To Catch A Player

“You know, Reese, I never pegged you for a coward.”JacksonReese whirled on her heels until she faced me, her long hair taking another few seconds to stop moving under the energy she’d gathered with her outrage. “Excuse me?”

I shrugged nonchalantly, trying like hell not to laugh at her expression because I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere. “You heard me. I never pegged you for a coward.”

She scoffed. Snorted. Shook her head. Anger vibrated her frame as she glared at me. “Why exactly am I a coward, Jackson?”

“You run and hide from your emotions. Your feelings. Instead of confronting them like an adult, you run from them. Like a coward.” It was a risk, insulting a woman in her own home within grabbing distance of knifes and hot pots filled with boiling liquids, but it was also the truth.

“Screw you, Jackson. And, please, save me your armchair psychology analysis.” Angry, or maybe she was frustrated, Reese tossed a towel onto the counter beside her. “You think you have everything all figured out, but you don’t.”

“Not everything,” I conceded. “No. But this, yeah, I’ve got it figured out.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I’m not interested you, Jackson? That, despite the fact that I am clearly attracted to you, maybe I still just don’t want you. Is that concept so unfamiliar to you?”

It wasn’t unfamiliar, but I couldn’t deny that it was a rarity. It’s why I didn’t mess around with the women in Tulip. They were good girls, the kind you married. The kind who brought you lunch at work and left you with a smile on your face and disheveled hair. “No, but you want me.”

“Your body, Jackson. I want your body, but I’m perfectly capable of being around you and not jumping your bones.” The arms wrapped around her body said she was uncomfortable with this conversation so, bastard that I was, I pushed her.

“Dammit!” She turned at the sizzling sound and found a big plume of smoke from the pot and groaned. “I guess we should eat now.”

Eat so she could get rid of me, more likely. “Great. I’m starved.”

The table was clear and, in just a few minutes, it was transformed from a bland workspace to a colorful table set for two. “If you need anything else, the fridge is there and the cabinet is over there.”

Reese was flustered and off her game. It was more fun when she was feisty and mouthy, but this version of her had all of my protective instincts rising to the surface. “Smells incredible.” We busied ourselves in relative silence, making the nachos to our individual preferences. “Thanks for this, Reese.”

“You’re welcome.”

The chili was perfect. Thick and creamy sauce, with a lot of spice and big chunks of juicy beef.

“You really think I’m here for charity?”

She blinked, surprised, but Reese recovered quickly. “It’s not about what I think Jackson, it’s a fact. You volunteered to pose for the Hometown Heroes calendar, and this is an extension of that charitable offer. What’s the big deal?”

Good question. What was the big damn deal, and why couldn’t I let it go? “I don’t know. Humor me.”

She sighed and pushed her bowl away. “You’re bored. You wanted to smile for a few photos, and it turned into this big thing because that’s what Tulip does, and you’re stuck. You live here, so you can’t bow out, and you figured you’d entertain yourself to pass the time.”

Was she serious? “Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

“I don’t know what kind of man you are, Jackson, except that you’re the one giving me a headache right now!” She stood up and slammed her napkin down, walking away from the conversation. From me.

I was instantly on my feet, following her. “There you go again. Running.” My lips curled into a smile when her footsteps practically came to a screeching halt.

“I am not running from you, Jackson, I am simply removing myself from a volatile situation!”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” I told her as I climbed the stairs that led to the more personal spaces in her home. “Looks like running and sounds like running.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you ought to take it personally,” she shouted from a room down the hall with a simple pine door hanging slightly open.

I laughed at her childish words, stopping in the doorway to lean against the frame. “I would if I thought you meant it.”

She frowned. “I do.”

“You don’t.” I took a step forward and she hugged her pillow tighter.

“Look at me, Reese.”

With an exasperated sigh, she tilted her head up towards me, eyes weary and wary. “What is it, Jackson?”

“Stop fighting it so hard.”

Something flickered in her brown gaze that I couldn’t decipher. It could have been Reese summoning up her courage to take what she wanted, or maybe she was gearing up to tell me where to shove my armchair psychology.