say something. When will you ever get another chance?”
I dug my heals in, a flare of straight-up panic clogging my airway. “No, no. That’s okay.”
“What?”
I allowed my eyes to flick up for the barest of seconds. “She’s here with the Winstons.”
“So?”
“So, uh, you know. Jethro and I don’t always get along—”
“Oh, come on, that’s all in the past. And Cletus is there. I know you two are basically best friends these days. Here, let’s go say hi.”
“No.”
Charlotte grew still, except her lashes, which blinked rapidly. “Is it because Ashley is there with Drew?” she asked, her voice gentle. “Does seeing them together make you uncomfortable?”
“What? No. I didn’t even see her.” I was so tired of folks thinking I had any residual romantic feelings for Ashley Runous. We’d been friends all through school, dated for a half minute when we were seventeen, I’d been an asshole, she left. Then she came back years later, and now we were friends again. End of.
“Then I’ll go over by myself.”
“No.” I covered her hand on my arm to stop her. “Please don’t.”
“Then come with me.”
My gaze darted beyond Charlotte to where the Winstons and their wives surrounded Raquel, and something lodged in my throat. “Charlotte,” I croaked. “I really don’t want to.”
“You’re being ridiculous and you’re going to regret not going over there. As your friend, I really must insist. And I’m sure she’s used to it. Come with me. Why’re you being like this?” She tugged on my arm again.
I didn’t budge.
She gave me an assessing narrowed glare and then turned, lifting her arm, and before I could stop her, she called across the room, “Hi! Hi there!”
Oh my God.
“Hi, I’m Charlotte. This is Jackson. You’re Raquel Ezra. We’re big fans!”
My gaze dropped to the floor, and I breathed in. I breathed out. I breathed in. I breathed out. I breathed—
“Hi Charlotte,” Raquel’s voice, made of sunshine and rainbows, called back. “Nice to meet you.”
“Do you mind if we come over?” Charlotte tugged on my arm again.
I clenched my jaw, still staring at the floor, so very grateful that Charlotte was a tall woman. That’s right, I hid behind my girlfriend.
“Not at all. Please come over,” Raquel responded easily, and a bolt of heat shot straight to the base of my spine, making my collar feel too tight and sweat prickle between my shoulder blades.
“Come on. Don’t be shy,” Charlotte whispered to me, and I could hear the laughter in her voice.
What could I do? In the next moment, we were moving, walking toward Raquel. I readied myself the best I could. I worked to distance myself while on autopilot, I lifted my chin and muttered greetings to those gathered.
“Cletus.” I shook hands with my friend, quick and perfunctory.
“Deputy. That’s a nice suit. Did you call that tailor I told you about?”
“I did.”
“Wise man.” Cletus nodded somberly.
“Thank you.”
He stopped nodding. “I was referring to myself.”
Typical Cletus.
Next was Ashley.
“You feeling okay, Jackson?” Ashley Runous—formerly Winston—asked, pulling away after a quick hug. She always greeted me with a hug.
“Just fine,” I rasped, hammering a closed-mouth smile in place. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.” I felt her concerned eyes follow me as I continued shaking hands with her brothers and their wives—until I got to Jethro. He didn’t extend a hand.
“Deputy James,” he said flatly, his arms crossed.
“Jethro.” I gave him a single nod, unsurprised by his cool greeting tonight but paying it no mind. This sort of thing tended to happen after I’d arrested someone more than once. In Jethro’s case, I’d arrested him many, many more times than once, back when I was new on the force and hadn’t quite topped out to my present height of six feet.
The frequent arrests paired with me being shitty to his sister in high school meant we’d likely never be friendly. But sometimes, like the handful of times I’d babysit for him and Sienna, I thought maybe we could be.
“I hope you don’t mind that we interrupted your evening. I just wanted to introduce myself to Raquel, I am such a big fan,” Charlotte gushed, not seeming to notice my cool exchange with Jethro Winston.
I had no idea if Raquel noticed either as I couldn’t look at her. I was here with Charlotte. I am here on a date with my girlfriend. I will not look at another woman. But Raquel wasn’t just another woman. She was . . . well, I had no idea what Raquel was.
I supposed Raquel was an idea. A memory I’d made too much out of, remembered too often, relived until the edges had grown worn and soft and frayed. Who’s to say that night ever really happened? Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it had been a figment of my imagination.
Regardless, she should’ve been nothing to me.
“Jackson is also a big fan.” Charlotte pulled me forward so that I stood next to her and directly in front of Raquel. “In fact, I’d say he’s probably your biggest fan. He absolutely loves you.”
My heart stopped and then lurched painfully, and I knew—I just fucking knew—my face was on its way to turning a bright shade of tomato red.
