Bought by the Boss
Page 57
Liam rolls his eyes at both of us before handing me back my phone. He finally turns to Jackson. “She didn’t seem that type.”
“To a man who was in love with her, no, she didn’t,” Jackson counters.
“To you?”
“She was a leech.”
Liam rests a possessive hand on Aria’s thigh, his gaze turns curious. “Let me get this straight: you slept with Sophia to get her out of my life, even though you knew that I’d hate you for it?”
Jackson nods.
Something passes between them then. It’s like watching years’ worth of anger suddenly dissipate into the air. Both men appear visibly lighter, and for one second, it’s like I can see what they used to look like as roommates. There is a level of comfort between them. History, for sure.
“Well, then…” Liam pats Aria’s thigh and slowly rises, moving in front of statue-still Jackson. “I suppose it’s time to thank you for having my back when I couldn’t see what clearly—as the evidence proves—you could.” He offers his hand.
Jackson’s jaw clenches twice but then there’s obvious relief on his face, like he’s waited years for this to be done between them.
I hold my b
reath, glancing at Aria, who’s still sitting on the armrest, eyes glued on them. My breath whooshes out loudly when Jackson returns the handshake. It’s like a cord of tension finally snaps free. The look Jackson gives Liam holds meaning that I do understand because I have that same kind of affection with Aria. It’s friendship. It’s love. It’s respect. But as quick as I saw that emotion, it’s gone, replaced by the usual hardness of Jackson’s expression.
And just like that, it’s done.
Jackson steps back, and Liam returns to his seat.
While this is a good step forward, it’s also clear this isn’t a quick-fix type of thing. Years of anger and betrayal burn between them. That doesn’t go away with a single handshake.
I smile at Aria, who has tears in her eyes. For that alone, I’m happy. She was the one who was paying the price for their feud the most. Hell, at least when Liam and Aria get married—which, knowing Liam, I suspect will probably be soon—Jackson will attend the wedding. And I think for Aria that’s what she’s always wanted. Her two worlds blending, instead of being ripped apart by anger.
When I glance back at the men, both Jackson and Liam are looking at me. Suddenly, I feel like I’m sticking out with a spotlight directly on my head. The world begins to narrow on Jackson as he approaches. All of his intensity spills out over me, stealing my breath, creating butterflies in my belly.
He stops in front of me, and he asks in a much gentler voice than he used with Liam, “Will you come with me somewhere?”
“Why?” I manage through my tight throat.
He offers his hand. “I have something to show you.”
I’m sure there are things to say but I can’t seem to find a way to say them. All I’m able to do is put my hand in his. Because the Jackson I’m looking at right now isn’t the Jackson I’ve always known. Or the Jackson Liam told me about. This is the Jackson I met in Muskoka.
The Jackson I trust.
Chapter 9
Jackson
In the South Park commercial district, I pull my Lexus to a stop. The thirty-minute drive back to Los Angeles had been a quiet one. The windows were down, and I let Mallory control the conversation. Which ended up being no conversation at all. I guess she’s thinking, and that’s okay with me. I’ll get my chance to talk.
Once I turn off the ignition, I exit the car, jogging toward the passenger door. I’m there, opening wider the door that she’s already getting out of. When she exits the car fully, I shut the door behind her, then find her frowning at the storefront’s sign, BARKS-A-LOT DOGGY DAYCARE. “I’m not even going to try and pretend to understand what’s going on here,” she says, glancing at me.
I chuckle, ushering her forward toward the front door. “You’ll understand soon enough, promise.”
The exterior of the building could be any small business. The interior though, a person could almost believe we’d walked into a dog’s dream come true. Dog toys and treats line the walls, matched with signs, one of which reads: LOVE IS A FOUR-LEGGED WORD.
I approach Kylie, the owner of the doggy daycare, at the reception area. She smiles brightly from behind the counter when she sees me. “Hi, Jackson. Your boy had quite the fun day. He’s such a goofy guy.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying him.” I smile back. “Is it all right if we go see him?”
“Of course,” Kylie says, waving us on.