To Catch A Player

“Fine,” he grumbled. “If that’s all I’m gonna get.”

I folded my arms and focused my gaze on the scenery zipping by at a speed that could be ten or fifteen miles faster per hour. “At least I left you a note.”

Jackson said nothing about that, focusing instead on passing a tractor that was on the road too late with such limited visibility. We rode in silence for a good long while and I let myself get lost of thoughts of taking home the next two cook-off competitions. The big prize would be the media springboard, and the financial help I needed to get started bottling and selling Reese’s Famous BBQ Sauce.

That was where my attention belonged, on building up my business and making a secure and stable life for myself. Since my cousins all helped out with Aunt Bette’s care costs, it wasn’t the financial strain it could have been. Which meant, Jackson aside, I had nothing to complain about. So, I shouldn’t hang onto this. That was what Aunt Bette would tell me—Life is too short to hang on to hurt that can’t be lessened or demolished.

I hadn’t known what that meant until just this moment. “I forgive you, Jackson. For all of it. No conditions. Full stop.”

“Thanks, but why?”

I sighed. “Because you don’t owe me anything. We had a good time. Every time. That’s all it was, and that’s all that was promised.”

“Dammit, you stubborn woman, I’m trying to tell you right here and right now that I’m trying! I want to see you, more than naked and writhing underneath me, okay?”

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

“I screwed up a year ago, I know that. You know that.”

“Now everybody knows that,” I added with a grin.

“Yeah,” he sighed and shook his head, slowing down as the van entered Tulip. Finally. “That.”

“On the bright side, they also know you screwed up. Big time.” I laughed at the glare Jackson sent my way and it felt good, like a weight had been lifted.

“The point is that I know I screwed up, and I’m a quick study. Chances are very slim I’ll make that mistake again.” The van came to a stop outside my restaurant and I looked outside, feeling disappointed the ride was suddenly over.

“And other mistakes?”

His lips quirked into a charming grin. “I’m handsome and charming Reese, not perfect.”

Okay, that was fair. “Or modest.”

He shrugged. “Modesty is overrated. If you’re good, you should know you’re good, dammit.”

I laughed and got out of the van, rounding to unload it quickly. “At least you know your worth, Detective.”

It took less than ten minutes to get everything unpacked and where it belonged, at least until tomorrow, so I shut off the lights and locked up, ready to turn in for the night.

“I do,” he said, trapping me between his big body and the van. “I know that I’m a good man. Sometimes I’m grumpy as hell and I don’t always think before I speak, but I’m a good man. I won’t hurt you on purpose. And I deserve a shot. No, we deserve a shot.”

Did we? What if I fell prey to the same habits as before, falling for an out-of-towner only to have him pack up and leave. It would be even more horrifying the third time around.

Jackson brushed his lips against my earlobe. My collarbone. “Stop overthinking things, Reese.”

“O-o-overthinking is my specialty.” My words were breathless, even to my own ears.

“Well, stop it. Don’t think about anything other than the feel of my breath on your skin.”

I closed my eyes and did exactly what he said, focusing on the warm gust of wind that brushed the microscopic hairs on my earlobe, the line of my jaw. It was sinful. It was delicious.

“That’s it, Reese, just focus on my breath. The sound of my skin. The feel of my fingertips… right… here.” His fingers brushed the exposed skin at my midsection, back and forth, slowly, until my lids were as heavy as my breathing. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Jackson,” I whispered.

“Yes, Reese?” Was his voice infused with honey right now, or was it some trick of the moonlight?

“I don’t know.”

His chuckle was a deep baritone that reverberated through me, causing a rush of goosebumps to cover my skin. “Give me a lift home?”

I nodded and then blinked, and when the lusty fog cleared, I looked up into smug, smiling eyes. “Sure. I’ll give you a ride.” I pushed off the van and made a show of sliding away without touching him. “Let’s go!”

I could do this. Whatever this was. I didn’t know but it felt right, so I decided to go with it and see where it went, instead of trying to force it.

Might be a nice change.

“Where’s your car?”

He shrugged. “I walked over this morning, had to get rid of some nervous energy.”