“Is that so?” Raquel asked, still rainbows and sunshine.
“It is so! He owns all your movies on streaming and on DVD. I was a little worried when we first started dating that he’d make me wear a Raquel Ezra costume for Halloween.” Charlotte laughed.
“And did he?” Cletus asked, earning him my hard stare.
Charlotte laughed harder. A few other people laughed as well. I did not.
Kill me. Kill me now. As far as embarrassing situations I’d experienced, this one ranked eleven on a ten-point scale.
“I’m honored to have such an avid fan,�
�� Raquel said. Her voice sounded a little breathless, and I knew I was being a complete ass because I hadn’t looked at her yet.
I didn’t want to be an ass to Raquel. My issue with her was my issue, not hers. She didn’t deserve rudeness for being friendly and more gracious than I deserved. Using self-censure as a shield and a sword, I pulled my head out of my ass, took a deep breath, and finally looked at her.
Our gazes locked.
She wore a barely-there smile that looked a little uncertain, her eyes a deep, rich, dark velvet of indescribable color, and depth, and sweetness.
And just like clockwork, I felt it. The pull. The sense of everything else falling away, leaving only us. I’d felt it years ago when we were introduced at Jethro and Sienna’s wedding. I’d felt it that whole night we were together. I’d felt it when I spotted her in the crowd on Saturday, at the station earlier today, and I felt it right now.
“Hi,” I said, my heart racing like mad, and then suddenly just . . . slowing.
“Hi,” she said, her small smile becoming a slightly bigger one. “It’s good to see—uh—meet you.”
“You as well.”
“I hear this place is very good,” she said softly. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe her voice only sounded soft to my ears.
“Depends on what you like to eat.”
“Food, mostly.”
“Then you’re in luck. They serve food here.”
She grinned widely, taking my breath away, and her gaze dropped to my neck, then to my chest. “I like this suit.”
I caught myself before responding with, If you want it, it’s yours.
It’s what—instinctively—I longed to say. The easy back and forth banter at the sheriff’s station earlier in the day, the way my heart beat in time with our game of verbal ping-pong, had been much the same.
Effortless. Easy. Euphoric. . . until I remembered who I was, and who she was, and who I was not. Not anymore.
I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from saying anything at all and tore my eyes from her face, my heart racing again.
Telling myself to snap out of it, I felt nothing but gratitude when Cletus stepped forward to say, “The suit is quite elegant, isn’t it? I recommended the tailor.”
“Only because Billy recommended the tailor to you,” one of the other Winston brothers cut in, making everyone chuckle.
I took the opportunity to take a step back, hoping we could use the shift in conversation to make our getaway—but not because I didn’t want to see or talk to Raquel. We needed to leave because I wanted to see and talk to her so, so much more than any man should when he’s involved with someone else. Especially when the woman preoccupying his thoughts was engaged.
Speaking of which, every time I thought about Raquel with that cheating, scummy SOB, I saw red. It enraged me. The idea of him getting to touch her, being on the receiving end of her smiles and sweetness. It was a travesty. She deserved so much better.
So does Charlotte.
Dammit.
I am a bastard.
And that was the truth. My father had said he was proud of me, how much I’d changed, how disciplined I’d become in my personal life. I didn’t deserve it—his pride or his praise—and Charlotte certainly didn’t deserve to be with someone who couldn’t stop thinking about someone else.
This doesn’t matter. Raquel will be gone soon. She’ll leave, just like before. Why would she stay? She’s a huge, world-famous movie star. There’s nothing of interest to her here. Charlotte and you will continue on, you’ll build a life together with hard work and dedication, and none of this will matter.
“Well, we should leave y’all to your dinner.” I reached for Charlotte’s hand.
Charlotte pulled her fingers from mine, digging in her purse. “Just a sec. Before we go—do you mind if I take a picture?” To my horror, Charlotte had retrieved her phone and addressed her question to Raquel.
“Sure. Absolutely. No problem.” Raquel readily agreed, and before I could think to object, Charlotte bent close to her, lifting the cell up as though to take a selfie.
“Please, allow me.” Cletus stepped forward, taking the phone from Charlotte. “I can’t abide two-person selfies. One person’s face looks like a billboard, and the other looks like a doll head.”
The women grinned, and Cletus snapped several shots. “Y’all want to do some poses?” he asked. “Sienna, jump in there and do that Charlie’s Angels thing.”
“Oh! Good idea.” Sienna grinned, jumping in and bringing Cletus’s wife and Ashley along as well.
“Any other poses?” Cletus turned to Jethro and then me, as though to solicit ideas. “Maybe—”
“No more poses,” I said, giving my head a little shake.
“Having a bad day, Jackson?” Jethro’s voice spoke from somewhere behind me. I ignored his question.
Cletus stared at me for a tick, a look that might’ve seemed harmless had I known him any less, and then said, “Jackson, do you want a picture with Ms. Ezra?” all curious innocence and solicitousness. So, in other words, he was being sneaky as hell.
I glared at him. “No, thank you, Cletus. I’m sure Ms. Ezra would prefer—”
“Come on, Jackson!” Charlotte marched over and moved behind me, pushing and steering my body until Raquel’s shoulder brushed my arm. I sucked in a breath.
“There.” Charlotte stood back, grinning at us. “Give me your phone, Jackson. I’ll take the picture.”
“Here. Use mine.” Suddenly, Cletus had his phone out, unlocked, and in front of Charlotte. “I’ll send it to him later.” Eyes on me, a sinister smile curving his lips, barely noticeable behind his bushy beard.
But I saw it. And I knew what it meant. He had plans for that picture. It’s a good thing I’d taken the time to become friends with Cletus Winston over the last several years, because if this is how he treated people he liked, I shuddered to think what he did to those folks he didn’t.
“Thanks, Cletus,” Charlotte said cheerfully, accepting the offered phone, once more oblivious to anything other than what was right in front of her.
Meanwhile, I stared stiffly forward, trying not to breathe. I could smell Raquel’s perfume, floral and sweet, and the scent brought everything from our night together rushing back. This is torture.
“Raquel, is it okay with you if Jackson puts his arm around your shoulder? No pressure.” Charlotte pointed between the two of us.
“Charlotte,” I grit out, glaring at my friend—I mean, my girlfriend. “I’m sure Ms. Ezra doesn’t want strangers touching her.”
“No. No, it’s good.” Raquel encircled my wrist with her fingers, lifting my arm over her shoulders and stepping closer, the whole of her luscious body tucked against the side of mine before I’d had a single second to prepare for the scalding contact.
I felt Raquel’s chest expand, press against my torso as she breathed in deeply, and I grit my teeth harder. I wanted to imagine myself taking a swim in the Artic Ocean but couldn’t quite manage it, instead sending a prayer upward that this elegant suit I wore hid the less than elegant erection in my pants.
Instinct kicked in, and I breathed out, separating myself from where I was, who I was with, and the cluttered chaos of my mind.
Relax, I told myself. Slow it down. Go somewhere else.
I suspected any kid who has been bullied in school, any boy who was small and scrawny for his age, anyone who felt awkward and ugly growing up, learns how to do this without trying. It was an innate skill I now used whenever I found myself in a dangerous or uncertain situation at work, when tensions and adrenaline were running high.
I told myself to slow it down. Slow my mind down and pretend I was an observer, a bystander not in the thick of the action. I didn’t have to feel scared or shitty about myself if I didn’t wish to. I could simply pretend.
Just pretend, for a moment, that you’re watching from somewhere on the other side of the room, what do you expect to see? You expect that Jackson James has never met Raq
uel Ezra before right now. Pretend you don’t know she loves to fish, and that her favorite ice cream flavor is mint chocolate chip, and that she’s great at chess, and is funny and charming and kind.
Pretend for a moment that Jackson James is meeting one of his favorite actresses for the very first time and he has no idea what her warm, soft body feels like curled against his while he sleeps, the sound of her laugh, the texture of her skin, how she tastes, how her body tenses and flexes when she comes, the sweetness of her touch.
Just . . . pretend.
I breathed out. I relaxed.
“There. That looks nice.” Charlotte beamed at us both and sing-songed, “Smile!”
Then it was over, and I pulled away. I turned to Ms. Ezra, movie star, and without meeting her eyes, I said, “Thank you. Goodbye.”
I nodded to each of the Winstons and their significant others, waving politely as I pulled my girlfriend toward Hannah Townsen at the hostess stand. We needed to sit down and get on with the rest of our evening.
And I needed to get on with the rest of my life.
Chapter 8
*Jackson*
“Everywhere in TV and films, actors who become mothers are treated differently. Suddenly, people will be like, ‘Oh, she’s a mom, so she can’t play a sex symbol role.’”
Kashmira Shah (aka Kashmera Shah)
I would’ve gotten on with my life, and happily too, if Charlotte had stopped talking about Raquel Ezra for one single second.
“Oh my gosh, she’s so awesome. Did you smell her? She smells amazing. I wonder what kind of lotion she uses. I’ll message Sienna and ask. Do you think Sienna would mind if I ask? I only have her phone number because of her eldest’s birthday party last year. Nah. She won’t mind.” Charlotte skipped on the sidewalk in front of her house, doing a little twirl.
Dinner was over. Soon the evening would be over too. I couldn’t wait.